Chapter 109: Reload, Ram, Respect the Rod
Later that day, Simon requested a formal meeting with Karl. Now that they had found their kin, who had separated from the Bloodtusk Fortress, they felt a renewed sense of purpose. As the sons of the old chief, they believed it was their solemn duty to reunite them. Though it was a monumental gamble, Simon already had a clear plan on how to begin the process of uniting the fragmented orc clans. He knew it wouldn’t be easy; they would need to form a council or alliance with the clan chieftains, as the orcs had never been ruled as a single nation but as a collection of smaller, sovereign tribes, each with its own customs and traditions, united only by a council of clan chieftains, led by his grandfather.
Though these northern clans were far smaller than the southern Bloodtusk tribe, together they could grow stronger and reclaim their heritage. The greatest challenge would be to overcome the lingering hatred and deep-seated differences that had festered over the years. But with his grandfather’s amulet, the sacred relic they had retrieved, through their lineage, Simon hoped it would help them convince the other orc tribes to set aside their grudges and see the wisdom of unity.
Before the orcs separated into fragments and tribes, under his grandfather’s leadership, they were a dominant force in the Spinebride region—a people revered for their peaceful nature and respected for their strength. They were neither openly hostile nor diplomatically entangled, but a unified, self-sufficient, and respected people.
It was a peaceful time for the orcs, a golden age of sorts, where their power lay in their numbers and their unwavering bond. However, as his grandfather passed away, the unity between the orcs began to crack like a shattered stone. Over time, some orcs began to separate themselves, seeking new territories and forging new identities. His grandfather had been the anchor that held all orc tribes together, and his father had tried to follow that legacy, to mend the deepening fissures.
But all of it ended with the sudden, violent rise of Minur, his father’s second-in-command. After Minur took over and killed their father, the united alliance of orcs shattered completely. One-third of the orc population separated themselves, while the remaining two-thirds sought Minur’s brutal allegiance.
From a peaceful, neutral people, their once-noble clan was now tainted with violence and aggression, the exact opposite of what their lineage had always stood for. But now, Simon had a new, powerful ally in Karl, and the resources and power Karl possessed were enough to turn the tides and help them take back their clan and restore their honor. Simon began to speak, his resolve flaring with newfound confidence, the scared boy he once was now a memory.
"Mr. Karl, my brother and I have decided to be on our way. We appreciate the hospitality you have provided us, and we will make sure to repay it someday."
Karl smiled, his skeletal face unreadable. Although he already knew they were leaving, he was taken aback by Simon’s bravery and resolve. He had arrived at the dungeon scared and alone, but he was leaving as a confident leader. Karl thought to himself, He’s become a mature leader now, someone who understands the weight of his legacy.
"Alright, you will always be welcome here," Karl said sincerely, his voice echoing with genuine warmth.
Schalezusk smirked, a new, confident glint in his eyes. "Of course we are. I’m already used to the burgers and delicious food. Next time, we will be the ones paying you."
Karl’s grin widened. "You don’t have to. I know that someday, you will have to leave this place. But know that we are always available to assist you and you are welcome anytime."
Simon stepped forward, his posture straight and proud. "Thank you, Mr. Karl. If we weren’t the sons of the old bull, we would have joined you. But our responsibility falls to the people and to restoring our clan’s honor. Our path is set."
Karl’s hand reached under the coffee table, and he pulled out a final gift. "I understand. But since you can’t fight like your brother, take this instead." He placed down an intricately designed flintlock pistol, its polished brown wooden stock gleaming in the artificial light, and a sturdy wooden box full of paper cartridges, round small cloth and iron balls.
Simon was surprised and confused, picking up the slightly heavy object. "What is this, Mr. Karl?"
Karl smiled. "Let’s test it outside."
Outside the guest room, the 7th floor was a hive of activity. The construction of the facilities Karl had placed had begun, with skeleton workers moving in coordinated, rhythmic motions, hauling stones and stacking lumber. On the opposite side, the civilian industry was working full-time, manufacturing products and fulfilling pre-orders with a relentless hum of productivity. Karl gestured for them to follow him as they headed toward the side of the ziggurat.
Arriving at a makeshift firing range, Karl stood at a distance of about 15 feet from a training dummy. His left hand was ready at his back, his right hand clutching the flintlock pistol. Simon and Schalezusk stood behind him, watching with a mix of confusion and curiosity.
Karl took aim at the dummy. The two orcs were utterly confused by what he was doing; it seemed like a futile gesture, as if he were simply pointing a stick at their target.
Karl smiled and pulled the trigger. The flint smashed down onto the pan, creating a spark that ignited the gunpowder in a flash of light. Smoke belched out of the breech in a sudden, violent puff. The chain reaction began inside the barrel as the main gunpowder charge exploded in a tightly confined space, pushing the projectile out of the smoothbore barrel. The barrel smoked as the iron ball flew toward the dummy, hitting it squarely in the shoulder with a solid thud.
For the orcs, the sudden, sharp, and concussive explosion was a shock that seemed to shake the very air. It clapped like thunder, and their jaws nearly dropped in stunned silence. Their ears twitched at the alien sound, and their eyes widened in disbelief.
Schalezusk stammered, "Th-that’s..." he then bellowed, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief, "That’s the thunder weapon!"
Karl’s smile grew wider. "Yep, this... " he blew a small puff of smoke from the muzzle, "... is a gun. A flintlock pistol to be precise."
Simon, still struggling to comprehend the physics, asked, "H-how? How is that possible? A thunder at the palm of your hand? An arrow as fast as lightning that you can’t see with your own eyes!"
Karl then said, "Now you try it." He handed it to Simon, but Schalezusk eagerly snatched it.
"Whooahhh!" Schalezusk’s hands were shaking as he admired the weapon. The polished metal and warm wood felt impossibly powerful in his grasp. "This is power. This is real power!" He mimicked Karl’s stance expecting something, but nothing happened. Schalezusk was confused. "How did you do that?"
Karl chuckled and shook his head. "Here, let me demonstrate. You need to be familiar with how to use it first. Take this." He took a cartridge made of paper. "Rip off the top, bite it, or use your hand. Then pour the powder on the barrel." Schalezusk watched carefully. "Then, take a piece of cloth and a ball. First, put the cloth in the barrel, then the ball. After that, pull this protruding thing, called a ramrod."
"You ram it with your rod."
Karl’s comment earned a small chuckle from Leo, who had been watching from a distance. "Make sure it’s secure, don’t ram it too hard. Then put the ramrod back here. Then, on this side, pull this thing called cock"
Karl pointed to the breech, "See this deep thing? this is called a pan. Put a little bit of gunpowder on it. This tiny rock thing over here, called a flint, will strike the pan, and the gunpowder will light up, sending a spark to the vent, igniting the main charge. Then the ball will be pushed outward. That’s your thunder weapon."
Simon listened to Karl intently, analyzing every step, but still struggling with the concept of an explosion propelling a projectile with such speed. Karl handed the reloaded flintlock pistol to Schalezusk.
"This should be good to go, right?" Schalezusk asked, his face a mask of fascination.
"Be careful when it’s reloaded and who you point it to. If you accidentally pull the trigger aiming at someone or at your face, you will most certainly die or kill someone. So, yeah," Karl warned, his tone suddenly serious.
Schalezusk smiled, seemingly ignoring the warnings, and mimicked pointing his arm at the dummy. He asked, "How do you fire it? Do you just use your arm or cast some magic?"
Karl chuckled and shook his head. He pointed to the iron sights. "Line this up with your target, for example, the dummy right there. Then..." Karl placed the orc’s finger on the trigger. "Don’t pull it yet. That’s where you squeeze it light—"
Schalezusk accidentally fired it, the sound startling him for a moment before a wide, trembling smile spread across his face. Karl, slightly disappointed that his lesson was cut short, let out an exasperated sigh. "That’s how you do it."
Schalezusk’s smile widened into a full-blown grin. He had felt the raw, unbridled power of the weapon. "Hehe, hehehe," he then laughed, a deep, booming sound that echoed across the floor. "KYAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA, So this is power!"
Karl chuckled, enjoying the reaction. "Wait here," he said, turning to retrieve something.
Simon, instead of moving toward his brother, approached the pistol in Schalezusk’s hand. "Let me try, brother."
Schalezusk gave it to him. Simon, remembering Karl’s instructions, began to reload it. He bit the top of the paper cartridge, poured the powder into the barrel, then took a piece of cloth and a ball, carefully placing them into the barrel. He took the ramrod and pushed it gently. Schalezusk then assisted his brother. "Line that thing up with the dummy and put your finger under this," Schalezusk instructed, pointing to the trigger.
Simon aimed the pistol and put his finger on the trigger. "And power," Schalezusk said with a smile. Simon fired it, his arm slightly knocked upward by the recoil. He was shocked for a second, then a slow smile crept onto his face. He looked at his brother, "Hehe, hehehe."
Both brothers then laughed, the sound booming across the floor. "KAHAAAAHAHAHAH, Power!"
Karl then returned with his own flintlock—a long, more intricately designed weapon. Its heavy, polished stock and gleaming barrel promised even greater destructive capability. Schalezusk was immediately captivated.
"This is for you, Schalezusk," Karl said, holding it out.
Schalezusk, surprised, stammered, "Really?!"
Karl smiled, nodding. "Yep, try it."
Schalezusk took the rifle and raised it into the air, the heavier weight feeling solid and reassuring in his hands. "HAHAHAHAHA, POOWWWAAAAA!!!"
"Is this the same?" Schalezusk calming down asked.
Karl shook his head. "No. Take this." He handed him a wooden box with a different size of cartridge. "Although the steps are the same, the amount and size of these..." he took two cartridges and compared them, "...are not the same. As well as," he took two projectiles, "These balls. This long flintlock has larger cartidges and balls." Karl smiled. "And that means more power. But don’t be tempted to put more in it, or it’ll break and explode on your hand."
Schalezusk was more excited and ignored his warnings. He struggled to reload the rifle at first, so Simon helped him. With the flintlock reloaded, he aimed it. Karl pointed to a new dummy, now 70 yards away. "This time, aim there."
Schalezusk, a bit skeptical, asked, "Can it hit that far?"
Karl smirked. "Try it."
Schalezusk followed the instructions, aimed the flintlock once again, and fired. The concussive blast was louder and the recoil more pronounced, but he felt the kick as a deeply satisfying sensation.
The smoke temporarily blocked his view, but his jaw nearly dropped, stunned by the result. "This is... beautiful," he muttered, watching as the ball impacted the dummy with surprising force, sending splinters of wood flying.
Karl smiled. "I know right?"