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240. Guns And Cannons [The Villainess's Reputation]
🕑 Added 2025-10-22 11:30:05 +0000 UTC“I mean, even we didn’t entirely believe it could be done this fast, Your Highness,” Nille admitted, adjusting his heavy leather apron. “But the breakthrough was leveraging the principles we learned from the water meter’s gravity-assisted mechanism; it gave us the precise mechanical consistency we needed. Adapting that concept to the gun assembly line was enormously helpful in standardizing the production process for all the smaller parts.”
Ravenna’s eyes, however, were not on Nille; they were sweeping across the industrial wonder they had created. She strode past stacked crates of iron fittings and steaming pipes, moving toward the far end of the workshop where the firearm production line hummed with quiet, powerful efficiency.
It was a marvel of mechanized genius. The line was designed in a long, three segmented arc.
A Forging Station: The arc began with a steam-powered press that swiftly stamped and shaped the heavy barrels and chambers from high-quality Kim steel.
Precision Milling: Next, the partially completed firearms were moved along a track to a series of mechanically driven drills and lathes, which used the rotational energy of the central steam engine to bore the intricate rifling and refine the mechanisms, a job that would have taken dozens of master blacksmiths weeks to complete manually.
The Gravity Mechanism: At the heart of the line, she saw the adaptation Nille spoke of. Using the same system designed to regulate water flow and turn the water meters, gravity-fed tracks moved components through the final assembly point. This ensured every spring, pin, and trigger mechanism was seated with the exact, repeatable precision necessary for a working firearm.
The entire assembly line was a testament to minimal manpower, requiring only a handful of skilled supervisors to monitor the machinery and perform quality checks.
“We can begin mass-production the moment more manpower arrives, Your Highness,” Nille stated proudly, joining her near the line where the first completed rifle barrels cooled on a rack.
Ravenna ran her hand over the cold, dark steel of a newly finished weapon. It was an elegant, almost terrifying machine, a seamless blend of ancient craftsmanship and revolutionary mechanics.
“And the naval artillery?” Ravenna asked, her voice dropping to a low, decisive tone. “The cannons designed to fire the smokeless powder? Are those ready for production testing?”
Nille grinned, his excitement bubbling over. “The prototype is complete! We scaled up the designs from the railway engine’s pressure chambers, using high-density steel alloys. They are larger, reinforced, and capable of handling the enormous pressure generated by your powder. We just need to load and test the firing mechanism.”
Ravenna nodded, a dangerous satisfaction settling in her eyes. Rifles for her soldiers were one thing, but smokeless powder cannons, weapons of mass naval destruction, were the true game-changer. They would redefine siege warfare and make Kim Dukedom’s fleet a menace on the seas.
“The production capacity for all of this is extraordinary,” Ravenna mused, finally turning back to Nille. “Tell me, are the ships ready to sail back to the free cities and establish their patrol routes?”
Nille swept his hand toward the shipyard bay, where dozens of newly outfitted merchant ships bobbed gently in the water, their hulls now reinforced, their sails folded neatly, and a continuous plume of steam rising from their freshly installed engines.
“They certainly are, Your Highness,” Nille confirmed with a proud smile. “The retrofitting is nearly complete as I said. We’ve managed to turn forty cargo vessels into a fully steam-powered fleet by tomorrow. They are just awaiting your final command.”
At the border of the Capital of the Kingdom of Estra, Council of Vassal States Region, Ancorna Empire.
A small army, resolute and cloaked against the biting mountain wind, trudged through the relentless snow. These were not the imperial legions of the capital but the hardened forces of the vassal states: a tight formation of ministers, high-ranking generals, and nobles who had gathered in secret allegiance. At the head of this contingent, atop a horse whose breath fogged heavily in the chill, rode Prince Landon Solarius. His Imperial coat was fastened tightly, but the silk offered meager defense against the Southern cold.
The march came to a deliberate halt in a narrow, wind-whipped forest pass, the army settling into a tense silence as if waiting for a signal. Moments later, the heavy crunch of boots on packed snow echoed from the distance, growing steadily louder.
Prince Landon raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes, his breath misting on the lenses. He watched as a second, equally formidable army came into view, stopping abruptly on the mountainous horizon, the forces of the Kingdom of Estra. A single figure, clad in armor far more ornate than Landon's own traveling attire, broke from the ranks and advanced toward the Prince.
Prince Landon lowered the binoculars, a wry, almost desperate smile touching his lips as the man drew near.
“Prince Finel Gustav,” Prince Landon greeted him, his voice pitched to carry over the wind, cold smoke curling from his mouth with every syllable. The other man removed his helmet, revealing the serious, resolute face of the royal heir as Prince Landon continued. “I confess, I didn’t think you would actually join. I was certain you would have betrayed me once I reached the Imperial Capital and announced my rebellion.”
The man corrected him instantly, his usual easygoing charm utterly absent, replaced by the rigid authority of a monarch. “King Finel Gustav,” he stated with grim certainty. “Father had already left for Herptian’s eternal bed yesterday, my friend, relinquishing the crown to me.”
A stark silence descended. Prince Landon blinked, the news of the old King's sudden death, sending a fresh wave of calculation through his mind.
“A Senate Seat, then, in the newly established Ancorna Vassal States Senate,” Prince Landon said, the silence amplifying the weight of his words. “That would be a fitting monument to your father’s legacy.” The Estra army behind their new King roared in a unified, chilling chant.
King Finel spurred his horse forward until he rode flank-to-flank with Prince Landon. He leaned in close, speaking in a low whisper that the howling wind could barely carry.
“That would be a grand coronation ceremony for a nation reborn, Your Highness,” King Finel replied, the applause of his army serving as the soundtrack to their high treason. His eyes, fixed on Prince Landon ‘s, were shadowed with the immense burden of his choice. “But know this: this better work, Landon. I have given up everything for it.”
