John Ringo - There Will Be Dragons

“Hmmm…” was Phil’s reply.

“Maneuvering is another problem with archers,” Suwisa interjected. “Less so with crossbowmen.”

“Not really, they both have the same problem,” Edmund said. “Resupply. Archers going into battle have to have crates and barrels of arrows. Also spare bows and other things. I’ve got some ways to fix that as well. We’ll use modern training techniques for them and for the line infantry and a four-thousand-year history of maneuver that wasn’t conceived of for most of history and generally lost even after it had been developed.”

“You’ve thought about this carefully,” Suwisa said.

“As carefully as I can. There’s more to it than that.” He paused and wondered if he really knew Suwisa well enough to cover the rest but then shrugged. “Have you realized that this might be a multigenerational thing?”

“No,” Phil said, then blanched. “ That long?”

“If Sheida wins, and that’s a big if, it might not be soon. I’m not even sure how to win this war, and I’ve studied every war in history. I’m having to juggle ‘now’ constraints while thinking about what the long term effect will be of everything we do. Take crossbows versus longbows. A longbow, as I said, can be made by anyone with a knife and some knowledge. There’s plenty of game, so in a few years every farmer in the area will be trying his hand at bringing in the odd deer. I want them to have a template for the weapon to use. Because if we have a solid and large yeomanry of trained bowyers, having any sort of ‘aristocratic’ class arise will be difficult.”

“Hard to be a lord when any serf with a grudge can knock you off the horse,” Suwisa said. “Tricky.”

“I’m trying as hard as I can to replicate post industrial republics,” Edmund admitted. “Making crossbows, especially good ones that can kill a knight, is a hell of a lot harder than making longbows. Or even compound bows. I want it to be understood at the core of the society that the right to weapons is a fundamental right. As long as you have a relatively law-abiding society, weapons in general ownership and use prevent tyranny from taking hold. Nothing else in history has ever managed it.”

“There’s a difference between a professional bow-man and a farmer who kills the occasional deer,” Phil argued.

“Sure, but it’s a difference of details, not the quantitative difference between a knight in armor and a serf with a pitchfork.”

Phil shrugged reluctant agreement to that, then grinned. “You won’t mind if I build crossbows, will you?”

“Not at all, as long as you sell them to anyone with money,” Talbot agreed with an unusual grin. “We’re just a small little outpost of civilization in world that’s turning to barbarism. Historically, the barbarians tend to win. Not as long as I’m in charge.”

“Okay, we’ll build you your arms and armor. Just use it right,” Suwisa said.

“Hey,” Phil interjected. “You can get a superior bend to the bow with beryllium bronze! That means you can get nearly as good a loft out of a light crossbow as from a longbow! And nearly the firepower.”

“Do you know how to cast beryllium bronze?” Edmund asked.

“No.”

“Well, I do . But I’m not going to spend all my time doing casts for crossbows. Okay?”

“Okay,” Phil said with a laugh.

“Speaking of casts,” he added. “There’s somebody you need to meet.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with any AI’s,” Suwisa said, mopping her face at the heat from the forge. “Hello, Carborundum.”

“Well, there’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Edmund replied. “How goes it, soulless fiend?”

“It’s bloody cold is how it goes,” Carborundum said. “And the Net is well and truly screwed. Your friend Sheida and Paul between them have put up blocks bloody everywhere.”

“We’re a bit short on carbon at the moment, old fiend,” Edmund said, then scooped up a generous helping nonetheless and tossed it onto the red glowing coals. He wiped the black soot from his hands and shrugged. “We’re cooking some charcoal now, but it’s a slow business and the wet isn’t helping.”

“Lystra says only another couple of days in this region,” Carb added. “And I’m sorry, but I’m still not finding anything on Rachel and Daneh. The fairies are circulating back word on people moving in the wilderness, but of course they don’t know one human from another. They were definitely at the house, both of them, at the Fall. And the house-hob said they left. But that’s all I’ve got. Some of the AI’s are being really uncommunicative, some of them are on Paul’s side, mostly because they think he’s going to win, and direct access to the Net is generally cut off between Sheida and Paul’s blocks.”

“Thank you, Carb. I’ve got Tom out looking as well.”

“Well, I’ll tell you if anything comes up.”

“Thank you, again. But I’m introducing you to Suwisa for a reason. I’m going to have to be more and more connected to this mayor business and she’s going to be taking over the smithing and armoring. So I’m probably not going to be seeing you much.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Carb said. “Honestly. I know you’re busy but don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t. I hope you and Suwisa get along, though.”

“Oh, I’m an old hand at breaking in new smiths,” Carb said with a laugh like a couple of plates of iron striking.

“And I’m an old hand at old hands,” Suwisa said. “You were mentioning a need for charcoal I believe?”

“Arrrrgh! Edmund, come back!”

“You two have fun,” Edmund said, turning to the door. “And, Suwisa, you need to come meet your class soon.”

“I’ll do that, after I get done discussing things with Carborundum here.”

“When do you think Tom will get back?” Phil asked as the two of them stepped back into the rain.

“In a day or two I’d suppose.”

“And then you’ll know?”

“Phil, I may never know,” Edmund replied softly.

Herzer stopped and shook his head at the sight before him. The area had apparently sustained a forest fire sometime in the recent past. No more than a year to a year and a half ago from the looks of the few visible trees. And the area that had burned was now covered, for several acres at least and stretching across the trail, in thick vines that were just starting to come out of winter hibernation. The overall color was brown but it was shot through with green leaves. And it choked the path from side to side.

“What the hell is that ?” Herzer muttered as Rachel stepped past his bulk.

“Kudzi!” she shouted, running forward. She darted to one of the greening areas and rummaged into the vines. “Yes! And it’s already fruiting!” she shouted, pulling out a small, bluish ovoid and thrusting it in her mouth.

Herzer walked into the patch and found another then, after a moment’s hesitation, took a tentative bite. Then he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth and searched for another. The fruit was an absolute taste explosion, something between a grape and a strawberry. It was blue, so he knew it had to be genegineered and he thanked whatever soul had in some distant past time created it. As he pulled out a handful of the fruit he thought better of stuffing them in his mouth and carried them over to Daneh instead.

“Here, you need this more than I do,” he said. A large, mature chestnut tree had fallen either just before or during the forest fire and its root bole held the trunk up off the ground. The combination had created a perfect little one-person shelter. Herzer steered the doctor under the tree and found a dry bit of bark for her to sit on. They had been traveling for nearly a day after the incident at the bridge and the doctor was looking more and more wan. He was afraid that something internal might have been damaged, but if so he couldn’t imagine what to do for her. The fruit would at least provide some sugars and liquid.