Travis Starnes
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The Fires of Vulcan - Chapter 10
🕑 Added 2023-08-23 01:14:01 +0000 UTCFactorium
Lucilla’s carriage rattled down the cobbled road, the rhythmic clopping of the horses’ hooves filling the air. The newly added stones were a step above the worn down and pitted dirt track, but it was still anything but smooth. A bright side was that the jostling kept her from dwelling on a growing list of pressures that were building on her. She didn’t know if her father had felt these things when he was alone, the worry and fear of not living up to his responsibilities and allowing his people to come to ruin.
Most of the time, she was able to avoid her uneasiness and those darker thoughts by continuous forward movement. It was the one upside of being Empress. She stayed so busy that she didn’t have time to dwell. It was moments like this, where she had several hours to herself, away from courtiers and petitioners, that were the problem. She had too much time with her own thoughts.
Ky was so busy, out with their new allies, directing their hit-and-run tactics, that he didn’t have time to talk to her, to keep her distracted from herself. Worse, he’d become something else for her to fret over as he kept putting himself in life-and-death situations like the almost fatal raid Sophus had told her about. Instead of a balm, he’d become another worry. Which is why, for once, she didn’t mind being thrown around in the carriage, having to brace herself for most of the ride. It was a welcome distraction.
The carriage didn’t take long to arrive at Factorium. The message she’d received from Hortensius had a sense of urgency behind it, asking for a meeting as soon as she could manage it. Considering all of the projects he had going and the continued pressure on gunpowder production that was causing so many problems, she had made this her priority.
Oddly, Sorantius was the one waiting for her outside of Hortensius’s factory, instead of the manufacturer himself. They usually met at Hortensius’s place simply because he had a larger office with enough room for the three of them. Sorantius, for whatever reason, preferred his office to be almost cave-like and had requested it to be designed that way when they’d built his factory.
“Your Majesty,” Sorantius said with a cursory bow. “Hortensius is already inside.”
She nodded, following him through the heavy iron doors into the vast complex. All around them, workbenches were strewn with intricate mechanical parts and half-finished contraptions. The air smelled of oil and burning coal. She’d given firm instructions, long ago, that when she was there she didn’t want any of the workers or artificers to stop what they were doing to bow or give any of the traditional displays of respect and deference to her. It had taken time to convince the workers she was serious, but over her many trips, they had finally started taking it seriously. Other than a side glance or whispered word to another worker, everyone kept doing what they were doing, ignoring her presence.
They found Hortensius in his office, furiously scribbling notes and muttering to himself. He sprang to his feet when Lucilla entered.
“Ah, Your Majesty,” he exclaimed. “Please, do come in.”
Lucilla settled herself into a chair across from him and said, “Your message sounded urgent. What can I do for you?”
Hortensius leaned forward, his expression grave. “Yes, yes. First, though, I can report that the viscose rayon tests went exceptionally well. The fabric holds air and provides the strength we need for the balloons and seems strong enough when blended with the wool to be usable. I’m not sure I’d want to use it if the other side had weapons with the range of our rifles, but in this environment, it is more than acceptable.”
“That is welcome news,” Lucilla said.
She still didn’t quite understand what Sophus and Ky wanted them for. They’d explained to her the advantages of them and how they differed from using mounted scouts, and she did know how useful Ky’s drone was during battle, but that she could see right away. Any messages from the balloon would have to be sent down, received on the ground, and a messenger sent with the information. Which added a delay that didn’t exist with his drone. Still, both felt it would help them, and she was willing to make anything work that might keep Ky a little safer.
Which is why it was good news that the replacement material was working as they’d hoped. Ky had sounded dubious that the new material would be strong enough to be a workable substitute even after they’d started working on the project.
“However,” Hortensius continued, “to produce the quantities required for an entire fleet of balloons, substantial expansion of my facilities is needed. Specifically, this will be a major textile operation, with large warehouses for raw materials, rows of spinning and weaving machines, and facilities for washing and coating the fabrics in this waterproofing mixture with room to dry it afterward. What we have here now is a very small operation, geared towards more traditional styles of textile production, which we will retain to continue producing materials for clothing and the like for the legions. Which means what I’m asking for is an entirely new facility.”
“In addition,” Sorantius added, “this process consumes a large amount of the acids we’ve been producing, which means I will need to expand my facility to make room for the vats and piping for that. We’ll also need to move the pulping factory in Devnum, which has mostly been producing pulp for making paper, here so we can expand it and convert it from water to steam power, which is yet another facility we’ll need to build.”
“Our concern,” Hortensius continued, picking the explanation back up from Sorantius, “is that we do not have the labor here to build these facilities or to staff them once they are finished. This is a very large expansion of our works, and we were told by Lurio, the last time we sent a request for manpower, that there was no more to be had. Which is why we contacted you. We could make the materials needed using our existing factories, but that will delay and slow down production in other areas, as we’d have to divert manpower and factory space from those other projects to this one.”
Lucilla found herself nodding slowly as she listened. She wasn’t surprised by the request. Manpower was the one thing every area of the Empire needed more of and the thing they had the least of. It was a regular topic of conversation in every meeting she had, regardless of the industry or the work being discussed.
“I see,” she said, thinking. “I agree you need new facilities. Nearly everything you two are working on is critical, and the goal is to add to what we are producing, not take away from those areas. We can’t let any of your other projects fall behind just because you’re given a new project to work on. The problem is, I recently allocated additional workers to assist Admiral Valdar in preparing his fleet for the upcoming naval expedition and to expand the gunpowder production, of which we’ve been having significant shortfalls. This means there isn’t much in the way of labor to be had.”
She rose and paced the room, pulling gently on her lower lip as she thought.
“I’m not sure where we’re going to find what you need. I’ve robbed and begged manpower to the point where the entire Empire is stretched thin. The armies are asking daily about their reinforcements, especially Velius, who is well outnumbered in Hispania. Valdar is pushing hard to get his expedition to the Middle Sea to support them, and we still have hundreds of vital building projects in Rome alone, which is the least of the construction needed. Ulaid has not yet rebuilt from all the damage the Carthaginians did there, and the kingdoms that it absorbed were nearly destroyed in the process. They need magnitudes more men for rebuilding than we do here, which is already putting a strain on us.”
“I may be able to postpone some of the less critical projects and redirect that labor force here temporarily,” Hortensius suggested tentatively. “It’s not ideal, but it could get us started on the initial phases.”
“No,” Lucilla said, stopping her pacing. “None of your projects are less crucial. Even the ones that seem like it, such as the production of civilian equipment like the heavy plows, are crucial. We need that to increase food and the like. We are shipping a lot of it to our new allies as part of our bargain with them. And what is being bought and traded by merchants is bringing in tax revenues we desperately need to pay for all of this. None of your operations are less critical, and we don’t have room for you to postpone anything.”
“We could implement longer work shifts,” Sorantius offered. “Have the men put in extra hours each day. I know it’s dangerous with the hazardous materials we work with, but desperation may demand some calculated risks.”
“No,” Lucilla said firmly. “I understand the impulse, but we can’t afford to start losing our trained manpower to accidents caused by exhaustion. Pushing them harder will only lead to more mistakes, injuries, and deaths, which will set us back further. The worst thing we could do is make rash decisions that lead to a disaster that makes things worse.”
Lucilla frowned as she turned to face them. “For now, I will reach out quietly to see what I can shift here without causing turmoil elsewhere. Maybe I can scrape some bodies from less vital projects.”
It was more pressure she was taking on herself, but she needed these two men focused on the tasks at hand. Clearly, it had been weighing on them, because the pair exchanged relieved glances at having the responsibility taken from them.
“You’re not off the hook that easily,” she said. “Keep working on ideas to increase our labor pool. That’s the real solution. We need more able workers, not just overworked ones. You are the two smartest men in the entire Empire, and I’m counting on you to help me solve this problem.”
“We’ll figure out something, your majesty,” Hortensius said.
“I know you will,” she said, not sure if she was trying to reassure them, or herself.
***
Northern Germania
A scream sounded out, a little louder than the other cries of desperation and pain, before suddenly being silenced forever. General Matho, assigned the duty of pacifying the tribesmen rebelling against the emperor and pushing the Roman army helping them back into the sea, sat passively on his horse, watching the carnage. Around him, soldiers were dragging villagers from their homes, cutting most of them down without mercy then and there. The few that weren’t slaughtered right away had a worse fate in store for them as his men vented their frustrations and anger on the unlucky few before making their tribute to Hexitas.
Thatched roofs were burning, some collapsing into the houses creating a massive bonfire, filling the air with dark smoke. The houses that weren’t burning, yet, would be as soon as his men went through them, looting anything that might be valuable.
He felt no pity or remorse for what he had to do. This is what happened to people who aided the rebels in raiding his supply lines and even an entire supply base. The loss of that supply depot was a hard blow, one he intended to repay tenfold. These peasants chose their fate when they provided aid to the invading Britannian forces. Their public punishment would serve as a warning to any who dared assist the enemy.
A young woman with a babe in arms ran past Matho’s horse, sobbing, only to be cut down by a laughing soldier. Matho’s face remained impassive at the child’s violent death. It was up to him to pacify Germania, and he was not going to let Tabnit or his emperor down. He would achieve his goal even if he had to slaughter every last one of these barbarians to do it.
The sound of a clash of blades drew his attention to a cottage across the dirt path. A young villager, maybe ten years old, tried in vain to defend his home, swinging his axe at the soldier who was attempting to gain entry. His bravery was commendable, if foolish, Matho thought as the soldier cut the young man down where he stood, followed by screams coming from inside the hut.
The carnage around him slowed, as only the villagers who’d managed to hide were found and pulled into the streets to share their neighbors’ fates. An officer, his armor splattered in gore, gave commands to a group of soldiers who ran into the trees nearby, presumably looking for any villagers that might have tried to flee by hiding there, before turning and making his way toward Matho. Stepping over bodies, he stopped next to the general’s horse, slapping his chest in salute.
“We are just about done, General. All of the locals have been eliminated as instructed, and the last of their huts will be put to the torch. Nothing’s left.”
Matho surveyed the devastating aftermath with satisfaction. Mangled corpses littered the ground, and thick smoke blotted out the sun.
“Well done, Commander. Have your men check every hut that is not burning. No one is to be left alive. And send for Edom. Have him come here.”
“It will be done, General,” the commander said resolutely.
He hadn’t seen his second in command for some time, but it was becoming increasingly hard to pick out any individual soldiers in the growing haze of smoke. The soldier must have known where he was, however, because only a few minutes passed before Edom appeared through the smoke, guiding his horse toward Matho.
“You sent for me, General?” Edom asked, bowing his head deferentially.
“Yes. You’ve done good work here, but our orders are to raze every village within a day’s ride of our outpost. Take a detachment of men at once to the nearby villages to the west. If there is any suspicion that a single person in that village has aided the rebels in any way, you are to show no mercy. All inhabitants, men, women, children, and elderly, must be eliminated without exception, and every building and hut is to be burned to the ground. I want nothing left untouched.”
The man had a grim expression but simply nodded in response, “It will be done, General.”
“Your men may loot what they can before burning the buildings. With the losses suffered lately, morale is down. A few trinkets should help. Don’t load up on anything not easily carried, however. There are many villages in rebellion against us, and I don’t want your force to be slowed down with unneeded supplies. Understood?”
“Perfectly, General,” the man said, and then hesitated.
Most officers had the notion of questioning their orders beaten out of them early in their careers, so it was rare for a man to do more than acknowledge his orders and hurry to carry them out. Matho, however, wasn’t as rigid as some of the older commanders. He allowed some discussion, at least from commanders who’d shown they had a brain in their skulls. Of course, once he’d made his word final, he could be as hard on questions to his authority as any other general in the emperor’s armies.
“Speak freely if you have concerns, Commander.”
“Between having to supply us and the main army in Daramouda and the raids on the supply convoys, we are having trouble keeping the men fed. Most of what we are getting is coming from what we can take from villages like this one. In a few months, they will start harvesting, and we’ll be able to replenish some of our supplies. Burning these villages means nothing will be harvested, which leaves us nothing to forage.”
“I made a similar point to Tabnit when he sent orders to begin reprisals against villages in rebellion, but examples must be made. We cannot destroy the Roman army sitting north of us if we are continually being bitten by these raids all along our sides. If they have to start protecting all of their villages from our reprisals, they can’t also be attacking us, and these people should start thinking twice about helping them in the future.”
“I see,” Edom said, not indicating whether he agreed with the thought process or not.
Not that his agreement was required.
“Go. The sooner we burn these people out, the sooner we can continue our march to take the Romans on directly.”
Wheeling smartly, the officer strode towards his waiting men, barking orders. Mounting up, the company of soldiers thundered from the ravaged village. Between their actions and what Matho was planning to the east, they would spread fear across Germania, quenching any rebellion and clearing the way for the army’s main task.
***
Devnum
Lucilla’s head hung down as she listened to Valdar launch into his reasoning for the third time. They’d been going round and round for the last hour, and so far, neither man wanted to budge. She could, of course, just tell them to shut up and command them to do exactly what they needed to do, but she found that tactic had minimal usefulness. These men were both dedicated to the Empire and were trying to do what they personally felt was best for it. If this went on much longer, she’d make the decision for them, probably one neither man would find fair. She still held out a tiny amount of hope that they’d come to their senses and make up their minds on their own before that, however.
“Your Majesty, I implore you to understand the urgency of the situation,” Valdar said. “While we appreciate you listening to us about the gunpowder, we are still critically short in other areas, and no matter how many times we petition the Imperial Treasurer, we’re told we’ve been given everything the Empire can spare. We need more. More of everything essential to wage this fight. The allotment of fabric for canvases is insufficient for this long of a voyage, and our plank timber stock for making repairs while underway is incredibly low. We will run through the supplies given to us after one or two engagements and, considering none of our supply ships will be able to reach us deep in Carthaginian waters, we will be forced to return home to resupply well before accomplishing our mission.”
“Admiral, you know as well as I that the Imperial treasury cannot sustain such expenditures indefinitely. This year’s military budget is already overdrawn,” Lurio said, turning to Lucilla, his expression etched with apology. “Your Majesty, I fear Admiral Valdar asks too much. We are stretched too thin. For every resource I give him, we have to take away from someone else, all of whom demand with equal tenacity how poorly they are being supplied and begging I take from the navy to give them more.”
“Gentlemen, surely we can reach a compromise here,” she said gently. “The navy’s needs are valid, but so are the limitations we face. I need the two of you to reach some kind of agreeable middle ground.”
Valdar’s weathered face softened hopefully, while Lurio still appeared unconvinced. Lucilla opened her mouth to continue when there was a knock at the chamber doors, followed by one of her guards entering, handing a small, folded message to the Admiral, who read it quickly.
“The merchant ship we dispatched has returned from its special procurement mission,” Valdar said, glancing up from the message in his hands. “The captain reports success in obtaining a large supply of the plant we sent him for. The one the Consul called Russian dandelion. He says the ship’s hold is filled to bursting with the harvested plants.”
Lucilla’s face brightened at the news, “That’s excellent news! We have multiple projects waiting on that shipment. Tell your man well done. Lurio, make sure he and his crew are paid right away for the shipment. I don’t want any delays in getting it offloaded and into production.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Lurio said with a slight bow of his head. “Of course, we’ll need to first …”
“No. I appreciate your desire to keep everything accountable and well-managed, but time is of the essence. Pay them right away. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the treasurer said, unable to completely hide his annoyance.
“I appreciate your willingness to humor me this time,” she said, trying to soften the blow. “Now, about the plants themselves. I want half of the shipment sent directly to our greenhouses outside the city. Find an experienced farmer or agriculturalist to oversee cultivating and harvesting. We want to produce as many of these as we can as quickly as possible. Whatever the man needs to grow his plants, we’ll give him. Is that understood?”
“Of course,” Lurio said, bowing again.
“The other half should go to Factorium for immediate processing. I will send my man Cynwrig with it with instructions for Sorantius on how to properly process the plants and use the materials they produce. I will need a few hours to … go through the Consul’s notes and find the correct instructions,” she said, making sure to include the fiction she and Ky devised on how she was able to give technical instruction for any of these new procedures.
In reality, she needed maybe an hour to transcribe all of the instructions Sophus would give her on how to turn these plants into rubber, which she believed was needed for the telegraph project, although Ky had mentioned several additional uses for it as well.
“Admiral, I know he just returned, but I’d like to get this captain back out on the seas as soon as possible to see if he can find more for us. Now that he knows the specific contacts to procure this, we need as much as we can get until we can start harvesting our own crops.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Valdar said. “Now, about the supplies for the fleet …”
“Yes, yes,” Lucilla said, cutting him off. “I will get you some of what you asked for, although probably not everything you’ve asked for. I promise we will do all we can to ensure you’re properly supplied. Will that suffice?”
The admiral clearly did not think it would and looked as if he wanted to argue the point more, but it was evident to everyone that she was done with this conversation and had moved on to the issue of the newly delivered flowers. She might have been willing to listen to the complaints from her subjects, more than most monarchs, but she was still Empress, and when she said she was done, they had little choice but to obey.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Good. Go deal with your ship captain while I get Cynwrig dispatched to Factorium.”
Both men stood and bowed before hurrying out of the room to carry out her commands. ‘Sometimes there are benefits to being Empress,’ she thought before pulling out a blank piece of paper to begin writing down instructions for Sorantius.
