Hunter Or Huntress

Bang bang bang, the hammer rang out crisp. Steel forged in fire, by the hand of the smith. Shaped on the anvil, to silhouettes outlined. By their artificer, and her holy designs. Passed on to the Tinks who shape them with skill. All which was not mechanical art, turned into shavings by adamantium cuts. Measurements taken with alien tools. Such precision impossible, save for inquisitorial stuff.

All manner of items go through the shop, from pipes and grenades to spring and valves. Many late nights spent trying on paper. More things are needed and need their patterns made. Discussions are held until a late hour. Advantages weighed against problems and dangers. The task they face: "How to kill better?"

The answer is daunting, but is answered quite quick. A fiery creation of death and destruction, destined to be the center of production. The factory is not ready, compromises made. The gun must be simple to ensure it gets made. Magazines removed and the gas tube too. The stock will be wood, so Kullinger is happy. Rasps and files will soon smoothen and shape it. But the rifle's mechanics will be everyone's stake. Tom will decide, what it is that they make.

A single-shot weapon, he has decreed. Seven mill and rifled, to strike from afar. A straight-walled cartridge for the power of the powder. A rolling block action, stout as old Baron. Rimmed ammunition for ease of extraction. Primer in center, a straight reproduction. Simple notch sights, set for 200 meters. In future you might get the gift of adjustments. For now it is fixed, and zeroed with shims. Prototypes ordered, and tooling produced. A gun to be proven, before factory debut.

All hands were working, from dawn until dusk. On the 5th day they got a hole in the wall. Connections were shorted, in the blitz power cell. No one was injured, Tom's work did well. Lathe is repaired by the end of the week. Tink still looks singed, that's not any news. New windings needed, and fuzes and glass. Electrodes still working, once hammered back out.

The work must continue, at a blistering pace. Rachuck's fears are easily embraced. But outside the roaring, winds of winter. The frost still threatens to halt the whole team. And so an endeavor some would abandon, is pushed to the fore, with reckless abandon. In a cold windowsill sits a small figurine, watching closely through dull wooden eyes. Beholding the birth of a legacy forgotten. A titan of industry, a terror of war. Oleg was pleased, by its coming once more.

Planed on granite, to be as flat as glass. Polished and oiled, til it shone like silver. Boring the cylinder, proved hardest of all. Tools reforged, and a lathe stiffened, to make the steel run true, without any singing. Failed attempts returned to the forge, where a magic hand undoes the woes. Rebored thrice over, the piston won't fit. The human consulted, and the drawings remade.

"Don't fuck it up," he stoutly declares. He knows all too well, how thin the wall's got. The pressures are low, there should be no trouble. Seals inlaid, from cork and from copper. To keep hissing steam from people and worse. The boiler was braised by their finest of craftsmen. Just don't say it, or she'll see you suffer.

A peglegged queen of the forge and she knows it. Tink moved her hammer and she moved his shoulder. But it's the eye of Edita and Tom, that oversee closely as the machine is assembled. Tink and his junior did very fine work. It spins without binding, a good sign indeed.

The gauges are set, a matter of safety. A column of water, will serve as a reference. Adjusted for Gravity, they shall read in Bar. The last earthen touches, on ancient designs. The fires are lit, the boiler kept well clear outside.

"So now what?" Jacky questioned after Tom shut the firebox door. The needle had started to climb, so he'd filled up the box, crossing his fingers that would be enough fuel to run the test.

"We wait, once we are reading the pressure we wanna test we put out the fire. It's gonna take a while cause everything is cold," he replied, starting to walk back to the relative safety of the greeting hall. Much of the keep was waiting and watching, several seeming quite excited. If that was down to them getting one step closer to heating those beds, or if they were hoping for an explosion, it was quite hard to tell.

"You put the thing outside in frozen winds, of course it is cold," Jacky protested as she followed after him. "I'm cold too."

"Would you rather keep it inside in case it blows up?"

"...No."

Tom could feel the scowl drilling into the back of his neck as Dakota stared her finest daggers at him as he turned his back on the gilded huntress.

"Well there we go then. We let the pressure build in the boiler to pressure test it. We're going to 30 bar then we set the safety valves to 20 and run it at 15. Should be nice and safe that way. Once we've done that we can try to test if the engine works."

"I don't like the fact you just said should," Jacky added as she started working the winch, the outer door closing ever so slowly.

Tom was betting the solid oaken door would be plenty to catch any shrapnel. It wasn't particularly high pressure after all, the math said the boiler was good for far far more. But you never knew with those sorts of things. 'Please don't be a fucking handgrenade, so much time wasted.'

"It is very safe," Edita added in support of Tom. "Some of the most conservative specifications I have yet seen."

Tom knew that was engineering speak for 'Your shit is weak you pussy.' But for once Edita likely thought he was just being overly safe out of fear of inferior manufacturing and materials. Which was perfectly true. Only if Shiva ever found out he would have bigger worries than high pressure steam.

"There should be nothing to worry about. But in case something is wrong with it, we have to test it."

"Could we please not have any more explosions? Mother is still absolutely furious about the last hole you made," Dakota added, making he opinions known about their recent escapades.

"It was only a small explosion, the cell wasn't even full," Tom protested.

"And the shielding held well," Edita added, adding her voice to Tom's like a good disciple.

"It put a hole in the wall." Dakota, rebuked, less than impressed.

"In my defence the shield was designed to save whoever was using it, not the wall. Besides it was only a wooden wall. Kullinger will get it fixed when he has time for it."

"I swear to Tula, if we have anyone crawling through that hole."

"Relaaaax, where would they go anyway?"

"I don't know… So how long will this take?" she questioned, conceding the point, at least for now.

"No idea. First time we've gotten her fired up, quite a while though. What are we reading?"

Dakota sighed, lowering her head down and peeking out through the crack under the door, her enhanced sight earning her a clear picture of the little pressure gauge. "Less than one."

"Gonna be a while, best get comfy."

"Should I bring some chairs?" Jacky questioned having locked the door in place, slightly open.

"Sounds like a fine idea. Maybe a snack too?"

"Already brought that." A small sausage and a knife was produced and she started cutting off slices. "If you have snacks, bring snacks."

"That's my girl."

She soon returned, chairs in hand and got comfortable. A couple members of their audience filtered out too, having more important things to do than wait for a needle to climb. Dakota had a look every couple of minutes. 4 bar, 7 bar, 12, 16.

By the time they started inching closer to the target, the needle well and truly in the red on the homemade gauge, Tom was starting to wonder if that thing could really be trusted. He knew there was no way it was accurate to much more than the nearest bar. The spring rate alone saw to that. But just how bad was it?

The gauge wasn't even of his design. It was Edita's.

The artificer was watching with baited breath, more invested than even himself. He was mostly worried he would hear the depressing sound of a leak springing from somewhere, or worse yet that dreaded explosion. But so far so good.

"26… I think," Dakota reported. "It's slowing down."

"Fire is starting to die out. We might just have to go with whatever it reaches."

"Will that be enough?"

"It should be. But once we are done today we should inspect it for any damage doing this."

"It survived the static test just fine to 40. I have utmost confidence," said Edita.

"That was with cold water and the piston pump. This is different," Tom countered, knowing full well that all the braised joints were done with silver, not welds. Heat would weaken the joints considerably.

Edita didn't argue. Though she didn't nod her agreement either. A scathing enough respons from her.

'Yes, yes, I know I am being a pussy.'

"Give it a few more minutes, if it doesn't climb or starts going down we'll douse the fire."

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'Right focus now, put it in the slot, if it touches the big metal cylinder it blows up. Cause we're doing this the safe way,' Sapphire grumbled to herself as she put down the small pouch of frost powder and laid down so she could see under the door to her target. 'I should be wearing a helmet for this shouldn't I?'

"Hey could I get a helmet or something? Maybe goggles."

"Oh you can borrow mine," Edita was quick to answer, Sapphire soon feeling someone else's hands strapping the pair of goggles to her head, hoops sliding over her horns before the glass lenses were secured in place over her eyes. The artificer tended to wear said goggles when there was anything more risky going on, as opposed to her multi lensed extravagance of what many could describe as jewelry.

These were much simpler, leather, steel and glass. But Sapphire was certainly happy to have them.

"Can't forget this," the always grating voice of Balathon added as she felt a helm, rather too small for her head, get pushed down tight.

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"How lovely… thank you," she replied, met only with snickering as she heard him retreat back to Heron, who was the only other guard who had decided to remain and watch.

"Anything for you Sapphire… Aow, who threw that!?"

The lack of an answer was all the confirmation Saph needed as she took another deep breath. 'Thanks Maiko.'

Slowly and steadily the small bag started floating towards the improvised bomb the engineer and artificer had built, and in a matter of moments she pushed it up against the flap covering the little chute they had told her to stuff it down. The strain was palpable as the metal flap budged ever so slowly, and she sighed in relief as she cut the flow of magic and the bag fell inside. And with a woosh, white steam and smoke shot out of the chimney.

"I think that did it," she declared, taking a fresh breath.

"Well done Saph, now we wait," Tom echoed. Glancing left, the human too was laying down on the ground to watch the proceedings, his cumbersome goggles providing some protection in kind.

"Is this steam stuff just all about waiting?"

"Like Heron in the morning, nothing happens quickly. But that gives us some time to get ready down in the workshop. There is much to do." The human was quickly back on his feet, Sapphire following suit.

"So need me for that too, or is it back to being a bookworm?"

"No, I think we will be good… Did you find anything on the vacuum pumps? It's only for future plans but might as well get started."

"Only about where you use it. And a bunch of graphs we do not understand at all."

"No problem, do try to keep looking. Oh and I will have another thing for you to look at as well. You'll like it, it's on flight. It is on the computer so you will need to transcribe it as you go. Won't hurt to have a physical copy."

"It does sound like something we should be doing, one day we might have all of the books from your thinking machine."

"I doubt it, but we can try. Gotta be a couple hundred thousand on there at least. But yes, best get to scribing. They won't last forever."

Sapphire could see Edita flinch at the mere notion. For once she shared in the feeling. That would be an awful loss. Not just for them, but the whole world. Self-aggrandizing as that sounded.

"You know what, I'll get to scribing like a good little book goblin. Best of luck with the uhm… Thing."

"We will try not to blow anything up or start a fire."

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"Isn't that a sweet sweet sound." Tom mused at the steady ducka ducka ducka of the small single cylinder engine. "The sound of progress. Someone mark the date, today is important."

"You're the one who's not been sleeping, you tell us what the date is," Jacky countered, arms crossed looking cocky. "It sounds adorable."

"Oh right… yeah, it is adorable. And the start of a revolution… I hope. To be completely honest I do not know why you guys abandoned your technology in the past, but hopefully it won't stop you learning anew."

"That would be a Paulin question," his dear beloved answered, looking to the archivist who was observing silently from a corner.

"It may, but we shall fight tooth and claw to see it thwarted."

"Well that's reassuring," Tom replied halfheartedly. "Anyway, with it running we can pump nice hot water all throughout the keep. And we can also run some of the equipment in here without using any blitzgel."

"But you will be using my charcoal instead, there is not much left." Shiva protested, though she didn't seem overtly hostile about the fact. "It is an expensive good to buy. And a mess to make."

"We'll have to see about setting up some more local production. With enough carrots we may still win the horse's favor while cutting down a few trees."

"Unicorn Tom, Kalestine is a unicorn."

"Only when her horn grows back. Now, it is already getting a bit late, I will be keeping an eye on this for now. Making sure everything works as we want it to. And to teach Tink and Junior how to care for her."

"I guess it is back to the casting for us then. There are a few more pipes to be done," Jacky added with a sigh. It was repetitive work, and Tom knew it. It was also a frightening amount of materials, even if they were using their cheapest iron mixed with what few scraps they had left to make it.

"Indeed, and in the morning we shall try again to make your small rifle barrel. Let me assure you, making it thinner does not make it easier," Shiva added, a bit grumpy.

They had tried a few times already to make the barrel for the single shot, and they had even thought the first one was a success. It turned out not to be so when they bored it out. There were inclusions of what looked like pure carbon in the metal leading to voids. And that was just inviting disaster, or at the very least a very short lived and inaccurate barrel. Most of the other pieces were already done. It was exceedingly simple, by design. After all, the hope was that they could make lots of these things, perhaps, in time. Even export them. At least to the inquisition. That ought to earn them some good will, even if Tom was certain that would soon bring down demands from the royal guard despite their fancy new bows he had designed for them.

As it stood, forging the barrel blanks might put a damper on that idea though.

"I know, that's why we have you trying to pull it off rather than Tink. We are going to need a lot of them, so well… I guess best get into a cadence."

The smith crossed her arms and looked less than impressed, understandably so. Who was he to tell her what to do after all? He had showcased what he could manage in a forge, and it wasn't pretty.

"Sorry… best of luck. I promise you we'll get a powerhammer built for the factory when we get to that part.

"Oh I simply cannot wait, and it will all be powered by something like this, yes?" Tink questioned enthusiastically, inspecting the engine closely, now that everything was moving and working. "Marvelous, to think it can create such power, from hot air."

"Hot water technically. And no, we will need a bigger one. Muuuch bigger. But that is a problem for then. For now, let's keep this one in tip top shape. Would be a shame to ruin it with negligence already. Edita, oiling can."

"Yes sir!"

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"And if you push them together like this, it even sticks upside down, but really you should brace them like this." Tom explained to an attentive Kiran as he put a few bricks together to make a stick that was strong enough to wave around. "With enough blocks you can make anything."

"Oooohhh…" Kiran grabbed the stick and gave it a wave. Then he tapped it on the ground and it broke. "Oh. That's not good."

"And it can fall apart and get put back together again and again and again," Tom reassured, deftly reassembling the stick. "Hopefully they will last a lifetime."

"It is like building blocks but better," Kiran declared, getting right back to waving the stick around, testing the promised strength.

"Exactly. And with more special kinds of bricks, you can make cars, little planes, maybe a ballista," Tom egged on, happy to see his creation find use.

From what he had heard the children had been making good use of their toys. Though in traditional child fashion, the Lego like blocks had quickly been integrated into the rest of the pile. But who was to say you couldn't make a tower of old dumb blocks with a new pretty parapet on top?

"Oh yes, then I can shoot Worpock."

"No no, not for shooting Worpock," Tom replied jokingly, shaking his head.

"Esmeralda then?" Kiran tried, looking up and tilting his head pleadingly.

"Her ballista is much bigger, that would be unwise," Tom lectured sarcastically. "And I think she might be a better shot than you. She is very skilled.

"She would never shoot me," Kiran stated confidently. But even Tom could see the false bravado. Kiran had definitely been on the receiving end of more than one humbling courtesy of the eldest huntress. And Esmeralda knew how to handle the kids very well.

"No but she might take your bricks away."

Kiran's bravado crumbled as he started grumbling something to himself, likely cursing the injustice in the world. "It's not fair she gets to decide what we can do. She isn't one of us."

"And who is us in this case?"

"The cool kids. She is always saying no."

"No to anything in particular?" Tom probed, feeling a good story coming on, told right from the source.

"Nooo, we can't have any candies, ever and ever. We can't go play outside even for a little bit, like we did with Jarix. It was soo cool! We don't get to do anything like that with her around," Kiran grumped, seeming more genuinely angry this time around, crossing his arms hard and looking away.

Tom scooted a bit closer putting a hand on Kiran's tiny shoulder.

"Heeeey, it's not all bad I'm sure. She might be a little protective, but that's not such a bad thing." Tom almost brought up Anastasi's fate but caught himself in the act. There was no need to bring that up.

"You're so much cooler though, we get to do fun things. Like play with fire, and sparks. Or fly, and play in the snow… I never get to come down into the workshop anymore… We just sit and learn stuff all day. And it's not even fighting."

"I know, but with so many people working so hard, it is dangerous. It's not like back when we started."

"I don't mind dangerous," Kiran whined. "I just wanna see what you are all doing. I… I wanna be there with you. And Jacky and the others. Not Esmeralda and Ray… They are boring."

Tom sighed and patted him on the back. "I know. I'm sorry. Is it at least a little better when Herron or the other guards are watching you guys?."

"It was… but then Balathon got in trouble for teaching us to swordfight. Only Rackashaza and Vigon are allowed to try that. It's totally unfair."

Tom knew Esmeralda's oldest were twice Kiran's age, so it made sense they were allowed to do a lot more interesting things. "They are older… But I tell you what. I will try to see if I can't maybe make some swords you would be allowed to play with, hmmm? Wouldn't that be fun?"

Kiran looked up at Tom, eyes bright. "You would? It wouldn't be a boring little one right?"

"No no, but it would be soft. I think we can manage that. But you must promise to remind me, I am very busy. I might forget."

Kiran nodded vigorously. "Okay, I will remind you every day."

'Oh what have I done,' Tom cursed to himself, too late to stop the words from coming out. That was probably a pretty catastrophic mistake.

Before he could dig an even deeper hole there was a gentle knock at the door and they both looked over.

'Definitely not Jacky,' Tom concluded. "Who is it?"

"Edita… You wished to discuss something with me post cleansing," the cautious tone of the artificer came in reply. Tom put any possible nervousness down to Jacky making her territory quite clear indeed. But when it was time to talk tech, he couldn't let that get in the way.

"Bathing Edita, after you had a bath. But sure, come on in."

The door creeped open, a cautious Edita standing outside looking in scanning the room. "I have been cleaned thoroughly, I promise."

"Right yes, coal dust and bedsheets don't mix. Come in, come in, we were just playing a little," Tom replied, getting up from the floor. Kiran looked at Edita with mistrust in his eyes as he went back to playing with his bricks.

"One cannot be too young to learn the wonders of building," Edita replied with a small bow after stepping into the room, looking around even more obviously. "Is Jackalope present?"

"No, she is working the kitchens today. I'm sure she will be back before too long."

"I see, I will try to hurry," Edita said with a curt nod. Likely she feared her mother's wrath should Jacky find her in her bedroom with Tom.

"She's gonna know you were here either way, and she doesn't bite… much." Tom moved to the small desk in the room where he had stashed the stack of papers he had been working on during the late hours of the day. Much of it had been started as the others slept, other pieces were even older. All of them were plans for the future though, near and far. "I wanted to go through a few designs with you we might need to touch on before too long. To see if you could see anything that could be done better perhaps?"

"Oh, it would be an honor," Edita was quick to reply, hurrying over to see. It was not the first such session they had held. But Tom had quickly learned to limit the talking points to one or two ideas, otherwise they wound up stuck in an endless loop of rambling, and good, yes, but not terribly useful ideas.

"Yes it is," Kiran added with open hostility in his voice.

"Kiran, be nice," Tom pleaded, looking to the now quite confused-looking artificer. "He is just mad you interrupted playtime."

"Oh I am terribly sorry, If this is a bad time, I-I can come back later. If may- Perhaps after Jackalope has returned."

"No nooo it is fine, and work comes before fun," Tom interrupted, trying his best to smile warmly though he gave Kiran a rather pointed look. "That's the way of life."

The kid grumbled a little and turned to his bricks, turning his back to Tom and Edita.

"A wise statement. Nothing comes before one's duty." Edita echoed as Tom bent down to pick up Kiran by the armpits.

"But work can be fun too. Right Edita?" Tom chuckled trying not to shake his head. It wasn't fair on her to make fun, but it was a little funny. "So now that we have a working steam engine running on the regular stuff, I have a question. For cold steam, how do you condense it back into liquid?"

"Oh right well you see, it still condenses at reasonable temperatures, especially if under residual pressure, but one cannot use a vacuum condenser like regular steam. That means that you actually lose some power on your last pressure stage, but the far higher early stage pressures more than compensate"

"And I guess it doesn't matter for anything which vents to atmosphere either, like this one," Tom carried on, picking out the drawing he had wanted to discuss. The small flier plans that had been dug up down below. "There is no condenser to be found."

"Oh yes, indeed, and it is using a small turbine, truly blessed plans. It must have been incredibly fast."

"Yeah… It makes me wonder though… You know Ray, yes?"

"Of course, she is always most helpful," the artificer replied with a nod.

"Well I owe her a promise, and in your opinion, if we were to help her fly again. How would you go about it? And how would you power such a contraption?"

"Oh, I see." The artificer clearly understood what he was poking at. "For such little weight a canister of grav oil would last a very long time indeed maybe even several lifetimes if it did not need to support the whole load. I would produce a small winged contraption powered by steam, you would need but a minimum of wings and it would be swifter than a glider."

"Yes, so about that." Tom brought out some of the quick sketches he had done during the winter sleep. "I may have had some ideas. We will eventually need to consider testing for other flying machines as well. And simply put, I need to learn how to fly just as much as Ray."

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