Chapter 97 – At Dusk (6)
The training schedule of the Imperial Military Academy was absolute.
Unless there was an exceptional circumstance, all training proceeded as planned.
"The schedule has changed."
"…Excuse me?"
"Starting tomorrow, all cadets will undergo a new type of training."
"...You're telling us this now?"
The training assistants, who had been summoned suddenly during their evening free time and gathered in the instructors' office, could not hide their confusion.
"I know you're all bewildered."
Senior instructor Captain Thomas Koller, unusually for him, made no effort to conceal the fatigue in his expression.
Slumped in his chair, he rummaged through his coat and placed something in his mouth.
Tss! Tss!
And then, for the first time—something he'd never done in front of the cadets—he began to smoke a cigarette right there in the instructors' office.
That's how badly Thomas's head was aching.
It was as if his skull was about to split open.
The cadets, most of whom were nobles and considered smoking a vulgar habit, grimaced.
But the other instructors barely reacted.
Anyone who had experienced war firsthand didn't raise a fuss over cigarettes.
"They say the Imperial Army has developed a new weapon."
Thomas exhaled smoke as he spoke. Ernest subtly leaned back to avoid the fumes, while some cadets even stepped backward.
"A new weapon, you say…"
"They're calling it a 'cannon.'"
Thomas took another deep drag from his cigarette.
"Put simply, it's like a massive version of a gun. A crazy thing that fires huge, heavy projectiles."
That alone gave the well-trained assistants a rough idea of what kind of weapon it was.
"Can it break through fortress walls?"
"What's its range? And what about reload time?"
"Why is it called a 'cannon'?"
While the others focused on the weapon's performance, Ernest fixated on the name.
At his question, Thomas narrowed his eyes and bit down hard on the cigarette.
"You're right, Kruger. It's not a Balt battery. It's a gunpowder-based weapon."
Everyone's eyes widened in shock at Thomas's words.
"Gunpowder? Are you saying they made a so-called new weapon using that outdated junk the Aeblons use?"
"Yes."
To the astonished question, Thomas replied calmly.
"Let me start by saying this: it's an old idea."
He exhaled another long stream of smoke.
"But it failed. The Balt battery can't withstand the recoil of firing such heavy rounds. One shot and the whole thing shatters. Not worth the cost. And in the past, our metal-forging technology was lacking. The barrel—yes, the cannon barrel—would explode or crack after just one shot. The firer would die, obviously."
The cadets paled.
To think such a defective weapon had been made!
"Later, once forging improved, barrels no longer exploded after a single shot. But the Balt battery remained the issue."
"So, they turned to gunpowder?"
"Exactly. Gunpowder used to be so weak you had to stuff absurd amounts into long barrels to fire anything worth a damn. Not practical. It was garbage."
Thomas seemed to know quite a lot about the cannon—more than expected, and from quite a long time ago. That made sense, considering he was a senior instructor at the academy that trained Imperial Army officers.
"But somehow—somehow—the same Imperial command that used to sneer at gunpowder as obsolete managed to suddenly develop advanced powder. We've had barrels that could take the shock for a while. Now we have good powder too. Why wouldn't we build it?"
There was irritation and frustration in Thomas's voice.
Ernest, listening silently, asked in a calm tone:
"How powerful is it?"
"Even I don't know that yet."
Thomas didn't hesitate.
"Those bastards just sent it over today and told us to teach you how to use it."
Flap.
Thomas held up a thin booklet and waved it.
"With this piece of shit excuse for a manual, we're supposed to teach you about a weapon we've never even fired ourselves."
"..."
"To be honest, I'm scared shitless it'll explode during the demo tomorrow and kill me."
He exhaled deeply.
It wasn't his own death he feared.
Even if he were led to an executioner's block today, Thomas would laugh in the face of the man holding the axe.
What was funny about watching someone pompously swing at a corpse?
No, what Thomas feared was the meaningless deaths of bright, promising youths.
"Well… tomorrow the researchers from Central Command will be firing it, so no need to panic just yet."
"What should we do?"
Benzene asked gently, unfazed by Thomas's coarse language. Thomas stared at him for a moment, then spoke again.
"For tomorrow, just watch and learn as regular cadets. After that, I'll call you separately during free time. You'll fire and handle it with us directly."
"Then the training at the academy will focus on using this cannon for a while."
"Exactly. More importantly, we'll need to completely revise our military theory. All based on a weapon we've never seen in battle."
"Hmm…"
Learning how to use it was just the start. A cannon capable of hurling massive rounds over great distances could shift the paradigm of warfare.
Though its true strength remained to be seen.
"If it can break walls, we could come up with some absurd tactics…"
"From what I read, it's not quite at that level. Fire a few hundred rounds and you might open a breach, but in that case, why not use a trebuchet?"
"Hmm… What about range?"
"Range is long, but effective range, factoring accuracy, is shorter than expected."
"How heavy is it? Can a person move it?"
"If it were that small, we'd use a Balt battery."
"So we'll need vehicles? How do we use it in rough terrain?"
"Even vehicles can't carry many. Too heavy. Once offloaded, it'll be hauled by horses or oxen."
"Good grief. That heavy? It can't breach walls, poor accuracy, too heavy to move… is it even a viable weapon?"
"Whew…"
Thomas, who had been patiently answering all their questions, now bit down on the cigarette again and blew out another thick plume.
"That's what we're here to figure out."
Everyone frowned.
To throw such an untested, experimental weapon at the academy and demand it be taught—it was absurd.
"Anyway, go inform the others about the schedule change."
"…Yes."
Though reluctant, the assistants obeyed and returned to the dormitories.
***
"A new weapon?"
"Did you see it?"
"No, we don't know anything yet."
"This is too sudden."
"The academy would never teach an unproven weapon."
"Still, don't you think something's off?"
"Let's wait and see during tomorrow's training."
"Not like we have a choice. If they teach it, we learn it."
Cadets buzzed about the new weapon, speculating. But until they saw it, it was all empty noise.
"I know nothing."
Ferdinand spoke first to the group of gathered classmates.
Being the grandson of the 2nd Corps Chief of Staff didn't mean he had access to military secrets.
Still, people kept asking, so he had to shut it down.
"What about Wilfried? As a duke's heir, he might know something."
"Ravid isn't exactly a military powerhouse. A duke's just a high-ranking lord, technically."
Wilfried also made it clear he knew nothing.
Some cadets thought he was underestimating his father but held their tongues—agreeing out loud could be dangerous if word got out.
In any case, they waited for the demonstration by the researchers from Central Command.
There wasn't much else to do.
From morning, the academy was buzzing about the cannon demonstration.
Cadets, instructors, even officers were caught up in the chatter.
"I don't see the use. It's not helpful right now."
"Balt rifles dominate open-field combat. In forests or mountains, this thing's useless."
"How are we supposed to use it?"
"And teaching it at the academy? What if it's flawed?"
Officers were particularly critical.
Their job was to produce elite officers, and now they had to teach an unproven weapon?
"They should at least test it themselves first. They just handed us the specs and operation guide—what are we supposed to teach?"
"Maybe it can be used for suppression at range…"
"But if we're that close, just send in infantry."
"If only it reloaded faster, maybe we could use it for assaults."
"The reload speed is insane. A seasoned soldier can fire a Balt rifle once per second. But this thing? Takes minutes to reload, then overheats, warps, cracks, even explodes!"
"And it can detonate at any step in the process. That's the real issue."
Even worse than clunky handling was its instability.
Barrels cracking from overheating and recoil were one thing—but premature detonation during loading or ignition?
That was deadly.
The slim manual the academy had received was mostly warning labels.
A staggering array of gruesome accident records.
"My late grandfather didn't require this much caution."
One instructor muttered, drawing sighs.
But like it or not, time passed, and the moment came. Nearly everyone at the academy gathered outside to witness the historic demonstration.
"What's the delay! Move it!"
The grounds were chaotic.
The cannon was so heavy, it took ages just to unload.
With Major General Armin himself present, the research staff were flustered.
"How lazy can you be?!"
The lead researcher roared.
But the soldiers moved sluggishly, the fear plain on their faces.
'They're terrified.'
Ernest could see it.
The fear of the cannon's instability.
But with Armin waiting, they had no choice but to hurry and finish setting up.
"Hrm! Ahem! Thank you all for—"
"Let's begin immediately. Too much time has been wasted."
"...Yes, sir."
The researcher, clearly frustrated, held back and obeyed. The demonstration was about to begin.
"It functions like a muzzle-loading powder gun."
"Muzzle-loading?"
"Gods above. They're really using primitive powder?"
Murmurs erupted.
"Quiet! Silence!"
The instructors calmed the cadets, and the researcher continued, his voice tinged with resignation.
"First, it must be fixed firmly to the ground. If not, recoil will hurl it backward and cause accidents. It also affects accuracy."
Another wave of murmuring, but not loud enough to warrant intervention.
"Now for loading. This is the powder bag."
A soldier held up a thick cloth bag.
"We fill it with powder, then insert it into the barrel."
The soldiers began filling the bag with powder, excruciatingly slowly.
But no one dared rush them.
That much powder required extreme caution.
"Now we insert the bag, then a plug."
They pushed the bag in with a ramrod, followed by the plug to direct full force into the shot.
"Now the projectile."
A fist-sized cannonball was rolled into the muzzle.
Clank.
The sound of the ball rolling made the soldier leap back. Those familiar with firearms sighed. They were worried the ball might detonate just from hitting the end of the barrel.
Luckily, nothing exploded.
"Now ram it securely."
The soldier tamped the round into place.
"Pour powder into the ignition pan. Then pull the lanyard. That's all."
Just like a flintlock musket. Pour powder, pull the cord—spark, ignition, fire.
"Stand aside—not behind! The cannon may recoil."
The researcher stressed this, then quickly walked away.
The terrified soldier clutched the lanyard and glanced at him miserably.
"Fire."
"F-Fire!"
The researcher gave the order, unconcerned about casualties. The soldier pulled the cord while plugging his ears and crouching.
Click!Fsss…
The flint struck, sparking the powder in the pan, which lit the ignition fuse...
BOOM!
An earth-shattering blast.
From the barrel spewed fire, smoke, powder bag remnants, and the cannonball.
Everyone's eyes widened in shock.
But a few watched the projectile's flight.
"…Hmm..."
Shielding his eyes, Armin tracked it.
The shot hit the ground, bounced low, skimmed past a large target, then continued—plowing into the forest beyond.
Thud!
A heavy impact deep in the trees.
Even at a distance, they saw a massive tree lurch.
Tremendous power.
Despite warnings about barrel failure, the weapon seemed intact. The Empire had unmatched metallurgy, after all. This was no cheap iron barrel, but Imperial steel.
"More impressive than expected."
Armin nodded.
He had seen enough to recognize the potential.
"Just ten of these would be extremely useful."
"Still room for improvement, but just creating something this powerful at that size is amazing. With enough of them, breaching a wall wouldn't be hard."
Cramer agreed.
Previously, sieges required massive trebuchets or towers.
Now that could all change.
Trebuchets needed immense resources to move and assemble.
But this? Load it in a truck, set it down, fix it to the ground—done.
With the same resources, they could field ten cannons instead of one trebuchet.
Assembly time?
Mere minutes.
Compared to a gun, the cannon felt unwieldy. Compared to a trebuchet, it was revolutionary.
"Time to reload. There are... a few precautions."
The researcher raised his voice, then trailed off. The soldiers paled, drenched in sweat just thinking about it.
Most cannon accidents happened during reloading. A single mistake, and leftover powder could explode.
Following instructions, a soldier inserted a worm—a spiral-ended rod—to scrape residue.
"Never hold the rod by the end. Never! If it explodes, it'll take your hand off."
Everyone held their breath.
After scraping, they pushed in a damp sponge to cool the barrel.
"If the barrel's too hot, the powder bag could explode."
"..."
"Always plug the fuse hole before cleaning. Or the powder could be ignited by stray sparks."
Ernest noticed the soldier muttering under his breath—probably praying.
Reloading took ages.
But compared to trebuchets, it wasn't so bad.
Thankfully, it went smoothly. The second shot missed the target entirely.
"Accuracy's poor."
"Worse than a trebuchet."
"Typical of powder weapons."
"Fixing it firmly is key. It shifts every time it fires—how can you aim like that?"
Officers pointed out the terrible accuracy. At this rate, you'd have to fire at close range or pray.
"Could we use a baltracher to guide the shot after it leaves the barrel?"
"You'd need at least two baltrachers to withstand the pressure. Even then, no guarantee."
"Ugh… Like with guns, brute force might be the only option…"
The capable officers began debating improvements, while cadets remained stunned by the cannon's danger.
"What do you think?"
"Amazing. Powerful."
"Sure, but isn't it too dangerous?"
"Worth the risk."
Not all cadets were horrified.
"Soldiers will handle loading and firing. If some die, it's fine—as long as we rain destruction with dozens of these."
Ferdinand spoke firmly, his voice trembling with excitement.
"If deployed in battle, this could change everything."
Ernest was wary of sacrificing lives, but he couldn't deny the weapon's power.
"If the instability isn't fixed, it's just a killer of allies."
Wilfried hated it.
He swore never to give such a death trap to his men.
"There's a more practical issue: cost. Dozens of these? Plus powder, vehicles, carts, food for animals… Just making them would cost hundreds of thousands of decs.
And where are the powder factories?"
Robert, the merchant's son, calculated the staggering expense and shook his head.
The real bottleneck was powder production.
Unlike the Aeblons, the Empire had scorned gunpowder.
It had few powder plants.
Expanding that alone would be costly.
"Ten years, maybe. If the Empire's filthy rich or plans to squeeze every drop of blood from its people…"
Robert concluded, coldly, that mass deployment was impossible.
Harsh, but no one disagreed.
"Forget it. I'll just follow orders. It's not like our opinions matter anyway."
Most cadets gave up thinking. Whether it's deployed or not—that's someone else's decision.
"If you give up thinking, you'll fall behind when things change. And be left behind."
Ernest spoke calmly to his peers.
"We're seeing the new paradigm before the frontlines do. We have to take it seriously. Once we graduate, we might never get a chance to study this again."
"Fair, but Kruger, not everyone can achieve something great. In the end, higher-ups will decide, and we'll obey."
Despite Ernest's words, most of the upperclassmen refused to think deeply. Everything they'd learned so far might be rendered useless, and that discouraged them.
Ernest stared at the soldiers reloading.
The cannon was dangerous, unstable, inaccurate, and costly—but given time...
BOOM!
"AAAGH!"
A scream.
Everyone froze and turned.
A soldier was writhing on the ground, screaming.
While cleaning the barrel, a spark ignited the residue.
The worm—a heavy spiral rod—shot out.
A top-tier baltracher rushed over at Armin's signal and examined the soldier.
His right hand was horribly burned, and his fingers had been torn off by the worm's spiral edge.
The severed fingers were burnt, barely intact.
Even the academy's best healer couldn't fix that.
Everyone who had praised the cannon fell silent.
"T-This only happened because safety procedures weren't followed! If everything had been done properly…"
The researcher stammered, sweating, but no one believed him.
They had seen how carefully the soldier had worked.
"There's too much to improve. I think we need serious discussion before applying this to academy training."
"B-But…!"
"We'll discuss it later. That's enough for today."
Armin was willing to sacrifice soldiers to use the cannon—but not cadets or instructors.
Cadets were the Empire's future, instructors its finest educators.
He would petition His Majesty directly if he had to.
"I'm never touching that damned hunk of metal."
The cadets whispered, pale.
Some younger ones even vomited at the sight of the soldier's injury.
Ernest frowned at the smoking cannon and the wounded man.
The cannon's instability was clear.
But the Empire would never abandon such power. Like it or not, it would be deployed—soon.
Maybe after improvements, maybe before.
Either way, by the time they were commissioned…
It was going to be a headache.