Virginia, winter camp of the Army of the Potomac.
A cold winter rain had turned the road leading to General Meade's headquarters into an ankle-deep river of mud.
Colonel Black, the head of the Quartermaster Department, was in a worse mood than the weather.
He had just returned from inspecting the front-line artillery positions, and his boots were stained not only with red mud but also with a sickening scent of rust and blood.
He strode directly into General Meade's operations tent.
Inside the tent, several senior staff officers were gathered around a sandbox map, planning the routes for next year's spring offensive.
"General."
Colonel Black spoke, his voice carrying a suppressed fury.
"I just returned from the Seventh Artillery Regiment's position."
General Meade looked up, a hint of inquiry showing on his face, which looked weary from chronic sleep deprivation.
"What is it, Mortimer? More supply issues?"
"It's the guns."
Colonel Black walked to the sandbox map, pulled something from his pocket, and slammed it down hard onto the wooden block representing the Confederates' defense line. It was an irregularly shaped fragment of cast iron.
The staff officers in the tent stopped their discussion, their eyes focused on the deadly piece of metal.
"John Parrott's masterpiece."
"Yesterday afternoon, the Seventh Regiment was conducting routine firing tests. Another ten-pound parrott gun exploded."
"Casualties?" General Meade's voice sank.
"Three men, one of our best gun crews." Black closed his eyes.
"Gunner McGready, a kid who just turned nineteen, had half his head taken off instantly by shrapnel from his own cannon. The other two... one lost a leg, the other was blinded."
"This is the third incident this month," he said, holding up three mud-stained fingers. "General."
The tent was silent.
Every commander knew exactly what this meant. The parrott gun, an "advanced" piece of artillery with a cast-iron body reinforced by a wrought-iron band, had once been considered the pride of the Federal artillery. It fired farther and more accurately than the older smoothbores.
But it was equally fragile.
Especially under high-intensity combat and in cold weather, the cheap cast-iron barrel became more brittle than glass.
"Do you know what the soldiers call it now?" Black gave a self-mocking laugh.
"They call it 'The Union's Widowmaker.' They would rather operate those clumsy Napoleon smoothbores than go near this damned Parrott."
"Then what can we do?" one staff officer said helplessly. "This is what the Ordnance Department issues. We can't exactly use rifles to blast open the Confederate lines."
"I don't care what those bureaucrats in the Ordnance Department think." Black suddenly turned to General Meade.
"General, you are the commander of this army. You must tell Secretary Stanton. If he still wants us to break through the Confederates' lines next spring, he must replace our guns."
"Replace them with what?" Meade asked. "Those even older smoothbores?"
"No."
Black took a deep breath and spoke a name that surprised everyone.
"Replace them with the guns of Prussia."
"What?"
"I exchanged telegrams with General Sherman of the Seventh Corps last week," Black said.
"He told me that Alvensleben, the military attaché sent to Berlin, sent back a report. The Prussians, specifically the factory called Krupp, are using a brand new 'cast steel' technology to manufacture breech-loading cannons. Not only do these guns have a longer range and greater power, but..."
"They virtually never burst."
"Krupp's steel guns?" General Meade frowned deeply.
"Mortimer, are you mad? Those are the Prussians' treasures. Setting aside whether they are willing to sell them. Even if they are, what will we use to buy them? Will Congress approve the budget? By the time those guns are shipped over from Europe, the war might already be over."
"Then let the War Department figure it out." Black was unyielding.
"If they can approve a sky-high contract to 'lease' the Argyle Company's "Organ Gun", then they certainly have a way to acquire cannons that can actually save lives."
...Three days later, Washington, War Department.
In Edwin Stanton's office.
He slammed the emergency document—personally signed by General Meade and appended with Colonel Black's detailed report—down onto his desk.
"A bunch of idiots."
He cursed under his breath, pacing back and forth in the room.
"Do they think cannons grow on trees? Krupp? They even want Krupp's steel guns."
Colonel Dale, the head of the Ordnance Department, stood silently to the side. General Meade's report was factual.
The reliability issues of the parrott gun had severely shaken the morale of the artillery corps.
"Go to Congress and request emergency funding?" Stanton muttered to himself.
"Those Democratic Party jackals like Hans will immediately pounce, demanding why I am not using our domestically produced weapons. They will turn this into another political trial against me."
"But we must do something, Mr. Secretary," Colonel Dale said. "Resentment on the front lines is already high. If we can't solve the cannon problem, the spring offensive next year..."
Stanton stopped pacing.
"Krupp..."
He murmured the name, slowly pondering.
"Argyle." A thought flashed through his mind like lightning.
"Dale." He spun around abruptly.
"When you went to Connecticut last time, at Argyle' factory. Did you see if they had the capability to cast large components?"
"Huh?" Dale was momentarily stunned.
"I... I saw their forging workshop; it was very advanced. And Mr. Rhys Griffiths' metallurgical laboratory. But those are used to manufacture core components for rifles and machine guns; the scale isn't particularly large. As for cannons..."
"But he has the steel," Stanton interrupted him.
"He has that 'prometheus alloy' that even the Prussians envy."
"If he can use that steel to create the strongest gun barrels in the world, can he use it to create equally sturdy cannon barrels?"
"This..."
Colonel Dale was taken aback by the Secretary's audacious idea.
"Theoretically, perhaps. But sir, casting cannons and manufacturing guns are two completely different fields. Krupp spent twenty years mastering cast-steel breech-loading. And Mr. Argyle' factory..."
"But he created a revolving machine gun in only six months."
"Dale, that young man cannot be judged by conventional standards."
He sat back down behind his desk.
"We don't have the money to buy Krupp's cannons," Stanton said slowly.
"But perhaps we can have our own 'Krupp' build them."
"Send a telegram to Argyle, make the phrasing polite."
"Say that I heard he purchased a large plot of land in New Jersey and intends to build a remarkable steel mill, and if he encounters any difficulties, he can discuss them with me.
"Also, based on the numerous times I have helped him in the past, ask if he can research and develop a good cannon."
After a pause, he added a final sentence.
"This is extremely important to the Union, to me, to Chairman Clark, to the Republican Party, and even to himself!"
New York, Fifth Avenue.
The cold winter wind, swirling with snowflakes, tapped against the thick glass windows of Felix's study, creating a faint sound.
The fire in the fireplace was burning fiercely, casting a warm glow across the room, a stark contrast to the severe cold outside the window.
Felix stood before a massive map of the United States, holding a red pencil.
His gaze was focused on the rugged mountainous region of Pennsylvania.
That area was the future lifeblood of Sainn Minerals and Lakes Steel.
"Boss."
Edward Frost knocked and entered, holding a telegram that had just arrived from the War Department in Washington.
"An urgent telegram from Secretary Stanton."
Frost handed him the deciphered message.
Felix took the telegram, slightly surprised.
He had originally thought that after resolving the Morgan incident, Washington would be quiet for at least a while.
He unfolded the telegram paper and read it word by word.
The first half of the telegram stated that Stanton was relieved to see the misunderstanding in Nebraska clarified.
But Felix knew this was merely polite talk.
The latter half of the telegram contained the true purpose of the iron-willed Secretary.
"...The Federal Army is currently facing a severe challenge. The parrott gun relied upon by our frontline artillery frequently suffers catastrophic bursts during winter operations, causing heartbreaking losses to our forces."
"General Meade and General Sherman have both submitted urgent reports to the War Department. They desperately need a safer, more reliable new type of artillery to replace those 'widow-makers'."
Felix slowly set down the telegram paper.
He felt no excitement about receiving this sudden "order," but instead fell into deep contemplation.
How could Felix not be tempted by artillery?
After rifles and machine guns, this was another piece of the pie, fat enough to change the landscape of warfare.
He also knew that Krupp's steel breech-loading cannons were the future masters of land warfare.
For the next hundred years, artillery would be the King of War; whoever possessed larger caliber, more powerful cannons would have the loudest voice.
However, this technology was highly complex and not something Militech could immediately delve into.
But just as Colonel Dale worried, manufacturing cannons and manufacturing guns were two completely different concepts.
Manufacturing guns required precision machining and high-quality alloys.
Manufacturing cannons—especially producing era-defining steel breech-loaders in 1863—required a complete and massive heavy industry system.
It required large open-hearth furnaces capable of smelting steel ingots weighing tens of tons, ten-thousand-ton hydraulic presses to forge them and eliminate internal stress, and, crucially, super-heavy machine tools capable of machining precise rifling and complex breech-locking mechanisms.
Yet Lex Steel Company was currently only a blueprint.
However, Felix would not give up such a good opportunity; after all, having a legitimate reason to develop artillery was very important in the current Union.
Crucially, he could also help that old fellow Stanton this one time.
"Edward, have Militech start scouting for artillery talent within the Union."
"Hmm? Yes, Boss."
Frost immediately understood that Secretary Stanton must have mentioned artillery in the telegram; otherwise, the Boss wouldn't suddenly be looking for artillery experts.
But Frost looked at Felix and asked, "Boss, given the suddenness of this situation, can we fulfill Secretary Stanton's request?"
"Yes." Felix's reply was just one word.
Frost was still worried. "But Boss, the steel mill hasn't started construction, and Militech's equipment simply cannot produce components that large..."
"Of course, I know that," Felix interrupted him. "Although we can't build a complete cannon right now, we can build the cannon's heart."
"The heart?"
"Which is the barrel."
Felix walked to the desk, picked up a pencil, and quickly sketched on a piece of white paper.
"Currently, we cannot manufacture the complex breech-locking system of Prussia; that requires too much time and technological accumulation. But we can build the strongest, most reliable barrel lining in the world."
He drew a rough cross-section of a parrott gun.
"Tell me, why do parrott guns burst?" Felix asked and answered himself. "It's because they use cheap cast iron barrels, reinforced with wrought iron bands on the outside. Cast iron is too brittle, and the wrought iron reinforcement isn't uniform enough. At the moment the powder explodes, the immense chamber pressure cannot be effectively dissipated, ultimately leading to disaster."
Then, Felix used his pencil to draw a thick line inside the cast iron barrel.
"But what if we use 'prometheus alloy' to forge a high-strength alloy steel liner, and then insert it into the existing cast iron barrel?"
"The ductility of the alloy steel is sufficient to withstand the maximum chamber pressure of the powder explosion. The external cast iron body provides the necessary weight and support."
"This..."
Frost looked at the sketch and understood the ingenuity of the concept.
"Boss, are you suggesting we use our core technology to upgrade that scrap metal that's about to be phased out?"
"Exactly," Felix nodded.
"Technologically, this is the limit that Militech's existing forging equipment can barely achieve. It doesn't require us to redesign the entire artillery system; it only requires modifying the existing parrott guns."
"The cost is also far lower than manufacturing a new Krupp steel cannon."
A slight curve appeared at the corner of Felix's mouth.
"Most importantly, it can solve Secretary Stanton's immediate problem quickly. It allows him to present a 'cost-controllable, highly effective' solution to silence the dissenters on Capitol Hill."
"And we, in turn, use this opportunity to legitimately extend our reach into the nation's most critical military industry: artillery manufacturing."
Although his thoughts were clear, Felix did not immediately reply to Stanton. Instead, he picked up another document.
"Frost."
"Yes, Boss."
"Send a telegram to Colman immediately."
"Tell him that in addition to engineers for blast furnaces and rolling mills, he should also scout talent related to heavy forging presses and barrel boring machines."
"The saying remains the same: money is not an issue."
"I want Militech to become the strongest military manufacturer in the Union."