The clank of metal on metal filled the workshop carriage, each sound a testament to the meticulous work at hand. Len, with a steady grip, cut through a thick pipe using his utility knife. The air was thick with the scent of oil and heated metal.

  Engineers and enchanters focused on their projects.

  Gretchen, across from him, meticulously carved runes into the side of a pipe, her face a picture of concentration. Her fingers danced over the metal, each movement precise and confident. When she was focused, her usual scatterbrained demeanor replaced by an almost machine-like precision.

  Beside her, Peter worked on the buttstock for the shoulder cannon, using enchanted tools to shape and refine the wood. His brow was furrowed in thought, but his hands were steady.

  He lifted his chisel, checked his work and pushed the buttstock to the pile next to him and picked up the next buttstock that had been shaped by the man next to him.

  The carriage had been turned into a weapons factory—pipe, metal and wood was drawn from the back of the carriage, shaped roughly, then finer detail needed as it moved through stations before those components were assembled together.

  Harold was carving out force enchantments. They were highly math focused to get them right and he was sunk deep into them.

  The engineers, spread out among the others, handled the intricate mechanical parts. One was crafting gears, another the trap doors and locking mechanisms.

  There were several carving out enchantments too, following the blueprints they'd been given.

  Others were working with the extruders that would be attached to the spitter and the others making the larger rounds for the shoulder cannon.

  Len, overseeing the whole operation, felt a surge of pride. Here, in the confines of this mobile workshop, they were not just building weapons; they were forging tools for a new era, tools that would change how battles were fought. He nodded in approval as he watched each piece of the puzzle come together, the camaraderie of their work clear in the shared nods and quiet exchanges.

  They were close to completing the prototypes, and Len could almost feel the power these weapons would hold. But for now, he focused on the task at hand, ensuring every cut, every carve, every assembly was done with precision and care.

  He carved a round blank of steel with an enchantment that would spin it. He took a modified gear heating it slightly to expand the metal before he put it over the enchanted piece of cylindrical steel stock. He cooled it, the gear clamping down on the steel stock.

  He put that into the enclosure which would be fed through the front, pushing the rounds into the gear's teeth that would rotate and feed them into the weapon's barrel.

  Len's sound transmission device went off, he picked it up. Rick's voice cut through the din of the workshop, his tone one of urgency mixed with excitement. "Len, we've hit iron!"

  "Damn!" Len got up and looked around.

  "We've got this," Sam told him.

  "Thanks," He weaved through the stations and out of the carriage, heading forward over the train.

  With a few lessons they're getting to the point where they don't need me to show them how to do things, they're doing it all on their own.

  Maybe Rick had been right, teaching a few people was a good way to stop everyone being reliant on him.

  And free to go dungeoneering.

  Len clambered forward, slowing and moving quietly through the cargo cars filled with those sleeping.

  He reached the engine. "Rick says he found iron and coal!" He yelled to his father manning the engine.

  "Great news!" His father yelled after him as he moved up the catwalks on either side of the boiler, rock blocks passing him on their path around the train.

  The smell hit him first, the tang of steel that covered the tongue and caught in the throat. The dusty nature of the coal.

  Rick was already there, standing with Wilbur, both of them looking down at the specialized extruders where chunks of coal and iron ore rolled out in an uneven stream. Len caught the tail end of the conversation as they shifted around to accommodate him.

  "We can create new extruders to separate the carbon from the iron," Rick suggested. "Turn it into steel!"

  Len examined the flowing resources, the dark chunks of coal stark against the silvery-grey of the fresh iron ore.

  "How we do that?" Wilbur asked his calloused hands stained with coal.

  "I'll have to give you a symbol for carbon, but we pass it through another extruder like this but with one for steel and one for carbon," Len said.

  Rick stepped back, his eyes gleaming with the possibilities. "I'm gonna go organize a team to alter the tunnel. We'll lay down preparations for a full mining operation later."

  Len nodded, understanding the importance of what they had just uncovered. He dug into his pocket for his notepad, the leather-bound book worn and stained with countless ideas and sketches. He quickly scrawled down the symbol for carbon, along with notes on how to separate it from iron, and handed it over to Wilbur. "Here's what you'll need," Len yelled over the noise of all happening around them.

  Wilbur raised the piece of paper in thanks, his thumb staining the paper as he read it.

  Len slipped the notepad away and squatted down, grabbing two large chunks of iron.

  He turned away, heading back to the workshop. Well now we got a lot more material to work with.

  ***

  The spitter gun was ugly - there was no other word for it. Two pipes ran parallel, the top one sporting a crude hole and post sight. The round extractor was nothing more than a box welded to the second tube, feeding into the first through another connecting box. But what it lacked in beauty it made up for in function. Enchantments crawled up the length of the barrel, each symbol precisely carved despite their crude housing.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Len turned it over in his hands, checking the welds one final time. The weapon was simple, effective, and - most importantly - reproducible. They could crank these out quickly now that they had the iron supply.

  Not pretty, but it'll do the job, Len thought as he set the finished spitter in the rack with the others. He reached for another set of components, ready to assemble the next one but not finding any more.

  "Simmons and his lot are waiting for you," Sam called form across the workshop.

  "Ah, thanks," Len grabbed container that held the dozen or so spitters. He opened his leg pockets and threw in magazines and blanks. Before he grabbed a full ammo box half filled with magazines and half with blanks.

  Rounds fell into storage crates, the fist sized shoulder cannon versions to the pinky rail spitter rounds. Each gathering mana into their deadly enchantments.

  Full boxes were drawn out and handed to others who checked the rounds before sending them to the different positions Simmons had set up for his soldiers across the train.

  Half of the team that had been in the carriage had other jobs now they had iron to work with. Carriages were being reinforced and defenses created.

  Wilbur had taken charge of recreating the steel rail extruder. His team had already set up the base framework, but they were adding new enchantments to improve on the original Goran design.

  Len made his way through the last carriage where people were hanging out. The rhythmic clatter of the tracks below provided a constant backdrop to mumbled conversation and a game of cards going on.

  At the rear of the train, he stepped out onto the platforms. What had been simple stone was being converted to steel and defensive positions added.

  Pickers stood at intervals, grabbing coal and steel blocks from the rollers before they reached the rear extruder. Their hands moved with practiced efficiency, sorting materials without breaking the rhythm of the conveyor system.

  Len moved to the side to make room for a man carrying a block of steel over his shoulder. He nodded in thanks, continuing on his trip back up the train for one of the new ongoing projects.

  Arrow slits and firing ports were cut at strategic heights, allowing defenders to engage threats from multiple angles while maintaining cover. The reinforced walls would provide far better protection than the wood from before.

  What had started as a simple stone-moving operation had evolved into a mobile foundry and armory.

  Still got a bit to go before its a battle train.

  Len grinned to himself but it was a tired thing, sleep had been short naps, something needing his attention nearly constantly.

  A warm bath and a bed that isn't a bunch of packs would be nice.

  Len hopped down from the back of the train, his boots crunching on loose stone. The sudden stillness felt strange after days of constant motion. he put the boxes down on the last platform.

  Simmons and the squad leaders walked over to where he was.

  "Len," Simmons nodded.

  "How's it going Simmons?" Len asked.

  "Troops are tired, not getting much sleep in here, though they've got food water and work. Few more days we'll have to change things but for now they're okay." Simmons said.

  Some of the tension that Len had felt earlier had fallen away.

  Len pulled out the last spitter he'd finished.

  "You got the briefing on the spitter?" Len held up the gun.

  "We got it on the shoulder cannon but not on the spitter yet."

  "Well I'll do my best," Len said, moving after the train a bit to make sure it didn't get too far ahead and the extruder at the rear get too close.

  "Round up the troops," Simmons said to the squad leaders.

  They moved away and tapped their heads as they spotted their troops.

  Len waited for about two squads worth to gather, the others asleep or working.

  Len cast a spell, removing noise from the space around him.

  He saw the tension bleed out of the troops.

  "Little better when we can hear one another. Going to be moving and talking so we don't become part of the tunnel," Len said with a grin.

  "So this ugly bastard," Len held up the weapon. "Is a spitter. Two ways to feed this. First, the magazine." He pulled one out from his leg pocket and tapped it against the magwell under the second barrel.

  "Slot it into the magwell, it will feed enchanted bullets into the secondary pipe here and into the gears in this second box back here," He tapped the pieces as he went. "Three bullets will get fed into the gear mechanism before one gets fed into the barrel."

  "So it'll take a bit of time for that first bullet," Len tilted the weapon to show the pistol grip.

  "This here is a trigger," He looked at everyone. "Surprise."

  There were a few chuckles.

  "You hold the trigger, and the gear system will keep feeding bullets until you either let go or run out. Each bullet carries a force transmission enchantment - when it hits, all the kinetic energy and mana releases outward in a blast. It goes boom." Got a button here that will allow you to pull the magazine out, like the magazine catch you've got infront of your triggers on your standard rifle."

  He put the magazine back into his leg pocket with several others and pulled out a steel blank a little thicker than the magazine. "Second method's directly with steel. Put the blank in the magwell—" He put the metal parallel but not inside the magwell. "It'll convert the steel into basic bullets. These won't have the force enchantment, but they'll still put holes in things."

  The blank slowly disappeared as the weapon consumed it. "When it runs dry, just feed another blank. The magwell's enchanted to hold them tight, so they won't fall out while you're moving."

  A soldier raised his hand. "Sir, how many bullets does it make from one blank?"

  "Depends on the size of your blank," Len replied. "This one's good for about ninety bullets I'd guess. the blank will literally be consumed so you'll start to feel it get smaller. When you put another blank against the one in the magwell, it'll get fused to the first and start getting fed up into the gun."

  "Few more features, this thing here" Len pointed to a button at the rear of the gear box.

  "You press this and it'll push out the three rounds that are in the gear, if its not firing, doing that to clear a stoppage. Also lets you unload without having to keep shooting."

  "This right here," He moved a catch forward next to the button.

  "It goes into the gear to stop it from rotating, its your safety. Sling loops will work with your issued slings." He tapped those too.

  He passed the spitter to Simmons, watching as the man tested its weight and balance. The others crowded closer, eager for their turn with the new weapon.

  Both Len and Simmons' sound transmission devices activated simultaneously. Rick's voice cut through, tight with urgency. "We've hit water!"

  Len's stomach dropped as he turned and started sprinting toward the front of the train, his boots pounding against steel and stone.

  He stopped his noise cancellation spell, the sudden rush of sound hitting him like a physical force.

  The familiar mechanical clanking of the train was drowned out by shouting from ahead. Orders being barked, the scrape of equipment being moved, and underneath it all - the distinct sound of rushing water.

  Len vaulted over a pile of steel ingots, narrowly avoiding a worker carrying materials. He jumped from car to car, pushing off of the ceiling.

  Please don't be flooding, please don't be flooding, The mantra repeated in his head as he charged forward. They were too deep underground for this to be a simple spring or stream. If they'd breached an underground river or lake...

  The shouting grew louder as he reached the forward sections. He could hear his father's voice among them now, calling for equipment to be moved higher.

  Len landed atop the boiler and kept running hearing the spray of water going through a small space and Rick swearing.