Kingdombuilding: All My Inventions Are Novelty

A loud crack echoed across the testing field, like firecrackers exploding.

Cheers broke out as the test concluded.

Simon stood on the field, holding a brand-new flintlock rifle, still smoking at the barrel.

It had a brown peachwood stock, a gleaming silver firing mechanism, and a long bayonet fixed to the barrel. The gun barrel was 107 cm long, with a 75 caliber and a total weight of 4 kg, including a 60 cm bayonet.

While they were also working on planting cotton these past few days, the first barrel had been completed. Tony rushed it to the military workshop.

With all the other parts ready, Gru assembled it on the spot; the first flintlock was born.

Simon, upon hearing the news, rushed over. James brought the ammunition as well.

"My Lord, where did that bullet go?" Fjord asked, staring into the distance, unsure what Simon had aimed at.

"No idea," Simon said, pleased as he admired the rifle. "The flintlock isn’t very accurate. Its power comes from firing in volleys. I don’t know where that bullet flew."

Although Gru’s team had managed to build the flintlock, they had no idea how to use it until Simon arrived. It turned out to be not that different from cannons, just with a flint mechanism at the back.

"So it’s worse than a bow?" Fjord frowned. "Why bother making this thing? It’s better for Gru to help me make more cannons."

Gru had taken many workers to build muskets, which annoyed Fjord. Now, seeing their poor accuracy, he tried to make his point.

"You may know how to make cannons, but you don’t know how wars are fought. The flintlock is far more important. I plan to use it to drive out the reaver." Simon gently stroked the weapon.

Now that the flintlock was finally in production, Simon felt relieved; Brambleford had just narrowed the gap with the West.

They were still talking excitedly about the gun when the sound of hooves thundered outside.

Benjamin and Lancelot arrived.

"My Lord, the flintlock is done?" Benjamin asked eagerly.

Simon nodded and tossed them each a rifle.

"My Lord, this thing could replace a spear!" Lancelot exclaimed, first noticing the bayonet.

Benjamin nodded. "No wonder you said to disband the spearmen. These riflemen are basically new spearmen."

"Now you understand. Flintlock soldiers are both ranged and close-combat fighters. When enemy cavalry charge, they shoot from afar. Up close, they can fight with bayonets. They won’t be slaughtered so easily anymore."

Benjamin’s eyes lit up. "My Lord, how do we use it?"

Simon smiled, then turned to Fjord. "Set up a suit of armor 80 meters away."

That was about the flintlock’s maximum effective range.

Fjord obeyed and placed the armor at the far end of the range.

Then Simon turned to Benjamin and Lancelot. "Stand beside me and follow my lead."

He handed each of them ammunition.

Though puzzled, they followed his instructions.

Simon stood the gun upright, bit open the cartridge, and poured the gunpowder and ball into the barrel. Then he used a ramrod to push it down tightly, sprinkled powder in the flash pan, raised the gun, and aimed.

Benjamin and Lancelot copied his every move.

"Fire!" Simon ordered.

They pulled the triggers. The rifles cracked, smoke puffed out, their first shots.

But Benjamin and Lancelot had poor form; they almost dropped their guns.

"That kick is strong," Lancelot muttered. He wasn’t as awed as the first time he saw cannons; he just thought it was like a smaller version.

"Did I hit it?" Lancelot asked excitedly.

Benjamin looked hopeful too; they had high expectations.

But the scouts returned quickly: no hits.

"That can’t be. I aimed carefully!" Benjamin protested.

Simon didn’t comment. "Second round of fire."

Benjamin and Lancelot scratched their heads and reloaded.

"Hit!" A scout called out on the second round, bringing back the armor.

The bullets had gone clean through.

Though the flintlocks weren’t as accurate as bows, the power was undeniable. Seeing the hole in the armor, Benjamin fell silent.

"Old General, maybe you’re unimpressed by the accuracy. But I didn’t bring you here to show off that."

Simon turned to Fjord, Gru, and Tony. "You three, give it a try."

The three eagerly took the rifles and took their places.

"Old General, you’ve fought in countless battles, and your archery is unmatched. But now, even someone like Fjord, who’s never touched a blade, can shoot and kill a seasoned reaver cavalryman at this distance with a flintlock."

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The three fired.

"Hit!" The scout reported again.

Benjamin’s face darkened.

"What is the reaver tribe’s advantage over the Eldorian Empire?"

Simon asked Benjamin at the military workshop’s test field.

"Their cavalry, of course," Benjamin replied.

Lancelot nodded. "Their riders are all experts at horseback archery. But training our own cavalry takes years. If we lose them in war, we can’t recover quickly. Rebuilding takes too long."

Simon agreed. "Exactly. Whether it’s cavalry, archers, or swordsmen, we need years of training just to match the reavers one-on-one. But they don’t need training; by the time they’re adults, they’re already seasoned warriors. That’s why the Eldorian Empire has lost ground to them over the years."

"But things are different now."

He picked up a flintlock rifle.

"Give me just three months, and I can train a common man to kill a reaver cavalryman. Their lifetime of archery and riding is useless in front of a flintlock."

Benjamin and Lancelot nodded slowly. The flintlock didn’t require strength, just a finger to pull the trigger.

And they had already seen it could penetrate armor from 80 meters away; Fjord, Tony, and others had proven that.

"My Lord, I understand now. But the flintlock is so inaccurate, how can it really fight off reaver cavalry?" Benjamin asked.

"That’s why we need mass production and coordinated fire formations," Simon said.

"Your old ways of fighting will soon be outdated. It’s time to study at the Oxford Academy."

Benjamin and Lancelot looked a bit awkward.

Cannons had already changed their tactics. Now flintlocks would change everything again.

They were starting to feel like they couldn’t keep up with Simon.

But if it meant defeating the reavers, they were willing to try anything.

After testing the flintlock at the workshop and giving Benjamin and Lancelot their first taste of the future Brambleford Army’s main weapon, Simo finally relaxed.

Now came the next steps: mass production, equipping troops, and training.

A weapon was only as useful as the one wielding it. Without training, a flintlock was just a stick.

"Now that we have the flintlock, does that mean cannons are less important?" Fjord asked, a little bitter, if he still wanted to be part of weapon development.

Simon gave him a sharp look.

"Your problem is wanting too much and mastering nothing. Cannons are still critical, maybe even more so. You need to focus and think carefully about how to use them in battle."

"You mean field cannons?" Fjord suddenly smiled.

"Exactly. Once the flintlock is in use, Brambleford’s army will face the reavers on open grasslands. Heavy siege cannons won’t help there." Simon replied.

Fjord nodded. He had actually been thinking about field artillery for a while. Now that flintlocks were ready, he needed to speed up his work.

After ordering the workshop to focus on producing flintlocks, Simon returned to the castle.

With the weapon in hand, he now needed to plan Brambleford’s military strategy.

The reaver tribes had taken West Ham, a former part of the Eldorian Empire.

It was like driving a knife into the heart of the empire.

To make things worse, Latin was becoming restless across the Eastern Sea.

If the reavers and the Latin joined forces in a two-front attack, they would surely lose.

So he had to drive the reavers out of West Ham. That way, they couldn’t flank Brambleford through Preston. And the pressure on Dunmere would vanish.

Then he could focus on building a powerful navy to deal with the Latins and Outsiders, open maritime trade routes, and ship his goods to the southern cities of the empire.

Right now, his products only circulate north of the Bison River.

The southern markets remained mostly untapped.

Lost in thought, Simon returned to the castle.

Ysabeau greeted him with a cheerful smile.

"Congratulations, My Lord! You’re getting married this winter!"

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