If good men take no action

“Change warfare? Watever couldst þee mean, dear Eleanor?” Arthur asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

“We… ah… I suppose we must ferst eksplane why such a þing is nesessary…” Eleanor trailed off, and we sunk into silence. It seemed she well and truly trusted him, but we all knew we had to be careful about what we said to who. One wrong word to the wrong person could spell the end of us. In the end, however, it was Alice who broke the silence.

“‘Tis not merely by þe whims of adventure þat I have left my home. þis nashion be’þ infested wiþ a rot more terrible þan any oþer noewn to þe world, and I have been cast asyde by my faþer for opposing it. We þree stand in opposition to þe dreadful institution of slavery, þe vyle industry þat haþ þis kingdom grasped by þe þroat. But we are, as we stand, hopelessly outmached and under-ekwipped. We ask þis of you, good gentleman, þough we noe we ask too much: please, help us even þe odds, and rid þis nashion of its infestation.”

She spoke with an air of righteous indignation, carrying all the nobility expected for one who carried her name. I was momentarily stunlocked by her delivery, every word pulling me in more and more.

But my perception of her wasn’t what mattered.

“God’s be good…” Arthur put his hand to his forehead. “‘Tis a truly good cause to wich þee rally, my lady, but one set to be entrenched in bloodshed. It ys an uphill battle þat þou choosest to fyte, and not one lykely to see a peaceful ending. I trust þis ys wy þou haþ come to me?” He asked.

“Aye, it be so. My oþer-world companion haþ nolej of tools þat couldst allow us to stand a fyting chance even in þe face of innumerable foes. We noe none but þee who haþ þe skill to turn such ydeas into reality. þus, we humbly request þyne assistance.” Alice bowed deeply as she spoke, and held a clear tone of reverence. So far as I was aware, Alice was just as in-the-dark about Arthur as I was, so either she was putting a lot of trust in Eleanor’s judgement, or she was really good at buttering people up.

“…‘tis not someþing to ask for lytely, þou understand þis?” Arthur said.

“I understand, and I shall aksept watever anser þou givest wiþout complaint.” Alice replied.

Arthur seemed to think on the request for a while, a far more conflicted expression on his face than his previous jovial smile. I wasn’t sure if it was the idea of inventing something so dangerous or the possibility of us running off to war with Eleanor and getting her killed, but something seemed to leave a bad taste in his mouth. Despite this…

“…come, I shall hear out þyne ydeas. þough I make no promises about delivering a product to þee. Merely to make an informed jujment based on þyne information.”

The three of us breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t the outright ‘no’ I had expected, so we were glad to at least have a foot in the door. Now I just had to keep it open.

***

As I had with Alice and Eleanor earlier, I went over everything I knew about ballistics and the inner workings of modern guns, even as far back as the earliest repeaters. When Arthur asked if I could give him an example of how these weapons worked, I took a parchment and pen from him and drew, to the best of my ability, an example of each type of weapon I had tried to explain, down to the mechanisms they used to load. It became more and more clear to me that my knowledge was even more incomplete than I had already suspected, but with any luck the basic designs could be extrapolated to something better.

After I finished my explanations, Arthur studied the images I had drawn and thought for quite a while, seemingly working out the details in his head. His brow furrowed as he muttered to himself about all manner of things I couldn’t understand, before eventually he sighed and turned to address us.

“þese here,” he said, pointing at my mock-ups of a full-auto and semi-auto recoil action rifle, “are simply not possible wiþ þe tools at my disposal, nor lykely with any tool þat yet eksits. ‘Twould jam almost immediately, and þe danjer to þe user be’þ almost as grate as þe danjer to þe target.” He cleanly crossed through both with a single swipe of his pen, before pointing at my drawing of a kalthoff repeater. “þis be’þ even more danjerous to þe one holding þe weapon. A butt full of black powder couldst ignyte and detonate wiþ þe slytest spark. ‘Twould not be a good day for he who wieldeþ an eksploding gun.” Once again he drew a line through it, before pointing to my drawings of a bolt action, lever action and pump action all in turn. “þese wouldst rekwyre precyse internal spring systems þat are boþ ny-impossible to manufachure and lykely to ware aut kwickly. For all þe effort ‘twould take to bild and manetane, þe usage would minimal in all þree cases,” he said, and marked through all three, leaving just one. “þis… may haþ some potenchal.” He circled the rudimentary sketch of a revolver, before continuing, “‘twould still be of great difficulty to create, and ‘twould rekwyre constant manetenanse and cleaning to remane operable, but it be’þ… feasible, at least.”

“Then-”

“But I cannot- nay, I will not create it.”

My momentary relief was immediately snatched away from me, and the slump in the shoulders of my companions told me they felt the same.

“Myte I ask for what reason?” Alice replied.

“Were’t someþing impractical for common usaje, I would consider induljing þee as a favour to my dear Ella. But þis… it truly doþ have þe potential to evolve warfare into someþing much more destructive.” The old man shook his head in complete rejection of the idea.

“But þe cause for its use be just and ryte. ‘Twould be a tool to liberate þe unfarely oppressed, not to oppress oþers in turn,” argued Alice.

“Aye, in þy good hands, I have little doutt ‘twould be so, my lady. But once a þing like þis eksists, ‘twill continue to eksist in perpetuity. 'Twould not be long befor þose wiþ less noble intentions þan þyne own create þeir own imitations. War is þe grate sin of humanity, þe blood þat þis speeshies may never wype from its hands. I apolojyse, truly, but I can have no part in it’s proliferashion. If someone is to create þis… þing… ‘twill not be me.”

Both Alice and Eleanor’s faces were painted with dejection, and I imagined mine was similar. I really, truly, honestly thought we finally had a direction. Something to give us a fighting chance. But this world had already proven itself too cruel for that.

I could bear no anger for the old man, either. What Arthur had said was true: if he created the first revolver, and we were seen using it, someone would reverse-engineer it before long. Who knows how many lives could be lost at war with the early invention of a faster firing gun? His objections were completely fair.

Still, as the three of us thanked him for his time and left defeated, I couldn’t help but wonder: if good men like him would not take action, could this horrid institution really be overthrown?