The Depths of Neptune - Chapter 6

“Hortensius tells me the vats and buildings to contain them should be done in a week’s time,” Sorantius said. “As you expected, the first run of the vats was not as water-tight as you wanted, although the leaks seemed minimal to me.”

“Only because you are thinking of water, which when it leaks simply corrodes the metal and leaves a puddle on the floor. Some of these mixtures will melt skin or create vapor clouds that will take all of the oxygen from a man,” Ky said, pointing at the new papers he had brought for the philosopher-turned-chemist. “It is critical that you understand that the slightest leak can be a danger. It’s why I included an entire section on maintaining the vats and the equipment so they don’t corrode and leak, and the very specific guides on how to remove these mixtures from the vats for further production.”

“Which is why many of these things are made of glass?”

“Correct. Some, although not all, of these mixtures will not react with the glass or melt through it, making it the safest way to store it for the next steps of processing.”

“I see, although I’m still not clear on how these mixtures will be used. I know Hortensius blindly trusts any instructions you give him, but mixing things like this isn’t the same as building a building. Understanding the reasons things are done are the keys to ensuring it’s done correctly.”

He wasn’t wrong, Ky thought. Sorantius had already shown that, while Hortensius was able to produce items as directed, such as gunpowder, doing so blindly had limited his ability to innovate from what he was being told. After reading over all of Ky’s notes on gunpowder and its proper handling, Sorantius had devised several alterations to the barrels it was being stored in, both to keep the powder dry, further limit its exposure to oxygen, which would allow it to remain potent for longer, and limit the dust that could get into the air in storage facilities, lessening fire and explosion risks.

That was the one weak point in Ky and Sophus’s process of introducing these technologies. While the AI had extensive files on how things were done, it lacked the creativity and instinctual sense to really innovate past what they already knew. True, by following the progression of inventions from their past, they were essentially borrowing the innovations from others, but that wasn’t the same. Just by introducing these technologies in different orders, changed the reasons the innovations happened, and what innovations they needed would change as well.

Theoretically, Ky was the other half of the puzzle, able to apply his instincts and creativity to Sophus’s information, but that wasn’t applicable here. He could do it on the battlefield, but laboratories and factories were outside his experience, leaving him as blind as Sorantius and Hortensius.

Of course, he couldn’t just tell them why things worked, because the explanation wouldn’t make any sense. How do you explain to people who haven’t discovered microscopes or the atom what a covalent bond or ionic compound is? For now, Sorantius was asking for Ky to elaborate on the chemicals he was asking them to make, but eventually, he’d be asking why these chemicals reacted the way they did. Ky would do his best to explain it, but it was clear that just uplifting these people with industrial-age technology wasn’t enough. They had to also understand it for themselves, and that was going to be a much bigger hurdle.

“I’ll try and explain, although some of these concepts require a base of knowledge you do not possess. In time, we can try and work out a system for teaching you, and others who are interested, the theories behind these subjects. But for now, we do not have the time. So if I don’t give you the specifics you are asking for, please know I’m not doing it to keep knowledge from you. It’s simply that the knowledge requires more than I can explain in the time we have.”

“I understand, but I will hold you to that promise one day. When this is all over, you will introduce us to these mysteries, and teach us this base knowledge that will unlock the rest of what you have shown us.”

Although the man had said us, Ky heard me, which he was certain what Sorantius actually meant. That was another major difference between Sorantius and Hortensius. While Hortensius was a wealthy man before Ky met him, his success had come almost in spite of himself, a byproduct of his endless thirst to create and his impressive work ethic. At no point since Ky had started working with the manufacturer had the man shown any indication that he was looking to use this crisis to better himself. Sorantius, on the other hand, seemed to think of little else.

Ky wasn’t worried that he was some kind of security risk, trying to personally profit off of the information he was getting. If anything, Sorantius seemed completely unconcerned with wealth, living in extremely basic conditions and forgoing all of the fineries that someone of his station could obtain. His version of bettering himself seemed to be completely focused on learning and understanding more. Knowledge was the only thing he seemed determined to hoard. Which was one of the reasons Ky had picked him for this position. There were one or two other men that might have made a good candidate, and one who might have even worked better with Hortensius, but none had the thirst for knowledge that Sorantius had, which in this circumstance was the quality Ky needed.

“Fine. I can agree to that. As for a more basic explanation, I’ll do what I can. That these two elements are acids is the most important,” Ky said, pointing to the instructions for producing sulfuric and nitric acid. “This one is sulfuric acid and is why one of these tanks had to be made of only lead, since it would start to break down anything else you used to mix it. We’ll eventually use it in producing a number of other mixtures, as well as further process it into a very effective fertilizer. A lot of our future products are going to need this. The other mixture is called nitric acid, which is also used for making fertilizer, but more importantly, it’s the first component in making an extremely volatile chemical that explodes when enough force is placed on it. It’s going to have huge implications for our arms production, and will be the bedrock of many of the next technologies I introduce. The key to both of these is precision. You’ll see the instructions for each indicate extremely specific steps and weights to be used in their production, as well as specific ways of storing them. It’s critical that we follow all of these steps to the letter! Since they are both the building blocks of future compounds, we need them to be precise so we can predict the reactions that will happen when we produce those other compounds.”

“I’m assuming from the context that the word chemical is what you call the explosive mixture. Is that correct? It sounds almost like Latin, but I don’t recognize it.”

“Unfortunately, this will happen a lot as we get into more precise and detailed topics that require words and descriptions common among my people, but that you haven’t encountered yet. You’ll find that with the instructions I’ve included some descriptions of the words that I would use when talking about these new methods and technologies. Right now you’re getting the brunt of this, since most of the work Hortensius has been doing is an extension of existing ideas, or more simplistic forms of chemistry. That is, the science of working with chemicals. Opening a new chemical industry is key to everything else we’re doing, but it is also the largest push forward so far in technology, so we run into the lack of language and terms to describe the things needing to be done.”

“I’m not complaining. Most of the words you’ve used have made sense in the context of what you are explaining, and I look forward to being challenged.”

“Good, because you have a lot of work to do,” Ky said.

Ky continued to be amazed by the capabilities of the people here. Before the accident, he would have considered anyone from this time to be hopelessly backward, but they were every bit as hard-working and intelligent as anyone from his time. All they lacked was knowledge.

***

Ráth Cruachan, Ériu

“You’re joking,” Auspex said, more as an expression of surprise than an actual question.

“I’m not,” Gnaeus said, standing before his commander, Llassar, and the prince in the command tent.

“It makes things simpler, doesn’t it?” the prince asked.

“Only if we win,” Llassar said.

“Of course, I’ll win,” the prince said.

“But why do it at all?” Gnaeus asked. “We have more men than they do, the trebuchets are being set up, and we have the city surrounded. All we have to do is sit here until they starve. We’ve either cut off, crushed, or accepted the surrender of every other unfriendly city and garrison on this island. They stand alone. Why risk it for some foolish display of ego? What kind of barbarians decide the contest of armies by two men in single combat?”

“You can go,” Auspex commanded.

Both men had caught the expression on Llassar’s face at Gnaeus’s statement, causing Gnaeus to blanch slightly.

“I apologize. I know that is how your people settled many of their conflicts, and I meant no disrespect. I’m just surprised, is all.”

Llassar gave a slight nod of acceptance. Although he’d added menace into his glare at the cohort commander for his earlier comment, Llassar actually felt no animosity towards the man. In fact, he’d heard how far the man had gone to include the newly added Caledonians into his ranks, including bringing several on as aides, giving them valuable experience that would jump them ahead in line for command past Romans with more time in the legions.

In spite of that, Llassar knew it would take time to change all of the Roman’s long-held prejudices. That understanding didn’t keep him from holding the men he was in charge of accountable for their Roman snobbishness.

“To answer your original question, the reason to do it is because this is how it’s always been done in our cultures. If we win, the people will accept the results and our rulership. Did you find your people had much luck converting the people to the Roman ways in the few towns of ours you captured and tried to rule over?”

He knew Gnaeus had served in what the Romans had called the north prior to the alliance, and would have had some dealings with his people being held in subjugation.

“I found your people to be stubborn,” Gnaeus said, more factually than angrily.

“Because they didn’t see themselves as your subjects, even though you ruled over them. This type of contest would happen regularly and nearly always ended in the village accepting new rulership. It allowed most of the citizens to continue producing crops and kept husbands from being taken from their wives and children. From our point of view, it was much more civilized than how you Romans fought battles. Of course, it isn’t an option for dealing with most of our opponents, because not even a victory in single combat would keep them from seeing their new rulers as foreigners. Here it’s different. True, most of the citizens aren’t fans of the Ulaid, but they wouldn’t see them as foreign, and most will accept their rulership if our man wins. It keeps this town, and ultimately Queen Medb’s entire kingdom from being an issue. In my mind, that’s better than ending up with a city full of corpses from people who starved to death. That doesn’t even consider how long starving a city like this would take. The Consul has made it clear that we are to wrap up the last of the Carthaginian allies and get your legion back with the rest, to take part in the battles to come. This way achieves both outcomes.”

“He’s right,” Auspex said.

Llassar saw not only Gnaeus, but also Auspex nodding in agreement at his reasoning. Of course, this kind of knowledge had limited use, since once they began fighting on the continent or in Africa, every victory would be bloody, which was all the more reason to do it this way. They should take advantage of situations when they could.

Llassar also saw it as a chance to teach Gnaeus that commanding was more than just tactical. Legates often operated independently from other legions, and had to look beyond the battlefield to the entire goal of a campaign. Llassar had been lucky enough to learn that lesson early and had taught it to Talogren when he’d first joined up with the chieftain’s new league. Auspex had spoken highly of the younger cohort commander and Llassar had a conversation with the Consul and Lucilla about the need to be on the lookout for leaders as the legions expanded. He may have been here to pacify Ériu, but he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to mentor a promising commander. The field of battle was the best place to both train and mold young men into leaders.

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Gnaeus said. “I’m still not sure sending the prince is a good idea.”

“In that, we agree,” Llassar said.

“What?” the prince said, looking at Llassar in shock. “Why?”

“Because for this to work, we need to actually win. I’ve seen you fight, and you’ve got a lot of promise, but if they put up who I think they will, you don’t stand a chance.”

“I don’t care who they put up, I’ll defeat them. I’ve trained with the best teachers in the kingdom, since Father became king, and I beat them every time.”

“I’m sure beating teachers paid for by your father was a challenge,” Gnaeus said.

“What are you trying to say? They let me win?” the prince said, bristling.

Llassar held up a hand, keeping the cohort commander from answering. Gnaeus might have been more seasoned and battle-hardened, but both were young men, prone to the venality of youth.

“Queen Medb is going to send Fergus. It’s her only choice, really. Besides being an incredible fighter, he is still claiming to be the true heir to the Ulaid throne, and siding with him was part of her justification for joining the war against your father. Her people will know this, and expect him to step up now when challenged by, what he has said loudly to anyone who will listen, are pretenders to his throne. You cannot beat Fergus.”

Cormac was too young to have met the former prince, who fled the kingdom before Cormac was born, but he would have doubtlessly heard stories. Fergus was larger than Conchobar when he was the prince's age, which was when Cormac’s father took the throne, which made him roughly the same age as Llassar. He had both physical strength and experience on his side, while the prince had only youthful enthusiasm, which wouldn’t be enough to win this contest.

“Ohh,” Cormac said, clearly considering for the first time that there would be an actual person trying to kill him if he went into combat. “I … I could still take him. And I haven’t just fought with trainers. I showed my worth on the walls of that fort. I understand why we shouldn’t have attacked it, but I killed several men fighting to hold the wall before you showed up.”

That point further proved how unprepared he was for this. Most of the trained Connacht soldiers would have died with their armies in the south, fighting with the Carthaginians against the Britannians. One of the reasons they’d been able to take the fort so quickly was that it was defended mostly by farmers or men who’d aged out of serving with their army. As a contest of skill, they were far from a good way to measure your capabilities.

Llassar, however, couldn’t say that to the prince. With young men like him, it was a careful balancing act, giving wisdom and guidance, and knocking foolish ideas out of their heads, without taking away their confidence.

“You handled yourself well, but facing Fergus one-on-one is another matter. Besides, you’re your father’s only heir. If you should fall here, facing the last holdouts, it would weaken your kingdom just as much as if we lost in battle. We can’t risk it.”

“Then who will go? We can’t just pull a man out of the legion and send them out there. Besides being an insult to the honor of my kingdom, how will we know we picked the right man?”

“Because I’ll go,” Llassar said.

“You? But you’re ancient,” Cormac said, not even trying to hide his disgust.

Llassar almost broke his practiced stoic demeanor with a smile at that comment. He wasn’t insulted, although he didn’t think he was all that ancient. It was the voice of youth talking, and one Llassar had heard before.

“Which means I have the experience to defeat him. I still have the strength in these ancient bones for one more fight.”

“Do you know the one thing you can be sure of about an old warrior?” Auspex said.

The prince just looked at him and shrugged.

“He’s a survivor,” Auspex said. “I still think this is a stupid way to wage war, but if it’s how it needs to be done, Llassar’s who I’d want out there representing us.”

The prince looked from Auspex to Llassar and back again before sighing and dropping his shoulders.

“Fine,” he said, defeated. “You go.”

***

Llassar’s prediction had come true. Fergus stood ten feet in front of him, his bulk even greater than Llassar had remembered from their youth. The man was easily a span and a half taller than Llassar, who wasn’t a short man among his people, and his body was easily twice as wide. His hair was still the brown Llassar remembered but was now cut short, very close to his head, instead of the unwieldy mop that he’d worn when the two were young men.

Some things hadn’t changed, however. He still carried that ridiculously large hammer. Admittedly, it was a powerful weapon. Llassar had seen him pulverize men, smashing armor so flat that the person wearing it couldn’t take a breath and suffocated to death. It was also an incredibly intimidating weapon, its rectangular end larger than some men’s heads. But it was also slow. When they’d been on somewhat friendly terms, Llassar had tried to convince him to at least switch to one of the large hand-and-a-half swords that had blades as long as a man’s arm. That sword would still be devastating with Fergus’s power behind it, but that weapon was at least wieldier, allowing for reversals and counterstrokes.

Of course, its unwieldiness didn’t make the hammer, or Fergus, any less dangerous. He’d used that weapon for decades now and was still alive, which suggested he’d put it to good use.

“I see you threw in with the Romans, old man,” Fergus said with a sneer. “Pathetic. Your people were always soft.”

The ‘old man’ was a taunt from when they were kids. He and Fergus were roughly the same age, but Fergus had always thought that Llassar was too serious and moody, and called him that name as an insult.

Llassar didn’t reply. He knew some men liked to trade banter, passing insults before the fight began. Llassar found it to be a distraction. He stayed still, sword and axe in hand, the battle before him at the front of his mind. Fergus clearly expected the traditional response, and sneered again.

“Fine. Die as you lived,” he said, lifting the hammer and taking a step forward.

The ground was bad for this kind of fight. The spring season was in full bloom. The rains in Ériu rivaled those in Caledonia and had been happening off and on for weeks, turning the green field in front of Ráth Cruachan into a mud pit. Even with his size, it took strength to swing the hammer and the momentum generated would be against him. Fergus moved into a run, bringing the hammer up in preparation for a swing. As soon as it started its journey downward, Llassar moved, pushing off and dashing forward until he was just within the range of the hammer, which was coming directly for his midsection.

Dropping his weight, Llassar used the muddy ground to his advantage, falling to his knees and letting the mud carry him forward, bending back to let the hammer swing over his head. As he slid forward, Llassar’s axe slashed out, its blade cutting toward Fergus’s ankle. Only a happenstance of luck kept the edge of the axe blade from cutting through the large man’s ankles. The hammer, not having found its target, continued on its journey, still building momentum. Normally, Fergus was strong enough to stop that force, but in the mud with poor footing he didn’t have the leverage, which allowed the hammer to throw him off balance, causing the giant to stumble, which is what saved him. Llassar’s axe caught only fabric and leather, exposing the large man’s skin but showing no blood at all.

Fergus took a step to regain his footing as Llassar got up and continued forward before twisting around to get his own footing. Fergus looked annoyed, instead of worried that he’d almost been hobbled, which would have been a death blow in a fight like this. Apparently, the big man seemed to think the stumble had kept his hammer from finding its mark, instead of realizing how close he’d come to disaster.

Llassar had predicted that swing, but Fergus wouldn’t try something like that again. Not with the condition of the ground. He quickly choked his other hand up the handle, instead of both hands near the bottom, to get more control. It was the smart thing to do, which was bad for Llassar.

Llassar waited again, patiently. Fights like this weren’t drawn-out clashes of swords. They were usually over when the first weapon landed.

Fergus took cautious steps towards him, and then with a speed surprising in someone his size, jabbed the top of the hammer forward, aimed at Llassar’s mid-section. As soon as the thrust began, Llassar was on the move, pushing off to the right while smashing the end of his axe into the side of the hammer, pushing it to the left, allowing him to clear the weapon. As soon as he was clear and on the outside of Fergus’s arms, he stabbed forward with his gladius. He would have preferred a killing shot to the giant man’s neck, but the way he’d had to angle his body, there was no good way for his sword to make contact.

As it was, all he could do was catch part of the large man’s right bicep without stopping and readjusting his stance, which would have opened him up to injury or a deadly blow. He knew he had to keep moving, because Fergus was too good of a fighter to think that thrust was going to do the job. He’d done it to push Llassar off balance, and there would be a counterstroke, which is precisely why Llassar went on the attack. The gladius sliced through a thick section of muscle in Fergus’s arm, opening up a gaping wound. All of the strength and training in the world couldn’t overcome an injury like that, and all the power in the large hammer as it made its way through the reverse swing was now solely supported by Fergus’s left hand.

The danger evaded, Llassar stopped to regain his footing, shifting to bring his axe down for a killing blow when the large man did something that Llassar didn’t expect.

Dropping his hammer entirely, Fergus shot out with his left arm, smashing the back of the beefy hand against the side of Llassar’s head. It was like being hit by a falling tree. Llassar sailed through the air, smashing into the ground a few feet away. When the blow first struck, it felt like the world was going to go black as his vision darkened, and was reinforced when his body finished the arc it had been on, slamming hard into the muddy ground.

Llassar almost didn’t get his wits back together before Fergus roared and leapt at him, He barely managed to roll away. It was only because of the slick mud that Fergus managed to get one hand on his leg, but he didn’t get a tight hold, allowing Llassar to slip through the big man’s grasp. It did interrupt his backward roll, causing him to flop over like a fish. Thankfully, Fergus was having a hard time pushing himself up from the muddy ground with one arm hanging loose and almost useless, which gave Llassar enough time to get onto his feet and take a few quick steps back out of Fergus’s reach as he also got up.

Fergus’s eyes were full of fury, a growling noise coming from somewhere deep inside of him. Llassar waited. Passion had its place, but in battle, a calm mind won every time. He’d lost his sword in the tumble to the ground, and everything was a little blurry, but he still had his axe while Fergus was unarmed. That was the other downside of such a ridiculously large weapon, you couldn’t use it one-handed.

He didn’t have to wait long. With a bellow, Fergus charged. There was no style or strategy to it. He’d become almost an animal. As impressive as it was, it was his undoing. Younger men would do something drastic, like trying to cut off the outstretched arms, but more often than not they got their weapon stuck in bone and sinew. Cutting limbs off is good for evening stories, but is incredibly difficult for anyone not Fergus’s size. Instead, Llassar’s axe slashed up through the large man’s hand, where the bones were small and wouldn’t impede the progress of the weapon, but would render him all but helpless.

As the weapon passed through bone and muscle, Llassar spun with the force, moving with the momentum away from Fergus, who was now trying to bodily tackle him, maybe hoping that simply holding Llassar in the mud would be enough to defeat him, now that he had no weapons or hands.

Llassar however, had other plans. Even as he spun, twisting like a windmill, he kept the weapon out straight, so it sailed around himself and then, in a second sweeping arc, ended with its curved edge embedded in the large man, from jaw to sternum.

Fergus collapsed to the ground, his ruined hands going to his neck as jets of blood covered the muddy ground. Stepping over him, Llassar scooped up his lost sword and faced the crowd of soldiers watching the fight and the queen, whose mouth hung open.

Llassar had no doubt she’d seen Fergus fight, and she had probably been confident in his victory. He didn’t know the woman, but he knew her type. Honor was well and good, right up until her life was on the line, which is why he’d given specific instructions to Auspex.

As he faced her, the legionaries snapped up their shields, gladius at the ready, prepared to move forward.

The queen, who was watching from up on the wall, above her soldiers, looked down at them, her eyes sweeping left and right. Her men were visibly shaken, swords and spears held limply as they looked at the fallen body of Fergus. The queen’s gaze shifted, sweeping over the Romans, their loaded trebuchets, their archers with bows in hand, and the long line of heavy infantry only a few paces behind Llassar.

Her shoulders slumped, which was all Llassar needed to see. He turned his back on her and her soldiers, and walked into the Roman lines, leaving the cleanup to Auspex and his men.