Dima gathered his thoughts and began to describe modern warfare technologies as he understood them, trying to simplify everything as much as possible, not wanting to induce a nervous breakdown in his conversation partner.
"Alright," he said, "let's start with tanks. Imagine a massive metal box the size of a couple of elephants with a cannon on top — that's a tank. They serve for both attack and defense and are quite effective at it. Their armored shells protect the crew from enemy fire and explosions."
Kiechi listened with wide eyes, her face displaying a mix of amazement and confusion. For a moment, she imagined this huge beast — a real iron elephant crushing everything in its path.
"How does it move?" She decided to chime in while Dima gathered his thoughts.
"Let's skip that for now; if I tell you it runs on diesel fuel, will that clarify things?" Kiechi just shook her head in confusion.
"There are also airplanes," Dima continued, "these large, man-made birds made of metal that can transport people, cargo, and weapons over great distances and very quickly. The most interesting are the fighter planes — they can drop bombs and missiles from high altitudes, destroying fortresses and cities, then hiding in the clouds." Dima purposely omitted different types of aircraft, sensing the cultural shock reflected in his companion's eyes, as he aimed to keep it concise.
Kiechi pressed her hands to her chest in shock, her mind conjuring images of horrors unknown to her. She couldn't believe that humans could create such devices; in her mind, only dragons and gods could soar into the sky, which she hastened to convey to him.
"Are you sure you're not lying? I heard that in Midgard, scholars and wizards lifted a very large balloon with a person on board into the air. We all thought they were just brazenly lying," Kiechi looked up from the floor to meet her companion's gaze.
"So, is that really possible?" Dima silently nodded, trying to gauge what technological era Midgard was in, realizing that he had too little information to continue that line of thought and abandoned it.
"That's not all," Dima continued, sensing how his words filled Kiechi with a visceral thrill.
"We have artillery it's similar to what you have, but ours can shoot over great distances. Very long distances, 20 to 40 kilometers depending on the caliber." For greater emphasis, he spread his arms wide.
"I know this sounds unreal, but you have to believe me," he said, and continued as the girl maintained a grave silence.
"But in reality, that's still not everything. We have weapons that can destroy people hundreds of kilometers away — those are missiles. They can be directed at a specific target even before launch and hit it with high precision, with a margin of error of about 15 to 20 meters."
Kiechi couldn't believe her ears. All the clan wars, how they behaved on the battlefield, how they built tactics and strategy, suddenly seemed like childish games.
What Dima described bewildered her and filled her with almost primal horror, but she held herself together. She caught herself thinking that the lands of the Khor kingdom would never withstand a clash with such enemies.
"And of course, I will tell you about what is closer to us — machine guns and automatic weapons," Dima continued, sensing that Kiechi perked up slightly at his words "closer."
"Machine guns can fire continuously if you pull the trigger; let me explain — imagine that hundreds of soldiers fired simultaneously, and combine all those shots into one weapon."
"Wait, does that mean that even a slightly dense formation would be instantly destroyed by a hail of bullets?"
"And now hold on to the table tightly, because I'm going to tell you about automatic weapons. These "magic" boom sticks allow soldiers to fire quickly and efficiently without wasting time on reloading."
"What do you mean, no reloading? Are they shooting air?" Kiechi asked skeptically, rightly anticipating a trick.
"No, it's just that compared to your flintlock rifles, reloading is negligible; the rate of fire for a standard automatic rifle is 600 shots per minute, with a reload time of a couple of seconds."
"Wait… Dima," she finally said, suppressing the tremor in her voice, "how did the peoples of your world survive even one war when you have such terrifying weapons in your hands?"
"As I said, it was very bloody. I've noticed that we humans have a tradition of ruthlessly butchering each other constantly. And since humans are very clever beasts, they're always coming up with ways to improve and optimize even the process of killing their kind." Dima's philosophical tirade almost confused Kiechi; seeing this, Dima changed the subject.
"Understand, I didn't want to scare you or anything; everything I said had only one meaning. You need changes; judging by the developments in Midgard, they'll likely have a lot of this in fifteen to twenty years, even if it's rusty, crooked, and flawed, but even with that, you'll be simply smeared against the wall like a thin layer."
Kiechi grabbed the guy's hand and, with fury in her voice, asked, "Can you do anything about this?"
Dima paused for a moment. The truth was, his knowledge of modern technologies was quite superficial and fragmented, but evidently, Chorus thought it was enough.
"Possibly, but not right away," he replied, trying to sound confident. "I have some basic knowledge of how these devices work, but far from all of them can be adapted to local conditions. It will require time and some material resources."
Kiechi frowned but didn't lower her eyes.
"What do you propose?"
"You and your grandfather are very similar," Dima said, only to witness the eruption of a small, very emotional volcano.
"Where the hell did you get that from?" the girl practically howled, and one could understand her; she was a completely different person from her beloved yet rude and shameless old man Ason. The very idea that they were alike left her stunned, smoothly transitioning into aggression.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry; it's just that Ason asked me exactly the same thing you did; I meant nothing more." Apologizing, Dima was stunned by the girl's previous remark.
"You've already talked to him?" Dima looked at Kiechi in confusion and replied shyly.
"Well, yes, we've actually been traveling here for over a week, and there was plenty of time for conversation." The girl paled in a couple of seconds and then blushed after a few more.
At first, she felt foolish for forgetting such an obvious thing in her emotional outburst, and then she felt ashamed for having yelled at their guest for no reason. Gathering her thoughts, the girl quietly said,
"I could introduce you to our best blacksmith. His skills might surprise you; perhaps he can help you create something similar to the weapons from your world."
Dima nodded and thought. "Considering that I understand very little about military technology, I should start with something simple." — He had considered this problem many times during his stay in this world, and back in the monastery, he saw a large flintlock musket and it struck him — why invent new weapons when you can modernize the old ones? Most of the armies of the world live like that, given the perpetual lack of budget for the endless wants of the military.
"Secondly, gasoline? The lifeblood of the economy in my world and a potential flamethrower in this one." Dima didn't doubt for a second that they knew about the distillation apparatus, commonly known as a moonshine still, so he considered gasoline to be practically in his pocket. Besides that, there was diesel, tar, oils, and much more that could come in handy in the future. "In an ideal scenario, I'll find a couple of local alchemists. Knowledge is certainly good, but practice and experience, even if sometimes flawed, will be very useful."
"Thirdly, and most promising, are highly brisant substances: lead azide, fulminate of mercury, anything that explodes upon impact." Dima was thinking about this and smiled to himself, already anticipating the taste of future success on his lips.
Kiechi simply watched his face, quietly absorbing it. Dima's expression was more like that of an ancient demon that her parents had told her stories about in her childhood. "I imagined him just like that: cunning, sly, and for some reason frightening, brr." Goosebumps ran across the girl's body; the man before her was a key, but whether it was to salvation or doom, she couldn't tell.
Dima, on the other hand, felt that his plans were beginning to take real shape. With each passing minute, he increasingly believed that his actions could lead to something significant, capable of changing the course of history in this world. "Ah, if we have a unitary cartridge in our hands, even the gods won't be able to stop us," Dima summarized to himself as he stepped out of his dreamy world into the cold reality.
Knock. Knock. Knock. — There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" Kiechi shouted, gradually regaining her composure. The door opened, and a lovely girl in a gray kimono entered. Bowing, she spoke without raising her eyes.
"Mr. Dima, the bath is ready; would you like to wash?"
"Yes, yes, and yes again!" — Dima exclaimed joyfully as he got up from his accustomed spot.