The Workshop

The cannon foundry stood on the south bank of the Arno River. Vitus crossed a crowded, narrow stone bridge, with many shops built along both sides, severely obstructing passersby.

"There's so much vacant land in the city. Why do butchers and tanners have to crowd onto the bridge to do business?"

Five minutes later, Vitus entered the workshop. In the center of the courtyard stood a furnace built from clay bricks. Workers fed copper ingots and small amounts of tin into it, while two nearby workers stomped hard on pedals, driving bellows that continuously blasted air into the fire.

By coincidence, Pauli was also in the workshop, holding a blueprint and discussing details with the craftsmen. Seeing his younger brother and the guest arrive, he walked over and said, "We're discussing casting a larger-caliber Serpent Cannon with greater range. Its stone shot should fly at least four hundred paces—six hundred meters. We expect a finished product next week."

Vitus studied the blueprint and proposed another idea:

Cast a new type of cannon: reduce the caliber and thicken the barrel walls so it can fire three-pound iron shot. Its weight must not exceed that of the previous Serpent Cannon. In the field, one draft horse can haul it, and when necessary, the gunners can push it forward themselves.

To persuade his employer, he posed a question. "Cannons have many parameters: range, rate of fire, caliber, accuracy. Which do you think is the most important?"

Pauli and Phil both answered that it was range. They believed the farther a cannonball flew, the better.

Vitus slowly shook his head. "Since it is a field cannon, mobility is the most important thing. It must arrive where it is needed in time. If the fighting at the front is fierce while the cannon is still struggling through mud in the rear, only arriving fashionably late after the war is over, then such a field cannon is utterly meaningless.

"Furthermore, iron shot is chosen over stone shot because iron has greater density and thus greater kinetic energy at the same volume. Secondly, iron can be cast into standard spheres, making its trajectory more stable and improving accuracy.

"From the standpoint of cost, cast-iron cannonballs are slightly more expensive, but Florence does not lack money. Such a cost is nothing."

Pauli had heard about Vitus's artillery battle in Pistoia and found his idea reasonable. "How about this? We cast both types of cannon at the same time and use the new gun carriage you designed for both."

Vitus nodded. "Fine. Remember to inform me once the cannons are successfully cast. I'll need to conduct repeated test firings and record all their parameters."

For the time that followed, Vitus stayed at the Di Maggio residence. He used the alias "Anthony" and did not show his face at various banquets. That suited him well; he had ample leisure to organize his notes and read through Giulio's extensive collection of books.

Occasionally, Phil invited him to practice swordsmanship and even hired a middle-aged swordsman as an instructor.

With the intention of strengthening his body, Vitus practiced swords with the young master every day. Their skill levels were roughly equal, and they often fought until neither could gain the upper hand. Phil found it immensely satisfying.

"Ha ha, practicing with you is still more interesting. I had a strange dream last night. I think I found the trick to using the Fiore Half-Sword Technique."

The signature movement of the Fiore Half-Sword Technique was to grip the hilt with one hand and the half of the blade near the hilt with the other. That section had a less sharpened edge, and could be safely held while wearing iron gauntlets.

Its advantage was precise control over the sword tip, allowing one to seek out gaps in armor before thrusting in with all one's strength. During close grappling, one could also use holds, joint locks, and wrestling techniques, or smash an opponent's helmet with the sword's pommel as a blunt weapon.

"Wait!"

Worried that the two young masters would cause trouble, the swordsmanship instructor refused to let them use blunted sparring swords. Instead, he gave them wooden swords weighted with lead, the least threatening option.

Vitus weighed his lead-filled wooden sword in his hand. Its weight and feel were acceptable, and it could reproduce the handling of a real longsword to a considerable degree.

He glanced at Phil, who was ready some distance away. After lowering his visor, he pondered for a moment, then assumed the most powerful opening stance—Wrath Strike...

After the first few exchanges, the two quickly entered a contest of strength. They then tripped each other and rolled together in a tangled struggle amid sparse flowerbeds.

This stage consumed the most stamina. Before long, the two iron cans tossed aside their blunted swords. Vitus lifted his visor and lay flat on the cold grass, staring silently at the sky.

"I finally understand how the French knights felt at Agincourt."

Phil lay nearby, gasping as he asked, "I heard that the French knights were shot down by volleys from English longbowmen during their charge. What does that have to do with our sword fight just now?"

Vitus said, "How could arrows fired in high arcs from afar pierce plate armor? The longbowmen killed the warhorses, leaving the French knights trapped in the mire, where they grappled with England's dismounted knights in the mud. Then the lightly armored longbowmen rushed into the mire and worked together, stabbing daggers into the gaps in the French knights' armor."

Phil could not help arguing. "That happened eight years ago. You were only a teenage prince staying at court then. The way you describe it makes it sound as if you stood beside Henry V and witnessed his entire command of the battle."

"Forget it. Think whatever you like." Vitus struggled to his feet, removed his full suit of plate armor, then returned to his guest room for a comfortable hot bath.

After a long while, a servant's voice sounded outside the door. Vitus made out Italian words such as "master" and "study." After dressing neatly, he entered the study.

"Did you need something?"

Giulio sat behind an oak desk and handed him a slip of paper with his right hand. "Your Highness, there is bad news."

The news came from Venice: Andronikos Palaiologos, Despot of Thessaloniki, was unable to withstand the Ottoman siege and had decided to place the city under Venetian trusteeship, preventing its citizens from being plundered by the Ottoman army.

What was going on? What exactly was his third brother doing?

Vitus clutched the note in disbelief, staggering back two steps and nearly falling onto the soft carpet.

Recently, the Eastern Roman Empire had only three territories left: Constantinople, Thessaloniki, and Morea—less than half of the Peloponnese. After this mess, the Eastern Roman Empire had lost another territory. The people's confidence had plummeted, and the hope of securing outside aid had dwindled by a great deal as well.

"That wastrel! Father must have been out of his mind when he made him a Despot. He might as well have—"

Vitus burst into curses, but his gaze inadvertently fell upon the wealthy merchant behind the desk. He hurriedly shut his mouth, forcing down his emotions. "Lord Di Maggio, is there anything else?"

"It is still news from Venice. Milan's expansion has caused widespread concern among Venetian citizens. Barring surprises, Venice will soon join an anti-Milan alliance. Once the ice and snow melt, there will be a war sweeping across half of Italy."

Vitus stated clearly, "I will keep my promise and fulfill my duties as artillery commander."

The conversation ended there. Giulio watched the young man's departing back, his eyes flickering as though he were calculating something.