New Weapon

An hour later.

Prince Bruno de Elysea sat behind his polished oak desk, reviewing a set of documents when Antoine entered the room, bowing respectfully.

"You called for me, Your Highness?" Antoine asked, his tone crisp and professional.

Bruno looked up, his expression firm. "Antoine, I need you to commission the construction of a large wooden gate. Make it sturdy, reinforced with iron, similar to the gates used in fortified structures."

Antoine raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. "May I ask what purpose this gate serves, Your Highness?"

Bruno leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together. "It's for a test. I need a structure that replicates the main gate of the rebel fort. This will be used to demonstrate a new weapon that we will deploy in the upcoming siege."

Understanding the importance of the task, Antoine nodded. "Understood, Your Highness. I'll coordinate with the carpenters and blacksmiths immediately. Is there anything else?"

"Yes," Bruno said, his tone resolute. "Inform General Berthold. I want him and the soldiers present at the training grounds for the demonstration. They need to witness the power of this weapon firsthand."

Antoine bowed again. "Consider it done, Your Highness. The gate will be ready in two days."

Bruno nodded. "Good. Keep me informed of the progress."

Antoine departed swiftly, already mentally preparing the list of tasks required to fulfill the prince's orders.

November 5th, 1689 – Training Grounds

Two days later, the training grounds were abuzz with activity. A massive wooden gate, reinforced with iron bars, now stood firmly erected at the far end of the field. Soldiers stood in formation nearby, murmuring among themselves as they eyed the strange structure.

General Berthold stood to the side with Bruno, his arms crossed. "Your Highness, I must admit, I'm intrigued. This new weapon you speak of—what exactly is it?"

"You'll see soon enough, General," Bruno replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "The soldiers need to understand the power we will bring to the battlefield."

Nearby, Elias and his assistants carefully placed a clay container filled with ammonium nitrate against the base of the gate. A long fuse extended from the container, ready to be lit.

Bruno turned to address the gathered soldiers. 

"Today, you will witness the strength of a new weapon. This is what will grant us the advantage in the coming siege. Watch closely."

The soldiers fell silent, their eyes fixed on the setup.

Bruno gestured toward Elias. "Proceed."

Elias stepped forward, lighting the fuse with a torch. The hissing sound of the burning fuse filled the air as everyone instinctively took a step back, anticipation thickening the atmosphere.

Moments later, the explosion rocked the training grounds. A deafening roar echoed across the field as the ammonium nitrate detonated, obliterating the gate in an instant. Splinters of wood and twisted iron flew in every direction, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a gaping hole where the gate had stood.

The soldiers shielded their faces from the blast, their expressions were disbelief as the dust began to settle.

General Berthold broke the stunned silence, his voice filled with astonishment. "Incredible. The rebels won't stand a chance against this."

Bruno turned to the soldiers, his gaze sharp. "This is the power we will wield against those who oppose the crown. With weapons like these, victory is assured."

The soldiers erupted into cheers, their morale bolstered by the display. Bruno allowed himself a moment of satisfaction before turning to Elias.

"Good work," he said. "Prepare more of these charges. We'll need them ready for deployment."

Elias nodded, still wide-eyed from the spectacle. "Yes, Your Highness."

"We'll revisit the plan a week before the siege," Bruno said to Berthold. 

"Yes Your Highness, I will be there, " Berthold bowed.

Not far from the training grounds, a figure crouched low behind a dense thicket of bushes. His breath was shallow, and his heart raced as he observed the scene before him. The rebel spy, garbed in a simple cloak to blend with the common folk, had witnessed the explosion from his hidden vantage point. His eyes remained locked on the shattered remains of the gate, the splintered wood and twisted iron a testament to the weapon's terrifying power.

The cheers of the soldiers rang faintly in the distance, but to the spy, it was as though they were mocking him. The Elysean forces were no longer just a disciplined army—they had weapons of mass destruction at their disposal. The increase in their numbers and the sophistication of their new tools were signs that the rebels' days of scattered resistance were nearing an end if nothing was done.

His fingers tightened around the parchment he carried—a map he had drawn detailing troop movements and resources around Loretto. Now, that map seemed incomplete, insignificant compared to the knowledge he had just gained.

"This changes everything," he muttered to himself, his voice trembling. "If they bring that… thing to Fort Cervo, our defenses won't stand a chance."

The spy knew he couldn't linger. He had to get this information to Fort Cervo immediately. Every second spent hiding risked capture, and the rebels could not afford to lose this critical intelligence.

He adjusted his hood, ensuring his face was concealed, and began his retreat, moving quickly but carefully through the underbrush. 

"Fort Cervo must know," he whispered, his resolve strengthening. "They need to prepare for this."

The journey to Fort Cervo would take at least a day to get to the southern edge of the island and crossing would take another day. They still have time—or not. He still hadn't obtained one critical information, that is when they are going to attack.

As he reached the edge of the forest and the faint outline of a village appeared in the distance, the spy slowed his pace. Villages were risky—filled with potential informants loyal to the crown. Still, he needed supplies for the journey ahead. Pulling his hood tighter, he steeled himself before stepping into the outskirts, blending into the waning hustle of villagers winding down their day.

"Just keep moving," he whispered to himself. "Fort Cervo depends on this."