In an instant, a massive cloud of smoke mixed with crimson fire erupted from the cannon's muzzle.
The bronze gun recoiled violently backward, and the pungent smell of sulfur spread across the field with the wind.
Cough, cough... what a terrible smell.
Standing on tiptoe inside the trench, Vig looked toward the target a hundred paces away.
The wooden palisade had been effortlessly pierced by the cannonball.
He immediately ordered the craftsmen to change targets and aim at a nearby stone wall instead.
The wall proved much sturdier.
Only after more than a dozen shots did the bronze cannon finally blast a large hole through it.
By then, the cannon's barrel had become scorching hot.
Craftsmen used water-soaked swabs to clean the bore, and white steam rose from the muzzle.
The workshop supervisor stepped forward and explained,
"Your Majesty, the barrel temperature is too high. It must be allowed to cool, otherwise it could burst."
"I understand."
Vig respected the opinions of frontline technicians.
Turning around, he looked at the Crown Prince and the three ministers.
The four men stood motionless.
The first emotion visible on their faces was not joy, but a profound shock bordering on fear.
Mitcham removed his cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
His lips trembled.
"What kind of weapon is this?"
"A cannon."
Vig gazed at the shattered stone wall in the distance, his eyes gleaming with barely concealed excitement.
A moment later, he walked over to a nearby barrel, scooped up a pinch of black powder, and began thinking rapidly.
Many problems still remained.
First, the bronze cannon was far too heavy, making it unsuitable for rapid battlefield maneuvering.
Second, gunpowder production remained limited, and the powder itself contained too many impurities, greatly reducing its explosive force.
Charcoal, sulfur, and saltpeter were the three ingredients required to produce gunpowder.
Charcoal was easy to obtain.
Sulfur came from Icelandic volcanoes.
The real problem was saltpeter.
The craftsmen collected nitrate-rich earth from old walls and livestock sheds, but it contained numerous impurities.
Despite years of effort, they still had not found an effective method of refinement.
"Father, are we the only ones who possess this weapon?"
the Crown Prince asked quietly.
"The Tang Empire in the East possesses gunpowder. I've heard of at least one battle where trebuchets were used to throw gunpowder charges.
"However, their powder contains even more impurities than ours. It serves mainly as an incendiary weapon, with destructive power roughly comparable to fire-oil jars."
Stroking his chin, Vig watched the craftsmen hauling the cannon away.
Twelve draft horses were required to move it back to the warehouse.
The massive weapon left a deep rut across the field.
The Minister of War frowned.
"Your Majesty, the cannon moves far too slowly. If it encounters rainy weather and muddy ground, I doubt it could cover even five miles in a day."
Given its terrible mobility, the ministers unanimously concluded that the cannon was unsuitable for field warfare.
Its practical applications would likely be limited to sieges, fortress defense, or naval use.
Afterward, Vig and his entourage toured the workshops to observe the cannon's manufacturing process.
The craftsmen first created clay molds, carefully ensuring uniform thickness and smooth interior surfaces.
The molds were then fired at low temperatures until they hardened.
In the neighboring workshop, bronze was being smelted.
Workers fed copper and tin ingots into a brick furnace at a ratio of ten to one.
Nearby, enormous bellows powered by animal labor continuously forced air into the furnace, maintaining the intense heat.
When the master craftsman judged the molten metal ready, he opened the furnace outlet with an iron hook.
Streams of glowing bronze flowed through channels into molds buried underground.
Four craftsmen continuously stirred the liquid metal with long poles to remove trapped air bubbles.
Once casting was complete, the cannon had to cool before the mold could be broken apart.
The rough barrel was then extracted and subjected to further processes, including polishing the bore.
The inspection continued until three in the afternoon.
Vig did not interfere with the craftsmen's manufacturing methods.
He merely offered three suggestions regarding operation and firing:
First, design a new gun carriage that would make adjusting the cannon's firing angle easier.
Second, replace loose powder with pre-measured powder bags to speed up loading.
Third, after every shot, carve a mark onto the barrel so that excessive use could be monitored and accidental barrel bursts prevented.
When the tour concluded, Vig distributed rewards to the craftsmen and returned to the palace by carriage.
Along the way, his thoughts remained occupied with the history of early artillery.
According to the original timeline, Western Europe's earliest cannons appeared during the fourteenth century.
These were short, thick-barreled weapons that fired large stone projectiles and were known as bombard cannons.
Their trajectories were high and arcing, making them inaccurate.
They were also extremely cumbersome and difficult to move.
Siege forces often cast them on-site outside enemy walls, a process that consumed enormous amounts of time.
By the fifteenth century, Europe had begun casting bronze cannons as single pieces.
The barrels became longer, the bores more uniform, and the weapons capable of withstanding greater chamber pressure, significantly increasing their power.
(In 1453, during the Ottoman siege of Constantinople, the famous Urban Cannon fired stone projectiles weighing hundreds of kilograms and inflicted severe damage upon the city's walls.)
Overall, the Arsenal's bronze cannons were already operating at roughly a fifteenth-century technological level.
Given the limitations of contemporary metallurgy, dramatic improvements in firepower would be difficult to achieve in the short term.
The Arsenal had also experimented with iron cannons.
Their production cost was only one-third that of bronze guns.
Unfortunately, they suffered from a much higher rate of catastrophic barrel explosions.
As a result, the iron cannon project was suspended.
October, Mediterranean Sea, Sicily.
Following their victory at the Battle of Syracuse, the Eastern Roman fleet pressed its advantage.
They swept along the Sicilian coastline, hunting Moorish ships and cutting off supplies and reinforcements destined for Moorish armies on the island.
Half a month later, Fleet Commander Niketas Ooryphas returned to Syracuse and received troubling news from the homeland.
The ten thousand soldiers originally scheduled to depart from Athens had been redirected to Anatolia to suppress a heretical uprising.
"What exactly does this mean?"
Ooryphas demanded.
"Without an army, how am I supposed to reconquer all of Sicily?
"If the rebellion isn't crushed, does that mean I'll never receive reinforcements?"
He fired off question after question.
The messenger offered no direct answers and merely advised patience.
"How long am I expected to wait?"
Ooryphas was appalled by the incompetence of his colleagues.
Despite spending enormous resources, they still had not defeated a rebel force largely composed of common peasants.
He could not help thinking:
If Nils hadn't retired, that rebellion probably wouldn't have lasted more than two years.
With reinforcements unavailable, the situation in Sicily settled into a stalemate.
At that point, an unexpected visitor sought out Ooryphas and offered his assistance.
"And you are?"
The visitor removed his cloak, revealing a young man in his twenties.
"My name is Alfred, heir to the throne of Wessex.
"A few years ago, I lived in a Frankish monastery.
"Afterward, I fled to Italy alongside the refugees.
"I currently serve in Emperor Charles's court."
Ooryphas had heard about recent events.
The Frankish kingdoms founded by Charlemagne had fallen one after another to the Viking armies.
Large numbers of Frankish refugees had poured into Italy.
To survive, many desperately needed well-paying employment.
"Very well."
Ooryphas nodded.
"I'll immediately write to Constantinople and request the Basileus's approval.
"But if you fail to obtain land, is Charles the Bald still willing to provide troops?"
Alfred gave a bitter smile.
"Of course.
"We no longer have a choice."
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