THE HOW | LATE NIGHT
A hard achievement given the heaviness of all hearts at this time.
If asked, any who came to the Book and Bell looking for Alyssa would be guided through the complex lantern lit catacombs till they broke into the How. A different landscape would greet them however, to the one usually filled with people preparing to hear the words of their leader. Tables were set up, some with munitions and others with guns. Or more precisely, parts of guns. Since meeting with Aodh and agreeing to build an army under the noses of the galdori, Alyssa had worked to get her hands on as many guns or gun-parts as she could. They had a man on the inside who owned a forge, and he had been quietly hammering out parts to be smuggled into the How under the guise of the Book and Bell’s weekly brewing shipment.
Of course, having guns and gun parts was only one part of the plan. The other part was teaching people how to make the guns, and of course, how to use them. The first part of that was learning how to care for them of course, because a dirty gun was an unsafe gun.
“We need to create a spark to light the gunpowder, which we put in the barrel of the gun. This spark comes the same way that we light a fire with iron and flint. So the basic needs of shooting are, flint, iron, gunpowder and space.” Alyssa said as she stood at the head of a table, with a group of men and women watching her carefully, pieces of a flintlock before her. Gesturing, blue eyes hard and brow drawn, commanding their attention.
“You can see the four parts that make this happen here. Hammer. Mainspring. Frizzen. Pan.” Gesturing to each piece as she said the name, the Wisp moved to pick up a complete pistol, pointing at the pieces again where they were connected together.
“Of course these pieces don’t move on their own, so they are connected via the tumbler, sear and sear spring, frizzen spring and mainspring. The mainspring presses here see, against the tumbler and is able to rotate the hammer. The sear engages the tumbler when the gun is cocked and holds the force of the mainspring.” She cocked the pistol slowly, with a satisfying click.
“When you pull the trigger, it pushes the sear enough to release the tumbler and allows the hammer to drive the flint forward.” She cocked the pistol slowly, with a satisfying click, lifting it to point at the ground and pull the trigger. A loud snap sounded in the high roofed room, as the unloaded pistol false fired.
“There you have it.” Alyssa said simply, putting the pistol down on the table and pushing it towards the students.
“I’ve been told each of you have some sort of engineering or smithing background. I want to see you build this,” She pointed to the gun.
“From these.” Gesturing at the parts, the assassin nodded, before turning her back on the class.
“Wisp, can you look over the plans for the eastern tunnels? We’re proposing cots to sleep some of the folks that came in from Brayde and Muffey.” An older man with burns across his chin and cheek approached her with pages of parchment, handing them to the brunette for her review. The woman took the papers, her frown permanently set on her face. Not in anger, but in constant thought. Ever since they’d started this endevour it felt like every clocking face across Anaxas had come knocking, looking to lend skills or services. And honestly, Alyssa couldn’t say no. They were all so passionate, hearing of Jon’s death—
Her heart skipped a beat at the memory, still not able to truly accept it.
But she had to, because they were depending on her.