Hydraulic Forging

The two stood by the window. Leaning against the wall, Ron recounted every detail the villagers had given about the monster: its size, cries, method of attack, nest location, and the surrounding terrain.

The farmers said its wingspan was as wide as a carriage, its claws nearly as large as a blacksmith's tongs. It swooped down on people from above, and its hide was too thick for arrows to pierce.

Erwin said nothing after listening. He fell silent for a while before speaking, his tone slower than usual.

"Two possibilities: a Petrifying Chicken Snake, or a Royal Pterosaur."

He traced an outline in the air with his finger. "A Petrifying Chicken Snake is like a cross between a lizard and a rooster. It's slightly bigger than a horse, with a beak, a lizard-like tail, and sharp claws. Before taking flight, it raises its neck and fluffs up its feathers.

"But its claws aren't the deadly part. Its venomous beak is. It can make a wound swell and turn black within hours, while the flesh around it rots away. The antidote isn't easy to prepare."

"The Royal Pterosaur is larger than the Petrifying Chicken Snake, with a wingspan wider than a carriage. It has no feathers and is covered in extremely thick scales.

"Its foreclaws have evolved into wing membranes, while its hind legs are powerful. It attacks just as the farmers described: diving from above, crushing its prey beneath its weight, then tearing it apart."

Ron nodded. "How do we fight them?"

Erwin pushed up his glasses. "The Petrifying Chicken Snake has extremely sensitive hearing. Metal striking metal at close range can temporarily disorient it.

"A crossbow is best against it, though a bow will do. The arrows need to be heavy. Its hide is thick, but not as thick as a true dragon's. The key is luring it down low, since it's very fast in the air."

He paused. "The Royal Pterosaur isn't venomous, and its blood can be used to make potions. Its only weakness is its forelimbs. There's a patch of cartilage at the base of the wing membranes, the weakest part of its body.

"Don't aim for the head. Its skull is thicker than your breastplate. Use heavy arrows and shoot the base of the wing membranes."

"The farmers said the monster can fly," Ron said.

"Flying monsters need room to take off. If we can drive it out of its nest, its wings will spread to their fullest during those few seconds of ascent, exposing its weakness. Its reactions will also be a beat slower than when it's on the ground."

Erwin rubbed away the last bits of pine nut shell and clapped his hands clean.

Ron mentally reviewed the differences between Petrifying Chicken Snakes and Royal Pterosaurs. The former had feathers, used their beaks, were venomous, feared loud sounds, and had relatively weaker hides.

The latter were larger, covered in scales, and had hooked teeth. The base of their wing membranes was their weak point. Both attacked from above, both had tough hides and sharp claws, but dealing with them required entirely different methods. After thinking it over, he asked another question. "Would their hides work as armor lining?"

Erwin considered it. "Both would. Royal Pterosaur hide especially is highly resilient. It's a premium material leatherworkers dream of."

Ron nodded, rose to his feet, and went to the smithy.

Brom was crouched before the forge, its fire glowing orange-red. Several blueprints lay spread across the workbench beside him, and one of them was already being made into a prototype step by step.

Ron explained what he needed: two bags of javelins, with heavy broadheads, sturdy ash shafts, and counterweights at the tails.

Brom stood and walked over to the workbench. He pulled a roughly ground spearhead blank from a pile of iron stock, weighed it in his hand, and said, "Broad blade. Heavy. Got it."

He set the blank on the anvil. "When do you need them?"

"The sooner, the better."

Brom thought for a moment, rapidly calculating the schedule and manpower in his head. "I'll have them all ready before the day after tomorrow."

Then he looked at Ron, his gaze sweeping over Ron's shoulders and arms. "You use javelins?"

Ron knew what he wanted to ask. His proficiency with bows was far higher than his throwing skill, but the bow he needed would be too heavy.

Even Fiona's longbow was not that heavy. The camp's existing bows felt like toys in his hands; after being drawn fully a few times, their limbs began to crack. No one could make the bow he needed. Javelins were his only choice.

"The monster is big enough. Javelins are more suitable."

Brom did not ask whether Ron was any good with a javelin. He was not a man who asked pointless questions.

Ron returned to his room and dug several charcoal drafts out from the corner by the wall. He had drawn up plans for a hydraulic forge hammer long ago, but some parts needed revising. Ron intended to abandon the original design with its four interconnected hammers.

The original plan required more time and funding than he could afford at this stage. Sitting at the table, he kept smudging and correcting the blueprints. The smoke made him squint, and then he called Erwin over.

The coarse paper lay flat across the table. The lines were not pretty; Ron was not the sort to draw with a ruler, but the dimensions and structure were clearly marked. Where a line had gone crooked, he had redrawn it.

His finger pressed against the edge of a wheel-like structure in the drawing. "A waterwheel, roughly three meters in diameter, installed at the narrowest section of the river channel—the stretch behind the granary, where the current is strongest."

The drawing showed a waterwheel mounted directly at the mouth of the canal. A raised "ear" was fitted onto the wheel's main shaft. As the cam turned with the shaft, it lifted a crossbar once per revolution. One end of the crossbar was fixed to a support, while the other held a solid forge hammer.

Ron set down the charcoal pencil. "A hydraulic forge hammer. It's a mature technology where I come from, capable of mass-producing rough armor blanks and components."

Erwin bent over the plans. It took him only a short time to understand the construction, and he began assessing its feasibility. The more he thought, the brighter his eyes became.

"How heavy is the hammerhead?"

"Starting at sixty pounds. Enough to hammer breastplate blanks."

"The cam is mounted directly on the main shaft. One rotation of the shaft makes the cam lift the lever once, and the hammer falls once. Simple structure. The fewer the parts, the fewer things that can break."

Erwin's finger followed the crossbar on the drawing, moving from the cam to the hammerhead. "What about the pivot?"

"A cast-iron support embedded in a stone foundation, connected as one piece with the anvil base. The force transfers directly into the ground."

"What material for the cam?"

"Oak, banded with iron around the outside. Hardwood and iron grip better together than iron parts alone. The wear is all taken by the wood, turning the cam itself into a consumable part. If it breaks, we just replace it. No need to dismantle the entire main shaft."

Erwin gave a low hum, his gaze shifting to several blacked-out blocks on the right side of the drawing. They were the earlier plans for the four-hammer linkage. Ron did not elaborate; he had merely pushed them to the corner of the table.

"We'll talk about that later," Ron said. "For now, we'll use a single hammer to make breastplates first. Enough for our soldiers to wear."

Erwin turned his attention back to the single-hammer sketch on the table. He was silent for a moment, then began listing problems one by one.

"The foundation. We can use locally sourced granite, so installation won't be a major issue. We'll also need to build a furnace to go with it, using either masonry or clay."

"Build it."

"The hammer can't be installed and tested until the foundation is in place."

"I know."

"Three months." Erwin looked up. "From digging the canal to producing the first armor blank, it can't be any faster."

"Three months," Ron repeated. "Can we make it in time?"

"Yes." Erwin pushed up his glasses. "There's no great technical difficulty, and all the materials can be sourced locally."

He carefully rolled up the single-hammer blueprint, tied it with thin string, and tucked it beneath his arm. When he reached the door, he paused.

"Once this thing starts turning, we won't just be an agent in the baron's hands anymore."

"I know," Ron said.