Chapitre 59: Micah - 6.2
The next week rushed by in a blur of time. The survivors of Aetherhaven had already erected new homes cut from the surrounding wood, their resilience evident in the swift progress. I drew up blueprints for the defense repairs, focusing on fortifications that would prevent another tragedy like the one we had endured. Master Beswick approved the plans and acquired the necessary materials. Ulysses and Pascal oversaw the logistics and straightened out relief supplies. Aetherhaven would rise again.
We coordinated with Caer Elara and Caer Dunhelm, enlisting their help to weave together new megalithic stones for the construction. In as little as twelve days, the rebuilt bulwark stood nearly thrice as thick and twice as tall as the original, with attached barracks in every ward of the city.
The new rampart boasted several improvements over the old design—more pronounced machicolations, larger and more frequent towers, two massive gates requiring magical input to open, and a solid stone barricade that filled the wall's opening. Additionally, three regular portcullises provided further security.
My favorite changes were the additional weaponry furnished along the watchtowers. Lava pots, a classic choice, were replaced with amplification crystals mounted onto rotatable pylons. Any mage could cast a spell or channel raw mana into the pylon, resulting in an amplified spell or a potent stream of magic erupting from the other side. Ballistae, while effective against traditional foes, yielded too little damage against our invaders.
Uncle Ulysses, with Master Beswick's permission, procured a large quantity of hearthfire berries and sparkfire flowers. By soaking the petals of the plant before muddling them into a pulp, I combined the white goop with mushed berries and dried the mixture on a field of strung cloths. This resulted in a brittle sheet of a stable reagent of pure firepower.
I stored the product into several large barrels inside my bracelet, slowly testing the explosive yield with just a few granules before working up to a decent portion of about two cups. While working, I accidentally spilled some crushed brimstone I had prepared for the second version of my armor into the sample. By Torin's name, the result was a roughly doubled explosive yield!
"With a week of work and dozens of Marks, I can finally replicate the firepower of a novice mage! A good first step," I mused, pleased with the results.
But I couldn't launch this fireball across a field like a mage. Perhaps a projectile, like the bolts from the ballistae, would be the solution.
One afternoon, Master Beswick caught me in the special barracks, a load of books and papers strewn across a table. His presence filled the room with a sense of authority and curiosity.
"What have we here? Another genius plan?" he asked, pouring over my detailed illustrations. "You know, not everyone is a fire user."
I looked up, startled but quickly recovering. "Master, I've been working on a way to enhance our defenses. These amplification crystals can be used by anyone but me to project powerful spells. And this substance—well, it packs quite a punch."
Beswick raised an eyebrow, examining the sheets closely. "Interesting. But how do you propose to deploy them effectively?"
"I've been thinking about that," I replied, excitement creeping into my voice. "We could design a mechanism to contain the powder and launch something, similar to how ballistae work but tailored for explosive projectiles. It would allow us to target enemies at a greater distance with more prejudice, providing a significant advantage."
Master Beswick nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's an ambitious plan, Micah. But if anyone can make it work, it's you. Let's see how we can integrate this into our current defenses."
Over the next few days, I worked tirelessly on the prototype, experimenting with different mechanisms and configurations. The barracks became my workshop, filled with the scent of alchemical reagents and the sound of metal being forged and shaped.
Uncle and Pascal often checked in, offering their expertise and assistance. Their support was invaluable, and I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for their presence.
"How's it coming along?" Uncle asked one evening, his eyes scanning the various components scattered across the workbench.
"Slowly but surely," I replied, wiping sweat from my brow. "I think we're getting close."
Pascal leaned in, examining a set of gears I had been working on. "This looks promising. Once we have a working model, we can test it in the field."
Master Beswick entered the barracks, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Progress report, Squire?"
"I believe we have a viable design, Master," I said, my voice filled with determination. "With a few more adjustments, we should be ready for a field test."
My master smiled, "Excellent. Let's make it happen."
The following day, we gathered on the new wall, the prototype mounted on a sturdy platform. The amplification crystal gleamed in the sunlight, beckoning to be unleashed upon the target.
Two of the wardens assigned to me, more as squire-watchers than actual subordinates, carried my new prototype armament into place. They set the weapon down with a gentle thud, stretching their arms and back afterwards.
"Ready?" Master asked, his eyes fixed on me.
"Ready," I replied, taking a deep breath.
Pascal activated the mechanism, channeling raw mana into the pylon. The crystal absorbed the magic, amplifying it before releasing a concentrated blast toward the target. The explosion was deafening, a brilliant flash of black light and sound that obliterated the target dummy.
"Magnificent. How about this strange metal barrel?" Master turned from the pylon to the sphere launcher beside it.
"This is the new type of arm, a fire arm. You thread this quick-wick through this hole..." I explained my actions as I carried them out, "Pour in two scoops of this special powder into this chamber... Then you load either ball bearings or one giant metal orb into the tube of the device.... They are exceptionally heavy."
I closed the powder chamber against the main body then spun the fastening screw to secure the backend.
"Please stand a few paces back." I advised, waiting for the men to follow my instructions.
I nodded to Warden Hartwood. He stepped forward and ignited the wick with his fingers.
"The wick allows for several seconds to clear the vicinity of the contraption." I plainly said as I plugged my ears.
A boom rocked the palisade as a flash of fire propelled the dense sphere across the ashy field into the second training target. Then through the target into the dirt, then across the dirt and into the hillside.
"MAGNIFICENT!" Master joyously shouted. "I want five pylons per watchtower and ten of these things!"
"Ummmmm, Sebastian?" Uncle interjected, "Each pylon costs about six hundred Marks and each of those things costs about four, just for the materials."
Master's smiling face turned into a stern one, "Then make it ten pylons and twenty of these things! Off to work!"
He turned to leave, talking while walking away, "Take all the men you need, hire all the smiths, spend all the money. Men matter more than Marks. Take every last pence this city has if it will keep everyone here safe."
Uncle shuffled off in the opposite direction of my master, mumbling something inaudible to the rest of us. "Come, dear boy. Let's run the numbers."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone