B2 - Ch 21: War Preparations (Patreon)

War development moved at a breakneck speed upon my return to Sundell. We immediately started training with the soldiers and set up even more economic incentives for businesses to build our necessities for war, which was more costly than history led me to believe. We needed countless tons of supplies, food products, weaponry, defensive equipment, and machinery for replacement parts. Most importantly, we needed to set up supply chains.

In a sustained conflict, soldiers must be fed, clothed, and sheltered in areas outside their home cities, where bread and meat are delivered daily. It’s like being at a friend’s house in the countryside and needing to order food because you don’t have a kitchen or means of going anywhere. Well, sort of. It’s like that if there were tens of thousands of people with you. That’s why Sun Tzu’s The Art of War focuses more heavily on supply chains than combat.

Thanks to the Everwood Company, which had merchant networks moving throughout Novena and Valencia, we could easily supply troops on our continent. However, there was a vast sea separating Novena and Antigua, and we only had a port, and it was hundreds of miles away.

Addressing the point, we traded modern steamships in exchange for them bringing supplies to Antigua. That way, we could double the amount of ships built in the case of destruction. Since they are a maritime trade-based country, they readily agreed, tripling the amount of people making boats. Still, making steamships can take a year or more without a dedicated effort, so we had managers working around the clock learning how to use magic, cranes, and other modern equipment to piece them together in cookie-cutter fashion.

To that end, Carter’s Steelworks split into independent subdivisions. Now employing 50,000 people in five locations (likely the largest business in Solstice), the business was too big for Carter to handle. Thus, we split it into various sections and hired managers for departments making steam engines, daily goods (like pots in pans), cranes and ship-building parts, train parts, and guns.

Despite the pressing need for shipping parts, cranes, and other ship-building parts, Carter’s efforts were in the business of guns, the area he found most fulfilling, anyway.

“How’s the Browning coming?” I asked, walking into the office of a new building isolated from Sundell's main headquarters.

Carter saw me, frowned, poured a shot of whiskey, and rocked it back before looking me in the eyes and smiling widely. “It’s going amazing!”

I frowned.

After staring at my humorless expression, he rubbed his bald head and sighed. “What does that goddess see in you?” Grumbling, he moved behind his smooth mahogany desk, grabbed a massive machine gun, and put it on the table.

“Sometimes in life, the real answer is the most boring, Carter,” I replied, examining the .50 caliber machine gun. “Aphrodite needed someone with the tools to change this world. She found one that was visually average to the point of tragedy, killed them, and smushed them into a visually appealing body to cope with their lack of beauty.”

I smiled at his twisted expression. “How’s the recoil operation on this?”

Carter snapped out of his haze and coughed, pouring himself another drink. “It’s easy but a pain in the ass,” he said, taking a sip. “Now I can see why you were such a hard ass about the stabilization pieces.”

Machine guns utilize Newton’s third law of motion to fire continuously. The law states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. In the case of a gun, the recoil or “kick” that the gun experiences from the cartridge’s explosion pushes the gun backward. The bolt or slide that ejects the spent cartridge and loads another round uses this recoil force to operate. Since firing each bullet has enough force to eject the cartridge and load a new one, the person firing it doesn’t need to release the trigger for continuous fire. The challenge lies in managing the recoil, ensuring the gun can smoothly eject spent cartridges and load new ones, and that requires finely tuned components and stabilization.

“So, are the pieces not moving well enough?” I asked, pulling out the bolt and looking inside.

“The parts are mostly fine, it’s this damn belt,” Carter said, pulling out the belt of bullets. Unlike typical firearms that use a magazine, the Browning M2 and other mounted machine guns utilize belts of linked ammunition fed through the top of the gun’s receiver (the component that houses the moving parts and feeds the ammunition). As the belt is fed through, the spent casings are ejected, a new round is chambered from the belt, and then a mechanism secures the belt in place until the next round is fired.

“What’s wrong with it?” I frowned.

“It’s always catchin’ on shit and jammin’ up,” Carter clarified, rubbing his head. “It’s workin’, and we’ll figure it out. However, it’s gonna take a lot of testin’ before it’s war-ready. We can’t have it catchin’ while firin’ at shit.”

“True enough,” I said, pulling out a leatherbound book.

His eyes deadened. “More work?”

“No, this is a detoxification spell,” I chuckled. “Using this, you can drink more without it causing issues with your work.”

A wry smile crept onto his lips, and then he looked at the glass in his hands. “I guess it’s best not to drink in front of your king in the morning. Is it?”

“You can do whatever you want,” I replied, pouring myself a glass, “as long as you get things done.” I shivered after rocking it back and put it on his desk. “And make sure you take off at least two days off a week while you can. We’ll need you at your best during times of emergency.” With those words, I walked out the door, ignoring his slight smirk as I exited.

After returning to the castle, I met with food canners, paying them advances to scale their operations. They now had a partnership with Carter’s Steelworks to start commercial pressure canning in metal cans. While it seems like something intuitive that we could’ve done before, steel cans aren’t opaque, making them impossible to see through. Therefore, we needed professional printers, and Riley was working around the clock to output books. Luckily, Riley’s foray into papermaking and her nonstop work led to the opening of new printing presses, allowing it to happen.

The textile industry was now in full swing. With the introduction of steam-powered spinning and textile machines, cloth was being manufactured in bulk. Additionally, we were now producing sewing machines that output more cloth than ever. That was important for creating blankets, coats, shoes, and other gear we needed overseas.

My mustard gas facilities cranked out canisters and gasmasks for all the soldiers in horrifying quantities, keeping Kaley’s Glassworks busy. Hopefully, we wouldn’t have to use that much. With any luck, it would only take one gruesome demonstration of force to break the army.

Fingers crossed.

As a starting measure, I ordered people to start the development of radios and speakers for long-distance communication. While they weren’t particularly complicated machines, they were challenging to use in a world without electricity infrastructure. Therefore, it was a preemptive gesture to have the technology ready once we had the infrastructure—something on the horizon. I had sold electricity technology to private companies who wanted to bring it to Novena. The companies didn’t even wait for an incentive. They just walked into my audience chambers with greedy eyes and groveling hands. It almost brought tears to my eyes. Capitalist exploitation, here we come.

For my part, I spent my mornings training and helping develop the new magical warfare division of the Everwood Empire army. Since the books I got in the labyrinth were primarily theory-based books with discussions on how to affect the climate, I omitted the dangerous parts and put the books into the hands of magical research departments.

Find the best and brightest, and start developing magical programs for them, I had told them when I first announced it. Lady Lockheart, Princess Redfield, Princess Veil, and I will be taking your classes, so I expect the best.

At first, they were terrified and bewildered by the task. However, once they delved into the research, they got engrossed in it. Before long, they were running full departments that we visited daily for training in making wards, healing magic, and elemental manipulation.

To bolster our soldiers’ average power, Rema and I instituted heavy military-grade magic laws that forbade the use of military-learned magic above C-class spells outside of military use. In exchange for the serious criminal offense potential, we proliferated B-rank soul cultivation techniques and matching spells for those with a higher security clearance. Not only did it help soldiers get stronger and heal faster, but it also gave us more firepower. After all, while a sniper rifle could kill an archwizard, an archwizard could kill thousands in a strategic flood. Guns didn’t replace magic—they were just another tool for various situations.

Around the third month of preparations, I got my first visitor from Antigua. The man was peculiar-looking. He wore similar wear to King Bouchard and Maximillian but with more British influence that matched his bastardized English. Sporting a caterpillar of a mustache and a belly that looked pregnant instead of overweight (it was stretched without having overlapping fat), the man strode into my reception hall with a confident half-waddle. Despite his confidence, one look into his eyes made him avert his gaze.

Is he craven? It seems he’s not the reincarnator, I thought, noting his nervous gaze and sharp breaths. The man was King Edwar, the king of Celestium, South of Servene. Marvis Reckog of Nebelheim in Forge, my ally, gave me information on his unique situation, leading to my invitation. Either way, it makes my life easier.

After my castellan gave him an introduction, he sat down at my table, eyes flitting between me and the three beautiful women sitting beside me. While most men would feel envy, he looked at them contemptuously and at me with an expression that suggested that he was preparing his practiced lines, pepping himself up.

“King Everwood,” he began, but I lifted my hand.

“Do you mind waiting until after dinner, King Edwar?” I asked. “The food tonight is special, and I’d love to ensure you get the reception you deserve.”

King Edwar wanted to object, wary of getting charmed by me, but fell victim when spits of A-class boar were presented on the table, juices sizzling with crackling skin as it was presented right from the spit. When he whiffed the aroma and saw a chef cut long strips of semi-rare meat onto the plate, his mouth watered, and his desire to talk disappeared.

“Uh… yes,” he said, absentmindedly grabbing a glass of wine and sniffing it. “That is only right.”

I smiled as a feast of delicacies was presented to him. While the bird meat substituted A-class beasts for peacocks and swans, I did present a traditional bowl of pottage, a thick, creamy stew made with capon (castrated rooster) and vegetables, and a side of pickled oysters and jellied eels to European taste.

Thea and Rema giggled as the man wolfed down the food with prejudice, looking like a barbaric animal with flushed cheeks. At some point, we switched the wine for brandy, and he lost all of his initial hesitance. It was beautiful.

“What are these little things?” King Edwar asked, picking up an edible sculpture of a griffin beside a thunderstag.

“It’s marzipan—a honey cookie,” I smiled. “Do you like it?”

“It’s bloody delightful! I feel like I’m eating my way to victory. Tell me, do you think that if I gave you the description of some people, they could sculpt them up?” he chuckled merrily, pointing at me with his brandy glass. “It’d be really satisfying to chomp my enemies in half when I’m eatin’, you know?” The man chuckled with delight, cheek-flushed and smiling in the light.

“I think that could be arranged,” I smiled.

The man’s laughter stopped, and then he looked at me suspiciously. “I know what you’re here to do, and….” He hiccuped. “It’s not happenin’. Rather not lose my appetite over somethin’ futile. You know?”

By that, he meant betraying his alliance with Bouchard.

“It’s best to just enjoy the dinner and talk about lighter matters, like… like… eating female sculptures!” His eyes lit up, and he burst into irrepressible laughter. “You ever try it"

He looked over and saw two princesses and a future queen looking at him with polite smiles that showed no judgment, which was a firm sign of absolute contempt. “Oh, come on! Don’t pretend like you don’t think it’s funny. I know for a fact that women have their dirty side!” His cheeks flushed red, and his eyes darkened, losing his meal over a “light matter”—the same one I was here to talk about.

I looked him in the eyes. “Yes, women have their dirty sides, too. It’s a problem—“

“Oh, shut up,” King Edwar snarled. “I know what you’re going to say. It’s the same thing that everyone says. Well, let me tell you—he’s still my grandson. My blood. That witch doesn’t change that.”

King Edwar’s daughter-in-law, Roslain, was King Bouchard’s daughter. While the political marriage ties their countries together, Roslain has three known bastard children, meaning she’s cheated on the prince countless times and even had the audacity to be openly pregnant in the castle. It’s been a scandal for more than a decade, but Servene’s power and wealth have made breaking the alliance foolish, and so King Edwar had endured.

“That’s why you must protect him,” I said calmly.

“Against those bastards?” he snorted. “We don’t have laws that allow bastards to rule.”

“Only have influence. Those bastards are in high government positions, and there’s the matter of Rickard.”

“Don’t you dare say that she’s having an affair with Rickard!” He slammed his hands on the table, causing plates to shatter sending glass, meat, juice, and wine onto the floor. “He’s the head of my guards. MINE! I’ve known him for years. He’d never betray me.”

Rema looked at me in a panic. However, my expression didn’t change.

“Of course, they’re not having an affair,” I said. “He’s her son.”

King Edwar’s eyes widened, and then he flushed red again. “Stagshit! What type of nonsense are you spewing?! Rickard is 33! 33!”

“And she’s 67,” I said, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to him. “Do you think a lascivious woman like her would’ve stayed a virgin for 34 years?”

He turned purple in the face. “She’s 39! What lies has that man been filling your head with.”

“I don’t listen to people’s claims,” I said, pulling out a packet of paper written in English. “I gather facts, and there’s a lot of facts to be had over such a woman.”

In a haze, he picked up the paper and stared at it with shakey eyes. “Where did you get this?” It was a list of his son’s daily activities for the last two years.

“As I said, I don’t listen to the claims of others, and I don’t go to war without knowing the people involved with my enemies,” I said. “I’ve put together a list of Roslin Bouchard’s activities over the last 67 years. I assure you, you don’t want to see it.”

“W-Wait. That means—“

“King Bouchard lied to you.”

“Nonsense! There wasn’t a single stretch mark or….”

“Soul mana heals stretch marks. And from what I understand, your son’s a noble man. He wouldn’t know the difference.”

“L-Lies….”

“It’s the truth,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “And in the event of a coup—“

“STOP!” King Edwar snapped.

“—who would control the city guard?” I pressed on mercilessly.

“I SAID STOP!”

He hit the table again, forcing it to explode. Weak and craven as he was, he was still a king. However, Thea, Rema, Zenith, and I were wrapped in a barrier, protecting us. So the juices, wine, and meat that shot at us like shrapnel bounced off us and splashed the man, who barely noticed. He just stared at the floor, almost pleading.

“Are you done?” Zenith scoffed, looking at her silver dress that she was surprised wasn’t stained. She stood up with a huff. “I can’t watch this.” With those words, she walked off with a hurried gate to make sure she didn’t hit the man for attempting to ruin her dress again. As she walked out of the room, she hit a table of her own, causing it to split in half, ignoring the irony of the situation.

Rema looked at Thea, making sure she wasn’t going to explode. However, my cat queen just stared at the man with threatening eyes in silence.

With a merciless gaze, I walked over to a good table behind the king and put a marzipan sculpture of Roslin Edwar on the table. When King Edwar saw it, he turned purple at my brazenness and grabbed the cookie sculpture, crushing it in his hand. However, when he saw her head roll off the shoulders and hit the ground, his energy depleted. Intentionally reinforced with soul mana to ensure it didn’t break, the head rolled on the floor.

“If you reconsider your fake alliance with Bouchard, you know where to find me,” I said, motioning to Thea and Rema to get up. “Otherwise, you’d be wise to remain neutral. I’ll have my guards see you to Bringla tomorrow.”

With those words, we walked out of the room, ending the night on a somber note. Before Thea and I retired, Rema looked at us. “Is it wise not to try convincing him?”

“King Edwar has already suspected this. Despite that, he let King Bouchard walk over him for decades. You can’t convince a person like that with logic. He’ll come back if he’s ready.”

“And if he never comes around?”

“Then he’ll die,” I said. “Tidalith has offered to fight him in the war.”

“For territory?”

I nodded. “For territory.”

Tidalith was directly to the west of Celestium. They offered to switch their neutrality in exchange for territory north of the Siphon River, the water body separating them. I left it tentative, as I needed to make it past Celestium if I wanted to attack King Garfield, King Redfield’s brother, in Desiderata if necessary.

“I see.” With those words, she left Thea and me for the night.

The next day, Graken, the late Ajax’s fellow guard and now Thea’s personal detail, led the king to Bringla and sent him off. With him gone, we continued our preparations, training soldiers and stacking weaponry. Luckily, 70% of warfare was in creating supply lines and collecting resources, and with the train, we were able to obtain cloth for bandages, healing ointments and elixirs, and raw ore necessary for weaponry. Compared to other countries, we were far better off. Additionally, we now had Goldenspire’s territory, and even after selling grain to other countries in bulk, we were able to expand and have twice as much grain as last year, building our stockpiles. Still, a good amount of that was sent to Rabersang.

With Servene lost as a trading partner, Celestium’s port was also cut off. As a result, the grain and goods we sold to potential allies, including Vervain, Sellavine, Pyrothia, and Tidaleth, and the various territories smaller kingdoms and territories were disrupted. That caused hardship for potential allies, forcing them into allegiances in Syrvene to feed their people and slowly destroying potential alliances.

Marvis was right. If he weren’t there to supply grain and goods to allies, I would’ve alienated the entire continent. Still, even with them, it was getting precarious, we didn’t have time. Come next summer, we didn’t have a choice but to act immediately. Thankfully, we were on track and had made good time.

The leaves quickly changed to yellow, and the fertile fields turned to barren wastelands, signaling the start of fall. The golden brown grass was soon followed by frost and bitter weather, and we celebrated Thea’s birthday. After so much stress, we took a trip to Valencia—this time with Rema and my family. It had been almost two years since I last saw my siblings. Samson was now nine and was practicing the sword, and Eris was now six, and she loved chocolate and cosmetics but hated the weather. Both were unbelievably needy, but Thea acted like a mother and Rema like a teacher. As for Zenith, she corrupted them both by showing them the virtue of laziness and what it meant to rule people. Soon, they both had servants fanning them in the sweltering sun, and I put a swift end to that.

It was a calm time that we all enjoyed thoroughly. However, with Rema and I gone from the capital, no one was there to rule. So it ended on a bittersweet note with us leaving before them, returning to the capital to prepare for the spring.

Leaving the sweltering sun behind, we returned to the cold, where we spent most of our time by the fire, transcribing books and preparing our people for the future. The fire was no longer necessary. We now had steam-powered heaters in the castle and running lights that lit up street lamps at night. However, we chose the fire because it was cozy, allowing us to enjoy our lives.

One day, Thea and I would get married. However, for now, we were just content to be together.

As the frost melted and the trees budded, time got busy. Most of my time was spent using Scribe to transcribe letters to kings and queens across Antigua, telling them to prepare for our arrival. Marvis met us a few times in the spring, and we studied maps of Antigua, going over strategies. He brought allies as well, and we forged pacts with them.

When the flowers began to die, he made one last visit to Sundell with a group of allies, and we had a massive feast, toasting to our alliance. Then, once the pleasantries were concluded, Thea, Rema, Marvis, and various Kings and Queens from Eisengarde, Rabensang, Traumweber, and Nebelheim in Forge, and the Stellavine and Tidalith in Cyrvene gathered.

This was my second roundtable of monarchs, and it was far more oppressive than the one with Novenan leaders, leaving the area tense. For that reason, neither I nor anyone else knew where to begin. After a period of silence, Marvis rolled his eyes and began.

“We’re here to talk about killing Bouchard and his allies,” he scoffed impatiently. “So let’s get on with it.”

“I agree. Let’s begin,” I said.

With those words, we cut the small talk and negotiated long into the morning. After a few rests, we returned to the table again. That repeated every night for a full week before we reached a deal.

“Are we fine with this?” I asked, looking at a new map drawn with new lines, chopping up the area’s black lines of territories with various colors.

“We better be,” Marvis huffed, raking his fingers through his hair with bloodshot eyes. He was known for violent outbursts of frustration that wore down the others, and he was more worn out in the rest. “If we do, we’ll remove colors.”

The area burst into threatening shouts for fifteen minutes before I sent out a pulse of pressure that silenced everyone. While the kings turned to me with lethal, warning gazes, they realized I was, ironically, the calmest among us.

“Everyone here will greatly benefit from this arrangement, will we not? King Grone will obtain their treasured mines,” I said, looking at the Dwarven King of Rabensang. Then my eyes turned to Marvis. “King Reckog will get Himmelskune with Eisengard.” I turned to a black-haired woman with unnaturally golden eyes and then to a man with a dark brown combover and mustache, “Queen Stella and King Rougmond will get their disputed territories in the Trenosia Forest. King Frederik will gain Pyrothia and perhaps areas above the Siphon River. You’re all getting long-disputed territories just for preventing King Bouchard’s forces from escaping my and King Rekorg’s forces. That’s enough, is it not?”

The leaders smiled thinly, looking at each other. They had been heated for a week, but it was a tantalizing offer.

“That’s assuming that you can take Syrvene,” Queen Stella huffed, folding her arms. “If you fail, we’ll lose territory in exchange for reforging alliances with King Bouchard for grain. Either that, or we’ll starve.”

“How many times must I say this?" Marvis groaned. “This man is sick. Twisted. A fucking sadist. You watched him kill a king like it was nothing, and I’m telling you that the weapons he’ll be using are far worse. I’ve seen them.”

“And I have not,” she huffed, looking at the ceiling angrily.

“Neither have I,” King Rougmond said, followed by a nod from King Frederick.

“And you won’t,” I followed dryly. “I won’t leak my weapons to unconfirmed allies. That would put every ally in danger.”

The area turned silent again.

“In war, you make alliances and bear the consequences,” I said. “If you aren’t willing to trust me, I encourage you to leave and remain neutral.”

Scanning everyone’s faces, Queen Stella turned to everyone with contempt in her eyes. “Is anyone going to state the obvious in this sea of ‘trust?’” she mocked, scanning their faces. “Well, then I’ll tell you, little boy. King Bouchard isn’t a problem—it’s Queen Boudica of Vervain.”

I looked at her with wide eyes. “Did you say, Boudica?”

Meanwhile, in Servene, a series of leaders sat around a table, this one far more grim. King Bouchard looked around in frustration, gritting his teeth. He couldn’t believe how many people were discussing alliances with a young man from Novena, the weak continent protected by high mages. He spent most of his time scoffing at the trade and technology arguments that were tantalizing. Now, he was surrounded by potential enemies, and even his allies were wary. King Edwar wasn’t even looking at him.

“Why won’t you look at me?” King Bouchard asked the timid man in his thick accent. “Are you going to betray me?”

King Edwar gulped and looked away, sheepish but resolute. “No. We have an alliance, and I will not break it.”

King Bouchard’s eyes narrowed sharply. He knew that the alliance between his daughter and the king was shaky. However, the man was too cowardly to fight back and would always bend to his will. Now, however, he was standing his ground. “I’m not sure what that boy promised you,” King Bouchard continued, “However, it’ll be worthless when he fails. Syrvene is impregnable, and if King Rockog and his little allies haven’t even been able to take Himmelskune for a century, how can they win? Are you mad?”

“I said I’m not going to betray you,” King Edwar said, trembling. “We’re connected by blood, and I won’t betray blood.”

“Then why—“

An oppressive power cut them off. Looking up, they saw a woman with flowing red hair wearing silver armor, her eyes crimson as molten metal. “I’m not here to discuss your petty alliance. If he won’t support your troops to the south, I’ll support them from the west. The only thing we’re discussing right now is the price.”

King Bouchard gritted his teeth, humiliated that he was negotiating territory for a place to retreat if necessary. However, when he looked into his “blood ally’s” craven brown eyes, he forced himself to look at her. “Win this war, and I’ll give you Forge.”

King Edwar and the other’s eyes widened in shock at his declaration. However, when King Bouchard looked back at him, he saw a predatory gaze that made him question—if only for a second—whether the territorial sacrifices to the North would be offset by territorial expansions in the South. Still, he gritted his teeth and bore it. He didn’t plan to betray his blood ally and wouldn’t do so—unless that wretched woman attacked first. And he prayed she never did.

—

[A/N: A lot happened in this chapter XD. Did you like it? I think there’s something satisfying about a lot happening, and that’s why this is a 100-year story. This type of thing will happen periodically, more so as technology evolves. As you can tell, some things just take time. Writing books. Starting schools. Developing infrastructure for electricity. There are still so many cool learning experiences to come, but it’s satisfying now that we’re in a place where things are coming alive. Thanks for reading!]