Chapter CXXIX– For, behold, I create new weapon and a new army.

52nd of Winter 5859
Libertycave, State of Casamonu

Gemeinplatz was quite deep into winter by the 52nd. Snow piled higher and higher every day. It was a blessing for the denizens of Libertycave; nobody would dare attack up a mountain in such weather. It was equally a curse; nobody wanted to trek down the mountain either.

Still, the likes of Harriet Tubman still had to take the treacherous journey up and down to complete their mission. It was quite hard pushing up carts full of iron and coal up a snowy mountain, though the stretch of road that had been built up to Libertycave. The road that Tubman traversed represented a dream, one which had been abruptly crushed by the arrival of the army from Karabush. “Only if we had finished this road,” she thought out loud “then all this travel would take only a day or two at most.”

Tubman’s companion, Kyauta, chimed in “Our folk will have plenty of time to do that once winter is over.”

“May God help us drive out those rascals down below.” Tubman gazed at the sky, looking for Providence in the sea of clouds above.

“Amen.” Kyauta joined in the skygazing, not finding much cheer in the snow-filled sky. It was quite dark outside, even in the morning, as the clouds had been blocking out the sun for weeks. Most of the people in Libertycave, being used to the warmer climates of Gemeinplatz’s lowlands or from far away lands, felt quite sleepy, even melancholic, in this dark, freezing weather. Though, perhaps, it was their moods feeling blue after having been stuck on a mountain for months now. “May God lead us out of this mountain. I am sick of this place.”

“Now, now. Be grateful of the safe haven that the Lord has granted us-”

BOOM!

A gunshot. Tubman and Kyauta suddenly threw themselves down on the snow for safety. Then came a dozen or so gunshots, so many that they both lost count, and a great smoke rose up from behind a hill. The two women waited silently, not even daring to take a breath, while they thought of what to do. Had the madmen, the Imperials, found out their smuggling route up the mountain and set up an ambush?

A familiar voice. “Reload!” It was Ayomide, shouting from behind the hill. She certainly didn’t sound ambushed from how calms he was. Tubman and Kyauta looked at each other in shock, before they both nodded. They got up and shouted back “Ayomide?”

“General?” Soon, Ayomide’s ears (and then the rest of her head) appeared looking over them at the hill. “What’s gotten you so worried?”

“Gunshots, girl. The gunshots.” replied Tubman.

Ayomide immediately got what Tubman’s concern was “Oh, those are coming from our men. Just a bit of military drill, that Brown asked us to do outside of the town due to how loud it is. Would you like to rest your legs a bit? We have a few seats here.”

“We’ll have to take you up on that.” Tubman and Kyauta made their way up the hill, an arduous affair after all that walking, and found that there was a line of the Republic’s finest infantry standing ready on top of the hill. They were dressed lighter than their speared comrades, no helmet or any other armor. Instead, they had fur hats and snazzy gambesons that were colored a bright light blue for easy identification in the musket smoke. Yes, muskets – they had muskets shouldered with their muzzles (tipped with a bayonet) pointing up towards the sky. “I feel like I just stepped forward in time.”

“Brown says that we did.” Ayomide too had a snazzy new outfit: a bright blue coat and pants combo that were familiar to Tubman. “These things, muskets, they’re amazing. Very fun to shoot.” It seemed that a love for big booms was a thing that transcended culture and dimension.

“You’ve loved it if you saw one of them gatling guns. They shoot like a typewriter – taka-taka-rata-thuck. Like that.” Kyauta and Ayomide looked at Tubman strangely after her expert gatling gun impression. “I don’t like them though. They’re horrifying, like a factory only made to dispense death.”

Ayomide was stunned “…I honestly don’t know what a gahtuhlin, tahuypraytar or faktori is.”

“Me neither” added Kyauta.

“Those are not important for now.” Tubman was still as confused as all the other otherworlders on how she had suddenly received knowledge of the local knowledge. It was a miracle of course, one granted by Providence, so she wouldn’t question it that much. “Let us sit and watch how your men do.” She took her seat among the few seats that had been dragged out there, and Ayomide separated to give command to her men.

The men were lined up in two ranks, the front lank crouching and the back rank standing. Ayomide cleared her throat, and shouted, “Prime and load!” The men uncapped their flasks of gunpowder to pour a bit of gunpowder on a pan in the firing mechanism. Then they dropped the butts of their muskets to the ground, poured gunpowder down the barrel, rammed a lead ball in, and stopped. Normally Ayomide would have given instructions in every step of the drill, telling them to drop their muskets (bout) or draw their ramrods (draw ramrods) etc., but the men had moved on to training to carry out these movements by instinct as they’d have to do in actual battle.

“Make ready!” The men cocked their muskets and raised them facing up again.

“Present!” The muskets were lowered, to be in a horizontal position facing forward, ready to fire.

Finally, the long awaited “Fire!”, and for a brief few seconds nothing else but the rhythmic shot of muskets could be heard. The line was covered in a cloud of smoke, as if the men had committed to a disappearing act. It took a good minute before the men were visible again as the smoke blew off.

“I’m thankful that I won’t be the poor sod who’ll be at the business end of this volley” commented Ayomide.

“I’m thankful as well, to the Lord for not placing us at the business end” added Tubman. Not that she was unfamiliar with being on the end of a volley; the Civil War had presented General Tubman with plenty of experience in many different regards. “I’ll tell you: it is not pleasant to be on the other end of the volley, with bullets whizzing by in all directions.”

“I’m not going to worry about giving Imperials an unpleasant time. Let them be our guest on the battlefield!” replied Ayomide with a smile.

“I appreciate the enthusiasm of youth.” Tubman stretched for a bit, and then got up. “We’ll have to get going. These carts of ore won’t push themselves.”

“Good luck, General Tubman.” Ayomide sent Tubman off with a salute, and then shouted once more: “Prime and load!”