By the time winter loosened its grip over Elarion, the fortress workshops had become the loudest place in the entire territory.

Day and night the sounds of hammering echoed across the valley.

Steel striking steel.

Furnace doors slamming open.

Workers shouting measurements across smoke-filled halls.

And somewhere within the chaos—

Dwarves insulting human intelligence at least once every few minutes.

The flintlock muskets had already proven successful weeks earlier.

Not perfect.

Far from it.

But functional.

The northern patrols had already begun limited training with them while Lucien carefully restricted production to trusted men only.

The weapons were still primitive: slow to reload inaccurate at distance sensitive to moisture

Yet even with flaws, the muskets changed how the knights viewed warfare.

Especially after armored targets started collapsing under lead rounds.

Now, however—

Lucien wanted more.

The problem with smoothbore muskets became obvious during training.

At medium distance the projectiles became wildly inconsistent.

Some struck accurately.

Others curved unpredictably through the air like drunken birds.

Malen had summarized the issue best after one demonstration.

"These weapons fight confidently against walls."

Not ideal for warfare.

Which was why Lucien stood inside the western workshop once again while staring at a partially cut metal barrel resting across the central forge table.

Around him: dwarven smiths human craftsmen Gandalf Cedric

And unfortunately—

Aurethar.

The golden dragon currently occupied nearly an entire reinforced upper platform near the ceiling while watching everyone below with visible boredom.

"You have all spent six days discussing holes."

One dwarf immediately pointed upward.

"Grooves."

"Tiny grooves."

"Important grooves."

Aurethar closed one eye again.

"Still unimpressive."

Lucien ignored the argument and looked toward the lead dwarven smith instead.

"Show me."

The dwarf nodded before lifting the unfinished barrel carefully beneath the forge lights.

At first glance it looked ordinary.

Until he angled it toward the lantern glow.

Spiral lines became visible inside the barrel.

Thin.

Precise.

Twisting slowly along the interior.

The nearby human craftsmen still looked doubtful.

Cedric crossed his arms.

"You’re telling me scratches inside the barrel improve accuracy."

"Not scratches," the dwarf replied irritably. "Controlled spiral grooves."

Another dwarf stepped closer before grabbing a metal rod from the table.

"When the projectile exits a smooth barrel, it tumbles."

He demonstrated loosely with his hand.

"Unstable flight."

Then he rotated the rod sharply.

"But spinning stabilizes movement."

One younger smith frowned.

"So we’re making the bullet rotate?"

"Yes."

"That sounds ridiculous."

The dwarf stared at him flatly.

"Most innovation sounds ridiculous before it works."

Gandalf nodded proudly.

"That is exactly what I said before the third explosion."

"The third explosion destroyed a roof!"

"A temporary structural disagreement."

Lucien rubbed his forehead slightly.

The workshops had become exhausting lately.

Not because progress was slow.

But because every improvement created three new problems afterward.

Still—

The rifling concept interested him immediately.

If successful, it would solve one of the greatest weaknesses of early firearms: accuracy.

Malen stepped closer toward the unfinished rifle barrel afterward.

"...Can ordinary smiths make these?"

The dwarf answered honestly.

"Not quickly."

Then he pointed toward the interior grooves.

"Every line must remain balanced."

Another dwarf muttered bitterly:

"And humans keep ruining alignment."

One human worker immediately protested.

"You said left rotation!"

"I said your other left!"

"That is not a direction!"

The workshop erupted into arguments again.

Lucien quietly stepped away from the forge tables for a moment while observing the workers around him.

The industrial district had changed enormously in only a few months.

The original rough furnaces were gone now.

In their place stood proper coke-fed forge lines capable of maintaining far greater temperatures than traditional charcoal operations.

Steel production increased steadily.

Mining output doubled.

Supply routes expanded.

And perhaps most importantly—

The workers themselves were changing.

People moved with purpose now.

Confidence.

Even the blacksmith apprentices no longer looked like starving frontier survivors.

They looked like craftsmen building something important.

That realization mattered more than the weapons themselves.

A loud metallic clang suddenly echoed from the testing corner.

Lucien turned immediately.

One of the newer rifled barrels had split during pressure testing, sending fragments across the stone floor.

Thankfully nobody stood too close this time.

The dwarf responsible stared at the ruined weapon in complete silence before slowly turning toward Gandalf.

"This is your powder mixture."

The old mage frowned.

"It burned efficiently."

"It attempted murder efficiently!"

Aurethar lifted his head slightly from above.

"I warned you all that tiny thunder tubes remain unreliable."

Cedric sighed deeply.

"Why are you even here?"

The dragon blinked lazily.

"Entertainment."

"That is not comforting."

"Your species rarely is."

Despite the setback, work resumed almost immediately.

That was another thing Lucien noticed about dwarves.

They complained constantly.

Loudly.

Aggressively.

But they never stopped working.

By late afternoon the newest prototype finally reached testing stage.

Unlike the earlier smoothbore muskets, this weapon looked slightly longer and heavier, with more carefully balanced internal shaping.

The ammunition itself had also changed.

Smaller.

Tighter fitting.

One dwarf held the rifle carefully while checking the interior grooves beneath lantern light one final time.

Then he looked toward Lucien.

"Ready."

Testing moved outside the fortress walls shortly afterward.

The northern snowfields stretched across the valley beneath pale evening light while soldiers gathered carefully around the reinforced firing range.

Word had spread quickly through Elarion.

Everyone wanted to see the "new thunder weapon."

Knights.

Workers.

Aurethar landed atop a nearby stone watchtower while folding his wings dramatically.

"I remain convinced humans are reinventing inferior dragons."

One nearby guard whispered quietly:

"...I think he’s jealous."

The dragon immediately looked downward.

"I heard that."

The guard looked terrified.

Aurethar looked pleased.

The firing target stood nearly three hundred meters away.

Far beyond normal musket accuracy.

Several knights exchanged doubtful looks immediately after seeing the distance.

"That’s impossible."

"Nothing hits accurately from there."

Cedric loaded the rifle carefully before handing it toward Lucien.

For a moment the entire range became quiet.

Cold wind rolled across the snow.

Lucien raised the rifle slowly.

Adjusted stance.

Breathed once.

Then fired.

BOOM.

The sound cracked across the valley like thunder.

Smoke burst outward from the barrel while several nearby horses panicked instantly.

Far in the distance—

The metal target rang violently.

Direct hit.

Silence followed.

Nobody moved.

One knight blinked slowly.

"...Again."

The rifle was reloaded.

Slower than a bow.

Slower than magic.

But when Lucien fired again—

The second shot struck even closer to the center.

This time nobody spoke at all.

Malen walked toward the damaged target personally afterward.

When he returned several minutes later, he carried the shattered steel plate in one hand.

The round had punched directly through reinforced armor plating.

Several knights stared at the hole silently.

Because they understood immediately what that meant.

Distance no longer guaranteed safety.

Armor no longer guaranteed survival.

Aurethar watched the reaction from atop the tower before finally speaking.

"...Interesting."

That alone startled Lucien slightly.

The dragon almost never praised human creations.

One dwarf crossed his arms proudly.

"Not bad for tiny thunder tubes."

Aurethar snorted smoke.

"Do not become arrogant."

Then after a pause:

"...Though the spinning projectile concept is clever."

The dwarves immediately looked victorious.

Gandalf meanwhile looked emotional for entirely different reasons.

"We changed warfare."

Lucas had arrived midway through testing and now stood silently near the rear of the crowd staring at the damaged armor plate.

Unlike the soldiers—

He was thinking politically.

Lucien recognized that expression immediately.

Because the administrator understood the same truth he did.

If weapons like this spread beyond Elarion—

The balance between nobles and common soldiers would begin changing forever.

And kingdoms rarely welcomed change they could not control.