Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

"Excuse me," Sir Campbell began, as if commenting on a bottle of red wine, "are we going to hunt vampires? Because this thing looks like it's made of silver."

Several officers chuckled in agreement, but Gladstone, standing at the front, was silenced, and no one dared to say anything more.

Whitworth crouched down in front of the wooden box, one hand hovering over the shell.

Then his fingertips landed on the surface of the shell, his fingers tracing the tip and tail of the shell before he looked up at Richard with a puzzled expression.

"How did you make it?" Whitworth asked.

Richard understood why Whitworth was surprised.

In 1868 Britain, cannonballs were made of rough wrought iron coated with graphite, their surfaces covered with forging marks and pores left from the sand casting process.

But the surface of this shell is completely natural, as if someone had deliberately polished it.

“Mr. Whitworth,” Richard leaned down as well, “I can’t tell you for now. But this secret won’t last long.”

Whitworth stood up, half-believing, half-doubting, her eyes never leaving the shell.

His fingers told him it was true, but his experience told him it couldn't be.

Richard turned around and waved to the workers behind him: "Give the shells to the gunner."

The workers picked up the wooden boxes and headed towards the gun positions.

An old gunner took the shell, and his wrist visibly slumped.

This shell is much heavier than a regular wrought iron shell. The density of the chromium-nickel alloy is greater than that of wrought iron, so for the same volume, it weighs nearly 20% more.

He held the shell in his palm, examined it from all angles, then walked behind the new cannon and shoved it into the breech.

At that moment, Gladstone walked up to Richard and lowered his voice: "This thing looks good, but it doesn't seem like a weapon that can be used on a large scale."

His implication was clear: firing one or two such shells might show off one's skills, but on the battlefield, a single salvo from a capital ship would consume several tons of ammunition. Could the Empire afford to fire such expensive-looking shells?

Richard nodded, not avoiding the question: "Unfortunately, it is still quite expensive, but it was never intended to replace traditional artillery shells. It is a deadly weapon on the battlefield that can defeat the enemy in one strike."

Gladstone stroked his chin and nodded slightly.

The gunner took out a silk powder pouch with twice the amount of propellant, stuffed it into the breech, and made a soft rustling sound.

He stepped back a few paces, adjusted the angle of incidence, and held the red fuse in his hand, his palms sweaty.

"Twice the propellant?" Sir Campbell deliberately made sure everyone around him could hear him. "That cannon barrel simply can't withstand that chamber pressure. It'll blow us all to smithereens."

"You need not worry, Sir Campbell," Richard said. "If it does happen, I will stand in front of you so that your uniform will not get dirty."

Campbell's facial muscles twitched involuntarily. He took a step forward and said, "There's no need for that."

The gunner turned around to make sure the observers had retreated behind cover, and gripped the fuse in his hand even tighter.

He had never added so much high-explosive powder before, especially to a brand-new cannon. He could only pin his hopes on Richard's absolute safety, which he had assured him of with a thud.

He gritted his teeth and yanked the fuse.

boom!

The entire Shuberines artillery range felt as if it had been trampled by an invisible behemoth, and the pebbles on the bunkers bounced up.

A sharp roar erupted from the cannon, the warhead tearing through the air and carving a long white trail across the beach, stretching from the gun emplacement to the horizon.

The sand on the ground was also stirred up by the blast wave and flipped to both sides.

All eyes followed the white line, instantly closing in on the thick armor plate.

But the expected cracking sound didn't come; instead, there was a short "pop," like someone had popped a balloon with a needle.

Slowly, as the smoke and dust cleared from the direction of the armor plates, Whitworth was the first to move.

He was nearly seventy years old, but his movements were much more agile and impatient than those officers who were still standing there in a daze.

Because he could tell that the shell had penetrated the armor plate.

He strode to the front of the armor plate and placed his hands on his knees.

There was a hole in the armor plate, but it wasn't a crack. It looked as if a red-hot iron rod had pierced through the surface. The metal at the hole had a dark blue sheen, and the edges were slightly curled.

The chromium-nickel alloy warhead snapped into its target, converting tons of kinetic energy into heat, penetrating directly through a nine-inch wrought iron plate and tearing apart a twelve-inch teak backing and steel plate.

Whitworth crouched down, roughly measured the hole with her hand, and finally a look of surprise appeared in her eyes.

"How...how did you do that?" His voice trembled slightly. "The bullet diameter and the perforation diameter are exactly the same..."

Richard walked up to him and said calmly, "I just used better materials."

He was telling the truth. The traditional concept of armor-piercing projectiles is not wrong; they use harder cold-cast iron for the projectile to penetrate armor.

But no matter how hard it is, it is still cast iron in essence.

When it strikes the thick wrought iron armor plate, the enormous impact shatters it before the projectile can penetrate the armor. The energy is completely dissipated during the fragmentation process; the projectile is reduced to dust, while the armor plate remains unmoved—a dead end in materials science.

In other words, you can't use firm tofu to cut silken tofu, and expect the firm tofu to remain undamaged.

Campbell stood at the back of the crowd, staring at the hole, his mouth half-open, unable to utter a word, like an actor on stage who had forgotten his lines. Richard even wanted to reach out and lift his chin.

"This is simply...unbelievable!" Cavill was the first to step forward, his voice trembling slightly.

He clapped his hands twice, as if giving a signal, breaking the seal on everyone.

Applause gradually rose from the crowd.

Richard bowed to Cavill: "Thank you, Minister Cavill."

Gladstone slowly walked out of the crowd and came to Campbell.

"Sir Campbell, what do you think?"

“Mr. Prime Minister, such a result is certainly astonishing, but what about the cost?” Campbell tucked his chin in, his voice regaining some confidence. “The damage to the barrel from double the propellant charge is incalculable! The battlefield is not a firing range. What we need is a cannon that frontline soldiers dare to use, not a laboratory exhibit.”

"Your suspicions are reasonable." Richard nodded. "Alright, I'm willing to accept a five-shot test, double the propellant, rapid-fire test."

Upon hearing this, the officers exchanged bewildered glances.

These three words together mean something that any officer who has been on the battlefield knows: when a regular cannon barrel fires continuously, the bore temperature rises with each shot, and the material expands accordingly. When the expansion exceeds its limit, the barrel will crack from the inside.

Campbell's lips twitched, and he narrowed his eyes.

Gladstone looked at Whitworth: "Sir Whitworth, the work of precise measurement is entrusted to you."

Whitworth stood up from the armor plate, looking at it with some reluctance.

"Leave it to me."