Chapter 110: Shaman’s Boomstick
The orc brothers had a blast shooting their new "toys," which they affectionately called the "thunder weapons." For Karl, even if it was a bit slow to fire one round, it was a beautiful historical reenactment. Watching Simon and Schalezusk firing their flintlock weapons was like watching a historical performance. Karl thought to himself, Now, all I need to fully immerse myself in the history of 18th-century Europe is to make a lot of them. This would also have a bonus of earning me a lot of money and influence. The sight of them laughing, their thick fingers fumbling with the cartridges, was a testament to the weapon’s appeal. It wasn’t just a tool; it was a promise.
He knew that after the orcs introduced these weapons to the public by slaughtering their demonic kinsmen, the region’s alliance would be more than happy to employ their soldiers with these "boomsticks." With the introduction of these weapons, chaos would soon follow. Guns essentially level the playing field. It doesn’t matter if you’re a heavily muscled Bearfolk or a small Kobold; physical strength and size would no longer be the sole arbiters of power. A grandmother could kill a heavily muscled Bearfolk with a simple squeeze of her finger. The power dynamic would shift, and everyone would be settling their grudges. In this new world of chaos and change, Karl would be the sole supplier of the weapons that define it. The thought sent a jolt of manic energy through his being. KAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Karl cackled in his mind, his skeletal shoulders shaking with silent, bone-rattling laughter.
He calmed himself and began to analyze his next steps. The next step to achieving his goal of mass industrialization was employing the living, as his skeleton workers were excellent but at the moment, he was short on manpower and besides, he needed to build a reputation by hiring beastkins with high salary and fair working conditions.
He planned to build specialized factories in the territory of each beastkin race. Each factory would produce a specific component, and then his own skeleton workers would handle the final assembly. To do this, he would need land, a village perhaps. Owning one by buying a piece of their territory might work well, but not everyone would agree to a one-time payment and give away their land at a low cost. It was a one-sided deal. So, an ownership stake and a share of the profits would be very much appealing. This not only helps their economy and financial struggles but also generates jobs. He could also buy their mines or hire a specialized minion, a prospector, to find new ore veins.
This very much reflected the modern world he came from. If everyone was an office worker, there would be no one to farm for food. It was the same for him; if everyone was working at the factory, there would be no one to work on the mines. That was an issue in his past life. Farmers earned less and were choked by regulations and the low selling price of their crops.
That’s why their sons treated farming as a low-class job. But thanks to technology, machines could now work on the fields, and one farmer could earn higher than a regular office worker. Of course, that’s only if you had a land to begin with. But Karl had to make a pay in the mines higher to motivate unskilled workers to work more. Of course this is only fair as skilled workers would have less time spending their energy. His past life taught him that a fair, tiered system of labor and compensation was crucial to a stable and profitable economy.
Managing an economy was a hellish task, a labyrinth of interconnected variables and unpredictable greed. Though, in his opinion, it was still better than the warp in a certain fiction he knew of. The only ones who truly controlled the economy were the ones with the most money and connections, and Karl fully intended to be that person.
Schalezusk then approached Karl, his eyes still wide with fascination. "Mr. Karl, this is a phenomenal weapon." The flintlock in his hand looked almost comically small, yet he held it with a reverence previously reserved for ancient relics.
Simon also commented, smiling as wide as his brother. "I agree! This is a revolutionary weapon!" The gears were visibly turning in his mind, no doubt calculating the tactical advantage this would give them.
Karl smiled. "Imagine if you had an army with that."
Schalezusk laughed almost maniacally. "KEKEKEKEKE, we would be unstoppable!" The sound was a deep, guttural rumble of pure joy and conquest.
Simon then said, "Would you be able to sell a lot of these to us in the future, Mr. Karl?" The question was direct, showing his practicality.
Karl smiled. "Of course. Since you and I are allies, you would be the first to show the region and your enemies what true power looks like. Of course, I’m still a businessman, and I intend to sell this to others, too. But not the Bloodtusk orcs. They intend to destroy and pillage our establishment, and now they are blacklisted."
Simon felt slightly relieved. He wouldn’t want to imagine their enemies armed with the same weapon and with larger numbers. The thought of Minur’s forces with these guns was a tactical nightmare. Schalezusk said, "Don’t worry, Mr. Karl. This would certainly convince the orc tribes to unite against the usurper."
Simon said with an enthusiastic smile, "I agree, Mr. Karl. Building an orc nation wouldn’t be a dream anymore. It would be a reality, a future we can see and touch."
Karl smiled. "Of course, and I will guide you through it. Through you, I would be able to show what future we exactly offer. And..." he paused, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, "to even make that into a reality, let me show you a secret weapon you can use to vanquish your enemies." He gestured in the air for his minions to come.
Both orcs became excited, their eyes wide with anticipation. They knew Karl was going to introduce another weapon, another piece of this new, terrifying power. From a distance, two skeletons pushed a large 17th-century 20-pounder cannon. Modeled after an American Revolutionary War artillery cannon, the sheer size of the weapon made both Schalezusk and Simon’s jaws drop in sheer disbelief. As the two skeletons placed and aimed it at a makeshift range, approximately 300 yards away, Karl smiled.
"This, gentlemen, is an artillery cannon. Your friendly battlefield neighborhood cannon."
Ahead, four skeletons set up a line of dummies. "If your soldiers are struggling to hit an enemy from far away, and you want the enemy to be removed from that direction," he pointed at the dummies, "let’s say that’s how far your enemies are and they are marching towards you, this weapon will be your ultimate flesh sprayer. It will spray your enemy’s flesh onto the ground and induce trauma on the lucky ones that survived. They would wish they had died from the suffering they will get."
Schalezusk, still shocked by its size, asked, "Is this... is this the weapon I’ve seen before?" Schalezusk had seen the testing of a 40mm cannon, which was ultimately for the PAK 38 anti-tank gun. But seeing a large one made him even more shocked.
Karl then replied, "It’s the same thing, but this one just breathes more power and death."
Karl then began demonstrating. "First, to understand, these weapons generate debris inside their barrel, unlike a flintlock. These cannons need constant cleaning to avoid any accidents or malfunctions. First, you’ll need to clean the bore. To do that, you’ve got this large stick with a coiled metal on top of it. This will clear all the debris out. Just put this inside the barrel and pull it, push, pull, push, pull. I think you already know how to do that since you’re a male. Anyway, jokes aside, you’ve got this another pole next, with a cloth on top of it. Dip the top in water, just a small amount, and clean the bore. Push, pull, push, pull. This will clear any hot embers that might ignite the charge inside. Now, to dry this barrel, a separate stick with a white cloth is needed. But don’t dip it in water. Push, pull, push, pull again. Now, put this in," he showed a large 6-pound gunpowder cartridge, "push it with a ramrod, and then this," he shoved the ball in. "That’s all that’s needed to load it. Now for the firing," Karl went to the back. "We have this sharp stick right here. Insert this into this small hole. This will pierce the charge inside. To fire it, we have this stick with a burning piece of wood."
"Now, Schalezusk, you try," he smiled.
Schalezusk, still trembling, approached it with slight fear. Karl chuckled. "Don’t be afraid," he said, as he gave the torch to him. Karl then said, "Now insert that cinder into the vent."
Schalezusk gulped, as he did. The charge ignited, creating a strong, deafening sound and a thick cloud of smoke that caught both orcs off guard. Their ears were ringing. After the smoke dissipated, they saw that the entire single dummy had disappeared. Both of them were shocked. Even though it was far away, it had hit the target with deadly accuracy. Karl smiled wide, enjoying their reaction. He wasn’t finished yet.