Horizon of War Series-Chapter 227: Iron Nails

Iron Nails

Canardia

In front of Lansius and Audrey, the broad-shouldered man in a black doublet answered, seemingly on behalf of the other smiths, "My Lord, we pride ourselves on the latest hardening techniques. We use charcoal in the final heating process to strengthen the plates, making them impervious to sharp edges."

Lansius leaned to his left where Audrey sat, propping his chin on his hand with his elbow resting on the arm of his chair. "I understand that, but such treatment only strengthens a thin surface of the metal while the inside remains mostly unchanged."

The armor makers exchanged glances, and the man in the black doublet said, "Such is the limitation of hardening. It hardens the surface but does not change the quality of the metal. Beyond that, we'll need stronger raw materials."

Lansius nodded but kept silent, allowing them to explain further.

"Moreover," the man began, "unhardened armor could be fixed and hammered back into shape easily. But hardened armor was much harder to repair."

"I understand that once hardened, cracks or dents are nearly irreparable without re-tempering," Lansius commented.

"That is correct, My Lord. Heat-treating alone required skilled smiths. Even a small mistake could turn the completed piece brittle, causing it to shatter or crack upon impact, especially from blunt weapons like maces or war hammers. Thus, we rarely tried it since the cost of failure was high for just a slightly harder surface."

"But I heard that the helmet maker consistently manages to produce well-hardened visors and faceplates," Lansius argued.

This made the smiths slightly defensive. Clearing his throat softly, the smith in the black doublet continued, "The helmet smiths had it easier, focusing on just a few pieces with simple mechanisms. They could afford to procure the best quality metal."

Finding the explanation inadequate, the tall smith with a rough, tanned face stepped forward. "My Lord, helmet makers likely hardened only the frontal pieces, such as the houndskull visor. The bascinet was unlikely to be hardened. They could easily harden small individual pieces and factor any failures into their pricing to recoup costs. Meanwhile, we who produce many pieces cannot afford to devote such attention to each one."

Lansius chuckled and nudged them further. "The way I see it, helmet smiths and gauntlet artisans have already surpassed the old techniques and fully embraced hardening. Have you seen how durable newer gauntlets are despite how thin their individual pieces are?"

"They're likely using Centurian iron, not necessarily hardened. We could achieve the same with that material, but the cost would be high," the smith in the black doublet countered.

"Gentlemen, I can't afford Centurian iron for 300 pieces. Not even if I sold an estate or the airship," Lansius quipped, prompting chuckles from everyone.

"However, rest assured that I'll do what I can to improve the quality of iron in Midlandia. With skilled workers fleeing the capital, I hope we can attract experienced smelters to work for us." Lansius glanced at Omin, who quickly whispered instructions to the scribe to record.

Turning back to the five smiths, Lansius said, "Now, given that it will be a long process, what can we currently do to improve hardness without raising costs too much?"

There was no immediate answer, so Lansius suggested, "What if I told you that there are ways to achieve uniform hardening where the inside will be as hard as the surface, effectively doubling the protective strength of a single piece?"

The smiths looked troubled and seemed to need time to deliberate.

Watching them, Sir Omin skillfully stepped to the center of the hall to interrupt the meeting, allowing the servants to present the five guests with large goblets of cold drinks, made with lemon and honey. The guests bowed their heads in gratitude for the refreshments, and Lansius motioned them to enjoy the drink.

Lansius and Audrey also enjoyed the drinks. The pause gave the guests a moment to discuss among themselves.

"Your cousin is really good at this," Lansius whispered to Audrey.

"He is a rather difficult person, so to speak, but he has a knack for this kind of formal situation," Audrey shared. "Anyway, how much further are you going to push them?"

"Until one of them is open to trying a new method. I can't let them produce inferior products just to secure profit. They need to take the risk and master the art."

Audrey nodded, and the two quietly observed as Omin stayed with the smiths to give them more time to deliberate.

At one point, Lansius turned to Sterling, motioned for him to approach, and instructed, "Ask the vault keeper for the stone that sticks to iron."

"Yes, My Lord." Sterling went to the castle vault. Kept by the SAR, only select individuals such as Sterling were granted access.

Finally, the smiths turned to face Lansius and signaled that they were ready to proceed.

"My Lord, My Lady," the smith in the black doublet greeted, seemingly in a better mood. "We know of such a technique to quench the metal in rock oil. But it is risky and difficult to get right. Even a slight mistake might ruin completed armor. Most only use tallow if someone insists on a blackened finish without paint."

"The key is knowing the correct heat, is it not?" Lansius murmured, recalling the importance of temperature control.

"Indeed. Only master craftsmen like us can get it right. If it’s for you, My Lord, or your knights, we can supervise the process as it has traditionally been done. But since we’re talking about an order worth hundreds of pieces of armor, it’s not possible for just a few talents like us to oversee each piece individually. It would take too much time. Meanwhile, our expertise is needed in multiple stages of armor making."

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"I understand the issue," Lansius reassured them. "The challenge with quenching is teaching apprentices to recognize the subtle differences in the glow of the iron. They need countless hours of experience to distinguish the correct hue of cherry red and orange for quenching, and even then, one must let it cool slightly before submerging it in oil."

The smith bowed deeply in acknowledgment. "It seems My Lord is deeply knowledgeable about the art of armor smithing."

"Just on the surface level," Lansius replied. Someone in his position could afford to stay humble.

"However," he added, "I doubt this lack of new techniques will bode well for the competition. I'm expecting quite competitive results. You can ask Sir Omin; I've already ordered a mini ballista, in case no windlass can penetrate all five of your armors."

"Rest assured, all five of us will attempt ways to achieve the desired results," the smith in black gave his words firmly.

"Such as the use of fluting?" Lansius asked. "In my homeland, smiths make extensive use of fluting. It makes the armor rigid and light without sacrificing protection, even against hammers or poleaxes."

"Some would pursue it, My Lord, but I myself believe that a smooth finish is better so the arrowhead doesn't bite but is deflected cleanly."

So, Italian style instead of Gothic or later Maximilian.

"Remember, the competition is for the whole package: harness and all," Lansius pointed out.

"We understand. With more work on the plates, I think we could forgo the ringmail and rely on the plates and the arming doublet."

Lansius liked what he heard. It was exactly as he had hoped: slightly thicker hardened plates, no unnecessary cheap but heavy ringmail underneath, and possibly fluting to reinforce key areas.

This would bring the armor closer to the designs of the 16th century. And with time, they would perfect it.

While he was aware of exotic materials like ceramic armor, he simply could not identify silicon carbide or boron carbide by sight, nor did he have any means to produce them. More critically, Canardia craftsmen lacked high‑pressure presses, sealed kilns and purification tools to reach the material purity those processes demanded. No kiln in Canardia could reach the temperatures needed to bond such ceramics into armor.

Steel production faced similar obstacles. Although he understood the Bessemer process in theory, its practical hurdles were well beyond him. There was no steady supply of high‑grade coal or iron ore. He might manage those within a few years, but even then he had no way to build a blower capable of reliably sustaining a high‑pressure air blast into molten metal. Moreover, he lacked the know‑how to fashion an efficient nozzle that could withstand such heat.

He also doubted they could forge a converter vessel to work in those temperatures. And even if they somehow managed it, steel made without pure oxygen would be brittle and low-grade, suitable for railroads but not for bridges, swords, or armor. The Bessemer method trades quality for quantity, not the other way around.

Carbon fiber was even more out of reach. Without polymer precursors, oxygen‑free chambers and tension frames to align fibers during heat treatment, any plant‑based threads would be nothing more than brittle charcoal. Such marvels belonged to a modern age, far beyond the reach of medieval craftsmen.

Sterling returned to the chamber and quickly, without drawing attention, approached Lansius with a wooden box. He opened it and allowed Lansius to retrieve one of the large, flint-like objects.

Lansius stood and declared, "I have a gift for all of you. Let me demonstrate its features."

He swiftly drew his dagger, startling the guests at first, but the demonstration quickly captured their attention. As he moved the blade near the flint-like stone, they watched in amazement as the stone trembled, then snapped onto the metal surface.

It clung firmly to the blade, refusing to fall even when Lansius turned it upside down. He repeated the demonstration several times, each time bringing the stone close before it leapt onto the dagger as if drawn by an unseen force.

"Is it magic?" one of the smiths asked in awe.

"I assure you it's not. It's simply a natural property of the stone called lodestone. It occurs naturally, and you can purchase it from rare item sellers." Lansius motioned for one of his guards in a cuirass to approach.

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One of the four bodyguards stepped forward and stood ramrod straight.

"At ease, just a simple demonstration," Lansius explained. Then, he repeated the demonstration, bringing the lodestone close to the guard’s cuirass, where it flew and snapped with a soft, metallic click.

"It has limited uses," Lansius admitted, handing the lodestone to Audrey, who naturally wanted to inspect it. The look in her eyes seemed to say: You're keeping secrets from me again, aren't you?

Lansius smiled at her before turning back to the smiths. "However, what's interesting is its usefulness in armor making."

He gained the smiths' attention; even Audrey and Omin were watching intently.

"During the heat treatment process, when the iron reaches cherry red and is about to turn orange, the lodestone will lose its ability to stick. Without even touching, you can feel that it’s no longer attracted to the heated iron."

All four exchanged glances. Some had raw excitement flashing on their faces, while others showed cautious doubt.

The tall smith with a tanned face asked in a level tone, "My Lord, are you certain about the lodestone's properties?"

"That's why I'm giving each of you one for free to experiment with. Bear in mind, that the stone's properties might not be exact, as it's not a dwarven magical tool to detect the perfect temperature. However, you can use it as a measuring tool rather than leaving apprentices completely blind."

All five armor makers nodded thoughtfully.

"And now, by accepting this, I’m adding a condition: the competing knight model must have a fully hardened breastplate with oil quenching. No need to harden the limbs. As for the pauldrons, that's up to your discretion."

The five armor makers confidently nodded, their faces set with determination as if visually accepting the challenge. Noticing this, Lansius felt it was time to deliver his final offer.

"Good meisters, armorers of Midlandia," he began, "I hope you are fully aware of the changing situation in this region. With my House in power, talented craftsmen like you need not to worry about petty and mundane concerns; whether you can pay your workers, suppliers, and apprentices, whether you have enough to feed your family, arrange weddings for your children, or repair a leaking roof. With an initial order of 300 pieces, I have given you a clear and certain future."

The five guests listened intently.

"If you serve me well, your House will never be caught lacking. Under my care, your only duty is to seek perfection in armor making. Gentlemen, is that not the grand dream you have always wished for? So I humbly advise you to expand your workshops, recruit more apprentices, and do whatever is necessary to improve your craft. The best among you will be rewarded, ensuring that your sons and grandsons continue to receive my favor."

Lansius ended his speech with a wave of his hand toward his clerk, who stepped forward with a guard in tow.

The two bowed and swiftly opened a small chest for Lansius to inspect. Inside lay gold rings, gem-encrusted belts, silver ornaments, and other valuables. Spoils of war, valuable yet difficult to sell. Melting them down would halve their worth, but as luxuries, they were a feast for the eyes, perfect for rewards or gifts.

For theatrics, Lansius scooped up the treasures and let them fall back into the chest for all to see. The glitter of well-polished gold and silver did not disappoint him. He heard gasps from everyone except his retinue.

"Do we have several more of these chests?" he asked, ensuring the entire chamber could hear.

"Yes, my lord, we have them ready in the vault, all marked and documented," the clerk confirmed with pride.

"Then fetch four more and give our guests one each," Lansius declared to the captivated listeners. The five smiths, even the one who had doubted him the most, now looked just as thrilled . Like an army, he had cornered them from all sides, and now they were at his mercy.

If one promises grandeur, he must first give his followers a taste of it, or else he will be regarded as nothing more than a charlatan.

As the clerk returned with four more guards and chests, Lansius turned to his five guests and said, "Consider this my down payment."

...

After the meeting, Lansius walked with Audrey through the corridor. Their entourage followed closely behind. As they walked, he glanced out a window where construction of the racetrack for the inauguration had begun. They paused to observe the progress. Canardia had no such track and even cities that did usually treated them as temporary unless there were annual events scheduled.

"Too bad several hundred of our men will be heading south," Audrey commented while watching the racetrack.

"Fear not. They'll be doing plenty of racing in the steppes," Lansius quipped.

She giggled softly and said, "Ah, the child kicks again. He's getting livelier."

Lansius couldn't resist rubbing her belly.

"Hey, not that hard," Audrey complained.

"You have strong abs, you'll be fine," he said gleefully. "Oh, his kick is strong. He can work on the farm just fine."

"Why a farm?" She asked, finding it odd.

"Because I'm going to make a peaceful world where there's nothing else to do but farm, grow orchards, breed horses, or trade," Lansius declared joyously.

She giggled softly, watching him with affection. "It's not like you're going back to farming even when it's peaceful. You hated manual labor."

"What do you mean? I still farm occasionally," Lansius said sternly.

"Huh?" Audrey said, surprised at the unexpected answer.

"You don't know that in Korelia I used to plow almost every night?"

She blinked before turning suspicious. "What did you plow at night? How come I never heard of this?"

"Of course you heard it," he whispered, leaning in. "I plowed you almost every night."

Audrey’s reaction was priceless. She puckered her lips in disgust, her eyes narrowing in amused annoyance and judgment. "I'm so going to get you after delivering," she muttered.

"Wow, we're going to have nine kids soon enough then," he quipped, despite knowing exactly what she meant.

Audrey looked genuinely livid. Lansius had her cornered for good, chuckling triumphantly for good measure.

"Do you need a kick or something?" Audrey whispered, irritated at being the target of his joke.

"Can you still kick?" he teased.

Suddenly, Audrey grabbed his arm, and her knee came out of nowhere, pressing lightly into his stomach. "I can't wait for our first training this year."

"Ohoho, I shouldn't have asked," Lansius regretted his reckless bravado.

Audrey leaned in close. "Love, you better order a good hardened helmet with proper padding. I don't want a broken hinge disrupting our training sessions like last time."

Feeling the dread, Lansius gulped, "By the Ancients, one of my ears is still ringing. Don't go that hard on training."

"I can't. The last time I went easy on you, you ended up fighting half-beasts—"

"But you were there—"

"And then the three assassins," she added, her judging eyes locked on him.

"Okay, I have no argument on that one," Lansius admitted. "But still, I'd rather fight them than you."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Audrey replied, still with an ominous smile. "Now, I shall be joining my council. Would you care to join?"

"I still have the scribes and clerks waiting for me. But what's the topic for today?" he asked, curious.

"Selection process for firemen, pavise shield order for the crossbowmen, spring bed production and sales, and some other matters I can't remember."

She's starting to sound like a secretary. A spicy and dangerous one. But not necessarily a bad thing.

Lansius stroked his chin, recalling modern firemen's requirements. "For firemen, since ladders are hard to carry and sometimes the alleys or building interiors are too cramped, I want them to be able to pull themselves up with just their bare hands."

"Ah, so climb without ladders. Makes sense," Audrey remarked.

"Physical fitness and climbing should be top priorities so they can access troubled areas faster and save trapped people."

"I'll keep that in mind. Then, if there's nothing else?" she prepared to leave.

"Get something nice for Sir Morton, Farkas, and their men. I can't believe they're going on a campaign again so soon. I thought we could spend the rest of the year in peace," Lansius sighed.

Audrey smiled. "The council will do what we can to lift the troops' morale."

"Excellent," Lansius remarked, trusting her and the council to come up with something.

After Audrey left with her entourage, Lansius turned to the window again, observing the carpenters working on the fences for the racetrack.

The decision to build the track next to his military camp, west of town, was based on his staff's suggestions. There, he and Audrey could use the camp's wooden battlements as their viewing platform. It would be high, easily defended, and secure, with an exit leading to a fortified garrison. That level of preparation was necessary, as they were expecting several thousand, if not ten thousand, people to watch the celebratory race.

A faint smile crossed Lansius' lips as he recalled the fact that it was still called an inauguration ceremony despite there being no actual ceremony. It was merely a celebratory race followed by several days of feasts.

It's like the new ruler's bribe so his people would like him.

It was a good reminder that despite all their power, medieval rulers still needed their people's support. Otherwise, who would farm the crops, make medicines, and clothes, and raise livestock?

Lansius turned away from the window and strode off to an adjacent building he had designated as his scribes' workplace, the central hub of the Midlandia Office of Works. If he was lucky, they would be waiting there with their reports, but usually, he would dive right in and join the work of sorting or inspecting records. As the clerks always said: the elves are always hiding in the details.

It was quite a racist remark. He thought, curious about the exact nature or cause of that distrust of elves.

***

Lansius

Four days after the fire, 200 dragoons and 200 skirmishers moved in small groups as if on regular patrols to one of Lansius' new manors south of Canardia, just a day’s ride from Ornietia. They marched in a relaxed state to avoid attracting too many prying eyes. When they finally reached the manor, they found it already stocked with provisions for the upcoming journey south.

Unlike the norm, Lansius had decided to keep his army’s movements classified from the public as he couldn't afford to appear weak. So there was no fanfare; instead, measures were taken to prevent detection. The Orange Skalds were spreading false news about firemen training or other drills to calm the populace and disrupt their opponents’ intelligence gathering.

Keeping this operation in the dark would keep his enemies guessing about House Lansius' strength.

The campaign to Three Hills would be the Shogunate's first complex logistical maneuver, as Lansius couldn't afford to deplete his precious stock of bolts or fire grenades, which had yet to be replenished due to the time required for crafting. This meant the dragoons and skirmishers would travel with minimal loadouts as they made their way to Korimor, Hill Fort, and finally Three Hills.

Korimor would be able to resupply them further, but it wouldn't be enough for the protracted war Lansius predicted would happen in the mountains west of Three Hills. It was likely they would eventually face a well-defended smugglers' outpost. Thus, the logistical challenge required involving more towns to support the campaign.

Korelia, as Lansius' powerhouse, would supply the cartloads of bolts needed for such a war, along with new crossbows, spare strings, parts, and a token of reinforcement directly to Three Hills. If everything went as planned, Korelia would also send another small group of forty men, mostly inexperienced young officers and SAR recruits, to South Hill to bolster Sigmund's group heading to Corinthia.

Sigmund was expected to lead around one hundred and fifty men to support Avery's assault, as the region itself remained at risk with plenty of lower nobles still dissatisfied after losing their influence and wealth. Thus, South Hill couldn't afford to go all out.

Another issue would be timing and scheduling, which were critical. Communication, even with hawk messengers, remained limited. Unfortunately, Lansius had little say in this, as adding his input would complicate matters. This issue would have to be resolved directly between Avery and Sigmund.

As a reserve in case the fighting became protracted and to safeguard the Shogunate Korelia Yield Bank's future interests, Lansius had agreed to allow Dame Daniella to recruit her own troops. It would be a force of two hundred, a mix of Midlandians and Lowlandians, all mounted, with the ability to protect valuable convoys.

Moreover, after news of the southern trade caravan being attacked was formally presented to the Southern Trade Company stockholders, which consisted of Shogunate members and Midlandian guilds, they quickly decided to fund a two-hundred-strong armed guard to protect the STC's interests.

Unfortunately, these four hundred additional men wouldn't be ready in time, as they still needed training and equipment. But at least Lansius would soon have more men at his disposal without weakening his forces in Midlandia.

The wind blew gently as the morning sun began to spread its warmth. The clouds glowed golden as Lansius' airship circled above the vast manor. The manor house itself was unusually large, reducing the need for too many tents for the troops to sleep in.

Lansius traveled there to personally send off the campaign. On this trip, he was escorted by Sir Harold and Sir Morton, who sat as passengers. Commanding the airship for the first time, Claire, with Sterling at her side, managed to land it smoothly with only minor corrections.

One look at Sir Morton's face was enough for Lansius to know that the student had earned the master's approval.

There were eager greetings from the Black Knights, dragoons, and skirmishers, all happy to see him. They asked for his customary battle speeches, but Lansius replied, "Soon, you'll hear enough lectures from me. But for now, let's fill our stomachs with breakfast."

His invitation to feast was well received, and the four hundred fifty men, knights, and squires ate merrily. Lansius had brought fresh cuts of meat, marinated with pepper and spices, to be cooked on the spot with butter for maximum juiciness. It was essentially a tomahawk steak.

While the men enjoyed the hearty, flavorful main course, Lansius, Sir Harold, Sir Morton, and Farkas gathered inside the manor, far from the laughter and warmth. There was little time. If Lord Avery struck Corinthia, the dreaded snare could snap shut, and the conflict would engulf everyone. Without delay, they reviewed the battle plan one last time.

After an hour of discussion, with no objections raised, the plan Audrey had proposed was finally set in motion. It was formally named Operation Iron Nails. To Sir Morton and Farkas, Lansius would entrust the Shogunate's rear line, as losing Three Hills and Lord Jorge would certainly threaten his entire hold over Lowlandia.

***