"They have 3,000 troops in total?" Commander Greer asked. He couldn't believe it. He knew these people were a walkover, but d*mn, did they have to be that bad? An entire city had 3,000 troops in total. What's more, these were not a standing army but fragmented among the powerful families. Crane city belonged to the Crane family because they had the largest army and the largest influence in the city.
Such a city did not make sense to a commander who was used to structure and order. He had always known who his King was, who would become the King, or in this case Queen, after. It was thus very difficult for him to associate with the people here. Of course, all this was not without a hint of self-importance and hubris.
As he went over the report, he got work that a blacksmith was summoning him. A what? Summoning him? The nerve. He had one mind to refuse, but he decided to go and see who was so disrespectful.
Commander Greer was further exacerbated by the fact that he had to move from the palace grounds he had been at to the newly established metal street since that was where the blacksmith was.
Riding on his horse, Commander Greer watched as more and more people flocked within the gates. His look of disgust at the new arrivals matched the looks of many of Crane city's inner-city residents. To live within the walls had been a privilege, now everyone was flocking in on account of impending doom.
As the people came in, the Commander nodded with approval as noting that they were bringing in a lot of foodstuff with them. In the case of a siege, they would need to have plenty of food stored, otherwise, they would starve to death.
Walking on, the commander finally arrived at Steel Street. No joke, the entire street was made up of blacksmiths, all seemed to collaborate. With a smile, he made up his mind that only a Tristanite would be responsible for such a feat. If left to their devices, these small-timers would still be squabbling about who gets what.
What he admired about it all was the beauty of it. There were no dissections on where the materials would go. The ones delivering would know where to take what. The metallic ores were taken to the metal refiners, the hide and other materials delivered to the relevant party.
They would then move their products to those waiting. Onwards the chain would go until ready armor or equipment was produced. It was all very beautifully done. He had heard that the Queen and King were scheduled to come to visit the area the following day. He hadn't placed much stock in that, but now he understood why.
It was all so nicely done that the kindergarten operations he had come to know seemed like child's play. As a boy, he had had a passion for crafting, as did every other boy in the world. He could feel the same passion being awakened now.
What he didn't know was that many of the blacksmiths present were also wondering the same thing. Moreover, many civilian blacksmiths had joined steel street to witness and be a part of this operation. The genius of it lay in its simplicity.
One person working on just one piece of the operation or a piece of equipment could get more done than if they were working on the whole equipment. They could even train less-skilled personnel to do bits and pieces of what would have required a certified blacksmith.
Barda had the certified smiths work on the more complex tasks such as refining steel and assembling final equipment, while the rest could be done by the recruits. That way, hundreds of equipment were being churned out of this assembly line. They had to work fast due to the coming threat.
As the Commander approached, he was met by an odd-looking fellow. His face and everything about him seemed off. The man led the commander to a shed, where he met the blacksmith. 'So, it was you?' The commander thought as he looked at the man that had summoned him. In his mind, this man indeed had the credentials to do so.
"Commander, thanks for coming," Barda received the man. "I heard you were once an archer, is that true?"
"Yes, once, many years ago. That's all behind me now." The commander answered truthfully. In his mind, he did not fit to be called an archer, not in front of Barda, the dragon slayer.
"I also heard that you have a team of dedicated warriors under you."
"Yes, I do," The commander answered. At least, that much he could be proud of.
"Good, I have a little gift for you, but it is not something I can give you right now, and it is not something I want people to know about," Barda said excitedly.
"I am intrigued," the commander was interested now. The last time this man had come up with something, it had led to their victory at the blockade. Perhaps he could perform another miracle, that way he wouldn't feel so d*mn doomed.
"In that case, come tomorrow. Bring with 50 men and horses, we'll be going for a ride." Barda's mysterious statement only made the commander want more. A proud man like that did not do fleeing very well. Now here was someone offering a chance to fight back.
Barda had thought long and hard about this. He realized now that he had no Dark Flames to go back to since they were now a part of Tristan. He had something to fight for. Furthermore, he knew he couldn't fight this war alone. He was overpowered, but one overpowered man does not an army make. For whatever was coming for them next, he would need a new party secret.
In his previous life, Barda had interacted with many kinds of weapons, and he was at a loss of the kind to choose. Many were energy beam emitters, which was advanced technology he had no hope of replicating. Others had microchips, which he couldn't make with the tools at his disposal.
Similarly, he needed a weapon he knew well, that way he could make a blueprint off of it. Of the few weapons that Barda could think of, only one came to mind. Of all the weapons in what was once the Soviet arsenal, nothing was more profitable than Avtomat Kalashnikova model of 1947. More commonly known as the AK-47, or Kalashnikov. It was the world's most popular assault rifle until gun-powder firearms became antiques.
A weapon all fighters love. An elegantly simple 9-pound amalgamation of forged steel and plywood. It wouldn't break, jam, or overheat. It would shoot whether it was covered in mud or filled with sand. It was so easy to operate, even children could use it, and many had.
Barda had bought the weapon once in his previous life as an antique. He had learned how to operate it. Much later he bought the maglev version of it, it was a better fit.
Barda's advantage was that memories from his former life had been digitized and cataloged, integrating them with the AI's database. That being said, some were severely degraded and had to be reconstructed from other memories, but some were as clear as day. Barda's love for old weapons was showing it's true value now.
Crafting it had not been easy as he had to invent any tool or base-forging surface where none existed. He also had to sculpture the plywood himself to get the measurements right. For his first try, he needed everything to be right.
The biggest headache had been the gunpowder. The base recipe wasn't bad, he just needed to mix sulfur, charcoal and potassium nitrate, otherwise known as saltpeter.
The problem was getting the saltpeter. It had been a very weird conversation among the blacksmiths as they wondered why this genius was asking about a bat cave. When they did find it, they were shocked to see him order several barrels of bat guano (accumulated excrement) packed and delivered to him.
Barda had spent the next few hours working on the bat guano, extracting the potassium nitrate. With the sulfur and charcoal provided by Crane city, Barda had finished his work with satisfaction. With this, he couldn't help but grin as he thought of the possibilities.
The next day, Barda had the troops gather at the agreed-upon location at daybreak. He, together with a few aides, Batoo included, loaded up a trunkload of weapons in a horse-drawn carriage and rode off into the forest, leaving many to wonder what they were up to.