September 1538, Capital City, Dharanikota.
Kasthuri Street.
It was a pleasant day in Dharanikota. Unlike the harsh summers, the monsoon was a dream. Because of the monsoon winds, it only rains in the early and later portions of the season.
For most of the season, it was cloudy and cold, compared to the unforgiving summers in the region.
Jagapathi was in a mood that reflected that of the weather, sleepy and cold. It was early morning and he was pulled aside from a regular task, of logistics and administration, to give a tour to a kid of some higher-ups, seemingly interested in their work.
He partly understood it, as he was struck with childlike wonder when he saw the things they were making.
Who wouldn't after all? Gunmaking was a new profession and only a few people were familiar with it. But he witnessed the deadliness of a seemingly normal-looking tube of metal, Musket as they call it, and the potential it held.
What he didn't understand was the reason someone like him needed to be pulled out of his job to arrange for a trip like this.
Jagapathi was not a blacksmith, or a gunsmith, as they like to call themselves these days. But he did help in managing the whole thing. His job was in logistics and administration, so, while those gunsmiths were popping out guns, it was his and his colleague's job to ensure that it happened smoothly.
All was fine until his boss, Chief Smith Ramana called him into his office to assign him this task, the previous evening. Jagapathi knew it had something to do with Ramana's visit to the Royal Palace yesterday and the military exercises that had concluded a few days earlier.
After those firing exercises, he started hearing rumours about new opportunities because the military wanted artillery too. That means more jobs, and a chance to climb higher in the ladder for many.
The Musket making, even though it started only a few months ago, was providing thousands of new jobs right here in the capital city. It was not only the blacksmith who was employed by the project but also people of many other professions.
Jagapathi used to work for an iron supplier who used to transport iron ore between the kingdom and the Vijayanagara Empire. After seeing an opportunity here, he switched jobs.
It was obvious that skilled blacksmiths and other professionals would be transferred from the Musket production to participate in artillery production. While he was not qualified to serve as the head of a project, he definitely could get many opportunities either in the new department or the openings caused by it in the current one.
But in such a crucial moment he was pulled from his regular job to escort a kid of some higher up just because he was interested in gun making. Jagapathi always felt that his boss Ramana was more strict with him than his other colleagues. He deliberately didn't pay any attention and chalked it up to the hope that he was getting more scrutiny because he was the best performer in the logistics department.
But by deliberately sabotaging his chance by assigning a task such as this, Jagapathi did not know what to think. But while he did think all of this he did not vocalize it. He was assigned the job and he would do it.
"Hello, sir. I am Jagapathi. I hope somebody mentioned me to you. I will be serving as your tour guide today. Welcome to Kasthuri Street." he said to a boy no older than 17 years old.
The kid looked like any other teenager of his age, the ones from a similar standing at least. Kids who come from normal families would have been working all their lives. They do not have the opportunity for education, nor do they get to visit a military weapons factory for a 'tour'.
The boy was wearing a blue shirt over cotton pants which was made in a style that was all the trend these days, especially after the King had been seen wearing similar clothes out in public.
But there was something odd about the boy, though. Jagapathi just could not put a finger on it. Maybe it was his eyes that made him look a lot older than he was. No kid that age had a pair of eyes that looked like that. While they were the typical brown eyes that everyone has they don't have that look of experience in them, especially at that age.
"Hello to you too, Jagapathi, and yes Ramana has told me all about you. You can call me Deva. Now I wouldn't want to waste any of your time so can we go ahead with the tour?"" the kid said, surprisingly well-mannered for a 16-year-old.
"Of course. Let's go ahead." Jagapathi replied as he led the kid into the street.
The entire Kasthuri Street was built in the last few months. The gunsmiths who worked here came from all over the kingdom and new accommodations and workplaces needed to be provided for them.
While it was called Kashturi Street, it was a group of streets that consisted of small buildings and warehouses all of which were built in the last few months. The whole thing was planned by a group of architects and constructed on an elevated part of River Krishna's shore so that it would not only be protected in case of flooding but also would be safe from any fire accidents.
"This is the warehouse where all the iron is stored. The Kingdom imports its iron from the Vijayanagara Empire. The whole process takes a lot of time, so we imported in bulk and stored it here" Jagapathi explained as the pair walked by a warehouse.
The warehouse was built from masonry bricks and mortar, with a roof made of pine and coconut leaves as its roof. Inside it, huge baskets could be seen, which were filled to the brim with iron ingots. There were also a couple of hundred hardwood logs for the musket stocks.
"So, no protection from rain and the elements?" Deva asked but his tone suggested that he was not looking for an answer.
"The wood would be fine but the iron rusts. I had a similar doubt, but the blacksmiths assured me that, rust would not affect the process that much. The metal needs to be reforged for any usage, and that usually takes care of the rust."
Seemingly satisfied with Jagapathi's answer, Deva nodded and moved on to the next few buildings.
"This is where the barrels of the muskets are made. This process is simple enough that only apprentices do it. But it takes time, so that means a lot of labour." he explained when they arrived at the next stop in their path.
A dozen small wooden sheds were constructed on both sides of the walkway, and the apprentices were slaving away at their jobs. They were grouped up as pairs, and each pair worked on a barrel.
Each of the sheds contained a forge to heat the metal, metal working tools, a bag of iron ingots, and a couple of bags of charcoal for fuel. Billowing black smoke was coughed out by the forges, which left a visible black layer of coating on the brick walls and the paved walkway.
"Some of the iron ingots from the warehouse are processed here. You see that group over there?" Jagapathi pointed to a pair who were hammering away at a piece of metal, " The iron is hammered into a sheet of metal similar to that."
The apprentices in question were just about done with their work. They took a few iron ingots, melted them down and hammered them into a sheet of metal that was about half an inch thick, and a few feet long.
"After the sheet is made, they will have to make them into gun barrels. See them for example." he pointed at another group, who were doing the mentioned step. " They use a block of metal called a swage block to bend the sheet of metal into a tube for a barrel."
The metal sheet, after it is made, will be reheated to a red-hot temperature, to be malleable enough so that it can be rolled. To get the desired shape, a swage block is used to guide the metal.
A swage block is nothing but a heavy block of iron, which contains holes and cuts required for it to assist in bending the sheet metal into perfect shape. It contains various crescent-shaped cuts on its surface so that, the metal can be rolled gradually, as it is hammered in each of the holes.
"How much time does each of the steps take?" Deva inquired, and Jagapathi supplied him with an answer.
"It usually depends on the one who is making it, but a pair of apprentices complete 3 barrels in 2 days. So, that comes to around 4 hours for one step and eight hours for both. They work for about 12 hours a day, the most that can be done in daylight."
After hearing the answers, the boy wrote them down in the notebook he was carrying around. He was doing that from the start of the trip. Jagapathi was explaining the process, and Deva wrote some of it down.
"What is the next step then?"
"Annealing," Jagapathi explained as they moved forward from the barrel sheds. "Nobody properly knows the reason why, but a blacksmith explained to me that annealing makes working on a metal lot easier."
They then walked to a brick structure that had a smoke stack to the side. A couple of workers were removing the barrels from inside the structure, just as the pair entered.
"Every day, the barrels which are completed are brought here. The brick structure, which you are seeing is an annealing oven. The barrels are heated in it and would be allowed to cool down slowly." Jagapathi said, as he took a barrel from the worker and gave it to Deva for inspection. " This takes a few more hours."
Annealing increases the malleability of the metal. After working on the barrel, the metal would be quenched to increase its strength, but this will also cause the metal to become brittle. For gun barrels, malleability is important, otherwise, it will turn into a pipe bomb.
"This looks like a task that does not require much supervision. Why is it done during daylight, when every minute is precious?" Deva questioned. Jagapathi wanted to answer that he was not the one who was making them, but before he could, Deva moved on " Let's go to the next one."
They walked forward to visit the next step of the process. "After the barrels are done annealing, they are brought here. You see, even after making a barrel, it is not perfect. The hole through which the musket ball travels needs to be created. That is done here."
The pair entered another warehouse, but instead of goods, it was filled with a few dozen workers. People were once again divided into pairs, each having their workbenches, and on those workbenches, a barrel was strapped down.
"These workers use the metalworking tools to drill a hole through the centre of the gun barrel so that it is compatible with the shot. The king has ordered to make all barrels the same size, so that is another added complexity."
"How are they proofed? How do they know that they are the same size?" Deva questioned, and while it seemed like an innocent question, it was driving it to the centre of the issue at hand.
"They are tested against each other. If both of them are the same size, it means that they have passed." Jagapathi answered but then stopped to think about it for a second. "Now that I think about it, the errors will accumulate over time with this method. Thanks for bringing it to my attention. I will talk to someone, who has more experience in it than me."
The problem with testing products with each other was the accumulation of wrong tolerances. Without a standardized method of measurement, a 'good enough' system was used. In that method, comparing the quality of the product to the next batch of products would cause issues.
For example, the required standard for A is 100. A product B is produced with a standard of 99. B would be good enough for it to pass. Now the net product would be compared to C, which has a standard of 98. It would also be good enough when compared to B. Similarly, D would be good enough at 97, E at 96 and so on.
At one point, the product would still be good enough to meet the standard but would be so far from the original A. Even though according to the standard that is set, A and X are both good products, they are not compatible with each other.
"I think it could be solved by using a master copy for proofing," Deva suggested, and both of them stood there awkwardly. It was Jagapathi's job to explain it to the kid, who was giving suggestions back to him. " let's move to the next step."
They moved on to further down the street, and there, on either side of the road, were two dozen workshops. About 15 of them were in operation, while the rest were under construction.
"This is where the most important part of the whole thing happens. Each of these workshops is under a senior blacksmith. This is where the whole trigger mechanism is made." Jagapathi explained while Deva kept writing something in his notebook. " They make the steel that is used in the trigger mechanism themselves."
The trigger mechanism of a flintlock is the most complex part of it. While it was not comparable to the complexity of the weapons from the future, it was complex enough for the time period that, a skilled blacksmith was required to make it.
"I would explain it to you, but I barely understand it myself. For each musket, the whole trigger mechanism takes a whole day to create. Then they will take a stock, which is made by our carpenters, and assemble the whole thing."
Deva, who was writing in his pocket-sized notebook, finally stopped writing and looked back up. Jagapathi did know who the kid's father was, but directly ignoring him, when he was taking time off his work to arrange this tour, pissed him off.
"Kid, I don't know who you think you are, but ignoring a person, especially when they are speaking to you, is just bad manners. What did your parents teach you, for you to think that this behavior is acceptable?"
Deva, even after hearing all of this, continued looking straight into Jagapathi's eyes. Then he turned to the nearest workshop and walked in.
"Hey!! That is a restricted area!! Come back!!" Jagapathi yelled as he chased after the kid, after recovering from the brief shock. "Sto…!!!" But the voice stopped in his throat when he realized who was inside.
Sitting in a few chairs, were his boss, Chief Smith Ramana, and his boss, Infrastructure Minister Selvappan. 'What did this kid drag me into?'
"Forgive the intrusion, sir. He just wandered in, and I tried to stop him, but I was too late. Hey Kid! Let's go outside. The elders are discussing important things." Jagapathi said and tried to drag Deva out of the room.
He then faced another surprise. Ignoring the fact that Deva was unusually strong and he failed to pull him, what caught his attention was the fact that both of his bosses, Chief Ramana, and Minister Selvappan, had burst into laughter, and Deva promptly joined them.
Seeing all of this, it all clicked in Jagapathi's mind. This Deva was supposedly a relative of a high-ranking official. What if he was related to Minister Selvappan? And he just scolded the kid that, his parents taught him bad manners.
Jagapathi immediately let go of his grip on Deva's shoulders and fell to his knees. " Forgive me, my lord. The way I spoke to your son was not appropriate."
"Son? He is not my son. He is the King Rudra Deva"
'THE KING?!!!' was the last thought in Jagapathi's mind before he passed out from shock.