Gears of Order and Heavy Firepower

The carriage passed through the inner wall of Blackpine Fief and stopped in front of the Main Residence, Special Envoy Priest Emon officially took up his post as the war zone coordinator.

Before arriving, Emon thought that Blackpine Fief was only barely holding on by the lingering power of the Blood Moon Season and the strong pressure from the lord.

Upon entering the city, he discovered that the entire Blackpine Fief resembled a machine that had just been pulled back into order, its orderly nature strangely unsettling.

But Emon didn't have time to find out the specifics yet, and simply suppressed this strange feeling in his heart.

He had just sat down in his room, ready to rest, when there were two restrained knocks on the door.

A guard pushed open the door and entered, carrying a thick stack of parchment documents. He walked to the table and gently placed the documents down.

The guard bowed and said calmly, "Cleric Excellency, this was sent by the lord. Please take a look."

The door closed again, and only the oil lamp flickered gently in the room, its dim yellow light swaying on the corner of the stack of files.

Population Stratification Register, Workshop Division of Workshop Register, War Loss and Replenishment Table, Work Points Payment Register, Pension and Disability Placement Register, Grassroots Non-commissioned Officer Promotion Record, and Allocation and Supply Receipts for Each Node.

He had intended to find a few loopholes in the ledgers so he could give that rising star a piece of his mind when they met tomorrow.

But when he saw the title on the paper, his gaze stopped, and he even spread out several thick files on the table and looked at them one by one.

Under the light of the oil lamp, Emon opened the first book, "Population and Post Documents of Blackpine Fief".

But this booklet breaks down thousands of people into very small categories.

From the Auxiliary Soldier who took up arms and carried stones, to the recovery period of the wounded, and even how much rations the families of the fallen should receive, everything was remembered clearly.

Next is the "Work Points and Distribution Announcement Book".

Whether there's one more or one less piece of black bread, why the meat broth is deducted, how battle merits are recorded, and how rewards and punishments are distributed—all of this is written in the explicit rules.

The further Emon turned his head, the lower his brows furrowed.

In the records of promotion of junior non-commissioned officers and the wartime contingency plan files, promotions were based solely on the ability to kill the enemy, defend the position, and lead troops.

Furthermore, it was all planned in advance who would repair the breached trenches first, which stockpile would be taken first if supplies were cut off, and who would take over if a node was lost.

Emon's fingers suddenly stopped when he opened the last book, "The Book of Pensions and Disability Placement".

The compensation for those laid off at the Eternal Night Wall was mostly just a formality, at most involving a pastor reciting a few prayers.

But this booklet also clearly states what kind of light work the wounded soldiers should be transferred to, and the compensation the deceased should give to their families in the Inland.

Emon slowly leaned back in his chair and exhaled.

This was no longer the usual way of a lord; it was far beyond his expectations.

Having served as a Cleric for a period of time, I am well aware of the chaotic household registration system on the borders of the Church, which makes me appreciate the rarity of these documents.

As dawn broke and the Blood Moon faded, he realized the passage of time.

Emon hastily splashed cold water on his face to suppress the bloodshot in his eyes, straightened his Cleric's robes, and went out the door.

He originally intended to go directly to the study to see the silver-haired boy again.

But a guard Knight was already waiting outside the door, so he bowed and saluted.

"Cleric Excellency, the Lord went to the outer wall weapons testing grounds early this morning. He left instructions that if you wake up, I should take you there directly."

Emon raised an eyebrow slightly, temporarily setting aside all the questions that had accumulated after spending the night poring over the files, and followed after him.

With a head full of questions, Emon followed the guiding Knight across the outer edge of the Workshop area and stopped at the edge of the temporarily cleared weapons testing ground on the north side of Blackpine Fief.

Victor was standing next to a High-Pressure Boiler, checking the scale.

The old Alchemist turned his head, and his one eye caught sight of the robe that signified Emon's status. His previously loud commands froze instantly.

His withered back immediately slumped, and his left hand nervously clutched the greasy leather apron.

Emon's gaze lingered on him for only a moment before calmly shifting away.

Under the authority of the Church, border artisans and tainted scholars often reacted this way when they met high-ranking Clergy. He had seen this reaction far too often and had no interest in learning more about it.

Shien, standing to the side, said, "Now that Emon has arrived, let's reveal the truth."

Two Auxiliary Soldier immediately stepped forward, grabbed the corner, and yanked it hard.

The heavy canvas slipped to the ground with a "whoosh," raising a cloud of dust.

Emon's gaze fell on the pile of newly exposed lumps of Pig Iron. A hint of surprise flashed across his eyes before he recognized the general outline.

It's a cannon. There are actually similar things in this world, such as the Divinely Forged Siege Cannon mounted on the city wall of Tear Knight City.

Those giant cannons had long, slender barrels, covered with intricate gilded magic arrays, and were polished to look like ceremonial objects. Each roar carried a strong sense of holiness.

But this thing in front of us, placed next to those Divinely Forged Siege Cannons, looks like a piece of junk pulled out of a scrap heap.

It was too short and too thick; the cannon barrel was like a piece of log that had been forcibly cut off, held in place only by layers of iron sieves made of Pig Iron.

The outer layer is devoid of any decoration, except for the grotesque Rune roughly chiseled out at a few key stress points.

The entire heavy cannon rested heavily on a frame made of Black Iron and hardwood, with an Isolated Breech Chamber bulging behind the breech, surrounded by densely packed steam pressure pipes with rivets.

Ugly, coarse, and shabby—that was Emon's first impression, but there was not a trace of disdain on his face.

After all, those meticulously detailed, almost ruthless, war preparedness files from last night were still running through his mind over and over again.

The fourteen-year-old boy standing next to him would never waste materials to create a useless piece of junk at a time like this.

Shien walked to the side of the cannon and casually patted the cold iron hoops with his black leather-gloved hand.

"When."

A muffled thud echoed across the test field.

Shien's tone was casual. "It's just the first prototype. We're launching it for the first test today. We're just seeing if it can withstand a single firing. Don't get your hopes up too high."

He didn't say anything more, but simply turned his head slightly and looked at Victor, wanting him to introduce him.

Victor's shoulders visibly twitched, but because it was the lord's order, he mustered his courage and spoke.

"The Church's siege cannons rely on layers of precious metals, Mithril, and high-level Rune, making them incredibly powerful, but also extremely expensive."

Victor spoke slowly, and the first half of his sentence was somewhat hesitant, but once he started talking about artillery, the rest of his words flowed more smoothly.

"That thing is too, too slow. After a while, array masters, Cleric and Alchemist have to go up and repair the array together. It's okay for defending a large city, but it's simply not realistic to deploy it in various places in the Graymist Defense Zone."

But the cannon that Lord designed—didn't follow that path.

He raised his left hand and carefully pointed to the cannon barrel locked by layers of iron hoops.

"This thing doesn't need a whole piece of Mithril, nor does it need to cover the entire barrel with high-level Rune. The cannon body is forged in sections, with iron hoops around the outside to hold it in place. If any section cracks, you can just remove it and replace it."

The Rune are no longer used to withstand the power directly; they are only engraved in a few key positions. If they are damaged, it is enough to repair those few grooves. There is no need to carry the entire cannon back to the Workshop for safekeeping.

As he said this, his finger fell again on the bulging Isolated Breech Chamber at the breech.

"The heaviest firepower is no longer piled on the gun barrel, but all of it is contained here, which reduces the pressure on the gun body and allows the base frame to be made lighter as well."

If we really want to push it to the front lines, we can disassemble it, load it onto trucks, and then reassemble it once we get there. It's not impossible.

Emon listened quietly, his gaze slowly falling on the dark Rune channels.

He didn't understand the craftsmen's intricate details, but he was still impressed by them.

The more Victor spoke, the less apprehensive he became, and instead, a pure light shone in his eyes.

"It may not be as impressive as the Church's heavy artillery, but if it's successfully built, we won't have to fear defending our territory anymore."

There was a moment of silence on the sidelines, the wind rustling the chains under the gun carriage.

Looking at the short, stubby, and heavy iron cannon, Emon realized he had underestimated the ambition of this fourteen-year-old boy.

Shien then spoke, his tone still calm.

"Don't worry about how far it can fire today." He patted the gun carriage. "First, check three things: first, whether the gun barrel will crack after firing; second, whether there will be pressure leakage in the chamber; and third, whether the carriage can withstand the recoil."

After saying that, he looked at Victor: "Start loading."

Victor snapped back to reality and swung his left hand sharply, "Reload!"

Several apprentices and craftsmen immediately rushed forward. Some pushed over a heavy iron medicine chest, while others carried a solid, worn-black cannonball.

The iron hook clanged against the gun carriage. The ramrod was slowly pushed in, the rough friction making one's teeth clench.

One hundred and fifty paces ahead of the test site, a whole set of target positions had already been set up.

At the very front were three layers of iron-clad hardwood shields and a row of old Caltrops strung together with thick iron chains.

Behind it was a thick stone wall salvaged from an abandoned outpost, more than half a person's thickness, with several pieces of hard bone plates stripped from Third-Tier Demonic Beast nailed to the outside.

Further on, there were the half-collapsed ruins of old fortifications and mounds filled with Frozen Tundra soil.

"Initiate pressure!" Victor shouted suddenly.

Immediately, someone on the other end of the boiler pulled down the valve stem.

"Laugh--!"

High-Pressure White Steam suddenly burst forth, and the thick steam pipe taut instantly.

The Rune grooves carved along the outer wall of the cannon changed from dark to bright, first turning white, and then gradually emitting a faint red glow.

The massive gun carriage began to vibrate slightly, and the Frozen Tundra beneath it cracked softly, as if something inside was slowly awakening.

The apprentices nearby turned pale and instinctively took two steps back.

Victor himself crouched down, his eyes fixed on the tail section, and gripped the firing cord with his left hand.

For a moment, even the wind on the test field seemed to pause.

"Put!"

"Boom--!"

The roar was deep and heavy, like a whole mountain wall crashing into your chest.

Emon felt a tingling sensation in his eardrums, a violent jolt in the Frozen Tundra beneath his boots, and the air in his chest was forced back by the force of the shot.

The cannon suddenly spewed out a blazing storm of black smoke, sparks, and scrap iron.

The iron bullet's trajectory was almost invisible, leaving only a very short gray trail in mid-air before crashing heavily into the center of the target.

The Ironwood Shield at the very front first sank inward with a "bang," and then the chevaux -Caltrops and shield plates exploded on the spot as if struck by a giant hammer.

The thick stone wall behind it didn't immediately crumble into pieces. Instead, it made a heavy, muffled sound for a moment, then a large pit suddenly sank into the center of the wall, and spiderweb-like cracks instantly covered the entire wall.

The next breath.

"Boom--!"

Half of the stone wall, along with the bone deck behind it, the old fortifications, and the earthen mound, collapsed.

Large chunks of gravel, Frozen Tundra, Iron Shards, and sawdust were hurled into the air, creating a gray-black scene, as if the ground had suddenly been turned upside down.

As the dust settled, the pile of wreckage behind the target, which had originally been used to prop up the wall, had completely collapsed, revealing a dark, gaping hole.

For a moment, no one spoke in the testing area.

Only deep inside the boiler was still panting heavily, with hot white smoke billowing out from the muzzle.

A young apprentice stood frozen, mouth agape, before finally taking a deep breath, his face flushed red and his hands trembling.

Emon stood there, unsure how to react.

The order he saw last night was the cold, rigid system in the dossier, which arranged people, food, wounded soldiers, and fortifications into grids.

Today's blast has laid the future before him. If this thing is really as convenient and cheap as that old man said, it will change the war at the Eternal Night Wall.

Victor, however, didn't bother to check how badly the target had collapsed.

As soon as the cannon fired, he hunched over and lunged forward. His gloved left hand ran from the scorching hot barrel all the way to the pressure-bearing iron band, then along the pressure guide groove to the Isolated Breech Chamber at the rear. His hand recoiled from the heat, but the next moment he gritted his teeth and pressed it down again.

"It hasn't collapsed—the pressure is still flowing—the tail plug hasn't loosened—"

He muttered to himself, as if he were performing an autopsy on himself.

Only after checking all the most vulnerable spots to explosion, confirming that the iron hoops were still firmly in place, the chamber wasn't cracked, and the tail clips hadn't popped open, did Victor finally let out a long sigh of relief.

He straightened up, his cloudy, single eye shining frighteningly bright; this time, he didn't shrink back.