Chapter 6 – MHG F24

The inside of the Furnace made it clear why the name was chosen. The thudding rotation of the ship’s many stacked boilers was channelled into the working of a massive ironworks. Mechanical hammers beat down in a steady as workers moved sheets of metal underneath, letting the hammer temper the metal and deform the shape. Massive bellows separated steam and heated air, as raw metal was made to glow, then pushed under massive rollers to form sheets that were large enough to even be use as ship hull. With enough resources, the Furnace could probably construct a whole small airship, let alone conduct repairs. It seemed that one of the two main bodies of the ship was devoted to craftsmanship.

Lav and her sponsor, whose name was never mentioned, started to talk about business as they walked, and all of it was entirely indecipherable to Fredrik. It was like they were speaking in a foreign language, only one with many similar sounding words. If anything, the few words he did understand only served to make those he didn’t more obtuse. It didn’t take him long to lose interest out of frustration and stop paying attention, letting his mind wander as he examined the machinery. They eventually pulled up by one of the smaller forges, and a woman in a leather apron and a face blackened with soot looked up to see them. She spoke to Lav in the language used in the Mastwith Alliance countries and, to his surprise, Lav responded in kind. While Fredrik recognised the language, he only knew three words of it, ‘food’, ‘beer’, and ‘thank you’, from the time his ship had pulled into one of their colonies for revelry. They were the only words he had needed to get through the short stay, and thus were the only words he bothered remembering.

The blacksmith woman walked up to him with a rope with several coloured beads, and started taking his measurements, crimping the beads into place as she went. She clearly knew her work, as she took the measurements in the right order, from smallest to largest, that the beads weren’t blocked by a previously crimped bead. Her work was smooth and efficient, and Fredrik found himself respecting the woman. With the measurements taken, she set to work collecting sheets of iron and small firestones. As she made markings on the metal using the measurements she had taken, she said something to Lav. Hearing whatever was said, they started moving off, with Lav signalling for him to follow.

They made their way to a door on the other side of the deck and opened it out to the iron catwalks. The rails had a bar for them to connect their harnesses to, and they walked across the open air. The other two resumed their business talk, so Fredrik admired the view instead. In the distance, he could see several small ships approaching, sunlight reflecting on their painted hulls as they signalled the Forge with the same lighting system the Flask had used. Even from such a distance, it was clear that the ships had been damaged, as the steam the gave off was too chaotic and one sided.

The large square chamber in the middle of the catwalk approached, and the two entered by knocking on a heavy looking door, where someone on the inside opened it for them. Inside was a massive storage space, with luggage pilled and sorted, and firestone shards and ores taking up a large percentage of the space. There was a pulley system set up to move items up and out of the tall room. There was even a mechanical system connected to the ship’s boilers that would open the roof to gain the large deck cranes access. The quartermaster alone was insufficient to manage the supplies, and a small staff of officers worked at desks keeping ledgers for the various comings and goings of both people and supplies.

The three of them took an elevator down to the lowest level, with Fredrik working the pulley-crank, and walked over to an iron storage container that was as wide as an arm span and four times as long as wide. The door to the container was barred and locked in place. The Sponsor pulled out a key that he wore as a necklace and unlocked the door, then gestured for Fredrik to lift the heavy bar.

“Now, Mr. Bodyguard,” the colourful man said, with a mirthful chuckle barely contained in his voice, “let us get you properly equipped to protect my investment.”

As the door pulled open, Fredrik could see stacked rows of the new rifles he had seen the Flask’s marines use. They were neatly stored on wooden racks, with rows of racks pushed together and belts holding each row of weapon into their slot. While the rifles took up most of the container’s space, there were also crates stacked up at the back. Lav walked straight to the crates and opened the topmost one without hesitation.

“You really finished making them. I’ll take three boxes.”

As she spoke, she pulled a strange looking pistol from out of the packing hay. The pistols he was used to were very simple weapons what were built around a wooden frame. They functioned by breaking open the breach, stuffing a ball down the barrel form a tight seal, and then filled with water. When the trigger was pulled, a firestone was rotated into the chamber and the ball launched. He had also seen such pistols with two barrels and mechanisms, but that was still nothing like what Lav held up.

He recognised it as a pistol, from its shape and size and the context of it being next to the rifles, but it was otherwise entirely unfamiliar. The weapon was almost entirely made of iron and about a cubit long. The only wood on it was in the grip, which was connected to the rest of the weapon with brass. Directly above the grip was the firestone slot, which seemed to be workable with the user’s thumb through a hook shaped outgrowth. There was a square cut-out in middle of the weapon, where he imagined whatever held the water and ball would go.

“Sponsor, I’m testing it out,” she said with an excited look on her face, as she fished through the crate for a paper box. “Fredrik, carry that box over there to the elevator.”

She directed him to move a clay-plate thrower as she placed the pistol under her arm and opened the box like a child handed a present. She pulled out an iron cylinder with six holes in it; five around the edge and one through the centre. She pulled lead balls from the box and hammered them into the outer holes, pressing the cylinder on both sides to ensure the balls were flush. She filled each of those holes with water from a flask she had stored on his belt. She pushed the cylinder into the hole on the pistol, locked a water sealing plate into place, pushed a bar through the centre hole, and spun the cylinder to test it. By the time she had finished assembling it, they were back out on the catwalk.

Fredrik loaded a bright orange clay disk into the thrower and pulled it back on its string to ready it, setting up the arc it would throw the target so it would cross her sight at around a dozen paces. Lav fit a stone into the weapon, adjusted it in her hand to be comfortable, and yelled “Ready!”

The orange disk flew and Lav tracked it with her hand. One, twice, three times. She squeezed the trigger and pulled down on the rotator in quick succession, making a cloud of steam and shattering the disk with her third shot. The next disk he launched, she managed to hit with the second shot. To reload the weapon, she had to reverse the whole assembly process and then repeat it again. It had an impressive rate of fire, especially for its size, but he couldn’t imagine ever reloading it during a shootout.

Once Lav had shot through another cylinder, she had a satisfied look on her face. They packed up the launcher and went back down to the sponsor. As they reached him, he handed Fredrik one of the leaver action rifles. Unlike the other weapons, which were unadorned aside from some checkering on the grip, this one had gold inlaid etchings along the barrel and stock, and gold plating on the leaver.

“This one is from my personal collection. I entrust this weapon to you for so long as you protect my investment. If you fail and somehow survive, I do expect you to bring it back to me.”

His expression indicated that he wasn’t looking for agreement, so much as placing a demand. The weapon had a green dyed sling, and Fredrik slung it over his back. The sponsor then turned to Lav and the serious expression dissolved.

“Now, while I won’t charge you for renting that one, the pistols are another matter entirely. Most of the boxes are already spoken for, and I can only offer you the one box.”

Lav clearly looked disappointed on hearing that, though some deep part of Fredrik’s mind told him it was an act, and the pair started to negotiate on the price. When the price was eventually set, he nearly choked on hearing the amount. He could have saved his pay for months and still not afford even a single pistol. Despite that, Lav loaded one of the revolving pistols, so that it could be used the moment a firestone was placed in it and handed it to him in a holster. It was made of a soft leather, dyed a dark brown, and it look as though it could be worn with a formal uniform without appearing out of place. As he fit it to his belt, Lav wrote out a payment contract that would authorise her bank to transfer funds. She then had him sign as witness, whispering for him to use his new noble name.

Following that, they returned to the Flask. The sponsor had to organise this crew for the approaching fleet, and he wouldn’t have much time in the day to see to them. He did however suggest that they dine with him in the evening.

For several hours after they returned to their ship, Lav instructed him on using the pistol and rifle. She had him practise shooting, loading, and cooling the weapons in rotation, but she wanted him to focus on the pistol, saying that it would be more useful as her guard, since he would be able to bring it into more places. Once he was used to reloading the pistol, she handed him an extra two cylinders, which could be loaded seal with lids and swapped out instead or reloading the original cylinder. Doing that also allowed for removing some of the heat that built up to be removed. By the time the fleet arrived, he felt like he a reasonable grasp on the weapons.

The Imperial Mastwith Alliance ships were a sight to behold, even in their beaten down shape. There were a variety of different ships, in a variety of different sizes, but the notable thing they had in common were their dark red painted hulls. The smallest ships were even smaller than the Whiskey Flask, having only a single large cannon on their top deck and a lower hatch for bombing surface targets. The largest ship was stranger than what he had expected. Ships of the Line tended to stack decks, but generally kept the same ratio with its length. The largest ship however was only three decks tall, but it was about three times longer than what he expected. The extra length was put to use by equipping the vestal with three sets of heavy dual cannons on the top deck, and four sets of lighter cannons in triple stacks along each side. From the positioning of the steam seepage, it seemed like it was set up with two boilers, or sets of boilers, rather than having one in the centre. It looked as though it would be an easier target to hit than most ships of the same weight, but he also wouldn’t want to be on any ship down range of those cannons.

The large ship took up a large portion of the Furnace’s docking space, and that allowed Fredrik to examine the way in which the new ships were able to refuel. The ships that were unable to find a birth pulled up parallel to a ship that was and cast lines across. When the Furnace dropped a hose down to the refuelling ship, the refuelling ship would then attach a hose to the rope and have it pulled across. The Furnace would fuel one ship and that ship would fuel another. So long as each ship flew slightly lower than the previous ship, there was no reason it wouldn’t work.

Fredrik could see Lav click her tongue with a look of annoyance on her face. When he asked her what was wrong, she gave a heavy sigh before replying.

“That’s the MHG F24. The captain has been a real nuisance to me. It explains why my sponsor wanted us over for dinner,” She paused for a moment, as if deep in thought, before she continued. “Make sure you keep your pistol with you. Attach it to the back of your belt and keep it hidden by your coat. I don’t like this.”