"It arrived while you were at the docks arguing with Ardashir..."
"What did Sven say?" Ragnar asked.
"He has been tracking the movements of the Frankish royal court," Gyda explained, her breath turning to white mist in the air. "Ragnar... Sven just said that the Frankish scholars made the first musket."
Ragnar stood frozen on the stone path. For a second, he thought he had misheard her over the distant rumbling of the city's factories.
"A musket?" Ragnar repeated, "Are you sure? A metal tube? Using the black powder?"
"Sven saw it with his own eyes, Ragnar," Gyda nodded quickly, "He bribed one of the Frankish blacksmiths. They blew a hole through a solid oak target from fifty paces away... they have fire-weapons now."
"Damnit!" Ragnar hissed violently, slamming his fist against a nearby stone pillar.
The sharp pain completely grounded him.
He had always known that the secret of gunpowder would eventually leak... he had accepted that fact.
