Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

The carriage stopped outside the iron gates of Hayward Manor. Richard opened the carriage door first, his boots stepping onto the gravel road.

He straightened his coat collar and waited for Armstrong to get down from the other side.

Armstrong wore a more angular tuxedo today, with a dark blue silk tie peeking out from the collar.

He got out of the car and used his cane to steady himself on the uneven ground.

Richard walked over to him and asked in a low voice, "Let me double-check, the Greenwood matter... it's over, right?"

Armstrong looked at Richard with a surprised expression, as if he would have forgotten that name long ago if Richard hadn't reminded him.

Then, that surprised expression vanished instantly, replaced by the cold and calculating scrutiny Richard had shown when they first met.

"Greenwood," Armstrong murmured, "was just one of my attempts to get into small arms."

His hand rested on a walnut cane.

"I have to admit that I bear some responsibility for this failure," he said. "I thought he was capable of simply acquiring a few small factories, but I miscalculated."

"What did you miscalculate?" Richard asked.

"I miscalculated you, Mr. Brian." Armstrong's tone even carried a hint of apology. "My limited imagination simply couldn't have conceived of a genius like you at Limehouse."

He chuckled, pulled his cane from the ground, and tucked it under his arm: "However, it's also thanks to my arrogance that we could have missed such a cooperation opportunity, which would have been such a pity."

Richard gave a perfunctory smile; he understood the underlying meaning in Armstrong's words.

Armstrong meant that if he were to personally take to the field, he wouldn't give himself any breathing room.

The warning was hidden within what appeared to be an acknowledgment, but Richard was not easily intimidated. Armstrong's threat, however sharp, was still just words.

The two walked up the steps side by side, and the servant had already pushed open the oak door, leading them to the study on the second floor of the manor.

He stopped in front of the door on the right side of the corridor and knocked lightly twice.

"Come in," Gladstone's voice came from behind the door.

The servant pushed open the door, making way for the passage.

Richard followed Armstrong inside, then froze in place.

This is a true study, a room surrounded by books.

From floor to ceiling, all four walls are made of solid wood bookshelves, each shelf crammed with classics and poetry collections, even autobiographies of political enemies.

Not a single wall was wasted; the entire room resembled a cocoon built of books, undisturbed by the outside world.

Gladstone sat behind his desk, which was piled high with documents. He heard footsteps, lifted his head from the mountain of files, put down his pen, and stood up.

"You've arrived. Sit down, sit down." Gladstone walked around the desk to the fireplace and pointed to the two deep red leather sofas.

The two then sat down, and the leather sofa immediately supported Richard's back, but he did not let himself sink into it, and instead immediately adjusted his posture.

Gladstone didn't sit on the sofa. Instead, he pulled over a hard-backed wooden chair that didn't look very comfortable and sat down on the other side of the fireplace, resting his elbows on the armrests and crossing his fingers in front of his chest.

At that moment, his posture was less like that of a prime minister and more like that of a priest preparing to listen to confessions.

Then a maid came in carrying a tray with a steaming porcelain teapot, three white porcelain cups, and a dish of oat biscuits.

At Hayward Estate, you'll never see the elaborate desserts typically served at royal banquets; the owners prefer to entertain guests with ordinary, everyday snacks.

The maid poured the tea and then left.

Gladstone picked up his teacup and took a sip.

He gave a satisfied smile after seeing Armstrong and Richard do the same.

"I was initially a little worried about what it would be like for the two of you to work together," Gladstone said. "But now it seems that was unnecessary."

Richard was about to speak when Armstrong interrupted him.

"No, Richard and I..." He glanced at Richard, "we were like kindred spirits, it's no wonder we met so late in life. A talented young man like him deserves to stand out."

Richard immediately put on a polite smile: "Baron Armstrong is the backbone of the Imperial military industry, and it is my honor to work with him."

Gladstone watched them chatter away, his smile deepening, and he placed the teacup back on the tray.

"Then we don't need to exchange pleasantries. I heard you came to discuss the cannons?"

Richard nodded.

"That's right, we are pleased to inform you that the improvements to the Armstrong breech-loading gun are progressing very smoothly," he continued. "This technology can extend the barrel's life by ten years, thus saving a considerable amount of maintenance costs."

Gladstone's eyes lit up instantly, his eyes, which had been dulled by fatigue and anxiety, were brightened in an instant.

Armstrong continued, "Moreover, the cannons improved by Richard can achieve twice the range while maintaining considerable accuracy."

Gladstone's smile froze. He looked at Armstrong in disbelief, then turned to stare at Richard.

"Double?" He swallowed hard.

This is not his fault. When he commissioned Richard to improve the gun barrel, his only expectation was to solve the risk of the breechblock not locking properly and the barrel exploding, so that the people in the Admiralty would shut up in front of him.

He never imagined that it would not only be improved, but also elevated to a level he never dared to dream of.

In Europe at that time, every kilometer increase in the range of cannons was a miracle for the industrial and military sectors, a major event that would be written into reports and presented to Her Majesty the Queen.

But this would not only maintain accuracy but also double the range?

"Sir Armstrong," Gladstone frowned, "are you sure? Or are you just here to amuse me?"

Armstrong stretched out his hand and pointed to his eyes: "I'm sure I saw it with my own eyes."

Gladstone leaned back in his chair, his lips pressed tightly together.

Sparks burst from the fireplace and splattered onto the iron bars in front of it.

"This is simply...fantastic!" His deep, powerful voice resonated in the study. "You have no idea how much money this saves the people!"

Richard gave a slight bow: "Thank you, Prime Minister. But... I have even better news."

Gladstone grinned. "Tell me, let me hear what better news could there be?"

Richard cleared his throat and solemnly announced, "I have decided to transfer this patent to the Empire free of charge."