Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

Newcastle is a well-known coal port; even the waves of the River Tyne are covered in coal dust. It unearthed black stones from the ground, which supported the operation of the steam engines throughout England.

In the workshop of the Elswick factory, a cannon barrel is being formed.

It uses the technique of wrapping wrought iron bars, which is the same method Sir Neil Armstrong originally used to make cannons.

The red-hot iron bar is wound around the mandrel in circles, then hammered, welded, and polished.

The individual iron bars are fused together under high temperature and heavy hammering to form a thick tubular structure.

This gun barrel is larger in diameter than all of Armstrong's existing breech-loading guns, with thicker walls, a wider inner diameter, and is also much heavier.

The workers used iron chains to hoist it onto a crane, moving it from the heating furnace to the forging press, and from the forging press to the cooling pool, taking each step with utmost care.

Armstrong stood at the window of his office on the high platform, staring at the cannon barrel.

The factory manager was behind him, the edges of the documents in his hand were already curled up from his grip.

"Master," the steward said anxiously, but could only lower his voice, "you can't just let that brat do whatever he wants. He made us build a cannon barrel and removed a rail straightening machine that was in service. What are we going to do with the rails in the west?"

"If he can really improve my cannons, let him do it," Armstrong said. "Greston won't do something that loses money."

The steward hung his head in frustration. He was at the mercy of Sir Armstrong, and at this moment, he was as obedient to Richard.

"If he fails, Gladstone won't let him off the hook even if I don't punish him," he explained.

The manager nodded, said nothing more, took a step back, turned and walked out of the office.

A few days later, Richard arrived at the Elswick factory as promised.

Two carts followed behind him, one carrying the 1.5-meter-long chromium-nickel steel bar and the unprocessed chromium-nickel billet, which were fixed to a wooden frame and tightly bound with hemp rope.

Another vehicle carried several bulging burlap sacks, the openings of which were tightly tied, and the surface of the sacks was covered with a layer of grayish-white powder.

Armstrong stood with his hands behind his back at the workshop door, and when he saw Richard and the cargo in the carriage behind him, he couldn't help but frown.

Because a self-proclaimed experienced engineer saw a bunch of things he didn't understand.

He considered all of that stuff as waste. The sacks were filled with glass shards, which are typically used for polishing metal surfaces or mixing into paint to increase the roughness of walls.

He had worked in the military industry for decades and had never seen anyone bring glass powder into an arms factory.

As for the steel bar and the billet, their bright silver surfaces showed no signs of hammering, so he couldn't tell what materials they were made of, let alone what alloys they contained.

They lay there naked before him, like an unlocked safe; you knew it held something important, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Armstrong stepped forward and shook hands with Richard: "Welcome, Mr. Brian, everything you wanted is ready."

Richard tiptoed into the depths of the workshop, where a huge steel pipe lay horizontally on a bracket next to the forging press. The pipe wall was thick, and the surface was covered with dark gray oxide scale from forging.

Next to the steel pipe is a hydraulic rail straightening machine that has been reassembled according to requirements. The huge cast iron machine body is covered with oil stains, only the main hydraulic cylinder is polished to a shine.

Originally intended for straightening railway tracks, these rails have been transported here, awaiting some purpose Armstrong is unaware of.

Richard nodded to Armstrong: "Thank you so much. With these, our design is sure to be a great success."

"Of course." Armstrong chuckled. "However, what's the purpose of this car full of glass you brought? I thought we should solve the Broadwell Loop problem first."

"Please be patient, Sir Armstrong," Richard said. "Let's solve your gun barrel problem first."

Armstrong narrowed his eyes, deliberately slowing his speech: "I thought changing the ingredients would solve the problem. Perhaps... you have some other clever trick up your sleeve?"

Richard shut his mouth and turned to wave to his coachman.

"Unload the billet and steel bar," Richard said to the driver, then turned to the foreman behind Armstrong. "Could you please arrange for a few men to heat that billet to 1200 degrees Celsius? And preheat the steel pipe and steel bar with a gas torch?"

The foreman glanced at Armstrong, whose face was creased with wrinkles, but he still nodded slightly.

So the foreman gathered the workers and used chains and hooks to lift the steel bar and billet off the cart and hoist them to the side of the heating furnace.

Others dragged over the gas hoses, lit blowtorches, and blue flames licked the steel pipe walls.

Armstrong stood still, his gaze following the steel bar and the busy workers, trying to discern something from them.

The heating lasted for nearly an hour.

The blank gradually changed from silvery-white to bright orange, with its surface gleaming with an incandescent light.

The inner wall of the steel pipe was heated red by the blowtorch, creating a distorted heat wave in the workshop.

Richard walked over to the hydraulic press and inspected the base and mold.

There is a groove in the center of the base, and the size of the groove perfectly matches the blank.

He ordered someone to lift the billet out of the furnace, hold it with iron tongs, align it with the groove, and put it down.

The blank fell into the groove, and the workers used chains and wedges to hold it in place.

The steel pipe was hoisted up and fitted over the steel rod, leaving a uniform gap between the inner and outer walls, thus making the steel rod the core.

The workers ensured that the lower end of the steel pipe landed precisely on the base and was secured by the slot, preventing it from wobbling or shifting.

Next, Richard ordered the workers to unseal the sacks and sprinkle powder into the gaps between the steel pipes and bars.

The powder fell onto the inner wall of the steel pipe, which was heated to a dark red color, and quickly melted into a translucent, viscous liquid like syrup, forming a protective film like glaze.

Armstrong frowned even more as he saw the flowing molten glass.

Richard ignored him and waved to the technician operating the hydraulic press, a man he had brought with him who was very familiar with the processing parameters.

The technician pulled down the control lever.

The gantry crane lifts the red-hot steel billet into the extrusion cylinder, precisely aligning the billet with the center of the shaft.

Then he pulled the hydraulic master valve, and the pressure accumulated in the accumulator was instantly poured into the main hydraulic cylinder through the high-pressure pipeline. The rear pressure pad followed closely behind, and hundreds of atmospheres of pressure surged from all directions toward the chromium-nickel steel billet that had been heated to incandescence.

Steel is no longer steel; under immense pressure, it transforms into a quasi-fluid that flows like honey.

It gushed out from the outlet of the extrusion cylinder, squeezed through the gap between the steel pipe and the steel bar, lubricated by the molten glass, and guided by the mold wall to move forward at a constant and slow speed.

A dark red, smoky tube emerged from the other end of the mold, growing longer and longer, from a foot to a yard, and from a yard to a yard and a half.

It lay on the track that supported the rollers, rolling along, its surface covered by a layer of still-glowing glass.

In this way, a solid steel billet was transformed into a hollow and seamless cannon barrel.

Armstrong held the power tool with his hand, his eyes fixed on the slowly moving cannon barrel.

His mouth was slightly open, but he couldn't make a sound. This kind of processing was as mysterious to him as alchemy.

The workshop was extremely quiet.

The workers gathered around the forging press, listening to the deep, muffled sound of the cannon barrel hitting the receiving wheel.

Richard approached it, examined it carefully, then turned to Armstrong and smiled: "It's done."