Warhammer Fantasy:Steel and gunpowder

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Vorgeheim 21th ,2488 IC

Finally, just as I was about to leave the building, I found the captain of the Greatswords waiting for me near the entrance.

"All good, young Reinsfeld?" the captain asked, his face serious.

"Yes… though I paid a price that still doesn't feel fair," I said, grimacing slightly.

"Could be. The general's been acting strange lately… He's spending more time with books and nobles than with us, training or clearing the forests. Though, to be honest, it saves us entire weeks of patrolling those damned regions," the captain said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Here… I wish I could give you more for your help, but you know how it is—someone else took his cut, and I don't have much gold left. This was just pocket money," I said, handing him the last few gold coins I had. I'd need to find more soon.

"That's one way you lot are different," he said, laughing. "Your father was nearly impossible to convince to pay extra…"

"In that, we're exactly the same, believe me. The only difference is that my financial situation is very different from my father's," I replied in a dry tone. "Speaking of which… I know it's illegal to hire men from the state regiments, but once they retire, or if they're wounded, or some of your subordinates… they're always welcome to seek work in my lands. I'm interested in having hardened veterans in my ranks—especially as instructors, since I'm reforming and expanding my forces."

"I know a couple of old grumps retiring this year, if all goes well," said the captain, placing his hands on his hips. "I can tell them that their former captain's son is waiting for them with open arms. More than a few would be glad to leave if you offer them something stable."

"Any veteran you know—if they're retiring—tell them exactly that. If useful men show up on my lands to bolster my personal forces… I promise your pockets will be full for each one you send," I said, pointing to the coin pouch I had just given him.

"I'll keep that in mind," the captain replied with a slight smile.

"It's been a pleasure. If you'll excuse me, I'll be off. I want to see if I can find an engineer willing to work for me."

The captain nodded as he began to check the pouch's contents.

I left the military district and made my way toward where my retinue was stationed within the city. They were preparing to unload the baggage at a nearby tavern. Though, if I was lucky, I would leave this city today—avoiding one of those decadent parties the corrupt nobility of Altdorf enjoys so much.

The sooner I leave this place, the better.

Followed by my guards, it didn't take long to reach my destination. I had made a quick stop at my properties within the city to refill my gold pouches—essential, if one wants to move efficiently through Imperial politics. Here, gold is the best calling card one can offer.

The sound of loud explosions told me I was close. Not battle—tests. The rumble of gunpowder and heavy machinery guided me to the building where the Altdorf Engineer's School had its main headquarters, located in the most erudite quarter in the southern part of the city.

Although I could attempt to improve a musket myself by shamelessly copying the Dwarfen design I possess, with so much work on my shoulders, delegation was the wiser choice. I only needed to state what I wanted—someone else could build it for me.

As I reached the front of the grand building, I noticed there weren't many visible guards. Only a few members of the local watch stood at the entrances in a passive stance, more symbolic than genuinely protective. I crossed the doors without issue and soon found myself before a receptionist who looked up from the open books on his desk.

He examined me carefully. I saw his eyes settle on me, then my escorts, then back to me again—this time with a measured smile, the kind one usually sees in merchants.

"Blessings of Sigmar, young noble. Have you come with the intent of enrolling in our noble institution?" he asked with a sharp, businesslike smile.

"Blessings of Sigmar," I replied, giving the sign of the twin-tailed comet. "As much as I'd like to, that's not why I'm here… I've come with the intention of becoming a patron of this institution. I wish to make a generous donation to support the technological advancements that help defend our borders from the Chaos in the north and the greenskins in the south," I responded in a refined tone, employing all the soft skills I had learned at the Margrave's banquets.

The receptionist's pupils dilated—clearly, he'd just heard something he liked.

"Oh, of course. We are always open to Imperial elites supporting technological progress," said the receptionist, intertwining his fingers with practiced professionalism. "Do you already have something specific in mind for your donation? Or would you prefer that our institution determine where best to allocate the funds?"

"I'm a frontier noble, as you can imagine. I don't have the knowledge to properly judge the work done here. But if you'd be kind enough to show me the facilities, I could quickly discover which area I find most interesting to support," I replied with a polite smile, maintaining eye contact.

"Of course… allow me to fetch someone who can show you around the facilities," he responded courteously before turning and disappearing through a side door.

Moments later, he returned accompanied by a man who was clearly a professor. He was well-dressed, though his brow was furrowed and his face full of irritation, as if he had been pulled away from something important.

"Here you are, young noble. This professor will show you our facilities," said the receptionist, gesturing toward the academic, who was already eyeing me with clear impatience.

Without saying a word, the professor gave a curt hand gesture for me to follow him—and I promptly did.

He began talking as we walked down the corridors. He mentioned how the institution had been founded by Leonardo da Miragliano and the then-Prince of Reikland. He went on with a disquisition about the need for research to protect the Empire, and how their alchemists were managing to produce increasingly pure black powder.

'If only they knew their black powder is outdated…' I thought, smirking while feigning attentive interest. Still, it was useful to see how they worked.

He took me to the classrooms, where some professors were explaining concepts related to firearm production. They spoke, for instance, about repeating mechanisms. Although interesting, the models they showed were so heavy that they could hardly be held with one hand.

Later, I was taken to the laboratory. That was the first time I felt genuine envy. They had a decent lab—at least by current standards. It was clearly designed to allow dozens of students and academics to work simultaneously. All seemed focused on black powder production and on finding ways to stabilize its volatility, using all sorts of materials and theories to prevent a mere spark from causing a detonation.

'They're not working with the dangerous acids I experiment with, but if they keep this up, they might match my current level in a couple of centuries,' I thought as I watched closely.

After that, I was led to a classroom specialized in weapon design. A professor was enthusiastically explaining the mechanical principles required to withstand the pressure generated by black powder combustion, and how to craft components capable of enduring such tension without bursting.

They also showed me other classrooms where topics like metallurgy, ballistics, and mechanism construction were taught. Finally, we reached the center's library, filled with technical treatises on weapon manufacturing and powder formulas.

The last stop was the source of the explosions I had heard at the entrance: the shooting range.

There I was greeted by a chaotic yet fascinating scene. Dozens of students were testing their creations—from simple handguns to arquebuses of various designs, and even what looked like a musket… though its barrel was so long I doubted it could be practically reloaded in real combat.

Each shot was followed by the attentive eyes of professors who measured penetration, spread, and range, comparing results on wooden boards or practice armor placed at different distances. Some students celebrated with joy, others frowned and took notes after each failure.

"So this concludes our tour, young noble. May I ask in which area you plan to make your donation?" the professor asked, now with a much more interested tone.

"I was considering a donation of about five thousand crowns, mainly for the design department. I believe that would be the most useful area for students to have more materials to work with… and take the risk of making mistakes," I replied without much emphasis, as if it were a minor gesture.

"That would be a great help," said the professor, his eyes lighting up. "We could stock our warehouses for several months."

"I was also thinking about sponsoring a few students. Of course, I mean those who don't already have support from a Elector Count or another important noble. I don't need prodigies, but I would certainly like someone to carry my name as patron," I added with a relaxed smile.

"Certainly… I can bring some of my best design students, if you'd like," the professor replied, nodding enthusiastically.

"Of course. I'll wait here," I said as I watched a new round of shooting practice.

I saw one of the teams preparing a cannon—smaller than field artillery but still deadly. They carefully loaded it and aimed at a practice dummy reinforced with iron plates.

The blast was impressive. The impact shattered the dummy into a thousand pieces, earning applause and cheers from the crowd.

"If I had been taught classes like this in my youth, I'd have paid full attention," I muttered to myself, arms crossed, as the students laughed.

Finally, after a decent—though entertaining—wait watching the firearms practice, the professor returned accompanied by about thirty students. They all looked quite nervous at the sight of me.

I began with a few simple questions about their grades, but soon shifted the focus to their backgrounds. In the end, that was far more important to me than any mark on paper.

Children of noble families were useless to me: they would be hard to control, and when they decided to leave, I'd either have to let them go or, at worst, arrange for some unfortunate accident when they left my domain. Children of guild members were another problem. If any of them joined the Altdorf guild, they could pressure me and cause trouble for my production in the future. So, every time I heard someone belonged to either group, I simply left them talking to themselves.

Finding a prodigious commoner without connections was almost impossible. The true geniuses were already sponsored by someone more powerful or influential than I. So I had to settle for those who, while not brilliant, at least weren't useless.

"And you?" I asked, looking at a young man clutching a book tightly. He seemed so nervous he didn't know whether to speak or run.

"Come on, idiot, don't blow this chance… pardon, my lord. He's just bad at talking to new people," another student intervened, pushing the first one firmly on the shoulder.

The young man, without saying a word, handed me his book.

"The boy's mediocre," said the professor accompanying me. "Terrible at alchemy, lazy in metallurgy… but he has a gift for design. That's why I brought him. I know he's exactly what you're looking for."

I opened the book with some skepticism, but as I flipped through the first pages, my doubts vanished.

The designs were exactly what I needed: substantial improvements to the imperial arquebus. There were blueprints for a longer barrel, a proper stock to absorb recoil, and a wheel-lock mechanism for safer firing. He was clearly inspired by dwarven designs—the resemblance to my own dwarven arquebus was evident—though his model even included a longer barrel than mine.

Exactly what I was looking for.

"May I speak to him alone?" I asked, closing the book and looking at the professor.

He nodded reluctantly and took the rest of the students back to their classrooms.

Only two were left in front of me.

"I said alone," I repeated, looking at the other student.

"He'd probably mess it up if I left him alone," the second one replied, arms crossed.

"Alright, let's get to the point. Do you two want your own workshop?" I asked directly, watching their reactions. Only one answered.

"Of course, my lord! It's the dream of anyone here," the extroverted one said with enthusiasm. "Right, Mathias?" he added, nudging his friend. The other nodded silently.

"I'm offering this to both of you, because I can't allow others to know what I'm working on," I said, glancing around to ensure no one was nearby. "I have imperial permission to produce weapons, and I need a designer to create a model usable by my personal forces. If you leave this institution now, I guarantee a workshop, materials, and a fixed salary of one gold crown per day. So you don't think I'm bluffing… here's an advance."

I handed each of them a pouch with a hundred crowns. The clink of gold was enough to make the quiet one look up.

"So that patron thing was a lie?" the extroverted one asked, confused but relieved.

"The donation will go to the university… someday. Only Sigmar knows when. But you have an opportunity now. I don't care if you're not graduates—I need your skills urgently. I provide the means: tools, materials, your own workspace. What do you say?"

The extroverted one leaned toward the silent Mathias, who whispered something in his ear.

"He's asking if his family can come with him to your lands… well, and mine too," said the talkative one, turning back to me.

"Of course. I don't know if you've heard the imperial proclamation, but my lands accept settlers by decree of the Emperor. I'll provide a house for each of your families. What do you say now?"

This time, both nodded without hesitation.

After sealing the deal, I spoke again with the professor and told him that my generous donation would arrive around harvest season. The professor walked me to the exit with a satisfied smile, though I doubted he'd ever see a single coin. I already had what I wanted.

I waited outside the building with my escorts until the two students emerged carrying several belongings., I also had to wait outside their homes. From the first, I heard angry shouting before the whole family came out carrying bundles. At the second, the shouts were celebratory, followed by laughter and embraces.

With everything tying me to the city resolved, I left Altdorf as fast as the horses would allow.

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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.

Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

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