The Ultimate Weapon

The Ultimate Weapon

After sending the servant Ron away, Paul happily inspected the "goods" on the ground once more.

"Ha! What kind of transmigrator would I be if I didn't make myself an ultimate weapon?"

That was right. The things on the ground were sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter—the raw materials for making Black Powder. Black Powder truly was an essential item for home, travel, robbery, and plunder.

What shattered the sturdy armor of Western feudal knights? Gunpowder. What helped Pizarro conquer the vast Inca Empire? Gunpowder.

"And this time, gunpowder will help me, Paul Greiman, 'civilize' this other world."

His original plan had been to mass-produce Matchlock Guns or Flintlock Guns, so he had Philip gather a large number of blacksmiths. But with Spring Planting approaching, it was the time when farmers needed their tools forged and repaired. Faced with the butler's vehement opposition, the matter had come to nothing.

Before he could prove the "great significance" of his "era-spanning invention," he could only have one or two blacksmiths make a couple of test guns to open these otherworldly natives' eyes. As for the gunpowder materials they had gathered, he would first make some "Firecrackers" and arm a group of Grenadiers.

He immediately went to the neighboring tent to see the newly arrived servants.

"Ron must have already told you that not a single word about anything that happens here is to leave this place. Otherwise..." He made a slicing gesture across his throat.

Everyone hurriedly voiced their agreement.

"Good. I called you here to make a Secret Weapon. It will be our key to defeating our enemies. Work hard, and I will reward you handsomely."

He pointed at a familiar-looking servant. "Kelly, these people will be under your command from now on."

Then he brought out the gunpowder materials and said, "These are the things you transported here: saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal. To most people, they are utterly ordinary things, but I happened to discover that when mixed in a certain ratio, they can produce a compound that burns fiercely."

Without the slightest blush, he claimed all the credit for himself.

Next, he mixed the three ingredients, which had already been ground into powder, in a ratio of one part saltpeter, two parts sulfur, and three parts charcoal. He had everyone stand back, took out a long matchcord, lit it with a tinder tube—a tool similar to a fire striker used to preserve embers—and touched the mixture from a distance.

"Ah!" Everyone cried out in alarm.

The small pile of powder suddenly erupted in a blinding flash. Thick smoke immediately billowed up, and as it spread through the tent, an indescribable smell filled the air.

"Did you see that? It burned incredibly fiercely. It was almost gone in an instant."

Indeed, the mixture from before had now become a pile of residue.

"Does Lord intend to use this to make weapons?" Some quick-witted people had already grasped his intention.

"Yes. I call this mixed powder gunpowder, and it will become a powerful weapon in our campaign against the pirates. But burning alone is not enough; it would pose no real threat to pirates. So I intend to put it into sealed containers. That way, when it burns, it can create a violent explosion and injure the enemy."

"This is only a rough idea of mine. This weapon is still merely at the conceptual stage. The best gunpowder formula, the manufacturing process, and what shape and size the containers should be all require everyone's collective wisdom."

"I hereby announce that from now on, every good idea concerning weapon manufacturing that earns my approval will receive a reward of at least one silver coin. The greater its value, the greater the reward."

At the mention of money, everyone's eyes lit up. They thumped their chests and promised they would not disappoint Lord.

"But you saw the experiment just now. This stuff is extremely dangerous. One careless mistake can harm not only yourself, but others as well. So you must be careful. Later, I will write up safety regulations, and every one of you will memorize them word for word. I will conduct spot checks from time to time. Anyone who cannot recite them will be thrown out immediately. Heh heh... To prevent leaks, anyone who leaves here probably won't be able to live an ordinary life afterward."

Alternately coaxed and threatened, the group swore solemn oaths that they would complete Lord's task.

Paul summoned an internal affairs soldier and had him lead the group around to familiarize them with the camp. Only a few blacksmiths were left behind.

He said to one of the older men, "Your name is Herman, right? You're a blacksmith from the castle."

"Yes, my Lord. My family has served the Earl's household for generations. I forged Old Earl's armor myself."

"Mm, good. You saw the power of gunpowder just now. What did you think?"

"Earl is truly a genius. If I had not seen its ingredients and method of production with my own eyes, I would have thought it was the magic of legend."

"Mm-hmm..." He nodded smugly. The praise from an otherworldly native sent someone's vanity soaring.

"Ha! The weapon concept I mentioned earlier is actually only a crude way of using gunpowder. There are other methods that are more ingenious and far better."

"Oh? Is that why you kept us behind? Please instruct us, Lord."

Paul took out a sheet of parchment and slowly unfolded it. "Look at this drawing. I need you to make a tubular weapon like the one shown here..."

From then on, an area off to one side of the training camp was forbidden to ordinary soldiers. Internal affairs soldiers patrolled and guarded it day and night. Strange explosions often came from within, however, attracting curious people who went to investigate. Without exception, they were all invited by the newly established "Provost Corps" to "have tea."

But merely making explosive contraptions and little iron tubes could not possibly satisfy Earl. He urgently needed something "bigger, thicker, and longer." So he wrote to the butler and Bryce, urging them to find skilled metal casters as quickly as possible—those experienced in casting bells would be even better—as well as large quantities of bronze.

Besides the Provost Corps, another unit was selected not long afterward. Every member was a burly, broad-shouldered giant.

Makarov was among them. In addition to their regular training, they were assigned special practice every day: throwing large numbers of roughly polished stones into circles drawn on the ground beforehand.

The new unit was called the Grenadiers.

Many people muttered to themselves: it looked like the recent training expenses had been too great, and Lord was now too poor to afford bows and arrows. But if they were going to smash enemies with stones, wouldn't slings with greater range work better? They could not throw stones as large, sure, but at least they had enough range. Throwing such large, round stones by hand not only had a short range, but after a few throws, their arms would be completely useless.