Chapter 2881: Equipment (2)

"Twenty, for testing," Jiang Ye said.

"How long?" Yang Ning asked. "I need to get back to Jeju."

"Two days. Mass production would be faster—what you're asking is bespoke. Special run, no standard tooling, no machines. Two days is the floor."

"Fine." Yang Ning flushed slightly as he pulled more blueprints from his briefcase. "Brother Jiang! Could you make these as well? I'll pay for materials and labor myself."

"Oh? Private stock?" Jiang Ye took the sheets and thumbed through them. "Triangular spearhead—easy. Hmm. Armor too?"

"Right. Cavalry can't fight naked. I've designed protection for both rider and horse." Fearing an instant refusal, Yang Ning hurried on: "The General Staff meeting approved it—ask Old Yu if you don't believe me!" He turned to Yu Zhiqian.

For some reason, Yu Zhiqian caught a note of almost pitiful pleading in Yang Ning's large dark eyes. He looked away quickly. "There is indeed a testing plan for this."

Jiang Ye was unmoved. "If you're paying, make what you like. But..." He frowned. "This is far too costly."

"I'm paying..."

"Not the money. Your armor is basically plate—irregular curves everywhere. To do it quickly you'd need a press, which means molds."

The industrial men knew what molds meant. Only Yang Ning seemed lost. "I'll pay for the molds..."

"Still not the money. Molds eat time and labor. If the armor never enters mass production, or changes drastically, they're scrap. We'd have to handcraft instead, and that's a mountain of work—not finished in two or three days."

Xiao Bailang leaned over the blueprints. "Plate armor again. Your foreign-worship hasn't changed a bit."

"Plate armor offers superior protection..."

"What absurdity!"

Wang Ruixiang, seeing the debate about to ignite, stepped in. "Your manufacturing costs are too high." He took the blueprints from Xiao Bailang and studied them. "Arm guards, hand protection—too many parts, too much skilled assembly. Even to outfit our handful of cavalry you'd need a whole new line. Wasteful."

"We don't need a full line," Jiang Ye said, "but we'd need specialized armorers. We don't have them. Not impossible—just not specialist-grade."

"Where am I supposed to find a professional armorer, let alone a European one?"

"You people, always worshipping foreign things. Running-dog mentality..." Xiao Bailang's voice dripped contempt.

"This is a real trap. Arm armor has to be custom-fitted. If we expand the army, it's impractical. You can compensate with swordsmanship and covering fire." Wang Ruixiang studied the drawings. "But there are alternatives. Soft lining with steel plates, made into long gloves—easier to manufacture."

"Or just issue each man a coil of steel wire and a pair of pliers, let them knit their own chainmail sleeves..." Yang Ning, silent for a while, mustered the courage to offer his "cost-saving" idea.

"No need for that," Jiang Ye shook his head. "Small metal rings—we mass-produce them. Common hardware, high volume, cheap. The weaving is the only tricky part."

"So we could make chainmail arm guards?"

"No technical difficulty. For mass production, we wouldn't even link rings by hand. We have a wire-mesh weaving machine—just adjust the settings and it knits the mail directly."

"Damn. That advanced?"

"Hardly advanced—early twentieth-century at best." Jiang Ye knew that people ignorant of machinery assumed everything was crude and brutish. "Once we lock in a mass-production order, I'll have someone calibrate it."

The group kept offering revisions, most from a mass-production angle, a few from protection. The old trade-off between weight and protection remained as stubborn as ever.

The final design settled on a lightweight brimmed helmet with steel cheek plates flanking the chin strap; an openwork cross-cage face guard in place of a solid visor, stiffening the helmet without blinding the wearer; French-style cuirassier chest and back plates with reinforced shoulders; hinged clamshell arm guards; and for the horse, a face guard and chest piece. On the blueprints the whole suit looked magnificent.

Jiang Ye scribbled notes on the drawings. "I'll arrange prototypes right away. Two sets—one for the archive, one for testing."

"How long?"

"One week. No less."

"Today's Tuesday," Yu Zhiqian said. "Next Tuesday, then, at the Maniao firing range."

One week later the same group gathered at the Maniao Fort Army Firing Range. On the racks stood two sets of cavalry armor fresh from the workshop, twenty sabers, and two cavalry lances.

Everyone's gaze went first to the two suits of armor, still rough with metal burrs. Senators from the General Staff and the project team, along with every other onlooker, crowded around the cross-shaped racks, pointing and inspecting.

"Not bad—just a bit rough outside," Wang Ruixiang said.

"Only polished, not buffed," Jiang Ye explained. "Details are crude. Mass production will look much better."

"Where's Xiao Yang?" Yu Zhiqian suddenly noticed the main attraction was missing.

"The Chief went to Shop No. 82 to collect the new uniforms—he'll be here soon!" the orderly reported.

"He could have sent someone..."

"Here he comes, here he comes!" someone shouted. Every head turned toward the edge of the range, where a resplendent figure had appeared on the horizon—Yang Ning.

He wore white tight-legged trousers, black tall riding boots with golden spurs, a green short jacket with brass buttons and a gold collar, pale yellow leather gloves with turned cuffs, and a Minerva-style helmet crowned with a horsehair plume. A white cross-body belt carried a finely crafted Shikili curved saber he had bought through Quakeqiong.

A ripple of surprise passed through the crowd. The uniform was too dazzling; even the uniform enthusiasts of the Young Officers' Club had never worn anything so flamboyant.

Xiao Bailang curled his lip. "Is he performing in an opera?"

Yang Ning ignored every stare and walked over with the gliding gait of a man who had spent his life dancing across marble palace floors.

"I say... big shot, what on earth are you wearing?" Wang Ruixiang reached out and felt the woolen short jacket.

"I designed it myself—after the Napoleonic Guard Dragoon. Handsome, isn't it?" Yang Ning struck a series of poses, puffing up like a proud rooster.

Xiao Bailang spat. "Handsome my ass—you look like a hotel doorman!"

Yang Ning, utterly unbothered, rose on his toes, pirouetted half around, struck a pose with chin lifted high like a Kremlin Palace Guard, and assumed an expression of supreme indifference, as if the onlookers were no more than scented vapor.

"Splendid, yes, but it can't be worn in battle—one skirmish and it's ruined." Yu Zhiqian was baffled. "And the cost..."

"It's really not that serious. During the Napoleonic Wars, no country went bankrupt buying uniforms." Yang Ning's words carried a pointed jab at the Senate's penny-pinching.

"True—uniforms are a minor expense compared to weapons and equipment." On this, the Senators were unusually unanimous.

Yang Ning took a brand-new saber from the rack, drew it with a ringing "shing," held it up, and shook it. "Looks like a fine blade. How does it perform?"

"This is the static strength test report," Jiang Ye said, producing a document.

"Brother, I can't read that stuff." Yang Ning waved it off. "Just tell me the results."

"Excellent. Flexural rigidity, edge impact resistance and retention, guard structural strength—outstanding across the board. But that's expected. Our steel and heat treatment are top-notch; a good blade is inevitable." Jiang Ye looked pleased.

"Come on, let's try it!" Wang Ruixiang also drew one of the pre-production sabers. "Bring the steel plates."

The two men hacked viciously at the steel plates before them, then bent the blades, inspecting them closely.

"That amateur stuff proves nothing," Jiang Ye laughed. "At the factory we used a five-kilogram drop hammer driving an HRC45 standard hardened steel wedge at four meters per second, simulating a slash, striking the same edge zone fifteen times in a row."

Yang Ning did not follow the details, but he grasped that the testing was rigorous and the blade well made.

"So quality is guaranteed. How does it handle in practice?" Bai Yu turned another saber over in his hands. "Xiao Ning, want to test it mounted?"

"Just what I was thinking! Are the targets ready?"

"Ready! Per your orders: two unarmored dummies, two cloth-faced iron-armored dummies, two cotton-armored dummies." The range officer reported immediately.

"Good." Yang Ning said. "Bring me my horse!"

A fully caparisoned mare was led forward. For this test Yang Ning had chosen a three-year-old from the Gaoshanling stud farm after returning to Lingao. Though a Mongol horse, she stood nearly fourteen hands at the shoulder—tall and imposing, just as he preferred. Since selecting her, he had visited the farm daily to ride and exercise her. A cavalryman had to achieve unity with his mount before weapons could mean anything from the saddle.