The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 103 Good Brothers in My Heart

The Royal Workshop is located in a heavily guarded area of ​​Golden Horn Bay, next to the Armory, where the air is filled with the mixed scents of metal, leather, and wood.

The craftsmen were busy forging and repairing various types of military equipment. Cantorstefanos personally accompanied Lyon on the tour and summoned several veteran craftsmen in charge of cavalry equipment.

Lyon repeated to the craftsmen exactly what he had told Cantostefanos, pointing to the blueprints.

An elderly craftsman with white hair and eyebrows stared at the sketch and pondered, "Your Highness's suggestion... is indeed ingenious. In this way, the burden on the horse's neck will be greatly reduced, and turning will be much easier. However, the connection between the breastband and the saddle must be extremely strong, requiring very high levels of leather toughness and stitching craftsmanship, otherwise there is a risk of it breaking during a charge."

"The master craftsman's concerns are very valid." Lyon nodded. "Therefore, could we consider using double layers of cowhide at the joint, reinforced with brass rivets, instead of simply stitching it together? Perhaps we could give it a try."

Then, he pointed to a craftsman polishing an iron plate: "And the weaving of this scale armor, if the joints could be made to have a cross-weave pattern instead of being predominantly vertical, like chainmail, wouldn't that allow soldiers more freedom of movement in their arms while maintaining protection?"

Occasionally, his words would contain phrases that the old craftsmen seemed to understand but also found inexplicably insightful.

The craftsmen were initially skeptical of the child's instructions, but as they listened, they became more focused and even began to discuss and gesture in hushed tones.

Cantorstefanos stood to the side, arms crossed, observing silently.

He wondered to himself, "Could there really be geniuses in this world?"

Just as the atmosphere in the workshop was lively, and Cantostefanos was about to ask Lyon for further information about his idea regarding the coordination of infantry formations and crossbows, a servant hurried over and whispered a few words in his ear, seemingly indicating that there was urgent military business that required his immediate attention.

He explained to Lyon with a slight apology, "I am very busy and must leave for a moment. I will return as soon as I am done. Please feel free to look around, Your Highness."

Having said that, Cantorstefanos quickly left the workshop with his attendants.

For a time, only Lyon, a few craftsmen, and a handful of attendants remained in the workshop. However, shortly after Cantorstefanos left, an unexpected figure quietly appeared at the workshop entrance.

Alexius changed out of his elaborate formal attire, wearing only a simple purple-trimmed casual robe. He waved to the terrified, kneeling craftsmen, indicating that they need not stand on ceremony, and fixed his gaze directly on Lyon.

Leon lowered his voice, surprised, and said, "Alexius? What are you doing...?"

Alexius made a shushing gesture and whispered, "Shh, come with me."

Leon followed Alexius into the narrow passage at the back of the workshop, which was filled with unfinished shields.

At the end of a corridor covered with animal hides and filled with the smells of saltpeter and grease, Captain Roy and old Joseph were already waiting.

The two men bowed respectfully to Lyon, their expressions complex.

"You're being so mysterious, Alexius. What are you up to?"

Alexius didn't answer directly. Instead, he stopped, turned around, and punched Leon hard in the shoulder, angrily saying, "You, Leon! You faked being sick so convincingly! I really thought you were going to die soon. I always gave in to you, saved the best food for you, and even gave you the best ferret pelts I hunted! You've really lost out!"

Lyon rubbed his shoulder, grinned, and immediately retorted, "Come on! Who was it when you were a kid climbing a tree to steal a bird's nest and couldn't get down, screaming 'Lyon, save me!' from the top? And who was it before being crowned co-emperor, so nervous that they hid in my room and refused to come out? Need me to help you remember, Your Excellency Basilius?"

Alexius's face flushed red: "You're being stubborn, aren't you?"

Lyon retorted confidently, "So what? You're just being stubborn."

"Oh? Is that so?" Alexius, with a smug look on his face, said with obvious remorse, "Alas, I was thinking of giving you the blueprints and materials for Greek fire as a gift, but it seems I've wasted my time..."

Greek fire?!

Leon hugged Alexius tightly, his expression earnest, almost with tears welling up in his eyes: "What else is there to say, Alexius? You know, I admire your magnanimity and character the most..."

Roy and old Joseph turned away in unison, not daring to look at the scene. If they had known this would happen, they wouldn't have insisted on coming along.

Alexius enjoyed a few seconds of Leon's adoration before lowering his voice, as if sharing a most precious secret: "This is the Empire's biggest secret; even Marshal Cantostefanos might not get a glimpse of it..."

Led by Alexius, they passed through a more secluded passage, requiring Roy to turn a mechanism hidden behind a wall lamp.

A stone door slid open slowly, revealing a downward stone staircase. A pungent odor, a mixture of sulfur, saltpeter, and some kind of peculiar oil, wafted out. Unlike the heat of the workshop, the air grew cooler and more damp as you went down.

At the end of the stairs was a huge underground warehouse.

The place was heavily guarded, and the torches stuck in the walls cast flickering shadows on the wooden barrels and pottery jars piled with various raw materials.

Some carefully selected royal artisans were busy here, silent and focused, as if they were handling not raw materials, but thunder itself.

Like a child showing off his treasures, Alexius led Lyon to an area where different raw material barrels were arranged in categories.

"Look," he said, pointing to a bucket of black, slightly oily powder, "this is rock salt (saltpeter) that was secretly collected in the Grand Palace, and flint (sulfur) that was transported from the north."

He then pointed to some sealed earthenware jars, saying, "The most crucial thing is this live oil, which comes from specific oil wells on the western coast of the Black Sea. Oil from other places doesn't have the same effect."

He picked up a pre-made Greek terracotta pot, about the size of a human head, its opening sealed tightly with wax and oilcloth. "Inside is a specially prepared secret oil. Throw it forcefully, the pot shatters, the oil spills out... and then, you'll see, a sea of ​​fire can ignite on the water."

Lyon carefully examined this terrifying invention, marveling at its ingenious design, while a thought flashed through his mind—if only the combustion efficiency and injection method could be controlled…

The scene is too beautiful to imagine!

Alexius magically produced a scroll, shoved it into Leon's arms, and said in a slightly apologetic voice, "The blueprints are a closely guarded secret. There's only one original copy, left to me by my father, and it can't be given away. So... I secretly copied it myself, and it might be a little ugly..."

Alexius grinned and said, "But I think someone as clever as you should have no problem deciphering my scribblings, right?"

Lyon accepted the blueprints, a gift imbued with profound sentiment, and a warm feeling welled up inside him.

"My good brother, I will always remember your kindness; words cannot express my gratitude!"

Returning to the surface workshop from the underground secret warehouse, the afternoon sun was a bit too bright.

Lyon carefully tucked the precious blueprints into the lining, already planning to quickly bring them back to Jerusalem, modify them, and install them on the kingdom's warships.

He had just regained his composure when he saw Marshal Cantostefanos reappear at the workshop entrance.

"I apologize for keeping Your Highness waiting." The marshal's tone returned to its usual composure, but there was obvious anger between his brows.

"Your Excellency Marshal, you've had a long journey," Lyon said with feigned concern. "What urgent matter requires your personal attention?"

Cantorstefanos snorted coldly, clearly still furious: "Hmph, it's all because of those despicable Venetians! Especially that blind old geezer, who dared to take advantage of this celebration to incite the Latin community in the city, openly pressuring us under the guise of 'fraternal ties,' demanding the unconditional pardon and release of all Venetian soldiers captured in the Battle of Antalya, even including those mercenary captains whose hands are stained with the blood of our soldiers! It's outrageous!"

"A blind old geezer?" Leon pondered, this feature seemed somewhat familiar.

"Yes, that blind old consul at the Venetian embassy in Constantinople—what's his Latin name again?" Cantostefanos said coldly, a look of disgust on his face. "Ha, I'm so used to that nickname that I've forgotten his Latin surname..."

"It sounds like his name—" Kantostefanos finally remembered, "Enrico Dandolo!"