Chapter 408 - 393: Mounting Rack (2)

Chapter 408: Chapter 393: Mounting Rack (2)

"Master, this is the third prototype already," a young apprentice said, dejected. "We used the finest brass and even added lubricant. But in the wind tunnel, as soon as the wind speed exceeds eighty kilometers per hour, the airflow pins the latch shut. The spring just won’t release..."

"It’s not your fault, my boy." Valerius took off his glasses, wiping his hands on a rag. "It’s that our understanding of high-altitude environments isn’t deep enough. His Lordship wants a rack that can be mounted under the belly of ’that thing.’ The requirements are simple: pull a cord, the canister drops, the fuse is armed. I have to admit, the world’s fundamental principles often manifest in the simplest of things. We’re the ones who’ve made it complicated."

He shook his head, his salt-and-pepper hair a tangled mess. He looked more like a friendly neighborhood grandpa than the Chief Alchemist.

"But, Master..." The apprentice clutched his hair in frustration. "At such high speeds, we also have to guarantee it won’t release by accident..."

"Well, if it’s a problem with friction, then we just need to..."

Valerius turned and saw Anton and his group standing somewhat timidly in the doorway. The old man’s eyes lit up. He waved, completely without airs, a warm smile spreading across his face.

The dozen or so craftsmen were clearly split into two groups. One was blacksmiths—burly, bronze-skinned men who carried the perpetual scent of smoke and the forge. The other was carpenters, with ink lines and squares tucked into their belts and sawdust packed under their fingernails. They all looked a bit intimidated as they stared at the legendary Master Alchemist before them.

"Come, gentlemen. You are all experienced masters of your craft. Let me tell you about the problem we’re facing." Valerius pointed to the massive metal rack and the discarded schematics scattered beside it, his expression turning serious. "We need this mechanism to have an extremely high load-bearing capacity, while also withstanding the high-salinity air and dusty conditions of the port. In our previous designs, the pursuit of precision made the structure too complex. The result was either the gear teeth would rust and seize, or the drivetrain would shatter when sand got into it."

After laying out the requirements, the old man spread his hands. "So, lend this old man your wisdom. Is there any hope for this stubborn hunk of iron?"

The craftsmen listened intently. As the discussion turned to technical challenges, the initial tension in the air began to fade. When it came to craftsmanship, they were in their element.

Peter, a blacksmith by trade and bolder than the rest, stepped forward to examine the metal rack, running his hand over the teeth of the gears.

"Master, if the goal is just durability..." Peter said, pointing to the complex gear trains, "isn’t this structure a bit too ’delicate’? With this many points of contact, all it takes is one grain of sand or a spot of rust, and the whole thing will seize up."

He glanced at his fellow carpenters, and an idea struck him. "Since we have the best woodworkers here with us, what if... we replace these fine gears with oiled hardwood rails? That way, a little sand won’t affect its operation, and if a rail breaks, it’ll be easy to replace."

Valerius listened intently, nodding and then shaking his head. He explained patiently, "Rails are a good line of thought, and we did try them. But we have a low-temperature problem at high altitude. The lubricant on the rails congeals, and then the bomb is practically welded to the rack. Any other ideas?"

Encouraged, the craftsmen all started chiming in with suggestions. Valerius maintained a smile throughout, analyzing the feasibility of each idea. And though he ultimately rejected them all, the collaborative atmosphere of the discussion put everyone at ease.

Only Anton remained silent.

He stood at the edge of the group, his gaze not on the complex metal rack, but on a rough sketch on a nearby blackboard.

It was a stress analysis diagram. Though roughly sketched, its arrows and lines clearly indicated the direction of the airflow and the vibration frequency of the payload during high-speed movement.

Anton’s gaze shifted back to the prized metal rack. The problem was obvious: to counteract the wind resistance and vibration, the designer had added too many anchor points, making the structure too rigid. ’It’s like hooping a barrel—if you hammer the iron hoops on too tight, the staves have no room to breathe. When they expand and contract with the heat and cold, they’ll crack.’

"Why does it have to be metal?"

Anton’s voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the discussion, sounding somewhat abrupt.

The room fell silent. Valerius turned, looking at the unremarkable middle-aged man with curiosity. His eyes were filled with both inquiry and encouragement.

"My friend, what was it you just said?"

Anton felt his throat go dry, but seeing the old man’s kind eyes, he mustered his courage, stepped forward, and pointed at the metal rack.

"Master, metal is too rigid. It tries too hard to fight the wind. In an environment like that, at high altitude, the more rigid something is, the more likely it is to fail. It doesn’t know how to ’yield.’"

"’Yield’?" Valerius’s eyes widened slightly, as if he’d just grasped a key piece of inspiration. "An interesting choice of words... Please, continue."

"I’m a cooper," Anton said, walking to the table. He picked up a discarded strip of oak and bent it gently in his hands. "Wood has elasticity. It can absorb vibration, and it can flex when a force is applied. As long as the grain is aligned with the stress, it’s more compliant than metal."

A few whispers rippled through the crowd.

’Using wood for a weapon rack? That’s a bit of a joke, isn’t it...’ Peter muttered under his breath.

But Valerius raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. He walked over to Anton, looking at the oak strip in the man’s hands like an eager student.