She hums, tapping her fingers. Drawing back to them as they spoke amongst themselves and servants often spoke amongst themselves like that. "I wish I had Tesla with me to craft weaponary for him. He would build him such things. Do you know of Tesla? Nikola is a sweet boy, but his mind is the most terrifying thing. Where others see light in the sky he sees possibility."

There would never again be a mind like Tesla's. "He would make the Count such an artillery, as he deserves. Your walls would be nothing to it. He would ride with his cavalary with Nikola's arc guns and you would sizzle like the least of the Vampire-kindred." Her head turns away as she laughs, the painting vivid in her eyes. The bubble of skin at high temperatures and flash of searing flesh burning in her mind's eye. Inhales roughly on the wretched memory. "What I wouldn't give for something more, thermite at least. The Count could give you such nightmares then."

Which is to say, that of the things she thinks are important to warfare, the Count didn't have the heavy artillery that would change much of its scope. Yes, he needs something. Guns, gunpwoder, something to rip them apart by the dozens. A deep breath out of the battle-field smoke, wetting her lips, dry - she felt prickling dry like the worst of her homeland's summer.