Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

When the Queen turned to the section on special steel patents, she looked up at Gladstone: "A free transfer?"

Gladstone nodded. "That's right, he said it's a gift he's offering to the Empire."

The Queen placed the document on her lap, took off her glasses, and put it on the side table next to the armrest.

"Is it true that his cannons can penetrate the armor of the Hercules at twice the distance of Krupp cannons?" she asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I saw it with my own eyes at the Superines artillery range, and Sir William Armstrong can also testify to that," Gladstone replied.

The Queen pursed her lips, supported her forehead with her hand, and gently closed her eyes.

"If Albert were still here..." her voice was a little hoarse, "he would definitely spend an afternoon chatting with this Mr. Brian."

Gladstone nodded slightly. Prince Albert, the German prince from Coburg, was the biggest driving force behind Victorian industry and science.

The chief designer of the 1851 World's Fair, the exhibits that came from all over the world showcasing human wisdom and technology, were painstakingly created by him in his smoke-filled office, drawing blueprint after blueprint.

He was known as Prince Albert, and his name appeared after the Queen's in all official documents.

But these trivial matters never disturbed his grand ambitions; what he cared about was science and industry, so as to make the empire stronger.

The Queen slowly opened her eyes, stroking the black onyx brooch on her chest with her hand, her thumb tracing back and forth across Prince Albert's photograph.

"Mr. Gladstone," she turned her head, "you've spoken with him, tell me, what kind of man is he?"

Gladstone paused for a few seconds, then said, "Your Majesty, if you asked me to describe him, he's more like a solitary believer in the pursuit of truth. And above all that, he possesses a fervent patriotism."

The Queen nodded, picked up the document from her lap, and turned to a blank approval form.

That was Richard's application to establish a strategic materials laboratory.

She picked up a dip pen, held the tip above the page, and left a short note in purple ink.

"Approved. When I saw the result. —VR"

She put down her pen and handed the approval document to the servant.

The servant took it with both hands and handed it to Gladstone.

Gladstone took it, placed it against his chest, and then bowed slightly.

"This is a wise decision, Your Majesty."

The Queen leaned back in her chair, her gaze returning to the sea.

"Next time I sail back to London, I hope I'll happen to pass by his laboratory," Queen Victoria said softly.

"As you wish, Your Majesty," Gladstone replied. "Everything will be arranged."

The Queen waved her hand, and Gladstone knew it was time for him to leave, so he turned and walked out of the room.

The servants silently closed the door behind them, shutting out the woman on the throne and the sea that blended into the sky.

It was midnight in Kensington.

Richard sat in his study, several blueprints spread out on the walnut desk in front of him, with dimensions and dates marked in pencil.

A kerosene lamp stood at the corner of the table, its full and soft light illuminating the desk and the area within three feet around it.

He was holding a thick-bottomed crystal glass filled with brandy sweetened with sugar.

The sugar granules slowly sink in the liquid, accumulating into a small clump of transparent sand at the bottom of the glass.

He took a bite of the butter biscuit and looked down at the line of numbers on the paper that he had repeatedly traced.

Two months, at least two months.

With Queen Victoria's support, it was equivalent to having priority access to the entire British logistics system, including priority unloading at ports and priority customs clearance.

The large equipment dismantled from the Armstrong factory and the special steel components transported from the Siemens steel plant were loaded onto the first trains and rattled along the tracks toward Dartford.

This convenience reduced the construction period by half, but assembling a hydraulic press is not like building blocks. The foundation needs to be cast, the columns need to be aligned, and every bolt on the energy storage tower needs to be tightened to the design torque. He had to wait.

The gunpowder laboratory for Abel can be completed sooner.

He was confident that he could get everything in place within a few weeks, with the installation of moisture-proof flooring, the construction of explosion-proof walls, ventilation ducts, and all the equipment he requested.

All he needed to do was casually leak the Kodak explosives manufacturing formula to Abel beforehand, and the rest would fall into place.

Richard downed the brandy in his glass, put it down, and rubbed his temples.

Time to sleep.

He turned off the kerosene lamp, plunging the study into darkness. He stood up, preparing to walk around behind the desk back to his bedroom.

A soft sound came from outside the window; something had hit the glass.

He stopped and listened intently.

Another sound.

It wasn't a hard object; it sounded more like a tightly crumpled ball of paper hitting glass.

He walked to the window and carefully drew back the curtains.

Downstairs, outside the iron gate of the garden, stood a person.

Her long, golden hair was tousled by the night wind, and her beautiful face looked as flawless as a porcelain doll under the streetlights.

Richard recognized her, Eleanor.

She was wearing a long, dark blue coat and stood alone in the cold wind.

Eleanor also saw Richard. She stretched out her hand, pointed her finger down to the ground, and gestured for him to come downstairs to meet her.

Richard clenched his fist on the curtain.

When they parted last time, they agreed never to see each other again and never to interfere with each other's lives.

But he knew that something must have happened if she came to his door in person.

Richard closed the curtains, walked to the desk, and opened the drawer.

There lay a Beaumont-Adams revolver in the drawer. He held it in his hand and weighed it in his hand.

He didn't think he would shoot her, but the solid, cold metallic touch felt like a dose of metronidazole in his veins, stabilizing his breathing.

He tucked the gun inside his belt at the back of his waist, then pulled his coat down to cover it, and tiptoed out of the study.

Louise was already asleep, and he didn't want to disturb her.

He walked down the stairs and pushed open the door to the entrance.

The cold wind that hit him made him shiver.

Eleanor stood outside the iron gate, his hands in his coat pockets, looking extremely tired.

Richard turned back, closed the door, walked closer to the iron fence, and looked at her through the fence.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a low voice. "I thought we had agreed never to see each other again."

Eleanor lowered his head and lowered his eyes, took out a silver cigarette case from his pocket, opened it, took out a Turkish cigarette, and put it in his mouth.

The match lit up her profile, adding a touch of warmth to her pale face.

The cigarette butt turned crimson, and she opened her mouth to exhale a cloud of loneliness.

Elinor's silence, like the bowstring of a violin, lingered in Richard's mind, as he kept guessing about her purpose for coming.