Chapter 95: What I Can Offer
"I understand, the Kingdom of Belfast will be at war with a rogue state. But what can I do to serve the Kingdom? I am merely a merchant who makes soap and steam engines," Ernest said.
The King and the Prime Minister looked at one another momentarily, then turned to look at him.
"Your genius is known across Belfast. We believe that you can come up with something that will help us win the war. Let’s say a weapon."
So he was right, they wanted him to make a weapon. But the question right now is what kind of weapon do this world use? Like he really has no idea. He saw guards in the palace armed with swords. Is this an era where swords and arrows are the dominant weapons? He needs to know it first.
"What weapons do you use? If I may ask. If it’s a weapon you want me to develop, I need to see what currently exists."
King Edward nodded.
"A reasonable request."
Before the king could speak further, Lord Ashford lifted a hand and snapped his fingers lightly.
The sound had barely faded when the office door opened.
A royal guard stepped inside.
The man wore polished steel breastplate armor over a dark blue uniform and carried a long firearm resting against one shoulder.
Ernest’s eyes immediately locked onto it.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The Prime Minister gestured toward the weapon.
"Present the Mark III Lionheart Musket."
The guard stepped forward and carefully handed it over.
Lionheart Musket.
Apparently that was what this world called it.
The moment Ernest accepted the weapon, he felt a strange sense of familiarity.
The musket was nearly one and a half meters long with a smooth wooden stock crafted from dark walnut. Brass fittings reinforced the barrel, trigger guard, and butt plate. The weapon possessed a flintlock mechanism remarkably similar to the Brown Bess muskets he remembered from history books.
At first glance, it looked almost identical.
Almost.
The barrel appeared slightly shorter, and several components had different shapes, but the overall design philosophy remained the same.
King Edward watched him carefully.
"You recognize the design?"
"A little."
That answer was technically true.
In another life, he had studied military history out of curiosity. He was also a weapon enthusiast since the engineering that goes into the gun is as novel as machineries.
The guard produced a cartridge pouch and set it on the table.
Lord Ashford spoke.
"The Lionheart has served the Royal Army for nearly sixty years. A trained soldier can fire approximately three rounds per minute."
Ernest nodded.
That matched what he remembered. It’s basically a musket. Specifically, a brown bess type musket. So this world has moved away from swords and arrows.
The Prime Minister continued.
"It is reliable enough, inexpensive to manufacture, and our officers are familiar with it."
Which was political language for nobody wanted to replace it.
King Edward leaned back in his chair.
"However, our military observers reported that the Valorian armies possess similar weapons. Their muskets are neither significantly better nor significantly worse."
"I see, so you want me to design a better weapon?" Ernest said, scanning the musket.
Hollen looked at him. "Do you even know anything about guns?"
Ernest nodded his head a little. "Depends, the mechanism is simple after all."
However, in Ernest’s mind, the weapon is still good and doesn’t need replacement. The reason? Well the soldiers and the officers are too familiar with it, introducing one, especially when a war is coming soon, would mean changing the military doctrine. Experimenting with new weapons in an upcoming war would be the worst idea.
Like they said, the army of the Republic of Valoria is strong. What they needed is not a weapon, instead, they needed something new.
"I don’t think I can come up with a better design so quick as the war draws near. However, I can make a tool that will give you overwhelming advantage against your enemy."
"Ohh," the Prime Minister, the King, and Hollen leaned and trained their eyes on him, curious on what he had in mind.
"But first, let me ask a question, how do your soldiers receive orders, or how do they communicate with one another over huge distances?"
The question seemed to catch both the king and the Prime Minister slightly off guard.
Lord Ashford answered first.
"Messengers."
Ernest nodded.
"Mounted couriers?"
"Primarily."
The Prime Minister gestured toward the maps hanging on the wall.
"A commander writes an order. The order is delivered by horse. The receiving commander reads it and acts accordingly."
King Edward folded his arms.
"Naval signals as well. Flags during the day. Lanterns at night. Occasionally signal fires."
"And how long would it take for an order to travel from the capital to Northport?" Ernest asked.
Lord Ashford thought for a moment.
"Under favorable conditions? Three days."
"And to Eastgate?"
"Five, perhaps six."
Ernest nodded slowly.
Exactly what he expected.
The king watched him carefully.
"You seem disappointed."
"Not disappointed, Your Majesty."
"Then what?"
Ernest gently placed the musket back on the table.
"I’m beginning to understand the real problem."
The room became quiet.
King Edward exchanged a glance with the Prime Minister.
"What problem?"
"The speed of information."
Neither man spoke.
Ernest stood and walked toward one of the maps.
His finger traced the distance between several cities.
"Imagine an army advancing through Valoria."
He pointed toward the southern coast.
"A landing force arrives successfully."
His finger moved inland.
"Three days later, the enemy appears somewhere unexpected."
Another movement.
"The commander needs reinforcements."
He looked toward the king.
"How long before you receive the message?"
Lord Ashford answered immediately.
"Several days."
"And how long before your response reaches him?"
The Prime Minister frowned.
"Several more."
Ernest nodded.
"So by the time new orders arrive, the situation may already be completely different."
The office became noticeably quieter.
Because everyone knew it was true.
King Edward slowly leaned forward.
"Continue."
Ernest turned back toward the map.
"The Lionheart Musket is not your weakness."
He pointed toward the weapon resting on the table.
"Neither is Valoria’s musket."
Then he tapped the map.
"The weakness is communication."
The king’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Lord Ashford’s expression became thoughtful.
Hollen simply looked confused.
"What does communication have to do with winning a war?"
Ernest smiled slightly.
"Everything."
He walked back toward the table.
"If two armies possess similar weapons, similar training, and similar numbers, then victory often belongs to the commander who receives information faster."
The Prime Minister’s eyes widened slightly.
Very slightly.
But Ernest noticed.
"Faster information means faster decisions," Ernest continued. "Faster decisions mean faster movements. Faster movements mean opportunities the enemy cannot react to."
King Edward slowly stood.
"What are you suggesting?"
For a few moments, Ernest remained silent.
Because what he was about to propose would sound absurd.
Completely absurd.
Until it worked.
Finally, he looked toward the king.
"Your Majesty."
"Yes?"
"What if a message could travel from Belfast to Northport in minutes instead of days?"
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