Chapter 154: Idiot!
"What exactly is it, My Lord?" Lancelot asked impatiently. It wasn’t a ballista or a trebuchet, and the suspense had been eating at him for days.
Liam also came over, his eyes still crusted with sleep; three days of standoff had been more than boring.
By now, Simon couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. He signalled to Fjord and the others to remove the burlap covering.
In an instant, a large, jet-black, cold metal object was revealed, its imposing presence undeniable.
"Eh? Isn’t that just a fire lance?" Liam said with a puzzled expression. "Well, it does look sturdier than most fire lances."
Benjamin didn’t jump to conclusions. Instead, he circled the object carefully, inspecting it thoroughly. Then he turned to Simon and asked. "What do you call this, Your Highness?"
"I call it a cannon," Simon replied. Liam wasn’t wrong, technically, after all, the fire lance was a predecessor to the cannon.
Benjamin nodded, then tapped the side of the cannon and even peered down the barrel. "This is much better made than any fire lance." He said. "Fire lances are crude and short, with a range of just about 200 meters. Surely, Your Highness isn’t planning to take down a fortress with this?"
"Sharp as ever, General," Simon replied with a smile. "This cannon is very different from a fire lance. You’ll see soon enough. And Liam, try not to wet yourself."
Liam grinned. "Your Highness underestimates me. I’ve used fire lances before."
"Is that so? Then I’ll leave the firing to you." Simon said seriously. "No one else has the experience."
Liam, who had grown up in Eldora as the son of Grand General Lancet, had the laid-back arrogance of a noble. He waved it off. "It’s easy."
Lancelot, who might normally have jumped in to claim the task, stayed quiet this time. He knew Simon too well; there was a mischievous smile on his face. Something was definitely up.
With Liam taking on the role of guinea pig, Fjord and his team had no choice but to help. They brought down the cannon from the cart and mounted it on a firing base, aiming it at the fortress’s front gate at a slight incline.
Then they laid out all the necessary tools and supplies: cannonballs, gunpowder, fuse ropes, and the tools for cleaning and loading the barrel.
Up on the wall, Sigurd observed their movements. When he saw the large, unfamiliar object being positioned, a bad feeling crept over him.
"How’s the tunnel coming along?" He asked the man beside him.
What few knew was that the Stone family fortress had two escape tunnels. One had been destroyed. Sigurd had hoped to use the other to escape, but part of it had collapsed due to years of neglect.
He had been sending men to clear it day and night. So far, they had cleared over fifty meters. "We’ve got about fifty meters cleared." Said the man. "I remember that only this stretch has soft soil. It should be easier after that."
"Work faster. If we don’t get out soon, we’re finished. And take all the grain with us."
"Yes, sir. But what about the cement?"
"Idiot!" Sigurd snapped. "That stuff is heavy and useless. You can’t eat it, can’t wear it."
He had learned from captured workers that the material was called cement, but to him, it was worthless.
Back outside, Sigurd looked down again. He saw a captain-type soldier jabbing something long and thin into the strange object.
That was Liam, cleaning the cannon barrel using a special cleaning rod. The cannons built by the machinery department were front-loading smoothbore cannons. Powder and shot had to be loaded from the muzzle, and everything had to be done in the right order; this wasn’t something you could just wing.
Simon had already planned for this. During production, he’d made sure Fjord prepared ramrods, loading scoops, fire pokers, and lighters, everything needed for a smooth operation.
At first, Liam tried to stuff gunpowder and cannonballs straight into the barrel, but Simon quickly stopped him.
Unlike fire lances, cannons required tight seals. The cannonball had to fit the barrel exactly, or the explosion wouldn’t generate enough pressure for a proper shot. Worse, sand or debris could cause the cannon to misfire or explode.
After cleaning the barrel thoroughly, they proceeded to load.
Using a powder scoop, Liam measured out one full load of gunpowder and poured it in. The scoop was designed to carry the exact amount needed for one shot.
Then he loaded the solid cannonball into the barrel and used the ramrod to pack it tightly over the gunpowder.
"Ready, Your Highness?" Liam asked.
He’d never gone through so many steps for a fire lance.
"All good," Simon replied.
The firing method was the same as a fire lance. He didn’t need to say more. Simon simply stepped back, far back.
Everyone else followed his lead and backed away too.
Liam looked around and realised he was now standing completely alone. A sense of dread crept over him.
He turned to Lancelot. "Captain Lancelot, care to join me?"
Lancelot smiled politely. "No, no, this honour belongs to you."
Liam glanced at Simon, who gave him a thumbs-up and a smirk.
Gritting his teeth, Liam inserted the fuse into the vent hole at the back of the cannon.
Fjord had already lit the matchstick used for ignition. All Liam had to do was touch the flame to the fuse.
"Here we go, Your Highness!" Liam shouted.
"Don’t forget to cover your ears. And stand back!" Simon reminded him.
Liam nodded, lit the fuse, and immediately stepped back and covered his ears.
The fuse caught fire, burning rapidly. It had been soaked in oil, ensuring a fast burn.
Then...
BOOM!
The sound was deafening, like thunder shaking the heavens. A burst of flame and smoke erupted from the muzzle.
A solid black cannonball shot out like lightning, slamming violently into the gate of the fortress.
Horses in the Brambleford camp reared up and neighed in panic, throwing the ranks into brief chaos.