Morning brought a crisp clarity to the air, the storm having washed the sky clean. Pale sunlight streamed through the narrow windows of Constantine's private solar, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the warmth. The Emperor stood by the open casement, looking out over the courtyard below. Puddles from the night's rain glistened on the cobbles, and the sweet scent of wet earth and pine from the hills beyond drifted in. In the far distance, the Ionian Sea sparkled a cool blue under the morning sun, as gentle now as it had been ferocious the night before.
Already the castle hummed with activity. In the yard, men moved briskly between creaking carts, unloading crates, sacks, and bundles under the watchful eyes of stewards. From the kitchens wafted the aroma of fresh bread. Constantine inhaled the gentle, herbal scent of chamomile as he sipped from a simple clay cup, the warmth settling softly in his chest. He wore a plain doublet of deep green today, suitable for work, with only a gold pin in the shape of a double-headed eagle on his shoulder to denote his rank. For this meeting, he wanted the visiting craftsman to feel at ease rather than awed by imperial regalia.
A knock sounded at the chamber door. Constantine turned, setting down his cup. "Enter," he called. The heavy door swung inward, and a young page stepped in, bowing.
"Your Majesty, Master Luca is here, as you requested," the boy announced. Behind him loomed the figure of Luca. Constantine's first impression was of a man forged, in truth, by the same forces that temper steel – broad in the chest and arms, with corded muscles evident even under a humble brown wool tunic. Luca's face was weather-tanned, and a short black beard framed a firm mouth. His nose bore a small crook, perhaps broken long ago in a forge accident or brawl, and faint scars from stray sparks flecked his forearms and one cheek. He held a wool cap in his large, callused hands and shifted on his feet, clearly a bit unsure of the proper etiquette before an emperor.
Constantine stepped forward with a welcoming smile. "Master Luca, welcome. Please, come in." He nodded to the page, who gently shut the door, leaving the gunsmith alone with his sovereign.
Luca bowed deeply, one hand over his heart in a respectful gesture. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice resonant and a touch rough, as if smoke still clung to his throat. "It is my honor to be received by you. I trust you passed a peaceful night, despite the storm?"
Constantine chuckled, motioning for Luca to rise from the bow. "A far more peaceful night than the one at sea would have been, had I tarried an extra day. I'm glad to be on solid ground, I assure you." He gestured to a cushioned chair by the desk. "Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable."
Luca gingerly took the seat offered, clearly mindful of his manners. Constantine himself remained standing a moment, pacing slowly to the sideboard where a clay pot of chamomile tea sat steaming gently. 'May I offer you something to drink? Chamomile, perhaps? It's from the gardens just beyond the walls, mild, but soothing.'
The gunsmith shook his head politely. "Thank you, Your Majesty, but I'm quite content. The morning air here is refreshment enough, it carries the pine from the hills. It reminds me of home." His eyes drifted briefly to the window and the vista beyond. "This land of yours is beautiful. I did not expect the Morea to be so green and gentle. In Brescia, autumn brings chill and fog; here I find sunshine after the rain."
"I trust you have been settling in comfortably?" Constantine asked as he met Luca's gaze with a steady, searching look.
"Very comfortably, Majesty. Your people have been most hospitable. My assistants and I were given a fine cottage near the arsenal, more than enough space for us." His voice was steady, polite, "We're already unpacked and ready to work. I must say, I'm impressed by the state of your arsenal and of the city more broadly. There is a certain order to it all that speaks well of your governance."
Constantine arched an eyebrow, intrigued. He settled into the other chair across from Luca. "Oh? I am eager to hear your impressions. Elias mentioned you toured our arsenal."
Luca allowed himself a small smile at that. "Just so, Majesty. In the days since I arrived, I've observed some of Master Elias's work, the pyrvelos and the Drakos cannons, in particular." He leaned forward slightly, one hand gesturing as if to emphasize a point on an invisible diagram. "I admit, I'm impressed. The pyrvelos fire-tubes are cleverly made. A difficult thing to get right without flaws, but those I saw were holding up quite well in tests."
Luca paused, his eyes alight with genuine appreciation, before continuing, "And the bronze cannon your foundry cast, the last one Elias showed me, had clean lines and sound construction. Truly, it's excellent work given the available tools and furnaces. In my homeland, we'd consider those pieces fine craftsmanship even with our more advanced workshops."
Constantine felt pride well within him at the praise for his people. Elias would be thrilled to hear such commendation from an expert of Luca's stature. The Emperor inclined his head gratefully. "I'm glad our arsenal has earned your approval. Elias will be pleased, no doubt, he holds you in very high esteem, Master Luca. As do I."
Luca bowed his head modestly for a moment. "Your esteem is an honor, Majesty. And Elias deserves much credit. He is quite the innovator himself." A quiet laugh escaped him. "He joked that he looks forward to stealing all my secrets. I suspect we'll be learning from each other."
Constantine chuckled softly. "That is exactly what I hoped for, an exchange of knowledge. The more you two put your heads together, the stronger we'll be." He paused, then added in a more personal tone, "I owe you an explanation, by the way. It was my intention to meet you in Italy and travel back with you to the Morea. I regret that I could not. My journey to Rome... took longer than anticipated."
Luca lifted a hand in a gentle, dismissive gesture. "No apology necessary, Majesty. I was informed en route that urgent matters detained you in Rome. I understand completely, affairs of state wait for no man, not even emperors," he said tactfully, with a slight smile to show his good humor. "Your envoys and escort took excellent care of us. We had a smooth voyage, and arriving a few days ahead gave me time to become familiar with Glarentza."
Constantine nodded, relieved that Luca took no offense. Still, he frowned slightly at the memory of how his plans had been waylaid. Affairs of state, indeed, dancing a delicate minuet of promises with the Pope and the Venetians. Necessary, but trying. He let that thought pass. "I'm glad to hear it. I would have preferred to greet you myself, but at least now we have the chance to speak properly." He leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. "I'm eager to see your plans put into action, Master Luca. Elias tells me you have been sketching out the design for the new furnace and refining forge already."
"Yes," Luca confirmed. He straightened his posture even more, as if the mention of his work banished any lingering timidity. "I have my preliminary designs nearly complete. I spent the last few days surveying sites near the existing forge complex. There is a low-lying area just east of the arsenal where the stream runs, a perfect spot to harness water power for bellows. The ground is stable there, and it's close enough to the current smithies to be convenient, but far enough that we can build safely around it."
As he spoke, he gestured in the air, tracing the geography with his hand. Constantine could almost see the map in the craftsman's mind.
"I believe that is the ideal location for the blast furnaces. And close to it, the finery forge building to refine the pig iron into steel. If all goes well, we could begin laying foundations immediately."
Constantine felt a rising impatience, not at Luca, but at the slow crawl of time. His fingers drummed once on the arm of his chair. "Excellent. And once begun, how long until these new furnaces are operational? Elias mentioned 'a few months', but I wonder if we can hasten that."
Luca pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Under normal conditions, with a modest crew, I would estimate perhaps four months to build a proper blast furnace structure, install the waterwheel and bellows, and prepare the finery forge. That's with careful construction, one must not rush the curing of the furnace lining, for example, or it could crack under heat." He looked up to gauge the Emperor's reaction.
Constantine's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Four months. He met Luca's gaze with steady determination. "And if we were to put all resources at your disposal?" he asked. "Extra labor, extra funds, whatever materials you require, brought in at speed. If I make this project a top priority for the entire city."
Luca's brows rose a fraction. He had negotiated for broad support, yes, but the reality of an Emperor's full backing was another thing to imagine. "If you can truly spare the men and coin to accelerate everything..." He rubbed his trimmed beard, thinking through the logistics aloud. "We could run multiple crews in parallel – one to gather stone and clay, one to work on the waterwheel and bellows, another preparing charcoal stockpiles. We might not have to wait as long on each step. It's... possible, perhaps, to have the furnace and forge ready to light in two months, maybe a little more, if everything goes favorably."
He spread his hands in a cautious gesture. "That would be an aggressive timetable, Majesty. But with sufficient help, it might be achieved."
Constantine's gray eyes flashed with resolve. "Then two months it shall be," he said, as if sheer will could make it so. "I will see to it that you have whatever you need. If we must divert workers from other projects, so be it. Materials, anything, you have only to name it. I want those furnaces burning as soon as humanly possible."
Luca could not doubt the Emperor's commitment; the intensity in Constantine's voice was unmistakable. Yet he felt compelled to temper expectations, ever so slightly. "We will give it our all, Your Majesty," he pledged. "My apprentices and I came prepared to work relentlessly. We can oversee construction in shifts, day and night if needed. Just one concern..." He hesitated, but the Emperor's expression remained intent, inviting him to continue. "Working too fast can lead to mistakes. We must ensure quality, a collapse or accident at the furnace could set us back far more. I'll push hard, as you ask, but I'll also keep a close eye on sound construction. I trust that is acceptable?"
Constantine regarded him for a moment, then nodded firmly. "Of course. I don't intend for haste to ruin the result. If something must take longer to be done right, you will have my understanding. I ask only that you and everyone involved waste no idle moments." His tone softened slightly. "Believe me, I wouldn't demand such speed if the need weren't great. These coming months… they may be the last quiet ones we have for a while."
At that, Luca inclined his head, acknowledging the gravity behind the Emperor's words. "I gathered as much, Sire." He ventured a careful question, curiosity getting the better of him. "You mentioned a campaign… and a Crusade. May I ask, how soon do you expect those storms to break?"
Constantine's face grew still for a moment, the sunlight catching in his eyes as they drifted past Luca, toward memory or perhaps toward a vision of looming battles. "Soon," he said quietly. "Sooner than any of us would like, perhaps. If I have my way, the Crusade will be underway in earnest by next spring. The wheels are already turning among the princes of the West." He drew a breath, as though inhaling that coming reality and steeling himself. "So you see, Master Luca, why I am so intent on equipping our armies swiftly. Each week of preparation could mean the difference between victory and defeat when the time comes."
Luca absorbed that in silence. He had heard rumors during his journey, tavern talk of a new Crusade against the Turk, of Emperor Constantine rallying support in Italy. But to have it confirmed in the Emperor's own measured words brought weight to the idea. He pictured armies forming, banners of different nations converging, the thunder of cannon... and his furnaces fueling it all, literally. It was both exhilarating and daunting. He straightened in his seat. "Then we will be ready, Majesty," he said, a note of quiet determination in his voice. "The steel you need, the weapons, the armor, we will have them ready."
Constantine allowed a more genuine smile to surface, warming the stern set of his features. "I know you will." He then placed a hand on the iron tube that lay on the table between them, the pyrvelos prototype. The metal was cool under his fingers. "Which brings me to something I've been keen to discuss with you." He lifted the weapon gently and turned it over, inspecting its craftsmanship in the light. "Here, have a look."
Luca stood to take the pyrvelos from Constantine's hands, careful and almost reverent as he accepted it. It was heavier than it looked – a good thirty pounds of bronze and oak. Luca balanced the stock against his torso and ran a smith's hand along the barrel. His fingertips traced the engraved Greek letters near the muzzle, likely a pious motto.
"Bronze core, with iron hoops for reinforcement," Constantine said, rising to stand beside Luca. He pointed to the series of dark bands encircling the length. "Elias feared that wrought iron alone might fail under a strong powder charge, so he cast the barrel from bronze and then reinforced it with these shrunk-on iron hoops for added strength."
Luca nodded absently, his focus on examining the piece. "A sensible approach," he murmured. "Bronze is less likely to shatter. The hoops compress it, giving extra support." He peered down the muzzle at the smooth bore. "The craftsmanship is indeed fine. But bronze is costly. And it must be cast, which limits how quickly we can produce more." He gently hefted the pyrvelos, feeling its weight in his arms. "A weapon like this… a small team of smiths might turn out only a handful a year. Yet I suspect you'd like many more than a handful."
Constantine's eyes gleamed. "Exactly. That's why I'm so interested in what you can help us achieve. With a blast furnace and finery forge, we'll have access to high-quality steel in quantity. I want to know if we could use that steel to improve these weapons." He rested a hand on the barrel, next to Luca's. "Can we forge pyrvelos tubes from steel instead of bronze? And," his voice took on an eager edge, "could we standardize their design, so we might produce them en masse, as uniformly as possible?"
Luca looked up from the firearm into the Emperor's face, momentarily struck by the fervor he saw there. The midday light slanted between them, illuminating the fine lines of strain and ambition on Constantine's brow. This was not a mere idle question; the Emperor was envisioning an armory of these weapons, ranks of soldiers armed with fire-tubes. Luca realized with a start that Constantine might have even more than a craftsman's grasp of the details.
A slow grin spread across Luca's face, the guardedness falling away entirely. He was both surprised and impressed. "Your Majesty," he began, unable to keep the admiration from his tone, "you think like an engineer. I did not expect such technical insight."
Constantine gave a soft laugh, a hint of self-deprecation in it. "I don't know about that. I've had good teachers, Elias, and others. And I pay attention. War has a way of educating a man in every facet of supply and weaponry, if he cares to learn." He waved a hand as if to brush aside the compliment, though clearly he was pleased that Luca recognized his interest. "But please, speak freely. What are your thoughts on using steel for the pyrvelos?"
Luca's grip on the weapon tightened subtly as he considered. He began to pace slowly, moving a step or two one way, then back, as was his habit when thinking through a problem. Constantine remained by the table, watching the craftsman with keen interest.
"Steel can improve them, absolutely," Luca said after a moment. He spoke more quickly now, enthusiasm lending speed to his words. "With good steel, we can make the barrel walls thinner and still maintain or even improve strength. That means a lighter weapon, easier for a soldier to carry and aim. Or we could keep the same weight and use a larger powder charge for greater range, though there are limits to how much one man can handle in recoil. Either way, steel offers advantages."
He set the pyrvelos back onto the table gently and, seeing the Emperor's nod of permission, unrolled a bit of parchment from a leather folio at his belt. Constantine stepped closer, standing shoulder to shoulder with Luca as they both looked down at the sketch revealed: a rough drawing of a furnace and notes on proportions. Luca flipped past that to another page, upon which a schematic of a tubular firearm was drawn. "I made some notes after seeing your weapons drill yesterday," he explained.
Constantine's eyebrows lifted in surprise and delight. "You were at the drill yesterday?"
Luca smiled slightly. "Incognito, Majesty. Elias thought it beneficial I see the pyrvelos tested, to understand its performance. We watched from the ridge by the foundry. I hope you don't mind."
"Mind? On the contrary – initiative I appreciate. I should have known Elias would have you straight to work." Constantine studied the sketch. The proportions of the barrel and stock were carefully penciled, annotated with measurements: bore diameter, length, and thickness. Luca had written notes shorthand along the margins.
"I took some measurements of one of the spent barrels," Luca went on, tapping the paper. "As a baseline. My thought was: once we have steel, we forge bars of it, then shape them into these tubes. Perhaps by welding strips around a mandrel as is done now, but using steel strips, or even by casting a cylindrical ingot of pig iron and then carefully drill through its length, little by little, until a smooth barrel emerges from within. A seamless tube."
He glanced at Constantine to see if he followed.
The Emperor nodded slowly, eyes on the drawing. "A solid piece... so essentially drilling the hole through a solid cylinder of metal to avoid any welds. That could yield a very strong barrel, if we can manage it."
"Precisely," Luca enthused.
"We'd need a new kind of drill tool, one that could carve clean through solid iron, lengthwise. A turning rod, maybe, driven by water. Not a chisel, not a hammer, but something steady, measured. I think it could be built."
Constantine crossed his arms, considering. It was a novel approach. Luca truly did bring fresh ideas. "And standardizing them?" he prompted. "If we want many identical pyrveloi, how do we ensure each is the same?"
Luca tapped a finger on the drawn barrel. "We establish a pattern, a single design with fixed dimensions: length, bore diameter, chamber size, touch-hole placement. Then we create gauges, simple measuring tools, for our smiths to use, so every barrel they produce matches that pattern. The stocks too, we can cut all to the same shape using a template. If every part is uniform, any craftsman can assemble a pyrvelos from any barrel and any stock and know it will fit together."
He smiled, excitement creeping into his usually measured voice. "In Brescia, I began implementing something similar on a smaller scale for crossbow lathes, making the metal parts interchangeable. The guild there... well, they weren't entirely receptive to changing old ways. But here, with your blessing, we could do it fully. The result would be an arsenal capable of true mass production."
Constantine found himself mirroring Luca's smile. He imagined rows of identical fire-tubes, each one a twin of the next, their steel barrels glinting, ready to arm thousands of his soldiers. The thought was immensely satisfying. "You have my full blessing," he said. "And whatever resources or manpower are needed to accomplish that, you shall have those too. If we need to construct special apparatus or import better tools, say from Italy, we will do it. Just tell me what you require."
Luca's face lit with gratitude and ambition. "I'll make a list," he promised. "Though we might improvise much with what's here. Master Elias and I already spoke of repurposing a mill wheel for a large bellows and a drilling mechanism. There's great ingenuity among your people; they simply lacked some of the materials. Once we provide those, I suspect innovation will flourish."
Constantine reached out and placed a hand on Luca's shoulder, a gesture of fellowship that made the craftsman pause in surprise before he relaxed. "That is what I like to hear. Innovation." Constantine savored the word. "It's why I sought you out, Master Luca. Not only for your skill, but for the spark of new ideas you carry. That is how we will prevail."