Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World

TL: Etude

Paul entered the reception room to find a middle-aged man sitting there, looking uneasy.

“The person standing before you is the owner of the Alda territory in the Northwest Bay, Count Paul Grayman,” the leading servant announced loudly to the man, then turned and quietly introduced to the Count, “My lord, this is Malo, a casting craftsman, summoned at your request.”

“Your… Your Lordship,” Malo stammered, perhaps due to nervousness. He clumsily bowed and asked, “May I know why you have summoned me? I have always been law-abiding…”

“Relax, I’ve called you here for a good reason. Otherwise, we would be meeting in a prison cell. Are you skilled in bell casting?”

“Yes.” Seeing that the lord didn’t seem to intend any harm, Malo relaxed and became more articulate. “The bell in the church of Lake Town was cast by me a few years ago, um… if it hasn’t been replaced.”

“Good. I must confess, I’ve rung that bell myself. To a layman like me, it seemed like a fine piece of craftsmanship, very smooth surface and all.”

“Heh, you flatter me, my lord.”

The Count then slowly unfolded a piece of parchment, “I need you to cast something like this for me. Can you do it? What’s drawn here is a cross-section, but the actual thing will be cylindrical. I call it — a cannon.”

Malo leaned in to take a closer look.

This was a cross-section of an early cannon that Paul had drawn based on information he had seen in an online forum in his previous life, with dimensions annotated. The cannon featured a tapered bore, about 1 meter long, with an inner diameter of approximately 84 millimeters. It had a breech, trunnions, a touch hole, and could fire 4-pound solid iron shots or grapeshot. Considering his limited knowledge as a pseudo-military enthusiast, Paul had opted for a very conservative design.

Malo had never seen anything like it. “May I ask, my lord, what is this ‘cannon’ intended for?”

“Let’s not talk about that yet. I need you to work for me long-term. I’ll pay you 800 copper coins per month, with a raise for good performance. Are you willing to work for me permanently?”

“Absolutely!” Malo nodded eagerly, like a pecking hen. As a specialized foundry craftsman in the economically underdeveloped northwest, he rarely had steady work and sometimes was even conscripted for unpaid labor by the lords. Now, presented with a stable and well-paying job, only a fool would decline.

“Excellent. Here’s a labor contract, what you call a promise. You just need to press your thumbprint on it. Let me read it to you first.”

The contract, apart from a few lines about wages, mainly covered confidentiality: not disclosing work details to others, not leaving the workplace without permission, and other security measures, all of which bewildered Malo.

Malo had never encountered such a meticulous lord. It was unheard of for nobility to require contracts for commoners’ services. Although some clauses restricting freedom were irksome, the enticing compensation made him swiftly press his thumbprint without hesitation.

“Perfect!” The Count was secretly thrilled, quickly securing the contract. He hadn’t expected Malo to decide so swiftly.

“If you do well, I assure you, you won’t be undercompensated. Oh! From now on, you’ll stay in my territory. I’ll have your family brought over and well accommodated.”

“Let’s get back to this cannon. Since you’ll be working for me, you’ll inevitably need to know about it. You’re familiar with catapults and ballistae, right?”

“Yes,” Malo nodded.

“The cannon serves a similar purpose, but I’ve replaced the projectile with an iron ball, called a ‘cannonball.’ The cannonball is placed inside the barrel, and the bottom of the barrel is filled with a substance called ‘gunpowder.’ This substance, when ignited through the small hole at the back of the barrel, explodes violently, propelling the cannonball forward. Do you understand my explanation?”

“Understood, understood. Your explanation is quite clear and simple to grasp, my lord.”

“First, cast some using bronze, and later we can try using iron,” Paul suggested. He knew bronze had better ductility, making the cannons less likely to burst and, even if they did, the damage would be less catastrophic. He couldn’t afford to lose his painstakingly trained troops to faulty equipment.

“How much would it cost to cast a bronze cannon of the size shown in the diagram?” Paul inquired.

“For a cannon of this size, you’d need over three hundred kilograms of bronze. Based on current prices, the cost would be around five hundred Ordo silver coins, or fifty Ordo gold coins,” Malo estimated.

Paul was shocked at the expense. It was almost equivalent to the pension of ten soldiers. He hadn’t even asked Philip how much the firearms development had cost previously. He had simply instructed the craftsmen to provide whatever was needed, hoping it wouldn’t be another painful expense.

Nevertheless, now he had to follow through. The craftsman was already hired, and the need was urgent.

“How long would it take to cast one cannon?” he asked, addressing his primary concern.

“Having never made such a thing before, I can only estimate. At least a month, I’d say.”

“A month? That’s too long!” Paul exclaimed, surprised.

Malo hesitated, wondering if he should mention the concept of a scrap rate to Paul.

“Fine, a month it is. I’ll assign you some apprentices to learn from you. Teach them well. The more apprentices you train, the higher your wage and the extra rewards. Don’t even think about the saying ‘a starving apprentice makes a dead master.’”

“Yes, I’ll do my best. But my lord, why not use iron? If we use iron, I’m confident I can bring the cost down to about a quarter of that for bronze.”

“Ah, well, I’m just too kind-hearted, thinking of your welfare as craftsmen. Iron is more brittle, and a miscalculation with the gunpowder could lead to disastrous bursting.”

“Bursting?” Malo repeated, alarmed at the sound of this dangerous term.

“It means the explosion inside is too strong and bursts the cannon open.”

Malo realized he had accepted a potentially life-threatening job. “My lord, I… I have elders to care for and young children to feed. Could I just handle the casting?”

“Don’t worry. When the time comes, build a mound of earth, make the fuse longer, and light it from behind the mound for safety. I’ve captured some pirate prisoners recently; I’ll assign a few to you. Use them as you need.”

“Okay,” Malo replied, relieved. “I apologize for my earlier apprehension.”

“The cannon works similarly to another weapon called a musket, which we’ve already produced. I’ll have someone take you to our weapon manufacturing site. Speak with the craftsmen who made the muskets, think through the details of your work, and start casting the cannon immediately.”

“Yes, my lord.” Despite agreeing, Malo was still adjusting to his new role as a weapons manufacturer.

At that moment, steward Philip entered. “Count, Father Anderson and his mentor, Brother Leonard, the head of the North Shore Monastery, have come to visit.”

“Oh? Anderson is the one who treated me, right? I’ve heard of the other one. Let them in. Meanwhile, arrange for Master Malo to join our training camp and contribute to the new weapons development. Provide him with whatever he needs.”

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