Kingdombuilding: All My Inventions Are Novelty

Chapter 157: How Many?

"You’ve got quite the backbone, but I, Lancelot, love breaking hard bones like yours."

Sigurd’s defiant attitude infuriated Lancelot.

Lancelot knew Sigurd’s reputation all too well. Though the Stone family wasn’t as powerful as the Goldwynd clan among Brambleford’s nobility, their notoriety surpassed the other four great families.

Rumours said the Stone ancestors were bandits who turned to farming after amassing enough wealth, eventually becoming the so-called ’nobility’ of today.

Yet even now, the Stone family retained their bandit ways, bullying the weak and drawing endless complaints from nearby villagers.

What’s more, because of this bastard, Lancelot had lost his prized tiger pelt to Simon. His hatred for Sigurd burned even hotter.

After Simon’s sudden purge of the nobility, Sigurd had led many escaped clansmen into banditry, committing countless murders and robberies. Now that he was caught, he knew there was no way out.

So he hardened his heart, putting on a fearless front, even in death, he would set an example for other nobles, inspiring them to keep rebelling.

As Lancelot rolled up his sleeves, ready to beat Sigurd senseless, Simon stopped him.

"Wait. Dying like that would be too merciful. Since he is so brave and righteous, this prince must grant him a more dignified death."

Throughout the purge, Simon had encountered many fearless nobles, which surprised him at first.

But after some thought, he understood.

The conflict between him and the nobility was now a life-or-death struggle, a battle for the survival of their entire class. Of course, these nobles would fight tooth and nail to defend their interests.

For over a thousand years, aristocratic families had controlled the court, proclaiming themselves the rightful rulers while consolidating their power.

To them, Simon’s actions were nothing short of heresy. In their eyes, he was the villain.

Realising this, Simon smiled bitterly. The hard road ahead had only just begun.

In the hearts of the Eldorian nobility, he was likely the first candidate to be eliminated from the imperial succession. After all, no pig would willingly choose a butcher as its leader.

From now on, he would face endless schemes and deadly traps from the nobility.

But he already had a plan. To break a rigid class system, the most effective method was to nurture a new class to oppose it.

"Spare me your hypocritical mercy! Just you wait, Simon, the nobles of the six cities won’t let this go! The nobility of the entire empire will rise against you!"

Sigurd’s curses flew like spit.

"Bastard! I’ll cut out your dog’s tongue right now!" Lancelot roared.

Simon remained calm. For him, reform was the only path to survival. Playing by the rules, no matter how talented he was, would only make him a sacrificial pawn in the imperial power struggle.

The previous assassination attempt had been a wake-up call. He’d bet his life that nobles were behind it, though tracking down the exact culprits was now impossible.

But this matter was far from over.

Watching the furious Sigurd, Simon said coolly. "Rejecting your execution method before even seeing it? What a waste of this prince’s kindness. Every one of you rebels has innocent blood on your hands. Chopping your heads off ten thousand times wouldn’t be enough."

He turned to Fjord. "How many cannonballs do we have left?"

"Thirty-two, My Lord."

Simon nodded, a cold smile forming. "Then let this fearless Sigurd experience what ’execution by cannon’ means before he dies."

This method of execution originated in ancient times and was reportedly used to crush rebellions with terrifying effect. In modern times, a certain leader had perfected it.

Simon wasn’t considering this out of sadism. He wanted to break Sigurd psychologically, to force him to reveal the source of the gunpowder.

In his current state, torture alone might not work.

He never underestimated ancient people. With the prevalence of loyalty and honour in this era, some truly had unbreakable wills. Compared to death by a thousand cuts, this was cleaner and more efficient.

"Execution by cannon?"

Putting together Simon’s question about cannonballs, Lancelot suddenly realised what was coming. A chill ran down his spine.

Liam’s expression also twisted strangely.

Only Benjamin remained unfazed. To him, this was a relatively quick death. The Eldorian Empire’s dungeons had entire rooms dedicated to far worse tools for dealing with rebels.

Sigurd, of course, had no idea what ’execution by cannon’ meant. But when he and his remaining men were dragged before the weapon that had breached the manor walls, his face changed.

Brambleford soldiers bound the remaining bandits and lined them up against the manor’s outer wall.

Meanwhile, the craftsmen adjusted the strange device, its dark muzzle now aimed at Sigurd’s followers.

Noticing Sigurd’s expression, Simon asked. "Where did the gunpowder used to collapse the tunnel come from?"

"Go to hell!" Sigurd spat.

Simon had expected this. He stopped questioning and stepped back with Benjamin and the others.

Lancelot arranged the prisoners in order and returned to report. "My Lord, let’s start with the first one, Damian, Sigurd’s most trusted henchman. This monster has at least thirty lives on his hands. He’s forced his way with wives and daughters, poisoned husbands, and even smashed a baby boy to death."

Though born into nobility, Liam had a strong sense of justice, hence his past clashes with Simon. Hearing this, he growled. "A quick death is too good for him. He deserves far worse!"

"Silence!" Benjamin snapped. "His Highness has his reasons. Hold your tongue." He understood Simon’s plan perfectly.

Simon gave a slight nod. "Begin."

Lancelot’s words had already stoked Fjord’s fury. He adjusted the cannon’s angle, positioning it within sixty meters for better accuracy.

Sigurd was forced to stand directly in front of the cannon’s muzzle, a psychological tactic to shatter his resolve.

Everything ready, Fjord lit the fuse.

BOOM!

A deafening blast.

Flames and smoke erupted as the cannonball shot straight toward the wall.

THUD!

It struck the stone with a force that left a half-meter crater, missing Damian by mere inches.

Though the shot didn’t hit him, Damian collapsed in a heap, trembling.

Standing by the cannon’s mouth, Sigurd staggered, ears ringing, his face as pale as paper.