Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

Gladstone waited a few seconds to make sure there were no objections from the other side, then continued his speech.

"That's right, you heard me correctly," he said. "This ordinary civilian who developed military equipment that would revolutionize the world did not ask the British treasury for a single penny of patent royalties."

"Gentlemen, this... is the truest form of patriotism," Gladstone emphasized the word "patriotism." "This generous decision directly saves British taxpayers millions of pounds in subsequent maintenance and procurement costs."

He looked down at Sir Parkington and asked, "Now, Sir Parkington, is it I, who have streamlined and strengthened the army, or you who are sending soldiers to their deaths with outdated weapons, that is truly undermining the Imperial armed forces?"

Without waiting for Parkinton's reply, he turned around, walked back to the green bench, and sat down.

Wow!

The green benches on the Liberal Party side erupted in cheers.

Hundreds of lawmakers suddenly stood up from their seats, took off their hats and waved them in the air, rolled up their documents into tubes and used them as megaphones, and shouted in unison, "Listen! Listen!"

On the Conservative bench opposite him, Sir Parkington let out a long sigh. Beside him, Disraeli pulled his top hat down to cover his somber face.

They all knew that, faced with these revolutionary weapons, the Conservative Party had no reason to stop Gladstone's financial scathing attacks at this conference.

A few days later, the London Gazette officially announced Richard's knighthood.

In the Victorian era, a license pressed with red beeswax was not enough.

His title had no social or legal effect unless it was published in the London Gazette.

From this moment forward, he is no longer Mr. Richard Bryan, but Sir Richard Bryan, Baron.

At this moment, Richard is standing on Queen Victoria Street near St. Paul's Cathedral, in front of him is the old courtyard with red brick walls, which is the House of Armours in England.

It has stood here since the 15th century, witnessing the rise and fall of countless families.

A few days ago, he received a notice from the Imperial Ministry of the Interior that he must go to the Heraldry to purchase a shield.

As a commoner who had risen to prominence, Richard did not possess the ancestral coat of arms. A nobleman without a coat of arms not only lost face in social circles, but the missing piece on his charter also rendered it incomplete and illegitimate.

Therefore, he had no choice but to bite the bullet and enter the medieval building filled with parchment and beeswax.

A young man in a black tailcoat, whose investiture was public knowledge, came to greet him in the foyer and led him upstairs to the second floor, where Sir Charles George Young was.

The 74-year-old Herald King sat behind his desk, holding a quill pen in his hand.

He wore a formal double-breasted coat with a bow tie, and his face was solemn and authoritative, a confidence that came from twenty-seven years of faithful service.

He heard Richard come upstairs, so he looked up.

He wore a monocle over his right eye, and a silver chain dangled into his vest pocket. He habitually sized up the young man before him, then said, "Mr. Brian, please have a seat."

Richard sat down in the chair opposite him, looking straight at the old Herald King.

Sir Yang took a blank form from the drawer, a quill pen hovering over it: "Name, title, date of birth, parents' names, place of birth... I need to confirm these basic details one by one."

Richard answered each question.

Sir Yang meticulously recorded each stroke, his handwriting neat and powerful.

"Very good." Sir Yang put down his pen, pushed the form aside, and took out a large roll of design drawings from the drawer. The drawings showed a severed, bright red right hand.

This is the Ulster Red Hand. Ever since King James I established the Baronship to raise funds for the suppression of the Irish rebellion, all British Barons have been required to wear this symbol on their coat of arms.

Sir Young spread out the diagram, squinting at Richard: "Mr. Brian, what are your thoughts on the coat of arms?"

Richard stroked his chin, searching his mind for the coat of arms he had seen in history books: lions, lilies, castles, irises.

But he didn't want to use those.

Those were symbols that other people's families inherited from battlefields and marriage alliances hundreds of years ago; they had nothing to do with him.

"How about painting Vulcan, the god of fire, in the center of the coat of arms?" he asked.

Vulcan was the king of craftsmen in Roman mythology. He married Venus, the most beautiful goddess, and almost all the weapons in the hands of the gods were made by him, representing skill and creativity.

Sir Yang nodded: "Hmm, hmm. That's a good start, anything else?"

Richard was stumped. He knew nothing about art, and the rules about color and composition were just a jumbled mess in his head.

He wished he could bring Louise with him.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Maybe... add a cannon?"

Since the coat of arms is meant to highlight its own characteristics, then I have to add my own unique features to it.

Sir Yang clearly didn't like the idea; his eyes widened suddenly, and the monocle he was wearing almost slipped out of its socket.

"Absolutely not! Mr. Brian, it's ridiculous to put this steel monster on the coat of arms! The coat of arms isn't a GG badge, it's the face of a family for hundreds of years! Cannons..." His voice lowered, but the anger in his tone didn't lessen, "...it's too vulgar."

Richard shook his head; he knew there was no point in arguing with the old Herald King. "Since cannons aren't appropriate, do you have any ideas?"

Sir Yang pondered for a long time before finally speaking: "You've already added the element of fire to the emblem, why not add two phoenixes as well? Phoenixes born from fire, like your inventions, changed the fate of the empire."

He looked at Richard and asked, "What do you think?"

Richard quickly nodded: "Of course, if you think it's okay, then it's fine."

Sir Yang frowned, placed his hand flat on the table, and said seriously, "Mr. Brian, I must ask you to take this matter more seriously. This coat of arms will hang in your estate and be printed on your charter. If you don't take it seriously, it won't take you seriously either."

Richard lowered his head; he did not refute.

He remembered that the old man before him would pass away this August, ending his twenty-seven-year reign as King of the Armor.

Even on his deathbed, this was the job he was unwilling to give up.

This professionalism transformed his demanding and persistent nature into admirable qualities in Richard's eyes.

He sighed inwardly, then sincerely apologized: "I'm sorry, Sir Yang, I will take this seriously."

Sir Yang nodded in satisfaction, but the time ahead would likely be tough...