For the Glory of Rome: Chronicles of an Isekai'd Legion-Chapter 15B2 : Gadgets and Gearheads

B2 Chapter 15: Gadgets and Gearheads

The ringing of hammers on steel echoed through the camp, their sheer volume dampened only slightly by the leather of the tents. Nearly a hundred Legionnaires bent over anvils and worktables as they focused on their work. The smell of sweat and smoke filled the air in a thick, pungent cloud.

It wasn’t hard for Quintus to pick out Gareth among them. The massive bear-like figure of walked amongst the stations, evaluating the men’s work and occasionally interrupting with a correction. As Quintus approached, the blacksmith straightened to his rather impressive height and rumbled over to meet him.

"Primus. What can I do for you?"

Quintus gave the man a nod of respect. "Master blacksmith. I’m here to check on the state of our equipment."

Gareth grunted. "I see. Well, come and look, then."

The blacksmith led him to a tent near the edge of the crafting stations. Inside lay piles of shields, armor, and other equipment, organized by their state of repair. In one section sat clearly damaged items that needed fixing. In another, equipment in their standard style that had been repaired or crafted anew. In the third…

Quintus examined one of the shields laying atop the pile. It bore the same curved rectangular profile and metal edge as a standard scutum, the freshly worked metal shiny and untarnished. But rather than the standard red, its winged golden emblem stood out on a background of black leather with red highlights all around.

"Shadow panther leather," Gareth said, evidently anticipating the centurion’s question. "Lightweight, sturdy, and good at holding enchantments. Not to mention you’ve got way too much of the damn stuff to not use it."

He handed one of the shields to Quintus. It was shockingly light, even more than the one he currently carried.

"Won’t these leathers burn in the sun?"

Gareth snorted. "They do if you don’t know how to work em’. Lucky for you, one of the old tanners in town was kind enough to teach your men some of his tricks. At the price of a few construction projects, of course."

"Hmm." Quintus took in the sheer quantity of shields in the pile. "How many have been made?"

"Enough for the whole army." Gareth nodded toward the gear. "This is just part of what they’ve done. Should be finishing up the last of ’em this week."

"Hmmm. Then it sounds like those are taken care of."

The big blacksmith made a grumbling sound that Quintus wasn’t sure how to interpret. He raised an eyebrow. "Are they not?"

"Well, if you can call making these bloody things ’taking care of it’," the master blacksmith repeated, nudging one of the shields with his foot. "The craftsmanship is fine, that’s not my issue. It’s the enchantments. Most of ’em have one, but the quality…"

Quintus grimaced. As he had spoken more with the blacksmith about designing new spears to improve on their pilum, it had become clear that there was more to crafting equipment in this world than theirs. Specifically, the possibilities afforded by enchantments.

Apparently, return or flight enchantments on their spears were just the tip of the iceberg. A good portion of most high-leveled adventurers’ power came from their equipment. Of course, at lower levels, one could rarely afford even a few pieces of good gear, and the percentage-based advantages to stats weren’t quite as impactful. But the potential was still there.

Usually, of course, imbuing enchantments into equipment was practically a given for any crafter who intended their wares to actually see use. But like anything, it required a skill to do. A skill that, as usual, would drain the crafter’s stamina precipitously as better enchantments were added to an item. Combined with the drain associated with actually making the equipment, it meant that most crafters had an effective cap on how many pieces of equipment in a given span of time.

Most crafters that weren’t Legionnaires, that is. Just like with the rest of their skills, crafting didn’t seem to drain stamina not from a single man. Instead, it was spread across all of the Legionnaires in the vicinity. The detail meant that the exhaustion was practically negligible in most cases.

Of course, unlike most of their skills, enchanting was something that not a single of their men had any kind of prior experience with. It meant that their progress in leveling that skill was significantly slower than the others. Luckily, Gareth’s tutelage helped on that front. Given time, Quintus had no doubts that they’d be able to create some truly incredible gear.

Quintus set the shield down. "They seem more than serviceable."

"Pfft. Serviceable?" Gareth scoffed. "Maybe these are. Some of the earlier ones… But lad, do you really want to stake your life on ’serviceable’?"

"I’ve had to stake my life on much worse many times before," he replied simply. "But with our time constraints, this is more than satisfactory."

"I suppose…" Gareth scratched his head and sighed. "Still, don’t go getting stabbed too much. Can’t have my students tarnishing my reputation as a teacher."

Quintus chuckled, then nodded toward the helms. "Moving on…"

"These are kind of on the backburner for now," Gareth gestured toward the significantly smaller pile. "Same with the rest of the armor. What you have isn’t good, mind you. None of ’em give any kind of stat benefit. But at least they’re solid and in one piece. The ’shields’ seem to be the ones taking the brunt of your blows, so that’s what they prioritized."

The blacksmith said "shields" strangely, enunciating the word carefully. Quintus supposed he took some sort of issue with the term scutum, though for what reason he couldn’t even begin to fathom. Still, he nodded in acknowledgement. "And the weaponry?"

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Gareth led him back outside to a training area and nodded wordlessly to a set of barrels. A collection of newly minted swords filled each one, their uniform hilts poking out of the opening.

Quintus pulled one out. As his hand wrapped around its grip, he felt an infusion of strength trickle into him. It felt like his hand was going numb, as if he had just grabbed a fistful of snow. But the feeling quickly passed as he acclimated to the difference.

He swiped it from side to side, testing the balance before spinning and thrusting it deep into a nearby training dummy. Its body was a solid oak log, vertical and nearly three feet across. Despite that, the blade drove deep into the wood as though it were as soft as butter. He had to press his foot against the log to yank the blade back out, resulting in a far less impressive sight than the initial stab had been. Quintus chose to ignore a muttered comment from behind him that might have included the word "bumpkin."

Giving the blade another swing, everything seemed to be holding in place. The grip was comfortable, and the cross guard remained true. Holding the blade up to inspect it, he checked the alignment and didn’t so much as detect a single warp from the stab that would have likely shattered his old gladius.

"I’m impressed," Quintus said, with a slight bit of awe in his voice.

Gareth snorted. "If you’re impressed by that, then you really need to get out more. It’s a fine sword, sure, but any bladesmith worth his salt should be able to produce something so basic."

Quintus wasn’t so sure. The blades were basic, sure, but the quality and consistency of them was truly remarkable. It was just another piece of evidence that the blacksmith’s standards were truly something else.

"Don’t have as many of these," Gareth nodded toward the barrels. "Got a lot, but not enough for everyone. And only a few that I’d call above-average. You’ve got a few men working on specialized enchantments, too, but that’s gonna take time."

That was understandable. Since Gareth refused to so much as touch a sword, much less work on one, the Legionnaires were mostly on their own in making them. That meant that any truly exceptional work would likely be slow in coming. It also meant that every single enchantment came from a Legionnaire’s own hands. That differed from the shields, where Quintus had seen the man actively helping to fix mistakes or offer improvements.

"And lastly, the spears. This is what is taking up most of your men’s time nowadays."

Gareth gestured to another set of barrels, some filled with pila and some filled with the new style of spear they’d been designing. The differences between the two were immediately evident.

The new spear was about a foot longer than a pilum. Its wooden haft stretched all the way up to meet a thin triangular blade of about two feet in length, its edges sharpened on all sides. It was also longer and slightly thicker than what Quintus was used to. Evidently, the change made it easier for the weapon to hold enchantments. But despite looking for all intents and purposes like a standard spear more than the Legion’s standard throwing weapon, he was willing to give it a try.

Quintus picked up a standard pilum and, with a practiced hop and step, hurled it downrange a hundred yards away. Its head pierced deep into a red target before stopping, the rest of the weapon wobbling where it stuck out of the wood. Gareth snorted.

"Already bent."

Quintus leaned in, squinting slightly. The blacksmith was right. As much as the weapon had stuck true, the sheer weight was already causing the metal to bend.

"They were designed as single use. Repairable, maybe, but single use."

"A waste," Gareth grunted. "If you wanted something like that, why wouldn’t you make it explode?"

Quintus remained silent. He didn’t bother pointing out that, in his world, that wasn’t exactly a viable option. Instead, he picked up one of the new long spears. A chill ran through his hand once again, a feeling he was coming to associate with enchantments of some sort. Mentally, he issued a command to the spear.

"Return."

This time, his throw was a little off. The weapon’s balance wasn’t quite what he was used to, meaning his decades of practice actually worked against him in this case.

Still, the spear landed on the target, if not the exact center. A couple of seconds later, it appeared back in his hand.

"Just be careful where your hand is when it’s returning," Gareth noted as Quintus looked at the spear in amazement. "If you’re holding it horizontally, you might end up skewering someone in front of you."

Gareth gave him a few more pointers about only being able to activate one "return" command at a time, and how to cancel the return function and substitute it with a detonation function after it was thrown. The detonation part was something that Gareth seemed personally offended that they included in the design, apparently because he thought that they didn’t trust his return enchantment design.

Once he was done, Quintus set the spear back in its barrel with an approving nod. "Thank you, Master Blacksmith. None of this would be possible without your assistance. We are in your debt."

"If you really want to repay me, you’ll make sure those whelps back there keep practicin’," the blacksmith crossed his arms as he nodded toward the Legionnaires hard at work forging. "I won’t have my students slackin’ off, now. Though I’ll admit, they’ve managed to teach me a thing or two as well."

Quintus nodded. "Of course. I’ll make sure to get this equipment handed out and train our men on its use. Then, if there’s nothing else—"

"Oh, that ain’t everything," Gareth smiled wickedly. "See, one of your engineers decided to make a bit of a bet with me. I think you’d be interested in the results."

The man then proceeded to walk Quintus over to a table full of an absolutely insane and deceptively clever set of traps. Most were relatively small on their own, but efficient and simply designed. Quintus let out a low whistle.

"Are these your designs?"

Gareth nodded proudly. "Easy to use, easy to make. Easier than what your people were coming up with, at least. And more humane."

Quintus examined them as the blacksmith began explaining their use. Interestingly enough, he was right. They were all designed to capture and incapacitate, going to great lengths in order to avoid actually harming anyone affected by the traps. It was a consideration not often made in warfare. And one that explained the blacksmith’s willingness to try.

"You know, Master Blacksmith…" the centurion decided to test the waters. "Given these designs, I may have to enlist your help in designing some of these new siege weapons. I think you’re wasted on things like this."

"Humph," Gareth shook his head. "Nice try. Not interested. At least with these guys it feels like I’m designing a puzzle box."

Quintus frowned, but didn’t push the matter further.

The traps mostly worked best in the forest. It was kind of hard to hide a trap in the grasslands, but that didn’t stop Gareth from trying. The simple application of a few basic enchantments made things either much harder to detect or, when activated, spring into a much more elaborate maze of disabling ropes and planks and the like.

As he looked over the collection, Quintus’s mind was already hard at work with possible applications. Places where they could set the traps for maximum effectiveness or different settings in which to utilize them… although the nonlethal part did somewhat limit their effectiveness.

He glanced over at the blacksmith as he hefted a particularly strange contraption of twisted metal springs. Most of these inventions could probably become quite lethal with just a few modifications. And they were designed to be simple to produce… Perhaps he’d have some men experiment with that. Maybe they would avoid telling Gareth about it, though.