Border Town, located on the banks of the Chishui River.
The heavy snow made the carriage unable to move forward, and it took the group half a day to haul the first field gun they had built to the outskirts of the town.
"What's this again?" Carter grew somewhat accustomed to Prince's constant stream of new gadgets. "A magnified musket?" "More or less." Roland ordered his men to remove the hook, then personally adjusted the gun's angle to level it, pushing the rod into the snow.
The artillery and musket share identical operational principles, making the analogy aptly describe it as an amplified version of the latter. This cannon fired twelve-pound solid iron projectiles, with both the projectile and gunpowder being pre-loaded into the barrel and ignited by a fuse. Drawing inspiration from established historical designs, Roland commissioned a carpenter to construct a wooden gun carriage. To enhance durability, areas subject to significant ground friction and high impact during firing were reinforced with iron cladding.
Roland spent nearly as much time crafting the gun mount and wheels as he did drilling the barrel. The three carpenters worked tirelessly for a week to complete the project, with the wheels being the most challenging part. To make the wheels, they first planed four equal-length square wood strips, soaked them, then baked them until bent. They cut grooves at the ends for mortise joints and hammered iron sheets onto the outer edges of the hubs. This entire process took four days.
To Roland, the twelve-pound field gun—crafted entirely by hand and issued in limited quantities—radiated an otherworldly glow. When it was dragged out for testing, the accompanying contingent was massive: Chief Knight Carter and the militia commander Iron Axe were absent, but the guards and Knight's apprentices took the field, with twenty militia members assigned to clear the area and maintain vigilance. For the first time, Roland also brought Nightingale and Lightning. Thanks to Tonanava, the militia's prejudice against the Witch faction had been reduced to a minimum, and Tonanava herself became the second most respected member in the group, second only to Prince.
"Let's follow the procedure—start by cleaning the barrel." Though Roland knew artillery mechanics inside out, the actual steps were a total blank. He racked his brains, recalling medieval film scenes of gun handling, trying to piece together a process. As for how it would actually work? Who could say?
With a gleam of excitement, Lightning pulled a mop-shaped cleaning rod from beneath the cannon mount and thrust it into the muzzle. Unlike other witches' contracts, she offered to serve Roland without pay—provided she could personally handle all the novel inventions. Roland readily agreed to this bargain, since he could always research secret projects in secret. His mind was still brimming with ideas and inventions waiting to be realized; a few of them alone would keep her busy for quite some time.
After a few rounds of scrubbing, the mop didn't remove any debris, but following the procedure, she had to perform a second cleaning. Switching to another mop and giving it a few more strokes, the barrel cleaning was finally complete.
"Everyone got the message?" Roland asked the onlookers, Knight and the militiamen. The test firing was just another drill. With muskets now mass-produced, the militia would inevitably evolve into regular infantry, and wooden spears would be replaced by firearms and artillery. Mastering these two types of firearms on the battlefield required extensive training.
Only after seeing everyone nod did he allow Lightning to proceed with the next step.
The young girl retrieved a paper-wrapped bag of gunpowder, inserted it into the cannon barrel, and drove a wooden rod straight to the bottom. She then loaded the projectile and pressed it firmly. After removing the drill rod, she inserted it through the fuse hole at the rear end of the barrel, ruptured the powder package, and inserted the fuse. With this, the firing preparation was complete.
To prevent accidents, everyone retreated thirty paces and took cover behind the barricades. Lightning brought the torch close to the fuse, and in a flash, sparks flickered as it was thrust into the barrel.
Then came a thunderous boom—the cannon's muzzle unleashed a powerful jet of air that lifted the snow, creating a swirling cloud of snow mist. The twelve-pound cannon's theoretical effective range exceeded a kilometer, and even without rifling, its projectile maintained a straight trajectory. A hundred meters away, the armored target emitted a metallic clang as the iron projectile struck it head-on, sending the entire structure flying. The iron ball continued its descent with unyielding force, landing on the snow and bouncing repeatedly, each bounce sending up plumes of snowflakes.
When the smoke cleared, Carter and Iron Axe rushed to the target. The armor's front had been completely dented, its front plating pressed against the rear, with a palm-sized hole at the center. Clearly, the shell had traveled about a hundred meters forward after striking the target. Even as it rolled on the ground, it still carried astonishing force.
"What a terrifying penetration!" Carter exclaimed, already envisioning the gruesome sight of enemies packed together, their ranks pierced by multiple shells.
"Three Gods above." Iron Axe began to believe that Roland was indeed the messenger of Mother Earth. Who else but the Gods could wield the power of fire to such extremes? He had studied those gunpowder particles repeatedly—crushed into powder and ignited, they were merely ordinary flammable material. The flames were Mother Earth's surging fury, her most potent weapon. The thought of the eternal orange fire erupting from the earth's depths in the far south stirred in him a deep reverence for Prince.
Roland was hardly surprised by this outcome. The twelve-pound field guns were a classic of their era, and the Napoleon guns that shone during the American Civil War perfectly demonstrated the truth that a larger caliber equates to greater beauty.
Next, he tested the barrel's strength with varying charges, knowing it might damage the cannon, but it was a necessary test.
The components were consistently integrated into the three-packaged explosive. During the cannon firing, the muzzle had already risen and the gun carriage shifted, though the barrel showed no visible deformation. The steel-cast barrel demonstrated exceptional strength. Roland ultimately determined the standard charge to be 1.2 times the test charge, and the remaining tasks involved selecting skilled gunners and conducting repeated drills.
"Your Highness, this weapon is indeed formidable, but it's too heavy. A single mud pit could paralyze it." Carter immediately identified the drawbacks of the new weapon: "Moreover, each firing cycle requires cleaning the barrel and reloading. Given that gunpowder and shells are significantly heavier than musket ammunition, a single cannon likely demands five to six operators." "True, but it's all worthwhile. With two or three cannons—Duke... I mean, the monstrous behemoth, the giant turtle-type—there's no chance of breaching the walls again." Roland coughed twice, inwardly marveling at the near-miss. As for the twelve-pound cannon's excessive weight, he planned to address it through shipping. Converting steam engines into steamships—even the most primitive paddle wheel vessels—would require a complex and massive mechanical system.
Rather than attempting to modify it ourselves, we might as well purchase a two-masted sailing ship. With Wendy's wind control, we can swiftly transport the militia and artillery to the rear of the Duke's forces, forming a pincer attack with the vanguard to encircle and annihilate the Duke's remaining troops.