Chapter 160: Confrontation
The problem was the primer.
Everything else about the revolver had resolved itself into good performance — the cylinder rotated cleanly, the trigger reset worked, Anna’s bore was precise enough that the tolerances held under testing. But a cartridge needed something at its base that would detonate on impact and ignite the powder charge, and the most reliable substance he could recall for this purpose was mercury fulminate, and he could not quite reconstruct mercury fulminate from memory alone.
He knew the name. He knew it was impact-sensitive, that it was used in primers and percussion caps throughout the industrial era he’d been born into. He knew the general territory: mercury, nitric acid, reaction. What he could not remember was the right ratio, the right temperature, the correct sequence of steps, or whether additional reagents were involved. Writing out the chemical equation produced something that looked plausible on paper and was almost certainly wrong in practice. Mercury and nitric acid alone would yield a mercury salt and some combination of nitrogen oxides, which was not what he needed.
And mercury fulminate, produced incorrectly, could remove fingers. He was not willing to experiment on himself.
So he needed a second solution. Something that could seal the powder charge from leakage while still allowing ignition — a material that would burn clean and fast when a spark reached it, without requiring the precision chemistry he couldn’t yet reproduce.
Nitrocellulose.
He turned the idea over. It was the right logic: cotton fibers, treated in a mixture of sulfuric and nitric acids, became extremely flammable — would ignite from a spark and burn almost instantaneously, hot enough to light black powder without leaving residue worth worrying about. The chemistry was straightforward by the standards of what he was already doing. He had nitric acid now; he had or could produce sulfuric acid. The cotton itself was stacked in his warehouse in bales, brought back from the duke’s estate months ago.
The problem before nitrocellulose was caustic soda. The cotton fibers carried surface grease that would prevent the acids from contacting them properly; the grease had to be removed first, and the most efficient solvent for this was sodium hydroxide — lye, caustic soda, the same alkaline compound he needed for soap manufacture. He had been meaning to set up soap production for a year. He had never found the time.
And to produce caustic soda efficiently and at any scale, the cleanest route was electrolysis of brine. Which required a direct current generator.
He set down his pen and looked at the chain he’d just built:
Revolver primer → nitrocellulose → caustic soda → DC generator.
One week.
He picked the pen back up.
Ashes walked the riverbank alone and found that Border Town had done something inexplicable to her mood.
Since the other witches had learned why she was here, the warmth of the previous evening had cooled considerably. Not hostility — she registered hostility clearly, had made a practice of it — but a certain careful distance, the social geometry of people who have decided what they value and are quietly protecting it. She could work around that. She had expected it.
What she had not expected was Roland Wimbledon.
She walked the river path and tried to put words to the problem. During her time at Tilly’s side in the palace, she had assessed the fourth prince with the efficiency of long practice: incompetent, self-serving, conflict-averse. The kind of man who caused problems through carelessness rather than intention, which was its own category of damage. He had, on one occasion, made the mistake of approaching her from behind in a palace corridor, reaching — she had turned in time, given him a look, watched him sprawl backward and then attempt to explain the floor as an independent entity. Tilly had heard his version of events and had been quietly furious at him for three days.
That man and the man in the office this morning did not match.
She had seen the aura of command before. She knew what it looked like — in Tilly, who moved through any room as if she owned the intention of everyone in it; in the heads of armies she had passed through. It was not performed. You either had it or you didn’t, and Roland Wimbledon, apparently, now had it.
She did not know what had happened to him. She wasn’t sure it mattered.
What mattered was that she had gone into the negotiation expecting to apply pressure until the thin construct of his goodwill cracked and the witches saw through it, and instead she had found no thin place to press against. He had offered a demonstration rather than an argument. He had turned her implicit threat of force into a structure she couldn’t refuse without looking like the aggressor. He had given her a week of free access to his witches and seemed entirely unbothered by the prospect.
If only I had Tilly’s mind, she thought, and the thought was familiar from a hundred similar moments. Tilly would have already found the seam.
She had walked farther than she intended. The wheat fields had given way to woodland, unclaimed trees beginning the long rise toward the forest line. She was almost ready to turn back.
She felt the magic before she heard anything — the distinctive texture of it, close and moving fast — and turned her head just far enough that the blade missed her cheek and cut the air beside her ear instead. She was already moving before the pain registered from the thin line scored along her jaw.
The other witch had no position; there was nowhere to track, nothing to fix on. She appeared and was gone before Ashes’s hand reached her sword hilt.
Teleportation. Or something close enough to matter.
She drew the sword anyway. One full rotation, fast enough to create wind, the blade sweeping every angle at knee height — the cleanest guaranteed-coverage attack she knew, no dead zones, pure geometry. She felt the sword pass through nothing.
The dust settled. Nightingale stood a few feet away, turning a dagger over in her fingers.
“Should I take that as a warning?” Ashes said.
“Curiosity,” Nightingale said. She slid the dagger back into her belt without looking at it. “I wanted to know what an extraordinary feels like when she’s pushed.”
“It felt like a warning.”
“If it were a warning—” Nightingale paused. “What would be the difference between me and Cara?”
Ashes went still. The name landed with specific weight.
“You can speak to every witch here freely,” Nightingale continued. “If one of them chooses to leave with you, Roland won’t stop her. Neither will I.” She held Ashes’s gaze. “But if you threaten him—” The ghost of a smile. “The next blade won’t miss.” She stepped back. Disappeared between one heartbeat and the next. “Enjoy your week.”
Ashes stood in the settling dust and understood that she had, in fact, been warned.
She was also not sure that the warning was necessary — which was its own information.
Chapter 160 Confrontation
Roland had already corrected designs for the Revolver’s bullet a long time ago. After all, circular lead bullets and loose gunpowder were an arrangement that was simply too archaic. Taking Anna’s processing capacity into account, it should be feasible for her to directly manufacture the shell for the ammunition. The problem was that there didn’t exist a reliable primer, which could light the cartridge of the bullet that was filled with black powder.
The outer shell of the ammunition was generally made out of mercury fulminate which was very sensitive to impacts. When the firing pin was pulled and it hit the base of the bullet, the mercury fulminate would ignite, which would ignite the black powder, ejecting the bullet from the chamber.
It was such a pity that even after breaking his head over it, he still couldn’t recall the necessary raw materials he needed for the mercury fulminate. From a literal point of view, he would definitely need nitric acid and mercury. However, if he looked at the result of the chemical equation he had written down, it became apparent that these two substances would only produce nitric acid together.
In addition, knowing the raw materials wasn’t equally to having a smooth production of usable products. Roland would still have to discover the right concentration and temperature for the reactive process, and whether he still needed to add another catalyst or not add one, was also a crucial point he had to figure out before finishing the product.
Moreover, because of the sensitive properties of mercury, manufacturing it was considered a very dangerous process and if it exploded one could easily lose some fingers, so Roland was afraid of trying it out personally.
So, Roland had to settle for the second-best option, using a metal ammunition case but keeping the old flintlock ignition, which would require that the spark could enter the interior of the ammunition case to ignite the gunpowder. Therefore, he had to leave a hole at the bottom of the ammunition case, but he still had to find a method which would prevent leakage of black powder.
Obviously, these two points were contradictory to each other: the greater the opening, the faster the leakage of gunpowder. Yet if the opening is too small, it would become too difficult for the spark to ignite the gunpowder.
He needed something that would allow the spark to ignite the powder, while at the same time blocking the hole, to prevent the leakage of gunpowder.
Roland first thought was colloxylin, which was also known as nitrocellulose.
It was also one of the few chemicals which he still remembered and could also be used for weapons because it had such a simple production method: the cotton had just to be soaked in two strong kinds of acids. The two acids it used were the commonly available sulfuric acid and nitric acid, and there would be no danger involved in producing them. Even though he still had wanted to wait for the hopefully soon, arriving alchemist, but now, where he had the deadline of seven days, he decided to roll up his sleeves and get to work.
Taking the quill, Roland began to write down the idea he had already in his head for a long time.
The first ingredient he needed was cotton, and the best cotton yarn were the ones which weren’t weaved or dyed and it was exactly this kind that he had brought back with him from his visit to the Duke’s castle, and was now also piling up within his castle’s warehouses. Cotton yarn needed to be skimmed. Otherwise the grease attached to its surface would prevent the nitrification.
He was already familiar with the stuff required for removing the oil, it was sodium hydroxide, which was also commonly known as caustic soda. At the same time, it was also one of the raw materials needed for making soap: For producing soap, one had to add fat to caustic soda, and then stir it until it became solid. Afterward it could be used as washing soap. But Roland has
been too busy developing the industrial and agricultural technology and with defending Border Town against foreign enemies, that he hadn’t found any time to invent any such commodities.
As for how he was meant to produce caustic soda, the simplest method would probably be the electrolysis of salt water. So the Prince discovered, that in order to create the new types of bullets, he first had to develop a DC Generator.
Ashes was walking along the Shishui River, feeling somewhat depressed.
Since the other witches knew that she had come to Border Town to bring the witches of the Witch Cooperation Association away, their attitude towards her had cooled down, a lot, and there was no longer any signs left of the warm welcome she had received last night.
Moreover, she had also noted that most of the witches were practicing their ability in the castle backyard, which showed that Roland had also found a way to avoid the suffering from the demonic bite. Originally Ashes had wanted to use this vital piece of intelligence to show her good will to the other witches, but her plan was unexpectedly shattered right from the beginning. So in addition to telling them the disadvantages and advantages of leaving Border Town, she had nearly nothing else left for persuading them to move.
What surprised Ashes the most was, even though Roland Wimbledon’s appearance had changed very little since the time she last saw him, every gesture from him now contained an indescribable temperament, completely out of tune with the image he previous held of being a dandy.
How could this be? He had previously definitely belonged to the incompetent class, during business appointments he would always think first about finding a way to escape, never standing up for others, and even if the problem was clearly caused by him, he was also too afraid to take on any responsibility. That time when he had thought about harassing her, she only needed to throw him a hateful look, to make him fall to the ground in panic. But she had later
heard from Tilly, that he had claimed that he had fallen by accidently, and that the 5th Princess was at fault for it. After all why would she even find such an ugly woman as a guard?
From that time on, Ashes’ view of the 4th Prince had fallen to the lowest possibility ranking.
Previously she had believed that such a type of person would be easy for her to handle, but during today’s negotiation she had failed utterly to gain the upper hand. Especially when the other side suggested a one-on-one competition, she had discovered that her threat of using military force didn’t work any longer, since the other side hadn’t thought about escaping. Instead, it might even have had the complete opposite effect. If she had threatened him at that time personally, in addition to reducing the witch’s positive impression of her, it would not have had any other results.
Ashes sighed, if she just could be as smart as Tilly, every problem that appeared before her could have been all smoothly solved. The moment she encountered a situation such as this, she would surely have been able to come up with a solution to this, right?
If she hadn’t wanted to help Tilly as much as possible, Ashes really would have taken the next ship heading to Silver City and also leave the Kingdom of Graycastle as soon as possible.
Unconsciously, she had already left the area of the town, she was no longer be able to see those green wheat field on the other side of the river, but instead she was looking at the unclaimed woodland.
When Ashes was already ready to turn back, she suddenly felt the fluctuation of magic behind her, subconsciously turning her head, she could barely see a knife heading towards her cheek, taking advantage of her horizontal movement. The magic fluctuation had transformed into a surging billow, and Ashes suddenly felt a piercing pain coming from her cheek, the other person’s systematic and logical moves were clearly nothing like one would expect to come from an ordinary person. Ashes no longer hesitated, completely dumping her passive attitude, to concentrate on avoiding the
dagger coming to her from the front, she put all her strength on one foot and catapulted out of the way.
However, the other side just disappeared into thin air, and within a blink of an eye, she had already appeared behind herself, leaving Ashes totally unable to follow her opponent’s movement.
She drew her sword and rotated in a circle. Turning so fast that she created a dull whistling sound with the sword, causing a large amount of dust to raise up from the ground. This attack from her had no dead areas and was able to scoop up any kind of threat, but in front of this unknown enemy she was facing, even this tricky attack of her’s ended in a complete failure. When her swords swept through the attacker’s previous position, there was nothing to be touched.
That’s bad, she thought to herself, straining all of the muscle in her body, ready to react to the next round of attacks from the other side, but the shadow just disappeared from in front of her.
The dust settled down slowly, while the person again appeared near Ashes, playing with the dagger she was holding in her hand.
It was Nightingale.
“Should I see this as a warning?” Ashes frowned.
“Of course not,” Nightingale said, putting her dagger back to her waist. “I just wanted to see the strength of an extraordinary.”
“Are you sure? It was more like…”
“Do you think I would force you into leaving Border Town quickly, or otherwise I would not stay polite with you?” Nightingale interrupted her. “If that was the case, what would be the difference between Cara, and me?”
Cara? Why would she mention the former leader of the Witch Cooperation Association? Ashes asked herself in confusion.
“You can rest assured that I won’t hinder you from approaching any of my sisters, and if someone is willing to leave with you, I don’t think His Royal Highness will stop you. I certainly would not…” Nightingale paused, “But if you threaten to hurt His Highness, I guarantee you that next time I won’t just be stabbing at your side anymore.” Here she grinned and then disappeared into thin air, “Enjoy your time in Border Town.”
Sure enough, you still warned me off, ah, Ashes shook her head.