Chapter 7 The Ghost Swords #2
A whistle blew. It seemed Estoria Blackwood herself was refereeing the match. The silver-haired matron raised a little colored flag. Had Katrina scored the first point? Or was it Ambrosia? For a flicker of a moment, Celise wished she was just a little closer so she could see the action.
Suddenly, she heard the thunder of pounding footsteps from the hallway. It sounded like a large group of people was approaching. The footsteps were joined by a hubbub of deep voices. She heard the unmistakable baritone of old Cornelius Blackwood booming down the hall.
Celise froze. Her heart leapt into her throat. The voices were just outside the door! She looked around the trophy room, panicking. There weren’t many places to hide among the trophies, and her dress made it doubly hard to maneuver.
Finally, she dragged open a heavy wardrobe that stood against the wall. She pushed aside a rack of antique Daemonguard uniforms and flung herself inside. No sooner had she pulled the door shut, leaving just a crack to see by, than three men entered the room.
Her heart pounded.
She felt a bit faint.
Oh no! she thought. Now I’ve done it.
“That’s strange; I thought I ordered all the doors to be locked on the second floor,” Old Blackwood blustered.
Then he continued, “To conclude our tour of Gravenmere Castle, Meister Barbaros, I wanted to show you our family’s treasury.
We hold the finest collection of ghost swords and shined armor outside of the Royal Skydust Museum.
Better than the museum, if you ask me, but I might be biased. ” Blackwood chortled at his own joke.
“Your collection is impressive,” Barbaros agreed.
Meister Barbaros had a Bratzian accent, his vowels clipped and his “T’s” very pronounced. Celise thought of the twins she had met in the rose garden. Was a Bratzian guildmaster attending the gala? It sounded like Meister Barbaros had some important business with the Blackwoods.
“We have a similar room like this one in our guildhall,” Barbaros said. “You come from a warrior’s bloodline, I see.”
“Yes, yes. I never served on the Daemonguard myself; I was born into an era of peace, before the last spawning. My son, however, has quite the military career.”
“Who hasn’t heard of the Hero of the Realm?” Barbaros grinned.
Through the crack in the wardrobe’s doors, Celise noticed a third figure—very tall, wearing a dark coat—standing next to Barbaros. The tall man did not respond to the compliment.
Was this . . . the Mad Dog?
Trying to calm her racing heart, Celise breathed deep and slow as she watched the men move deeper into the room.
“Did you bring the prototype?” the tall man asked.
“I did, Lord High Commander.” With some shuffling, Meister Barbaros withdrew a long wooden box from his jacket. A smaller box followed the first. They looked like a matching set.
Lord High Commander? Celise leaned forward, her slight form pressed carefully against the wardrobe door, her ears perked.
Wasn’t that the military title for Elias Blackwood?
Was the Mad Dog standing just a few feet away from her?
Maybe she could catch a glimpse of his face?
She wondered if she should throw open the wardrobe and reveal herself, just to get a clear view of him.
She would be the first lady at the gala to see the Mad Dog in person.
Surely, he wouldn’t be wearing a mask in a meeting with a Bratzian guildmaster.
Then again, what did she know?
Celise squinted through the cracked door.
Not far from the wardrobe, a full set of shined armor stood at the center of the room, a stunning example of Iron Age craftsmanship.
Three men came to stand before the armor.
Unfortunately, due to the angle, she couldn’t see their features clearly.
Meister Barbaros was the most visible. She caught the outline of his lavender-pale hair.
It was very curly. The top of his head was bald and shiny.
She thought he might be wearing a monocle.
Celise watched the tall figure of the High Commander unlock one of the boxes with his gloved hands.
Odd that he’s wearing gloves indoors, she thought. She wondered again about his mask, but he was standing slightly behind the set of archaic armor. All she could see was his dark hair, which looked shiny and slicked back with oils.
She squinted until her eyes were watering, trying to see what the box contained. Then the duke plucked a lump of gold out of the case.
It was . . . a bullet.
“These slugs are quite large,” the Mad Dog mused.
"Necessary to shoot down daemons,” Barbaros assured him.
“I can think of three ways to shave down the size. It would save on the cost of materials and shipment,” Elias said.
Barbaros winced and exchanged a look with Old Blackwood.
“I am glad to hear it,” he said. “The larger box contains our new anti-mana pistol. Please test it at your earliest convenience, Lord High Commander. We welcome any notes you might have for the design. We’ve named the prototype the ‘Starcaster Cannon.’”
Celise listened with increasing interest. Were they talking about a shined gun? Guns weren’t used by the Daemonguard, everyone knew that.
“Why call it a cannon when it’s a pistol?” the commander asked in his brusque Forsynthian accent.
“Once you see the design, you’ll understand,” Barbaros said with a hint of humor.
“What is an anti-mana pistol?” Old Blackwood asked. “I thought you were designing a gun that could channel mana. . . .”
“That’s exactly what this gun does,” Barbaros explained.
“A shined gun is easy to make for any half-skilled artificer. However, most shined guns overheat and blow up under the force of a Luminary’s natural power.
That’s why mana-infused firearms aren’t used by the Daemonguard. Too many missing hands.”
Old Blackwood snorted. “True.”
“Our new anti-mana gun incorporates a secondary chamber for the purpose of defusing excess mana. The trigger must be pulled twice to get off a shot, but that’s to help moderate the output of mana and prevent the gun from exploding.
In short, it means soldiers can use the weapon safely without the risk of losing a limb. ”
“It sounds promising,” Elias allowed.
Barbaros jumped at the compliment. “It packs quite a kick. The new hazard for soldiers will be avoiding a broken shoulder. The bullet passes from the first chamber into the second chamber, where it’s coated in a special mineral oil to reduce the risk of instant combustion.
When the trigger is pulled the second time, the mana burst discharges the bullet through the barrel. ”
“I take it this mineral oil is infused with skydust of some kind?” the High Commander asked.
“A special recipe, Your Grace." Barbaros tapped his nose. “Trade secret.”
“A gun safe for Luminaries to use? That’s a wonder of the modern era,” Old Blackwood said.
“We hope to begin production as soon as the factory is built,” Barbaros agreed, his voice laced with implication.
Old Blackwood clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat.
“Right, yes, the factory. Allow me to allay your concerns, Meister Barbaros.
The project is fully funded, as promised.
We began construction of the kilns five months ago.
The opening ceremony should be in eight weeks' time. You can begin transporting the dust the week before the factory opens.”
“Is there any way to offload our supply now? We have twenty thousand pounds waiting in our warehouses for mixing and glazing. Dust #210 Bloodglass is highly unstable if stored more than six months—”
“How unstable? Is it explosive?” the Mad Dog snapped.
“Hard to say.”
A beat of silence passed between the three men.
Undeterred, Meister Barbaros continued, “By unstable, we also mean unpredictable. The dust can react with any number of things it comes into contact with. Depending on what it reacts with, one batch firing might lose power, another might catch fire, and another might become acidic, poisonous, or any of that.”
Celise was fascinated.
The deep rasp of the High Commander’s voice came again, “Are all the different mixtures of skydust this unstable?”
“No, I am only speaking of Dust #210 Bloodglass,” Meister Barbaros explained. “We can attempt to refresh the batch, but the final product might not be as potent after firing.”
“I’m not sure I follow. What do you mean by ‘firing’?” Old Blackwood grumbled.
“He’s referring to the factory’s function,” Elias said.
The guildmaster continued, “Allow me to explain, Your Grace. Perhaps a century ago, at the bloom of the industrial age, large deposits of skydust were found in the Rog Mountains of Bratzia. As you are well aware, skydust is a unique, alien mineral from the meteor that struck Nilos thousands of years ago.”
“Who isn’t aware of that?” Old Blackwood scoffed.
With a slight bow, Barbaros continued his long-winded explanation, “To create a shined sword, or a shined object of any kind, we must first coat the blade with a specific kind of enamel glaze. We use skydust—or just dust—as the base for these glazes. Just like a baker uses different recipes for different kinds of bread, or a potter uses different kinds of frit to achieve a specific color or texture for his pottery, our kingdom’s artificers have developed mixtures of skydust for different qualities of shined weapons.
A specific ‘dust’ gives a shined weapon its traits.
“During our guild’s application for this military contract, we provided your son, Lord Elias, with an extensive tour of our guildhall in Gigas.
Artificing is an art form to our people.
Boys and girls who show aptitude enter the guilds as young as thirteen years old.
We have many different thousands of varieties of dust—but #210 Bloodglass was chartered by your military specifically for combat.
It will give the Daemonguard an unprecedented advantage if the Daemon King were to rise again. ”