If You Want Peace, Prepare for War (5)
The support we'd all been eagerly awaiting from the Imperial Capital finally arrived. True to rumors that the nobles had rolled up their sleeves en masse, the massive influx of aid propelled Berg's transformations forward with even greater momentum.
Take Helena Iliad, for instance.
"Hey! Unload it properly! Are you trying to mix it with dirt by slamming it on the ground like that? If water gets in and it spoils, are you going to take responsibility?"
"S-sorry, milady!"
"I can't take my eyes off you people for even a second."
She'd taken up a coaching role beside the butler she'd brought along, seamlessly slipping into a supervisory position before anyone noticed. I hadn't assigned her to it—she'd volunteered. Right now, her eyes sharp as daggers, she was overseeing the laborers unloading the aid supplies from the capital, barking orders left and right. Unfamiliar with the northern chill, she waddled around bundled in thick layers of clothing, but the sight of her nagging the workers had already become routine.
You've got talent. Keep it up.
Putting Helena's promising changes aside, I headed to the silver mine now that preparations for extraction were complete and casually shared the Danchenyeon silver refining method.
In truth, silver-lead separation was a technique as old as human civilization itself. Excavations in Mesopotamia, the cradle of that civilization, had unearthed lead oxide byproducts from cupellation processes. Mesopotamia again, huh? Anyway, these people weren't idiots; they surely knew how to extract silver by alloying it with lead.
But.
"Ooh, oooh!"
Oto Geltner clutched his face, his expression crumpling. The mustachioed middle-aged merchant squealed like a schoolgirl in delight.
With ash spread over the furnace, the silver and lead melted together, and the oxidized lead turned liquid, soaking into the ash. What remained atop it was a cluster of brilliantly gleaming silver beads.
"High-purity silver. Close to pure, even."
"How does Your Grace know of such a method?"
Geltner, still mid-squeal, asked the question. Not just him—the technicians he'd brought from the capital for mine development stared in open amazement. The silver extracted was far purer than their old methods yielded.
"The molten lead oxidizes and soaks fully into the ash. Separate and extract just the lead from that ash, and you can reuse it. No need to mine lead steadily. Plus, it prevents worker injuries in the process—a nice bonus."
"Reusing the lead, too..."
That was the beauty of the Danchenyeon method. Compared to traditional lead-alloy techniques, it produced more high-purity silver, allowed lead reuse, and let you refine silver anytime with just a furnace, ash, and lead.
"Heh heh, heh heh heh heh."
Knowing I wouldn't reveal its origins anyway, Geltner dropped the subject and let out a bizarre chuckle. His face was manic, eyes glittering as if the sight of that pristine, shimmering pure silver had turned his brain to mush.
I'd shared what needed sharing. Before leaving, I gave one final, stern warning.
"Geltner patriarch."
"Yes, Your Grace. Heh heh, heh heh heh."
"Can't stop laughing, I see."
"How could any merchant not laugh with silver sparkling right in front of them? Hahaha."
"There's something you must heed. No—a rule you must follow."
My words barely finished before Geltner's grinning face turned deadly serious.
"Speak it."
"When firing the furnace for silver refining, rotate workers every hour. Use bellows to blow air into the furnace."
"Mm."
"Perform the refining outdoors where ventilation is easy, facing away from the wind. Always cover mouth and nose with a wet cloth during work. That's the basics for now. Remember them."
"Is Your Grace concerned about the poison in the lead?"
"Exactly."
Lead poisoning. Even in this era, people knew empirically of lead's dangers, even if they didn't grasp the mechanisms. The technicians nodded gravely in agreement.
"Your Grace worries for miners' lung."
"Miners' lung is deadly. Once it sets in, there's no cure."
That's what they called lead poisoning here—miners' lung. Geltner, eyes off the glittering silver, reverted to his solemn merchant demeanor.
"I'll oversee that personally. No need for Your Grace to worry."
"Good. I pray no accidents mar the worksite."
With an answer like that, he'd gotten the point. I nodded silently.
They brewed lots of green tea at the Iwami silver mines, I recalled. Something about tannins helping excrete heavy metals. Maybe import tea leaves and distribute them to the workers? I'd mull it over. Tea was a luxury, probably pricey, but if not too exorbitant, worth supplying. Or plenty of fatty meat, at least.
After sharing the Danchenyeon method, the silver mine ramped up full-scale extraction and refining. My modest hope for Potosí-level output was, sadly, dashed. Potosí at its peak was said to be an entire mountain of silver—not so here in Berg. Even if silver poured out like that, we'd worry about inflation later. For now, more silver was good.
A strong army, abundant steel, and now heaps of silver. Perfect.
Everything had gone smoothly so far.
Smoothly enough to wonder if it's too good to be true.
The capital's engineers huddled, drafting Great Wall reconstruction plans per my designs. Karl pushed military reforms with the staff, laying groundwork for the NCO system despite his beloved Elang getting sidelined. I kept thinking it: Berg's current state was ideal.
Even the orcs slyly probing for raids had sent a cute little vanguard that blundered into me—and gone quiet since.
Well, had gone quiet.
I turned to Maximilian during his military briefing.
"They're regrouping."
"Yes. But not in great numbers. Not the large-scale raid they prepped last time—just a routine one. No attempt to hide this time."
"How many?"
"Visual estimates put it between two and three thousand."
"Throwing away that many again?"
"Likely. Their preparations were spotted."
"Exasperating bastards."
I clicked my tongue. Bluntly, orcs weren't our match. Physically superior to humans, sure—but that was their only edge. We compensated for our slight physical deficits with technology. Hell, we'd widened the gap massively. Bone-and-stone-wielding orcs versus steel-clad humans. Not primitive Hittite iron, either—proper steel armor. Plus defending from the wall.
"Common sense says it's like kids fighting adults, yet..."
"They're orcs, after all. Numbers are their only strength."
"The real issue is their breeding rate, despite the size disparity."
"Yes. That's my view."
Maximilian, northern-born and bred, agreed without hesitation. No matter how you sliced it, orcs leveraged insane reproduction and numbers to barely offset weaknesses against my elite forces.
"Max three thousand... At most. We could hold from the wall as usual."
"Considering field battle?"
"Yes."
Normally, we'd defend from the wall. Three thousand mindless-charging orcs? Consumable supplies, zero casualties—we could seal them perfectly. But field battle was creeping into my mind.
Maybe my thinking's shifting.
"Sir Maximilian."
"Yes."
"Summon Sir Wolfgang."
"The Knight Captain?"
"If Gromkuld—who's never shown his face—is stepping up, I should too."
Time for field battle data beyond the wall. Lead the highly mobile, overwhelmingly superior Iron Fang Knights and smash three thousand orcs to gauge combat dynamics. Leonard was a solid safety net, after all.
Venturing from the safe wall into open field carried risks, naturally. But Alexander wasn't a fool charging Darius III on horseback. The Lion of the North, Gustavus Adolphus, didn't die stupidly wounded and exposed. Sometimes, you led from the front—and now felt right.
"Time to prepare, no?"
"Prepare... how?"
"Can't just send rangers to scout forever."
Ultimately, we needed offense. Gromkuld's orcs and we couldn't coexist. Until one side was extinct, hiding behind the wall forever wasn't viable. Reconstruction was insurance, not extermination.
The key: one decisive battle to cut Gromkuld's throat, then eradicate every headless orc, seeds and all.
So.
"I'll lead the Iron Fang Knights personally. Let everyone experience fighting outside the safe wall."
"...I'll inform the Knight Captain."
Maximilian paused, face hardening, then nodded. My mind raced through scenarios. Test the bridge before crossing? We'd prep accordingly for field ops. Time to show Gromkuld the terror of knights on open plains.
Get a taste of preemptive strike. Your head'll ache after.