Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

Five rapid-fire rounds were about to begin. The two cannons lay side by side on the firing position, waiting to be awakened by the gunners.

The gun on the left is an active muzzle-loading gun. Six gunners are surrounding it, their muscles tense, and beads of sweat are already seeping from their foreheads before they even start operating it.

The one on the right is Richard's new breech-loading cannon; only three men stand behind it, equally ready for action.

The tester stood between the two cannons, holding a red triangular flag in his hand.

His gaze swept from left to right, confirming that the gunners on both sides were in position.

The six men on the port side gripped the brushes and the ramrods, while the three men on the starboard side rested their hands on the breechblock.

The flag was suddenly lowered.

The six people on the left moved swiftly, as if someone had suddenly unwound the tightly wound springs on their backs.

The propellant charge was pushed in by the push rod, and the shell was then inserted. The gunner secured the fuse, took two steps back, and pulled the fuse.

boom!

A ball of orange fire shot from the muzzle, and the projectile traced a low arc before landing near the target a kilometer away.

Meanwhile, the three people on the right were not to be outdone.

The first gunner turned the breechblock, and the spiral slid smoothly along the well-lubricated track.

The second gunner pushed in the shell, then took out two bags of silk propellant and pressed them in. The cartridge belt engaged with the rifling, producing a short, crisp sound.

The third gunner closed the bolt and then stepped back to pull the rope.

boom!

The two cannon shots rang out almost simultaneously, making it impossible to tell which came first.

The first serve was barely a draw.

The gunners on the left took turns, dipping brushes in water and plunging them into the cannon barrels. White steam hissed out, carrying the pungent smell of gunpowder residue.

The brush pushes and pulls inside the barrel wall, and the gunpowder residue sinters into a hard shell under high temperature, sticking to the rifling.

The resistance to pushing and pulling gradually increased, and the medicine packet got stuck halfway in.

But when he looked over, he saw that the gunner on the right had already turned the breechblock open, slid in the second propellant charge and shell, and closed the breech.

boom!

The impact points of the shells almost overlapped with the impact point of the first shell, as if the same shell had exploded twice at the same coordinates.

The gunners on the left quickly sped up their work. One gunner clenched his fist and pounded the end of the propellant charge twice before pushing it all the way down.

boom!

The shell landed near the first one.

By the third shot, the gap had widened.

The barrel of the left-side muzzle-loading gun began to get hot under continuous firing, and uneven heating caused the rifling to expand and deform at high temperatures.

The gunners tried to load the third round, but it got stuck in the deformed rifling. One of them pulled a mallet from his toolbox, squatted down, and pounded it on the barrel to shake the shell in.

The gunner who was loading the gun had already fired the fourth shot, but his movements did not slow down at all, and he continued to fire the fifth shot.

boom!

The point of impact remained precise.

After five rapid shots, Sir Campbell was visibly embarrassed.

After firing five rounds from the muzzle-loading gun, the first three rounds were still roughly around the same point, but with the muzzle swaying and the rifling expanding, the fourth round deviated from its target, and the fifth round was even more far off, by tens of meters.

Richard's bullets always landed precisely in the holes created by the first few shots, without the slightest deviation.

The six gunners on the left slumped down beside the gun carriage, exhausted. They loosened their collars, took off their hats to fan themselves, and scattered on the ground were charred rags, oil-stained brushes, and overturned buckets of water.

The three men on the right stood next to the gun mount, breathing steadily, with hardly any sweat on their foreheads.

The cannon barrel is slightly warm, and you won't pull your hand away when you place it on it.

Five rounds with double the explosive charge were fired, and it looked exactly the same as when it was pushed out of the workshop.

Whitworth stepped down from the observation platform.

He didn't spend a single second checking the muzzle-loading gun; there was no need to.

The six men collapsed to the ground from exhaustion, and the shells repeatedly jammed, deviating from their trajectories.

These images have given him all the answers he needed.

He walked over to the new cannon and took out a set of plug gauges from the toolbox.

This is a set of precision cylinders in increments of one mil, made of hardened high-carbon steel polished to a shine.

He inserted the thinnest one into the muzzle of the cannon, and the metal touched each other like a pen tip falling on paper.

Then the size is increased sequentially, eventually reaching a total of seven inches.

With a soothing "hiss" sound produced by the airtightness.

The plug gauge glides freely on the rifling without any sticking or dragging.

He pushed the stopper from the muzzle to the breech, and then from the breech back to the muzzle.

A series of formulas flashed through Whitworth's mind.

According to his calculations, with this amount of propellant, the expansion of a conventional gun barrel would be at least 0.08 inches.

It's like a muzzle-loading cannon that's been destroyed.

But the expansion of this cannon is less than 0.02 inches.

He put down the compass and took out an endoscope from the box. The servant held up an oil lamp with a convex lens on the lampshade that focused the light of the flame into a blinding white beam.

He inserted the endoscope into the muzzle, adjusted the angle of the endoscope tube, and directed the beam of light to the beginning of the rifling.

That's where the gunpowder gases rub against the surface most intensely and where the temperature is highest, making it most prone to cracks and ablation.

He pressed his eyes against the goggles, and his top hat slipped off his head and fell into the mud, but he didn't notice.

Through the eyepiece, he saw a smooth metal surface.

The rifling is covered with a very thin but uniform oxide film, which is a dense protective layer formed by chromium reacting with oxygen at high temperatures, separating the metal from the gunpowder.

Whitworth's eyes widened, and she muttered to herself, "This steel... is self-lubricating?"

A moment later, he bent down to pick up the top hat and began to pack up the equipment.

Gladstone, seeing that Whitworth had finished, called out, "Well, Sir Whitworth, how were the measurements?"

Whitworth glanced at Richard, who looked confident, as if it were all destined.

He shifted his gaze back to Gladstone's face and said, "Mr. Prime Minister, this is the finest steel I have ever measured. I can say without reservation that Mr. Brian's cannons are the true industry standard."

Sir Campbell stood at the back of the crowd, his face resembling an oil painting soaked by rain, with every line flowing downwards.

He swallowed hard. "This result... is indeed excellent."

Sir Campbell approached Richard, sighed, and extended his hand: "Mr. Brian, your cannon has won."

"Thank you, Sir Campbell, your approval is very important to me," Richard replied.

Applause erupted from behind him, and the officers and nobles were all captivated by the sight before them. They removed their military caps and top hats to salute Richard.

Whitworth, hands behind his back, approached Richard, his voice filled with admiration: "Mr. Brian, you must tell me how you managed to make the coefficient of expansion of steel obey you."

Richard smiled, glanced at Gladstone who was congratulating the executives, and said, "As I said, Sir Whitworth, you'll soon find out."