Reborn As A Beastman With A System

Logan, understanding the gravity of the blacksmith's words, nodded solemnly. "I'll arrange for more manpower. Don't fret over the pace of equipment production; train more craftsmen methodically. If our expansion outpaces your output, we can procure what's needed from external sources."

"Yes, Chief," Bastos replied, bowing slightly.

Yet, as he turned away, a bitter smile crept across his weathered face. If they resorted to buying arms, what value would the tribe place on a blacksmith like him?

Should we return to the ways of the past and keep crafting tools for farming? Bastos found little merit in that. Were it not for his advanced age and the few years he anticipated remaining, he would have long since departed from the Silvermane tribe, seeking a place where his true worth could be recognized and harnessed.

...

manufacturing workshop!

Upon entering the bustling workshop, where over twenty werewolves were hard at work under the guidance of a middle-aged beastmen named Quinn, Logan was greeted with reverence.

"I've seen the chief!" the group exclaimed in unison, their respect palpable in the air.

"Quinn, please, there's no need for formalities. I was just passing by and decided to see how things were progressing," Logan responded with a warm smile, putting the room at ease.

"Understood, sir," Quinn acknowledged, gesturing for the other craftsmen to return to their stations.

"Uncle Quinn has truly outdone himself. The crossbow was completed so swiftly," Logan remarked, his tone filled with admiration.

"My lord, the chief, thank you. The blueprints and mechanisms were quite detailed, making it easy for any skilled hand to replicate," Quinn replied modestly, his eyes scanning the intricate parts laid out before him.

"You sell yourself short, Quinn. It's no small feat," Logan chuckled, glancing around the workshop.

"Is that the finalized version of the large crossbow over there?" Logan inquired, spotting a similar weapon in the distance.

"Actually, it's still undergoing enhancements," Quinn responded, his eyes lighting up with a craftsman's passion.

"Enhancements?" Logan echoed, his curiosity piqued as he approached the weapon. It resembled the large mounted crossbow but seemed to retain only the core framework.

"Yes, the current model is constructed directly from the plans, but it's quite large and only has a range of about five to six hundred meters," Quinn explained, his voice carrying a hint of frustration.

"It would hardly be effective in a large-scale battle. Its true utility lies as a defensive installation atop city walls," Quinn continued, laying out his vision for the weapon's strategic use.

Logan nodded in agreement, impressed. Quinn's insight into the practical application and limitations of the bed crossbow highlighted his depth of understanding and experience as a master craftsman.

"So now, I'm working on making this large mounted crossbow more compact," Quinn disclosed, his tone mixed with determination and challenge.

"That would be an excellent advancement!" Logan responded, his nod filled with approval.

Quinn sighed thoughtfully before adding, "Actually, Sir Chief, what would truly elevate our craftsmanship is enlisting a rune master."

"Rune master?" Logan echoed, intrigued by the notion.

"Do you know of any rune masters, Uncle Quinn?" he inquired, hoping for a positive response.

"Yes, but the ones I know are all humans. Unfortunately, they cannot be employed by the beastmen," Quinn explained, shaking his head in resignation.

Logan felt a twinge of frustration. Rune masters, known as the soul painters of weaponry, could imbue ordinary equipment with runes that skyrocketed their value exponentially, by tenfold or even a hundredfold.

Yet, this revered profession was rarer than that of a blacksmith or fabricator. While makers and rune masters were considered a golden combination, rune masters were as scarce as mythical creatures.

Quinn's mention of knowing many rune masters might seem like idle talk, especially given the human-only restriction. All races knew that while they had seen other species work for humans, the reverse was uncommon.

Humans were notorious for their stubborn independence and perceived superiority. They often viewed themselves as more domineering and arrogant than even the elves, who openly disdained other races, whereas humans harbored their disdain beneath a veneer of politeness.

In the harsh realities of the battlefield, human captives without value were almost invariably doomed. Thus, even if human rune masters were recruited, the alliance would be precarious at best. If Logan were to trust them, he might still find himself forced to act decisively against them to prevent betrayal.

The dilemma was clear: even with the potential benefits of employing a rune master, the risks involved made it a complex and potentially dangerous endeavor.

While Logan harbored frustrations about the scarcity of rune masters, he was contemplating a potentially transformative solution: the construction of a living profession temple dedicated to nurturing such rare talents. However, he recognized the logistical limitations within the tribe.

The current workforce was stretched thin, and such an ambitious project would require a significantly larger population base, something that was not available to his small tribe.

"Uncle Quinn, regarding the rune master, I will come up with a solution. Next time I travel to Kasros Canyon, I'll see if I can find one there," Logan declared with resolve, hoping to bridge the gap in their capabilities.

"That seems to be our best option for now," Quinn agreed, acknowledging the pragmatic approach.

Shifting the topic to another pressing issue, Logan turned back to Quinn with a curious expression. "By the way, Uncle Quinn, are you familiar with gunpowder?" he inquired.

Gunpowder, the catalyst of modern warfare and the keystone of countless battles. Logan knew that Quinn, with his extensive experience in the human world during his younger years, might hold valuable insights. Although gunpowder was unknown in their world, its components, mononitrate, disulfide, and charcoal, were not beyond possibility.

Charcoal was readily available, but the existence of saltpeter and sulfur was uncertain.

Logan had thought of gunpowder because he envisioned the use of cannons. From his understanding, modern firearms could still threaten warriors up to the sixth level, though those beyond could easily withstand small arms fire. However, the devastating impact of artillery shells remained formidable.

"Gunpowder?" Quinn echoed, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in topic.

"Yes, I'm familiar with it!" Quinn nodded, his interest piqued as he wondered about Logan's sudden interest in such a powerful yet unknown technology in their realm.

Quinn's affirmation sparked a glint of possibility in Logan's eyes, contemplating how this knowledge could revolutionize their warfare strategy, provided they could harness the mystical components that mirrored the effects of gunpowder.

"Is Uncle Quinn familiar with it's production?" Logan hesitated briefly, his eyes betraying a glimmer of hope as they fixed on Quinn, awaiting an affirmation.

Quinn, having been through similar trials, would surely have some insight. He must have witnessed such scenarios, and possibly, he could devise a plan having seen such perils firsthand.

However, Quinn's response was unequivocal. "Not really!" He shook his head resolutely, dismissing any flicker of hope.

"I recall meeting a dwarf merchant once," Quinn began, shifting the topic slightly, "and he commanded a squadron of traditional dwarf musketeers."

"But are you considering manufacturing gunpowder?" Quinn eyed Logan with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

"Indeed, I am entertaining that notion," Logan admitted without hesitation. In a world where extraordinary measures often dictated the tide of battle, the strategic use of artillery and high-yield explosives could still claim dominance, it all depended on their deployment.

Quinn listened, then advised cautiously, "Gunpowder isn't exclusively used by dwarves; goblins utilize it too. But if you're planning to establish a unit of musketeers or something similar, I'd advise against it. Gunpowder is notoriously susceptible to moisture and lacks stability. If your adversary has a water mage, your musketeers' firearms might as well be mere torches."

He continued, shaking his head, "Moreover, muskets are cumbersome, inflict minimal damage, and are notoriously ineffective at killing, especially given their limited range of less than fifty meters. From what I understand, aside from goblins who possess more advanced muskets, dwarves use their musketeer squads only as a secondary force, not as their primary military might."

Logan absorbed Quinn's words in silence. He had heard tales of the dwarf musketeers before. Their muskets were primitive, hardly more sophisticated than the ancient European flintlock guns.

Quinn clearly did not favor the idea of relying on gunpowder, and Logan felt no urge to argue or justify further.

After all, the dynamics of this world were different. With extraordinary powers at their disposal, there was less incentive to explore alternative forms of warfare.

Logan contemplated the potential of gunpowder in their world, its foundational role undeniable in the realms of research and development. "As long as people begin to explore its properties, I'm confident we can refine it further. The basic components are already listed in the market scrolls," he mused, optimism coloring his tone.

"I understand!" Logan nodded, a spark of resolve in his eyes.

"Uncle Quinn, I should be on my way then," he said, preparing to leave after their intense discussion.