The Wings of Mercury - Chapter 8

Factorium

Lucilla was back in Factorium. Once again, she was happy that the train line had been installed, making this a quick morning and back home by mid-afternoon.

Hortensius was away, dealing with an ore supplier that had significantly slowed its output, but Lucilla’s main goal was to talk to Sorantius. The chemist had a habit of getting overly focused in his workshop, failing to report on his progress, which was very much needed as the war started to heat up.

The city, always busy, had been kicked into high gear, as Hortensius had started saying lately. People were everywhere, carts and wagons delivering supplies and finished products, and workers going every direction. Lucilla was happy the city was taking the war seriously.

It was so busy that she didn’t disrupt the crowd, drawing attention, like she normally did. Her guards had to actually clear the way for her and keep people at a safe distance, more concerned about her being run over in the crowd than by someone attacking her.

Reaching the primary chemical plant, she and her guards had taken only a handful of steps when a young assistant in one of the ubiquitous leather aprons and arm coverings found in the chemical plant came running up to her, bowing deeply.

“Your Majesty, this is unexpected.”

Lucilla frowned. She had sent a telegraph that she was coming, and spoke to some disorganization in Sorantius’s domain. Workers tended to reflect their leader, exemplified by this kind of miscommunication and sloppiness that would not have happened in one of Hortensius’s factories.

“I need to speak to Sorantius.”

“Certainly, Your Majesty. Please follow me,” he said, bowing again.

The assistant escorted her through the crowded factory full of large vats and cauldrons and packed with employees. Passing through one of the several barriers that separated sections, mostly for protection in case of an accident than some kind of organization, they found Sorantius near a large drying table of some kind.

Even with the entourage following her, the chief chemist didn’t seem to notice her right away.

“Master Sorantius,” the assistant said, prodding his boss and pointing to Lucilla. “Her Majesty, the Empress, is here to see you.”

Sorantius looked up from his workbench, at first annoyed, the information clearly not clearing right away, before his eyes widening in surprise. He quickly set down what he’d been working on and wiped his hands on his apron.

“Your Majesty, I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Really?” she asked, a little annoyed. “I telegraphed ahead to let you know I was coming. I am surprised the message did not reach you.”

“You did?” he asked, looking around as if he might find the message right next to him somewhere.

“I did. Sorantius, I appreciate your brilliance in this area, but you have been lacking in reporting and communication for some time. I know how you get absorbed in your work, but you need a factory manager of some type to help run your domain and keep things on schedule.”

“Your Majesty, I’m not sure…”

“I’m not sure I worded that as a suggestion, Sorantius.”

“Yes… of course. Of course, Your Majesty. I will… umm…”

“Talk to Hortensius to get his assistance in finding the right fit for you. I will mention to him that you will be coming for advice once he returns.”

“Certainly,” Sorantius said, clearly non-too-pleased.

While the two were certainly not advisory, both defended their domains rabidly and did not like the other intruding. She also didn’t have time for their feelings in this regard. The train may have made visiting faster, but many of her steps could be cleared by properly sent reports.

“Good. Since we have not heard of your progress so far, I came to check on it myself. Specifically, on the nitrocellulose production Ky gave to you before we left for Gual.”

“We did encounter some difficulties initially, Your Majesty, but I assure you, we’ve made significant progress in resolving them.”

“What kind of difficulties?”

“Heat. The consul’s directions were very detailed and, while it was complicated in some places, we were able to follow them and replicate the process laid out in the blueprints. However, we have had significant problems with temperature regulation, as this process seems much more sensitive to heat than other formulations we worked on in the past. Once the reaction starts, it generates a significant amount of heat, which then causes the nitrocellulose to break down, making it all but worthless.”

“Wasn’t this mentioned in the instructions, the need to control temperature?”

“It was, but once the reaction started, it wasn’t clear how we could lower the heat and it was hard to determine how bad the problem was until it got out of control.”

“This is an error I have been concerned about for some time,” Sophus said in Lucilla’s ear. “As we begin to push further into more complex, reactive formulations, heat was always going to be an issue and we have yet to devise a properly functional thermometer capable of measuring those reactions. I will speak to the Commander about options for dealing with this issue, as it will only get worse as we increase complexity.”

Lucilla listened to him but gave no reaction, keeping her focus on Sorantius.

“However, I believe I have come up with a solution to this problem that seems, at the moment, to be working.”

“Ohh?” Lucilla asked.

Sophus had already started listing off possible solutions they could give him. The chemist was very good at his job, but he tended to be more workmanlike than Hortensius, following instructions more than experimenting with variations.

Sorantius waved for her to follow, leading her and her retinue to a new section of the factory. He stopped in front of what looked to be a complicated setup. A large vat was crisscrossed with copper tubing, in a loop, one side toward a cistern and toward a trough coming through the wall filled with water, which then returned to the tube-covered vat.

“He’s created a water cooling system,” Sophus said.

“You’ve implemented a water cooling system,” Lucilla said, repeating Sophus’s words.

“Yes!” Sorantius said excitedly. “You see it right off. We run these pipes over the mixing vat with cooled water, which allows it to exchange some of the heat from the vat itself with the water in the cooling pipes, which we then shut off to a holding cistern. From there it slowly runs through our water intake, which is generally very cold, and then back to the vat to start the process over again. We have these valves here and here that allow us to control the flow of water or, of course, shut it off when we are not processing the sulfuric and nitric acids together.”

“Why not just run it from the vat to the water intake and back?”

“It was picking enough heat up to not be cooled off sufficiently by the time it made the round trip. We needed it to drop some of the heat first, to allow the stream water to bring it below room temperature, which is why we add from the top and pull from the bottom. The water pressure created by the cistern filling pushes the water up and creates pressure through the process, although we have a steam pump connected to help it get started.”

“That’s very clever,” Lucilla said.

“Thank you, although it’s still very difficult. If we cool it off too much, the reaction can be stopped, ruining the batch, and obviously, it’s hard to tell how hot it is. We’re still in the trial and error phase, I’m afraid. Small degree changes are causing the nitrocellulose to either break down or become volatile. It will take time to find the precise temperature for maximum potency.”

“Of course. I’m still very impressed with what you have come up with. I will message the Consul and discuss with him the problems you’re having, and see if he has any thoughts for you.”

“If that were possible, Your Majesty, it would be excellent.”

“What other projects have you been working on?” Lucilla asked.

“All either on or ahead of schedule. We’ve had successful batches of saline, which was relatively straightforward to achieve, only leaving us to work out the process of scaling up production. The chemical the Consul called ‘ether,’ however, has proven far more challenging, especially when it comes to storage.”

“How so?”

“It’s highly volatile. It evaporates quickly at room temperature and is extremely flammable. We’ve had to repurpose some of the containers the Consul designed for acids to prevent it from escaping or igniting. It seems to be working, but we are currently limiting to small batches, leaving the ether to sit over time, to test more of the long-term effectiveness.”

“It sounds like you are handling your assignments well and everything is on task. I will send over what notes the consul has for how to better control temperature and talk to him about your storage issues as well. Until then, keep up the work. And please see to that manager. I would hate to have to come see you to get an update.”

“Certainly, your majesty. I’ll take care of it.”

“Good man,” she said.

***

Eastern Germania

Ky lay on his cot, staring at the canvas ceiling of his tent. The pain in his side had dulled to a persistent ache. His frustration, however, had only gotten worse. Sophus had only woken him a few hours ago, pulling him out of the medical coma he’d been in to allow his system to more quickly repair the massive damage done by the bullet.

That should have been good news. It meant he was out of any serious danger and would be up and moving in a week or two. Unfortunately, there was not a lot of cause for celebration. As soon as he’d woken and Sophus had told him he had to remain prostrate still, Ky had sent his drone out of the tent to get a better look at what was going on.

The first thing he’d noticed was their position had definitely changed from the more rugged ground near the Urals to the thicker forests further west. Another legion had joined them, but they’d continued to retreat, with the Easterners close on their heels. He’d watched a short skirmish that morning as his army’s rear guard pushed back their pursuers to allow the wounded and supplies to gain distance.

His men had done well, fighting exactly as they had been taught and had given the enemy a sharp bloody nose when they’d gotten too close, but it had been costly all the same.

While it had been the right call when faced with cavalry and massed infantry attacks, Napoleonic era tactics with tightly packed men firing in volleys weren’t going to work here. Not when the enemy was using the same tactics against him with the same weapons. That would only allow the larger force to win.

Ky had issued orders changing their standard fighting style and Ursinus was already putting the men through whatever training they could as the retreat continued. They would, for now, try to fight on the defensive, in looser sections. They still had to be somewhat tightly packed, due to the slow-firing nature of rifled muskets, but they could at least do it from cover, instead of marching into the open. They also could lose the volley fire and switch to isolated, targeted fire from cover, if they weren’t worried about infantry charges. It would make them more vulnerable to cavalry, but so far he’d seen the enemy was more infantry-focused.

For now, the enemy had pulled back again for the night, creating a mile gap between their forces. Ursinus was still being cautious, running heavy patrols to ensure he knew where the enemy was, but even through heavy forest, Sophus was able to read the heat signatures and pick out most of the men, and they were in the clear for the time being.

More than anything though, he was frustrated. Frustrated that he’d misjudged the enemy so badly. Frustrated he was stuck in this tent. Frustrated there seemed to be little choice but to continue retreating.

Ky was pulled out of his thoughts when he received a ping in his head. One he’d been waiting on. Ky had wanted to talk to Lucilla since he woke, but she’d been pressed for time all day and hadn’t been able to get away and talk to him.

“Ky?” Her voice came through the communicator, echoing in his head.

“Yes, my love. I’m here.”

“How are you?”

“Alive. Stuck in this damn tent.”

“I received a report from Ursinus this morning. It’s from a few days ago, but it sounds like things are bad.”

“Bad is an understatement. We’re bleeding men every day, on a non-stop retreat. It’s a disaster.”

“I thought Marcus’s legion had joined you?”

“He has, but the enemy has also reinforced and each clash is leaving a mounting death toll. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it yet.”

“Bomilcar should have the last mobile legions to you in a day or two. That should let you at least stop the retreat for now. And recruits are starting to pour into the training camps in Germania. I think now that the war has started, they’re realizing this is serious.”

“Too late, as always.”

“You know how these things go, Ky. But we’re making progress on getting more men into the field and the weapons programs are starting to pick up steam here. We’ll make it through this.”

“Maybe,” Ky said.

He wasn’t trying to be so negative, but it was hard not to be, stuck here watching his men die.

“Not maybe, Ky. It will. If you have to figure out a new way to fight this war, to change our tactics to match this new way of fighting, then that’s what you’ll do.”

“Yeah,” Ky said, knowing he was being stubborn in his negativity, but unable to push past it. “How are things at home?”

She didn’t answer right away and he knew she was considering if she was going to let him distract her by changing subjects, instead of continuing to press him.

“Progressing. Recruitment has been slow here, but Gaul and Germania have both gone way beyond their targets, so we’re still on track. Sorantius is on track and Hortensias tells me he should be ready for his first fues trials next week. If successful, we should be able to start production of shells in a few weeks. He’s also stepped up production of the howitzer style cannon significantly, to ensure you have enough once the new shells are ready.”

“Good. I don’t know how long it will take them to copy us, but we really need to start getting a technological advantage over the enemy. Victorian era tactics may have worked against the Carthaginians, but they led to meat grinders against an equally armed enemy.”

“I’m not sure what that means, but I know you’ll figure out how to change it to something that will work,” she said.

“Yeah. Any word on Italia?”

“Nothing so far about what the problem is. I’m starting to think the Italians can’t get this done themselves.”

“Send Llassar to work it out,” Ky suggested. “He’s got the experience at diplomacy, forceful enough to make something happen, and if there are outside influences, he’ll find them.”

“He’s planning on retiring soon,” Lucilla said. “He’s been spending much of his time at home in Caledonia.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t suggest it if it wasn’t important, but we need their manpower and supplies, and they are going to be on the front line of this soon, because there is no way Greece survives this. Not off the small number of muskets they’ve been allowed to purchase. We need Italia to be ready to defend itself, and that means unification.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Lucilla said. “I also heard from Medb, however. Carthage is worse than she was told. She thinks the city is ready to fall into outright revolt, although she can’t say if it’s pure mismanagement or something worse.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to trust her on this?” Ky asked.

Although Ky had made the suggestion of marrying her into the Ulaid family, he’d never grown to trust her. Even over the five years of peace, he’d remained skeptical of the former queen. He knew Lucilla did and trusted her judgment, but it still concerned him every time she talked about handing Medb power.

“I am. She’s proved herself, Ky. Again and again. Or do you not remember the assassination attempt.”

He did. Three years prior there had been a fairly concerted attempt on Lucilla’s life by a group of mostly Roman businessmen, who were unhappy with the continued pressing of shipping and production taxes, and wanted more punitive measures against allies on the continent who were competing with them financially. Medb had uncovered the plot and had her agents dig out every one of the conspirators before tearing their group apart.

“This is different, but I’ll trust your judgment.”

“Good. Don’t worry, we’ll have more men to you soon.”

“Now I just have to figure out what to do with them, other than just spending their lives needlessly,” Ky said.

***

Devnum

“See if you can find Llassar and if he’s awake,” Lucilla said, opening the doors to her quarters. “Bring him here if you find him.”

The guard frowned but nodded and hurried away to carry out her orders. She knew tongues might wag as she shut the door and found proper clothes to wear to greet someone without making it seem too scandalous. Although tongues would wag nonetheless, an older unmarried man being called to the chambers of a married woman this time of night, but she didn’t care. Those who knew her, and more importantly knew Llassar, wouldn’t believe any of it, and those who did would believe anything about her, and it didn’t matter what she did.

There had been dozens of well-traveled rumors about her, being some kind of temptress, luring ex-gladiators and legionnaires to satisfy her insatiable whims while destroying the consul’s manhood. There were always those who tried to diminish her. She could stand the gossip.

It took a little while, long enough she feared he’d left the city, but eventually there was a knock at the door, which opened a moment later admitting a tired-looking Llassar. His hair and beard had gone mostly gray over the last few years, and he’d lost some of his impressive muscle as he’d aged, but he was as energetic as ever.

“You summoned me, Empress?”

Lucilla noticed Modius left her door standing open, perhaps trying to protect her modesty. Normally, she chafed at his doting, but she’d let it pass this time. They weren’t talking about anything sensitive, so the door could remain open.

Not that it would stop the gossip.

“I did. I’m sorry for the late summons, but we have an issue in Italia, and it has reached the point where we need to intervene and push things through. I recovered a telegram from Ky not long ago suggesting that perhaps you were the right person for the job. And I agree.”

“Problems with unification?”

“Yes. Specifically, problems with Sardina. Several merchant factions on the island are vehemently opposed to joining the mainland tribes and shutting down any talks about it almost as soon as they start up.”

“Why not simply let Sardina stand on its own then? If they don’t consider themselves part of Italia, perhaps it’s best to respect that.”

“Normally I might agree. The mainland and Sicilia have all but agreed to unification mostly along our recommended lines, but Sardina is holding out, and the rest of Italia is holding off to see if they can’t convince the islanders that it’s in their best interest to join. Time is not a luxury we have. The eastern threat grows by the day. We need Italia unified and committed to the Western Alliance as soon as possible, giving us access to their manpower and supplies in time to do us some good.”

“And you think it’s possible to get the Sardinians to change their minds?” Llassar asked.

“The Italians think so, at least. I hope that if we give them a push, it might get things moving. Or at least tell us more specifically where the issue is. There seems to be a lot of deep-seated tension between the mainlanders and the Sardinians that I hope is all that could be making this difficult.”

“But you think it could be something else?”

“I always think there could be a conspiracy, but the fact that we are having issues with unrest in Carthage and now Sardina, it feels more than just a coincidence. Either way, it’s why I want someone there. You specifically.”

“I’m flattered by your confidence, Empress, but surely there’s someone better suited for this task. I’m just an old warrior, after all.”

“Nonsense. You’ve been handling diplomacy for the empire ever since our first major contacts with the Ulaid. You guided Cormac in Hispania and helped arrange our final alliance there, and you ended a potential war between Gaul and Hispania two years ago without any bloodshed or losing either as an ally. You have been incredibly valuable to the empire and shown that you have a true ability for this.”

“Those were different situations, your majesty. We were at war for two of them and the third nearly became a war, putting it much closer to my ability. This is straight tribal politics.”

“First off, you might have noticed, but we are at war again. And this is no different than you helping Talogren negotiate the original Caledonia League or getting the tribes of Hispania together. Yes, Cormac was there, but we both know your advice played a big part in that.”

“The original Caledonian League was not so much diplomacy as conquest.”

“Which is another reason I want you to go. We don’t know what is happening and if someone is behind the scenes causing problems, that might be an eventuality. No, you are absolutely the right person for the assessment. Ky thinks so and so do I.”

“I appreciate that, your Majesty, but I must confess, I’m tired. I served first Talogren for nearly my entire life, and the empire for the last seven years. I’m an old man, something most warriors never achieve. I was hoping to retire soon, to live out my final days at home in peace. A reward for my service.”

“You’re not nearly as old as you like to put on, my friend. I’ve seen you training and you are nearly as strong as you always were. People are living much longer these days, with our advancements in medical science, and you’ve got plenty of good years left in you.”

“Perhaps, but the desire for a quiet life remains.”

“I understand, truly. But I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t absolutely crucial. We need Italia and its people, Llassar. And for the Italians to join us, they need Sardinia. The enemy is already in Greece, who has yet to request our help. We can stop them at the borders of Germania, but to truly hold them, we need the Italian border as well. We need them in this alliance, and to make that happen, we need you. It’s that simple.”

Llassar dropped his head with a heavy sigh. Lucilla knew she was pouring it on thick, putting an unfair amount of pressure on him, but regardless of what she wanted to do, it was absolutely what she needed to do.

“Very well,” he said, finally lifting his head. “I’ll do as you ask.”

“Thank you, Llassar. I knew we could count on you, even when you wish I couldn’t.”

He gave a wry laugh at that, as she escorted him to the open door.

“Please get what supplies and staff you need. I will arrange for a ship to take you in two days’ time. I know it’s fast, but it’s how things must be.”

“I’ll be ready,” he said with a nod, before turning and walking briskly the way he came, again belying his claims of being too old for the position.

Now she just hoped there was actually something he could do to move the situation along.