The workshop smelled of burning fat and ozone.
In the center of the room sat the Engine.
It was a primitive two cylinder expansion engine. It was ugly. It was covered in grease. But to Andar it was beautiful. It was the device that would kill the Middle Ages.
But it was not working.
"It leaks!" Mott shouted over the hissing sound. "The steam escapes around the piston! We cannot build pressure!"
Andar inspected the cylinder head. The tolerance was off. The boring machine was accurate but not accurate enough. There was a gap of a millimeter between the piston and the wall. Steam was spraying out like a tea kettle reducing the power to nothing.
"We need a seal," Andar muttered.
He looked around the workshop. He did not have rubber. He did not have precision gaskets.
He grabbed a bucket of tallow which was animal fat and a coil of thick hemp rope.
"Pack it," Andar ordered. "Soak the rope in the fat. Hammer it into the groove around the piston."
"Rope?" Mott looked skeptical. "My Lord the steam will burn it."
"The water will keep it wet," Andar said. "And the fat will lubricate it. Just do it!"
The smiths worked frantically. They jammed the greasy rope into the gaps. They tightened the iron bolts until their knuckles turned white.
"Fire it up," Andar commanded.
The stoker shoveled coal into the firebox. The water in the boiler began to boil. The pressure gauge which was a simple glass tube with mercury began to rise.
Hiss...
The steam pushed against the piston. The rope held.
Clank.
The heavy iron flywheel turned once.
Clank. Clank.
It turned again.
Chug... Chug... Chug...
The rhythm sped up. The massive wheel began to spin blurring into a grey circle. The noise was rhythmic and powerful. It was the heartbeat of a new era.
"It breathes!" Mott laughed. He was covered in soot dancing like a madman. "It breathes!"
[Tech Achievement: Steam Power]
[Efficiency: 65% Primitive]
[Output: 40 Horsepower]
Andar did not celebrate. He looked at the spinning shaft.
"Install it," Andar ordered. "Get it into the hull. Now."
Two days later.
The dry dock was a scene of controlled chaos.
The ship which if it could be called that sat on wooden blocks.
It was named the Dreadwolf.
It was one hundred feet long and thirty feet wide. It had no keel. It was flat bottomed to navigate shallow rivers. The hull was made of oak but it was completely sheathed in one inch steel plates bolted directly into the wood.
In the center of the deck sat the turret. It was a round pillbox of steel housing two 12 pounder cannons.
"My Lord!"
A rider galloped into the shipyard. It was the operator from the signal tower on the coast.
"The mirrors!" The man gasped sliding off his horse. "The signal from Sea Dragon Point!"
"What is the message?" Andar asked steadily.
"Fifty," the man said. "Five zero. Black sails."
The workers stopped hammering. Silence swept over the dock.
Fifty longships. That was two thousand reavers. The full might of the Iron Fleet.
Andar checked his pocket watch.
The Dreadwolf was not finished. The turret rotation gear was sticky. The paint was wet. The crew had only practiced for six hours.
"Flood the dock," Andar said.
"But My Lord," the foreman protested. "We haven't sealed the rudder!"
"Flood it!" Andar roared. "We sail to the bay. If we stay here they will burn us in the dock."
The sluice gates were opened.
The cold water of the bay rushed into the mud pit. The Dreadwolf groaned. The wood creaked.
Then it lifted.
It floated low in the water. The deck was only a foot above the waves. It looked like a half submerged log.
"Board!" Andar ordered his crew.
Thirty men ran up the gangplank. Ten gunners. Five engineers. Fifteen riflemen.
Andar climbed onto the top of the turret. He looked at the horizon.
A dark line was forming against the grey sky.
Victarion Greyjoy stood on the prow of the Iron Victory.
He saw the smoke rising from the bay of Deepwood Keep. He smiled.
"They are cooking their last meal," Victarion said.
He looked at his fleet. Fifty ships spread out in a crescent formation. A wall of wood and axes.
"Captain!" The lookout shouted. "Something is coming out of the river mouth!"
Victarion raised his spyglass.
He saw something.
It was small. It was grey. It had no sails. It had no oars. But it was moving toward them against the wind. A black chimney in the middle was vomiting thick dark smoke.
"What is that?" The helmsman asked terrified. "Is it a whale? A dead whale on fire?"
Victarion lowered the glass.
"It is a raft," Victarion scoffed. "A burning raft. They try to send a fire ship against us. Idiots."
He drew his Kraken sword.
"Ram it! Split it in two! Show them the power of iron!"
The Iron Victory surged forward. The oarsmen rowed harder. The massive iron ram on the front of the longship cut through the water.
Behind Victarion ten other longships joined the charge. They competed to be the first to smash the strange little raft.
Inside the Dreadwolf the heat was unbearable.
The boiler was running at maximum pressure. The pistons were hammering like frantic hearts. CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG.
"Pressure is holding!" Mott yelled checking the gauges.
Andar stood inside the turret. It was cramped. The two cannon breeches took up most of the space. He looked through the narrow vision slit.
He saw the Iron Victory rushing toward him. It was huge. A wooden dragon coming to eat a steel beetle.
"Range four hundred yards," Andar said calmly.
"Target the flagship?" The gunner asked.
"No," Andar said. "They want to ram us? Let them try."
He grabbed the speaking tube that connected to the engine room.
"Full stop."
The engine cut. The propeller stopped spinning. The Dreadwolf drifted dead in the water waiting.
Victarion saw the raft stop. He laughed.
"They have given up! Ram speed!"
The Iron Victory closed the distance. 200 yards. 100 yards. 50 yards.
The Ironborn on the deck were cheering. They were ready to leap aboard and slaughter the crew.
CRASH.
The Iron Victory slammed into the side of the Dreadwolf at full speed.
Victarion expected the sound of splintering wood. He expected the raft to break in half.
Instead there was a deafening GONG.
It was the sound of iron hitting hardened steel.
The Iron Victory stopped instantly. The force of the impact threw every man on the deck off their feet. Victarion slammed into the mast.
The iron ram of the longship crumpled like tin foil against the armored belt of the Dreadwolf. The wooden planks of the longship's bow shattered.
The Dreadwolf barely rocked.
Victarion picked himself up shaking his head. He looked over the rail.
The raft was unharmed. The grey paint was scratched but the metal underneath was solid.
Then the turret began to turn.
Whirrrrrrr.
The round steel housing rotated slowly. The two black muzzles of the 12 pounders turned until they were pointing directly at the deck of the Iron Victory from ten yards away.
Victarion looked down the barrel of the cannon. He saw the darkness inside.
"Oh," Victarion whispered.
"Fire," Andar said.
BOOM.
At point blank range the double canister shot did not just kill. It erased.
The deck of the Iron Victory was swept clean.
Victarion Greyjoy Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet took a grape shot to the chest plate. The steel breastplate caved in. He was blown backward over the rail splashing into the sea he worshipped.
The Iron Victory began to sink its bow shattered its captain gone.
The other Ironborn ships stopped rowing. They stared in horror at the smoking iron monster that had just swatted their flagship like a fly.
Inside the turret Andar reloaded.
"Engine ahead full," Andar ordered. "Let us teach them why wood does not fight steel."
The Dreadwolf churned the water and moved toward the frozen fleet.
The massacre had begun.
....
Author Note
Hi guys! Thank you for reading my fanfiction.
I wanted to let you know that I'm releasing bonus chapters for Power Stones. Here are the goals:
25 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
50 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
75 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
100 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
Thanks for the support!