POV Smith
The sound of hammers striking metal rang as I strolled through the foundry. All around metalworkers toiled in oppressive heat. The massive ladles filled with molten metal were carefully moved by dozens of workers and poured into pre-prepared molds. The small goblin supervisor at my waist wrung his hands nervously as the amber light of molten iron filled several large molds.
"Like? Sir like foundry?" The goblin asked. I continued watching the pouring metal. Only a few of these crummy things a day… take out the ones that don't cool right, deficiencies in the metal itself… I got maybe two good cannons a week.
"It will do." I replied as I moved to another part of the foundry. A horde of goblins ran along with ladles the size of large buckets, pouring its contents into molds for swords, pike heads, or armor. After they cooled a smith would take the item from the mold and start working on it.
I finished my tour of the foundry, it was disappointing. But it wasn't like I knew exact formulas for better metal, I could only give direction based on the shit i'd read years ago in school. I was no metallurgist, and though I knew how effective stronger metals were… I didn't know the precise formulas to make it. Regardless I had several weapons to test this afternoon, and it promised to be good.
After eating a quick lunch and meeting up with Colonel Tullio we proceeded to the range just outside the city. The range had been a farmer's field that the army had bought. We'd bought several actually, a moderately sized facility would be built here for weapons testing. But I would tour the rest of the facility later, for now my attention rested upon a line of cannons.
Several sections of troops were lovingly caring for their pieces, preparing for the demonstration. I looked over the cannon with mixed feelings. They were small and crude things, a far cry from what I'd envisioned. But the process was being worked on, perhaps larger guns would soon be a realistic goal. But as a proof of concept and as a training price these light 4 pounder cannon would suffice.
I pondered for a moment, perhaps they would do as lighter field prices for the horse artillery… that would do nicely. Though they'd lack the punch of the heavier guns of the foot batteries they'd make up for that with their enhanced maneuverability.
I waited as several more guests arrived. The highest ranking officers of the former 'Army of the Lobau' assembled and what few politicians had seen fit to crawl out of their grimy holes did I nod at the battery commander to begin his demonstration.
"Battery! Load shot, fire on my command!" The captain's barked orders rolled across the field as the gun crews leapt into action.
"Battery, fire by section, target 500 yards…" I tuned out the captain as I focused on the drill of the troops. The number three man ran to the caisson and grabbed a prepared charge of powder while the number four man grabbed a shot from the caisson. Both rushed to the muzzle of the cannon where the number two man waited with his ramming staff.
First the powder was placed in the muzzle then rammed down in a single solid motion, then tamped it again for good measure. After the staff was withdrawn the number four man placed the shot in the muzzle and the number two rammed it down in the same manner before withdrawing his staff and securing it underneath the carriage with his water pail.
The number three and four man had taken up positions on either of the large wheels and slowly eased the carriage as the gunner crouched behind the trail and sighted the cannon along the length of the barrel. The number one man stepped forward and using a long needle pricked the charge through the vent and inserted a fuse. He then stepped outside the carriage as the gunner called for the three and four men to let go and he adjusted the elevation screws.
With everything set he called for the section's chief to verify everything. He'd verified the shot and the charge, and had been overseeing the gunner's work. He quickly squatted behind the tube and nodded before ordering his section to stand clear of the cannon and reported his piece ready to fire.
I waited with anticipation as the captain gave the order. Each chief of section turned to their number one man who held a burning slow match aloft and passed the order down. The matches were pressed to the vents and the battery roared as the cannons spat their shot downrange with tearing shrieks of anger. Flame shot from the vent and muzzle as the gun leapt back and before the gun had even fully settled in its carriage the section had grabbed it by the spokes of its wheel and was moving it back into battery. I watched the display with a pleased smile on my face. The tools I needed to wage my war were tantalizingly close, I'd now have to retrain everyone, but that would be a small price to pay to increase my troops lethality.
Perhaps the only thing I can complain about was primers, though I knew how they worked, I wasn't sure how they were made, and so that little task was being left to the wiz's over in development. Perhaps they'd even figure out if a firearm could be properly enchanted. With winter rapidly approaching any campaigning would be delayed until spring. So I'll turn towards my pet project, and this time I'll drag David along…