The sandalwood box contained a single-handed firearm roughly forty centimeters long. Its craftsmanship was exquisite — both the stock and the barrel were engraved with delicate patterns dusted with gold powder. However, the gun looked rather peculiar. Setting aside the flared, trumpet-shaped barrel, even the hammer at the rear was strikingly ornate, sculpted into the shape of a golden dragon with spread wings and bared fangs. It looked quite imposing.
The firearm took up half the box's interior. Below it lay row upon row of small, round lead balls, and beneath each ball sat a corresponding black cylindrical cartridge. There were twenty of each.
"This is a short-barreled musket from the Dwarf Kingdom in the Titanini Mountains. After the Trade Alliance reached an agreement with the Dwarves last year, we invited them to open a dwarven shop on Triumph Avenue in
President Qikede chuckled and glanced at President Peterson, who nodded. Qikede then turned to a guard standing nearby and said, "Demonstrate how the musket is used for the Count..."
The guard stepped forward, bowed, and accepted the box. "Your Lordship, firearms are a traditional dwarven weapon. They come in long-barreled and short-barreled variants. The short-barreled musket has an effective range of thirty meters. Compared to our crossbows and other ranged weapons, its range is rather short — hardly worth mentioning. However, the one truly remarkable thing about it is its devastating power. To put it in perspective, it would take at least a hundred crossbowmen to pose a threat to a Great Swordmaster, yet a single firearm is even more dangerous to a Great Swordmaster within thirty meters. That is because a Great Swordmaster can deflect arrows aimed at him, but he cannot catch a bullet."
The guard first pushed one of the black cylindrical cartridges into the barrel, then used a thin iron rod from the box to ram it down. Next, he placed a lead ball on top and tamped it firmly with the same rod. Finally, he explained, "This short-barreled musket is the Dwarven Kingdom's latest model. It doesn't require a match cord — you simply flip open this wyvern and squeeze the trigger below to fire. However, because of the physical differences between Dwarves and humans, we find that the trigger requires quite a bit more force than we'd prefer..."
The guard aimed the musket at a wall twenty meters away and squeezed the trigger hard. With a deafening boom, Lorist was startled — he hadn't expected the gun to produce such a tremendous noise. But he was immediately delighted by the familiar scent of gunpowder smoke drifting through the air. It was unmistakably the smell of gunpowder. What he couldn't understand was why all his previous gunpowder experiments had ended in failure.
"Your Lordship, quite impressive, wouldn't you say?" The guard pointed to a small dent in the wall, in which a deformed lead bullet was still embedded.
Lorist snapped out of his daze and examined the small crater. But he remembered clearly — the guard had been aiming at a spot roughly over a meter away from where the bullet had struck. With that much deviation, they were calling this impressive?
Lorist's mind was entirely consumed by gunpowder. He couldn't wait to get back and study what secrets the dwarven gunpowder actually held. As for the dwarven short-barreled firearm itself, Lorist only gave it a careful once-over — his attention was caught by the elegant golden filigree, but everything else about it was just begging to be roasted.
The flared, trumpet-shaped muzzle — tilt it even slightly and you'd worry the little lead ball would roll right out. Negative points.
The oversized stock, carved with exquisite patterns — all it did was add pointless weight. Negative points.
The bird's-beak shaped grip — could holding that possibly be comfortable? Negative points.
No front sight — aiming was left entirely to guesswork. Negative points.
The exaggerated, heavy flying-dragon hammer —...he didn't even want to discuss it. Negative points.
And the trigger at the bottom, which required real force to pull — ha, the moment you yanked that thing, the barrel would shake three times over. How was anyone supposed to stay on target? Negative points.
Lorist was utterly confident that once he figured out how the dwarven propellant worked, he could forge a firearm far superior to anything the dwarves could produce. Even the most primitive matchlock would be leagues ahead of this ornate dwarven short-barreled gun.
Yet in the eyes of everyone present, Lorist's dazed expression read as proof that this backwater Count from Northland had never seen anything of the world. The guard who had done the demonstration flashed a hint of contempt, carefully put the firearm back together, and handed it to Lorist. "Your Lordship, this is your firearm. Please take it."
Lorist took the case and quickly thanked President Chikde.
Chairman Chikde burst into hearty laughter. "Since the Count is fond of it, that is even better. This is the perfect way to express my son's sincere apology for having offended Your Lordship. By the way, if I may be so bold to ask — the Count's seat is far away in Northland, so how did you come to know Chairman Peterson? Have you come to Morant City on any business this time? Is there anything the Chikde Commerce Association can do for you?"
Lorist chuckled in return. "Chairman Chikde, I actually spent nearly ten years studying in Morant City in my youth. I have known Chairman Peterson for a long time and have received many kindnesses from him. Afterward, I went to Northland to inherit my title and family lands. Who would have thought that six or seven years would pass in the blink of an eye? This trip was made specifically to visit Chairman Peterson."
Chairman Peterson nodded along with a smile, clearly very satisfied with Lorist's watertight response.
"—responsibility, and as the Chikde Commerce Association, which commands the largest and most numerous maritime trading fleet, I can assure you that we will not treat Your Lordship's efforts unfairly." Chairman Chikde fixed his gaze on Lorist as he spoke.
A flash of elation crossed Lorist's face, followed by hesitation, then resignation, and finally a look of regret. He appeared to deliberate for a good long while before answering: "Chairman Chikde, I am very interested in your proposal. The trouble is, my family's lands are situated on the far frontier of Northland. We have never had any notable specialties, nor can we produce any goods worth trading. To put it bluntly, we can barely produce enough grain to keep ourselves fed.
I would be more than happy to help open up a sea trade route, but I also know full well that if the Chikde Commerce Association were to make the trip only to find nothing of value, it would be a terrible disservice to your generous offer. In the six or seven years I have spent managing my family's lands, I have managed to save up only five or six thousand gold Fordes. This trip, too, was made under the pretext of visiting Chairman Peterson so that I could finally enjoy myself for once in Morant City..."
Chairman Chikde was entirely unfazed by Lorist's tactful refusal. He turned to Chairman Peterson with a smile and said, "I didn't expect your young friend to be so honest and straightforward despite being a Count. He is nothing like those hypocritical nobles — the moment they hear that a commerce association wants to establish a sea trade route, they become giddy with delight and sing the praises of their lands as though they had everything under heaven, when in reality they have nothing at all. This sort of integrity is quite admirable."
Chairman Peterson laughed as well. "It was precisely his honesty that first drew me to young Locke. He doesn't suffer from the faults of those other nobles — he says what he means and has no taste for deception. Still, his family's lands truly are rather remote, and I'm afraid there is little I can do to help on that front."
Chairman Chikde and Chairman Peterson chatted for a while longer before rising to take their leave. Chairman Chikde departed with his third son and his escort of guards. The only thing Lorist failed to notice was the venomous glare the young third master of the Chikde family cast his way before following his father out.
Preoccupied with thoughts of gunpowder, Lorist stayed behind to confer a bit longer with Chairman Peterson. They roughly agreed on a date for the delivery of magical beast hides to Viscount Terbili's fief, and Lorist also requested that the Peterson Commerce Association assist in purchasing a large oceangoing merchant vessel. Only then did he finally take his leave.
Returning to the Red Crow Tavern, Lorist instructed Dolles and Schward to each bring some smoked magic beast meat and pickled whale meat to the proprietress, Sister Louise, to see whether these two types of cured meat products would be popular among the citizens of Morant City. He also sent a small jar of snow salt to the chef, Fatty Mai, for him to try out and compare with the rock salt that the people of Morant City were accustomed to using.
Next, Lorist shut himself up in his guest room and set about studying the gunpowder formula of the nineteen black cylinders that the dwarves' fire tubes used. He did not leave the room for three whole days, worrying Josk and Schward to the point where they kept quietly cracking open the door to see what their lord was doing...
The table was covered with all manner of glass vials and a full set of small equipment that an apothecary would use for experiments. Lorist was grateful that he had learned the method of separating reagents during his time at
The dwarves' black cylindrical gunpowder contained seven ingredients in total. Sulfur powder, saltpeter powder, and charcoal powder were three of the most common gunpowder ingredients, while the other four were pine rosin powder, kudzu starch, egg whites, and an unidentified white powder.
Through his experiments, Lorist had ascertained that the active components in the dwarves' gunpowder were the three he was already familiar with—sulfur powder, saltpeter powder, and charcoal powder—plus that unidentified white powder. The pine rosin powder and kudzu starch were essentially useless, and the egg whites merely served to bind the various powders together into a cylindrical shape.
What frustrated Lorist was that he simply could not figure out what the white powder was. Without it, the gunpowder had no effect. He wanted to bring some of the white powder to ask around, only to discover that all nineteen cylinders of gunpowder had been consumed by his research.
After a moment's thought, Lorist called Schward in and had him instruct the tavern's serving girl to prepare a bath for him, then ordered a hearty meal. After bathing and eating his fill, he asked Schward to hail a hired carriage, took along the box containing the dwarven short-barreled gun, and headed for Triumph Avenue.
Lorist had heard Chairman Chikde mention that the dwarves had opened a shop on Triumph Avenue that served as their office. The hired carriage soon delivered Lorist and Schward to their destination. When they stepped down and looked up, they were met by a tall and somewhat peculiar building constructed from all manner of massive stones.
Well, having a small mountain of stone sitting on the most bustling commercial avenue in Morant City was indeed a bit strange, but as a shop run by dwarves, it was hardly remarkable. The dwarves of the Iron Tidanni Mountains had always been cave-dwellers; without a cave, they simply did not feel safe enough.
Passing through the shop entrance, which resembled the mouth of a cave, they found themselves facing a dim staircase that wound downward. It was only then that Lorist realized the space inside the stone mound the dwarves had built was not particularly large—the real shop was a vast underground space the dwarves had excavated. Though the lighting was rather poor, the dwarven shop still attracted a good number of curious customers.
Approaching the dwarven counter that resembled a liquor cabinet, a red-bearded dwarf watched Lorist set the box on the countertop and asked in peculiar Common, "Good sir, is there anything I can help you with?"
.
"Hello, I was wondering—do you sell matching gunpowder here?" Lorist opened the box, revealing the firearm and the plain little lead balls.
"The thing is, my children treated this firearm as a toy. They got the gunpowder into a basin of water, so… you see, this is what it looked like when I finally found out." Lorist put on an embarrassed expression.
The red-bearded dwarf before him let a mocking glint flash through his eyes. "Sir, we've heard that same excuse nearly a hundred times this month alone. The truth is, we don't particularly care if you humans crack the secret of gunpowder. We do sell the gunpowder you're looking for, but the price is one charge for one gold Forde…"
What? That expensive? Lorist pointed at an identical box behind the counter. "Sorry, did I hear that right? The short-barreled firearms you sell go for only thirty-five gold Forde per box. Why would the gunpowder alone cost so much?"
"Because this gunpowder is something only we dwarves possess — something you humans can't make. Without this gunpowder, the firearm really is nothing more than an expensive children's toy, just like you said. So buy it or don't—we dwarves couldn't care less." The dwarf's red beard bristled as he spoke.
Lorist knew full well he wasn't going to get the dwarf to reveal what that white powder actually was. He had no choice but to pay twenty gold Forde for twenty units of gunpowder. The dwarf generously threw in a small lead ball to replace the spent bullet.
Stepping out of the dwarven shop, Schward asked with puzzlement, "My lord, for the past three days you've been studying this dwarven gunpowder. You've gone and forgotten why we came to Morant City in the first place…"
Lorist knew his apprentice was rebuking him for losing sight of what mattered. He smiled and ruffled Schward's hair. "You don't understand, Schward. This dwarven gunpowder is a truly monumental discovery. Once we master its secret, the
"This gunpowder is only for use in guns. I don't see what's so impressive about dwarven guns," Schward muttered, then suddenly perked up. "My lord, look — that shop over there also has a gun on display, and it's even bigger than the dwarven one…"
Lorist looked up and saw that Schward was pointing at a weapons shop. Hanging inside was a massive gun that looked like an arquebus from his previous life.
"Let's go take a look," Lorist said.
"Welcome, my lord." The salesman at the shop entrance had a sharp eye and recognized Lorist's noble status at a glance.
"My lord, Stellar Armaments has always been renowned for its superior quality and refined taste. Whether you're looking for a trusty weapon or a fine gift, we can meet your needs…" The salesman began his pitch.
Lorist stopped right beneath the massive gun. "Is this one for sale too?"
The salesman froze for a moment, then noticed the box in Schward's hand and nodded in understanding. "My lord, this gun is a legendary artifact. Seven hundred years ago, the famous hero-lord Chinrick used it to shoot down the twin-headed chimera that had been terrorizing human settlements. However, after all these centuries, this legendary gun has become completely useless and lost all its value."
Lorist curled his lip. What nonsense — a gun from seven hundred years ago surviving to the present day would be nothing short of a miracle. Forget the wooden stock; the barrel itself would have long since rotted through. It was obviously a knockoff display piece used to attract customers.
Schward, on the other hand, was genuinely curious. "Why do you say this legendary gun has lost all its value?"
"Because there's no gunpowder for it!" the salesman explained. "The hero-lord was able to take down the twin-headed chimera seven hundred years ago because he had a dwarven friend who not only built this gun for him but also provided three charges of firing powder. That's how the legendary gun proved its might. But once the firing powder ran out, the gun became useless — not even as good as a burning stick."
"Those dwarves are despicable — why won't they keep supplying the firing powder? Are they afraid we might develop our own?" Schward said bitterly.
The salesman chuckled. "Actually, we've long since figured out the formula for the powder — sulfur, charcoal powder, saltpeter, starch, rosin, fire crystal powder, and egg whites. For centuries, dwarven heads have been as stubborn as granite, so the formula has never changed. Unfortunately, knowing it doesn't do us much good. The human world has no saltpeter mines. Saltpeter is only found hundreds of meters underground beneath mountain ranges, and only the dwarves can mine it. Without saltpeter mines, we simply can't produce firing powder..."
Lorist was stunned. No saltpeter mines meant no firing powder — but the saltpeter he'd needed for that failed batch of experimental black powder last time had been collected right from the corners of his own walls! A flash of inspiration struck him. The residents of Northland indeed had a habit of scraping saltpeter from wall corners, but they only ever dissolved and filtered it in water to use for tanning leather. Nobody had ever thought to boil off the water and harvest the saltpeter for making firing powder.
What truly interested Lorist, however, was the fire crystal powder the salesman had mentioned. "What exactly is fire crystal powder?" he asked.
The salesman replied, "My lord, fire crystal powder is simply fire crystals ground into a fine dust. Forgers mainly use it to raise the temperature of their flames. Let me check — we actually just purchased a small bag of fire crystals from some adventurers a couple of days ago. Let me find where I put it."
Before long, the salesman produced an old leather pouch and poured out several small red crystals, each about the size of a fingertip.
"Fire crystal powder is found in volcanic ash near mountain craters. It's a forager's treasure. At the critical moment during forging, sprinkling fire crystal powder into the furnace can dramatically raise the flame temperature and ensure the forging succeeds."
"Oh, thank you. This is the first time I've actually seen fire crystals," Lorist said, examining the red crystalline objects in his hand.
The salesman smiled. "My lord, this stuff is really only useful to forgers — it has no other practical purpose, so it's perfectly normal that you've never seen or heard of it."
"So the dwarves' firing powder contains this ingredient?" Lorist asked.
"Yes, this has already been confirmed by Professor Bobb of Dawn Academy — a single firing charge contains around ten percent fire crystal powder by weight, but the saltpeter content of up to fifty percent is what prevents us from producing the same kind of firing charges. I recall that last year Professor Bobb published an article on the composition of firing charges in the Morant Daily, and it caused quite a sensation in Morant City." The salesman had an excellent memory.
Lorist fished out a few gold Forde and handed one to the salesman. "This is for your excellent service — I'm quite satisfied. But would I be able to purchase a few pieces of fire crystal?"
"Of course, my lord. This bag contains twenty-three pieces of fire crystal; two gold Forde from your lordship will be enough," the salesman replied deferentially.
…(To be continued.)