WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Ceaseless
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing ◈
Chapter 90: The Steel Cannon (4)
──────
Creak...
The door, opened for the first time in a while, let out a heavy groan.
The courtyard of Sternberg Castle.
My private workshop, converted from what had once been a stable.
The moment I opened the door, the stale smell of dust washed over me, along with the faint lingering scent of Pine resin oil.
‘This brings back memories.’
When I first fell into this fifteenth-century medieval world, this was where I first poured out the knowledge I had brought from the future.
This was where I calculated the ideal proportions for Black powder, then mixed Pine resin and oil to make Napalm.
The walls still bore faint traces of chemical formulas and blueprints I had scribbled in charcoal.
I was lost in those memories for a moment when a voice behind me broke through my reverie.
“Your Highness, you called for me?”
Johannes Gutenberg stood by the doorway, bowing politely.
I smiled and welcomed him.
“Come in, Sir Gutenberg. Did you sleep well last night?”
“Ha ha, I should say that what I saw yesterday was so astonishing that I was too excited to sleep, but...”
At my question, he rubbed his nose awkwardly.
“The truth is, I slept very well. Compared to being chased by creditors in Germany and breathing in ink dust, this place is heaven itself. The rooms are warm, and above all, the food is incredible.”
“That’s good to hear. A technician can’t produce fine work on an empty stomach.”
Gutenberg and the other key technicians were currently staying at Sternberg Castle.
After I moved my base of operations to the royal palace in Prague, this old lord’s castle had become practically empty.
All my retainers had followed me to Prague, leaving only the minimum personnel needed to maintain the castle.
It would have been a waste to leave the ownerless castle unused. More importantly, because of security concerns, I had turned it into a technical research institute and first-class lodging for craftsmen.
Ordinary laborers who carried bricks or moved cargo could live in the village outside the castle.
But technicians who controlled the temperature of a Blast furnace, craftsmen who knew the proper ratios for cement, and essential talents like Gutenberg, who handled precision machinery, were another matter.
There were plenty of hyenas, both within and beyond the country, who coveted my technology.
If they tried to kidnap or bribe my technicians, it would be a serious headache.
So it was better to lock them up here behind high walls and strict guards... no, to house and protect them here.
It wasn’t as though they suffered any loss from it.
They were safe from external threats, provided with abundant food, clothing, and shelter, and given an environment where they could focus solely on research and development.
“By the way, Your Highness, you summoned me all the way here so suddenly... Is there something you need me to do?”
Gutenberg asked cautiously. He seemed to have realized I hadn’t come here simply to ask after his well-being.
“Before that, what are Hanuš and Tomáš doing right now?”
“The two of them? Oh, don’t even ask.”
Gutenberg shook his head.
“They’ve gone mad over that rifled cannon Your Highness mentioned. Hanuš is tearing out his hair over how to seal the opening at the rear where the shell is loaded, while Tomáš is hammering away day and night, trying to devise a machine that can cut rifling.”
He continued.
“I was planning to leave the printing house to my assistants for a while and help them. I thought my skill with precision parts might be needed.”
“No.”
I calmly shook my head.
“Leave that to them.”
“Yes?”
“Both of them are masters when it comes to working metal. They’ll have to go through some trial and error, but they’ll manage in the end. There’s no need for you to tie yourself down with that.”
I picked up the long cloth bundle resting on the workbench, then slowly turned toward Gutenberg.
“There’s something else you need to do.”
“Me...?”
Instead of answering, I unwrapped the bundle.
Flap!
It was a crude object, with a rough wooden body and an iron pipe tightly bound to it with cords.
Gutenberg’s eyes widened.
“Is that... a hand cannon?”
“To be precise, it’s a pištala. The main firearm used by our Bohemian army.”
I raised the crude gun and rested its stock against my shoulder.
It had no trigger. To fire it, one had to shove a burning match into the touch hole, an utterly primitive design.
It was called a gun, but to be blunt, it was nothing more than an iron club filled with Gunpowder.
Of course, it was far better than the existing Hand cannon. Unlike those crude things that had to be tucked under the arm and fired roughly in the enemy’s direction, this one had a stock and sights, introducing the very concept of aiming.
But still.
“This is garbage.”
I said it bluntly.
“It’s too inconvenient and too dangerous. Since you have to light the match, it’s vulnerable to rain and wind. And the burning ember right in front of the shooter’s face interferes with their vision.”
“Well... isn’t that simply the fate of Gunpowder weapons?”
Gutenberg asked cautiously.
“Still, it has more power than a crossbow. It also doesn’t require constant practice like a bow. It can’t be helped.”
“No, it can be helped.”
I flicked the S-shaped piece of iron attached to the side of the gun with my finger.
The cock.
It was a clamp that held the burning match.
“The problem is the match itself. A soldier has to manage a burning cord throughout the battle. How insane is it to carry a flame beside a bag of Gunpowder? One mistake, and their own powder flask could catch fire and blow them apart. And at night? It’s like holding up a torch and announcing to the enemy, ‘I’m right here.’”
And what about the firing speed?
They had to adjust the length of the match, shield it with their hands in case the wind blew it out, and even when they pulled the trigger, the match often failed to touch the touch hole properly, causing a misfire.
“No matter how powerful the cannons we make become, if the infantry’s personal firearms remain like this, we’ll have only half an army. Even if the cannons break down the walls, the infantry must ultimately enter and seize the place. There are limits to what they can do with weapons this inconvenient.”
I set the gun down on the table.
“But now we can cast steel. If we can mass-produce huge cannons, that means we can also make smaller, more precise parts from steel.”
“You mean...?”
I took out a blueprint I had prepared and spread it before Gutenberg.
Rustle!
“Take a look at this.”
Gutenberg lowered his gaze to the blueprint.
“...!”
At first, there was curiosity. Then confusion. Finally, his eyes narrowed in shock.
A complex arrangement of springs.
Strangely shaped hook-like parts.
Most of all, a drawing of an unfamiliar stone where the cock should have held a match.
“Is this... flint?”
“Exactly. It’s called a flintlock.”
I pointed to the key components on the blueprint and began explaining.
“The principle is simple. You’ve started a fire with flint before, haven’t you?”
“I have, but...”
“We’ll reproduce that mechanically. When you pull the trigger, the spring’s force makes the hammer fall. A piece of flint is clamped to the end of that hammer.”
Tap!
I struck my fist against my palm as I continued.
“The falling flint strikes a steel frizzen hard. That produces sparks, right? Those sparks fall onto the Gunpowder in the priming pan below and ignite it.”
There was no need for a slowly burning match.
The moment the trigger was pulled, the bullet would fire.
Even if it rained, the gun could still be fired as long as the cover was properly secured. There would be no need to carry a flame, making a perfect night ambush possible.
Gutenberg’s mouth fell open. Unable to take his eyes off the blueprint, he traced the mechanism’s movement in the air with his fingers.
“Amazing... Rather than carrying fire, it creates fire whenever it’s needed. It truly is revolutionary. But...”
The more closely Gutenberg examined the blueprint, the deeper the creases in his brow grew.
“This won’t be as easy as it sounds. At a glance, I can see it isn’t a simple lump of iron but a highly precise mechanical device. This spring in particular... this is the problem.”
Like a true expert, he immediately identified the heart of the issue.
“To make the flint scrape the steel plate and produce sparks, the cock must strike with tremendous force. A poorly made spring will never suffice. After being used a few times, it will lose its elasticity and sag, or snap altogether.”
It was an accurate observation.
The key to a flintlock was a powerful mainspring.
A considerable amount of force was needed for stone to scrape steel and make sparks.
“Also, this internal structure... the sear connecting the trigger and cock must be more precise than the gears of a clock. If it’s even slightly loose, it will cause accidental firing. If it’s even slightly stiff, the trigger won’t move.”
Gutenberg looked up at me.
“How much elasticity should this spring have? What should the angle of the sear be? What is the ideal angle at which the flint should strike the steel plate? If the spring tension is too strong, the flint will break. If it’s too weak, it won’t create sparks. How do you intend to find that precise balance...?”
Questions poured from him.
They were highly specific and thoroughly practical questions.
His eyes carried both doubt and expectation, as though he were asking, ‘How in the world does His Highness intend to make this?’
I answered with a smile.
“That’s for you to figure out from now on.”
“...What?”
Gutenberg stared at me blankly.
“Isn’t that why I called you all the way from Germany to Bohemia?”
“But, Your Highness... If you gave me the blueprint, didn’t you calculate all those measurements and angles as well...?”
I shook my head.
“I’m a chemist, Gutenberg. I understand the properties of materials and the principles of reactions, but mechanical details aren’t my field.”
“Even so...”
“I know that flint striking steel makes sparks. But I don’t know how many times to wind the spring or how to cut the gears to create those sparks. You’re the one who knows that, not me.”
I had been a researcher in my previous life, not a gunsmith.
I understood the broad principle of a flintlock, but not what angle the sear needed for proper trigger pressure or how many newtons of tension the mainspring required.
That wasn’t the realm of theory. It was the realm of engineering, requiring countless trials and errors.
“Aren’t you a genius when it comes to metalwork? Who carved strokes for movable type as fine as a strand of hair and made a press capable of producing thousands of those letters without error?”
“Well, that was me, of course...”
“Exactly. So you can do it. Bring life to these small pieces of metal.”
I patted his shoulder twice.
“Don’t worry about the materials. I’ll supply you with unlimited high-quality carbon steel straight from the converter. Heat-treat it, hammer it, do whatever you want. Springs? Experiment until you make them. I don’t care how much money it costs.”
The days when we couldn’t make something because we lacked steel were over.
Bessemer steel allowed us to control the carbon content. If Gutenberg could find the proper temperatures for quenching and tempering, he should be able to obtain elasticity comparable to modern springs.
“If you complete this small mechanism, you won’t simply be making a gun. Bohemia’s army will be able to spit fire through the rain and strike back immediately even when ambushed.”
“...”
“This single small part born from your fingertips will save thousands of soldiers and decide the outcome of wars. It’s an invention as powerful as movable type. What do you say? Will you do it?”
Gutenberg couldn’t speak for a moment.
A complex mechanical device.
Precision work that allowed no room for even the slightest error.
And a new mechanism that had never existed in this world.
For an inventor, it was an irresistible temptation.
“...Compared to the miracles Your Highness has shown us, my skill may be insignificant.”
Gutenberg raised his head.
There was no hesitation left in his eyes.
Only the stubbornness and desire for challenge unique to a craftsman remained.
“But if I cannot make it despite having the materials and the blueprint, it would be a craftsman’s disgrace. I’ll make sure Your Highness’s design is brought into this world.”
I smiled in satisfaction.
“I look forward to the masterpiece you create.”
Of course, what I truly wanted was a percussion cap, far more advanced than a flintlock.
A modern rifle that fired the instant its trigger was pulled.
‘That’s impossible for now.’
A percussion cap required a primer.
It was an extremely delicate process where chemical composition and mechanical engineering had to fit together precisely.
Considering this was the fifteenth century, even a flintlock was an excessive innovation, far ahead of its time.
“Then, Your Highness, I shall take my leave...”
“Ah, Sir Gutenberg. One more thing before you go.”
“Yes?”
Gutenberg had just gathered the blueprint to leave when I called him back, as though I had suddenly remembered something.
“Don’t make only the gun. Come up with a bayonet to attach to it as well.”
“A bayonet...?”
“That’s right. If you attach a blade to the end of a gun, there’ll be no need for separate spearmen. Soldiers who can fire guns and use spears, all-purpose soldiers. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”
I mimed fitting something onto the muzzle.
“It shouldn’t be difficult. You only need to make a ring that fits over the barrel instead of a hilt. If the blade is mounted off to the side without blocking the muzzle, they can fire the gun and use the blade too. You can make that quickly enough, can’t you?”
Gutenberg’s expression twisted strangely.
Footnotes:
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried
