The Fontaine Ramparts
The sea breeze of Fontaine carried a briny tang, lapping at the stone steps of the harbor, yet it could not dispel the haze hanging over the water city. Guards on the city walls changed shifts three times more frequently than usual, each hand resting on the hilt of a sword or a musket, their gazes sweeping across the glistening sea toward the mist-shrouded valley to the northwest—Oceanid Valley.
Three days prior, news brought back by scouts had struck the Fontaine Council Chamber like a boulder: Yuan Shao's forces had erected camps and ramparts in Oceanid Valley, thirty thousand elite troops arrayed at the valley mouth, with various catapults and crossbow carts being calibrated to aim at Fontaine. For the first time, the nation famed for its art and machinery felt the bitter chill of war.
"Oceanid Valley is merely fifty li from Fontaine's main city—cavalry can reach it in half a day." Justice Furina tapped her knuckles against the map, where Oceanid Valley was circled three times in cinnabar. "Our city defenses can hold off pirates, but against Yuan Shao's heavy infantry phalanxes and siege engines, we won't last seven days."
Silence lingered in the council chamber for the time it takes to burn half a cup of tea, until a messenger burst in with a secret letter from Natlan. The Natlan Council had decided to dispatch their Chief Military Engineer, Shinobu, to Fontaine with the latest defensive plans.
Three days later, a clipper emblazoned with Natlan's black iron emblem cut through the morning mist and docked at Fontaine's port. No sooner had the gangplank been lowered than a figure wrapped in a dark brown leather coat leaped ashore. Shinobu's boots pressed into the damp planks, splashing water onto her trouser cuffs, but she paid it no mind. Her eyes, set behind copper-rimmed goggles, already scanned the crenellations of the walls and the sluice gates of the waterways.
"Far too many defensive blind spots." She pulled a roll of blueprints from her pack and spread them on a hastily erected command platform, her finger stabbing the middle section of the wall. "The watchtowers here are spaced over eighty paces apart—heavy infantry can set up ladders unhindered. As for the waterway entrances, the gate mechanisms are overly intricate and cannot withstand ram attacks. In Natlan's mines, even three-year-old children know that defense values 'rugged simplicity over clever fragility.'"
The Fontaine engineers exchanged glances, but none refuted her. The woman from Natlan exuded the scent of gunpowder and sulfur. A scar from a gunpowder burn marked her forearm, peeking out from her sleeve—a medal more formidable than any credential.
"First step: retrofit the watchtowers." Shinobu drew dense lines across the blueprints with a pencil. "Add two stories to the existing ones, with three firing slits per level and winch-operated elevators on the inner sides. The Natlan craftsmen I've brought will teach you to reinforce the tower foundations with cast iron, ensuring they withstand catapult fire."
Her voice rose sharply as she gestured to the tidal flats beyond the walls. "And there—dig three trenches. The first shall be filled with water, the second with sharpened stakes, and the third…" She paused, a cold smile tugging at her lips. "…with gunpowder barrels, their fuses connected to triggers inside the walls."
Over the next ten days, Fontaine turned into one vast construction site. Forges brought by Natlan artisans burned day and night, pouring scarlet molten iron into molds that cooled into barbed trench covers. Under Shinobu's guidance, Fontaine's mechanics dismantled idle gears and clockwork springs from the city, refitting them into watchtower elevators. Shinobu barely slept; her coat was dusted with iron filings and mud, yet her eyes behind the goggles blazed with unwavering intensity.
On the seventh day, scouts reported again: Yuan Shao's vanguard cavalry had emerged at the edge of Oceanid Valley, seemingly scouting routes.
"We're running out of time." Shinobu stared at the red circle on the map and slammed her fist on the table. "The anti-air cannons must be deployed early!"
The anti-air cannons were Natlan's secret weapon, designed personally by Shinobu. Each barrel measured three zhang in length, capable of firing at a forty-five-degree angle. Loaded with powerful gunpowder, the shells detonated mid-air, unleashing a wide-reaching barrage of fire. Yet assembly was extraordinarily complex—calibrating the trajectory alone required three seasoned craftsmen working in tandem.
"Dismantle the westernmost bell tower." Shinobu pointed to a marker on the map. "It has the highest elevation, with a view covering the entire plain toward Oceanid Valley."
Fontaine's residents initially opposed demolishing the bell tower—it was one of the city's most iconic landmarks. But when Shinobu had her artisans demonstrate the cannon's power, a single shell blasting a ten-zhang-wide crater in the wasteland outside the city, all objections vanished.
The tower's demolition took two full days and nights. Once the last brick was removed, the foundation proved perfectly sized to bear the cannon's weight. Shinobu personally oversaw assembly, her fingers brushing the cold barrel as if caressing her own child. "Adjust the elevation to forty degrees, halve the charge, and fire a test round."
At her command, craftsmen turned the winch, slowly raising the gun until its black muzzle pointed toward Oceanid Valley. A loader slid a shell wrapped in moisture-proof paper into the breech, and Shinobu pulled the firing lanyard herself.
Boom!
The deafening detonation shook the city walls. The shell soared skyward in a trail of white smoke, detonating atop a distant mountain. Flames dyed half the sky red, with shrapnel even landing on the decks of fishing boats in the harbor.
"Trajectory drifts three degrees to the right." Shinobu jotted down data immediately. "Adjust the counterweight on the left side of the gun carriage—add two more catties of lead."
At that moment, the watchtower sentries clanged the alarm bell. "Yuan Shao's forces are advancing! Cavalry in the vanguard, infantry phalanxes behind—they're marching toward us!"
Shinobu stood abruptly, her goggles slipping down her nose to reveal sharp, piercing eyes. She fixed on the dark line forming on the distant horizon, took a deep breath, and shouted to the craftsmen: "Everyone to your posts! Watchtower archers ready, trench guards stand by—anti-air cannons, target enemy vanguard cavalry, load live rounds!"
The craftsmen moved with lightning speed. The creak of winches, the dull thud of shells being loaded, and the twang of bowstrings blended into a suffocating symphony of tension.
Yuan Shao's vanguard cavalry drew closer, their armor glinting metallic in the sunlight, hooves thundering across the plain. When they were three li from the walls, Shinobu raised her arm.
"Fire!"
Three shells launched simultaneously, no hesitation this time—each packed full of high explosives. They detonated above the cavalry formation, unleashing a downpour of fire. Panicked horses reared, hurling their riders to the ground. The following cavalry were blocked, their formation descending into chaos in an instant.
"Watchtowers, loose!"
Arrows rained from the walls, paired with sharpened stakes suddenly erupting from the trenches, impaling the frontline cavalry and their mounts on the spot. Yuan Shao's vanguard retreated in disarray, but the infantry phalanxes behind pressed forward steadily, holding massive shields like a moving wall creeping toward the fortifications.
"Anti-air cannons, switch to grapeshot! Target the shield wall!" Shinobu's voice was hoarse yet unyielding.
Grapeshot was filled with hundreds of iron pellets, unleashing a lethal hail of shrapnel upon detonation. As three rounds exploded above the infantry, the crunch of splintering shields and screams of soldiers merged, drastically slowing the phalanx's advance.
The battle raged for an entire day. As the sun set, Yuan Shao's forces left over a thousand corpses behind and finally retreated to Oceanid Valley. On Fontaine's walls, soldiers collapsed to the ground, yet none dared lower their guard—all knew this was only the beginning.
Shinobu leaned against the cannon barrel, watching artisans clear gunpowder residue from the breech. She pulled a worn leather notebook from her bosom, flipped to a fresh page, and wrote: "Today's tests confirm anti-air cannons effective against dense formations, but rate of fire must be improved. Begin retrofitting the breech blocks tomorrow…"
The sea breeze swept over the walls again, this time carrying a faint tang of gunpowder. Shinobu lifted her gaze toward Oceanid Valley, where the enemy camps loomed faintly in the twilight. She clenched her pencil as if holding Fontaine's fate in her hand.
"Tomorrow, we will do better," she whispered. Her words were carried away by the wind, yet clear to every busy craftsman and soldier. In the trenches below, new gunpowder barrels were being buried in secret; on the watchtowers, archers polished their bowstrings; and the silent anti-air cannon remained aimed at the distance, a vigilant eye guarding the water city that stood unyielding amid the flames of war.