Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 834 - 85 Luck_3

Chapter 834: Chapter 85 Luck_3 Chapter 834: Chapter 85 Luck_3 The sergeant went reluctantly and skeptically.

Mason patiently counted the timing, he wanted to see at what frequency the people of Terdun could fire.

Compared to accuracy, the loading speed was a better indicator of the gunner’s level—of course, provided they didn’t blow up the cannon.

About six minutes later, there were four more thunderous booms. Six minutes per round of firing, the loading speed was a bit slow.

Mason was very familiar with the performance of the six-pound long cannon: three to four minutes per round was normal, and a skilled gun crew could manage every two minutes.

In the second round of firing, the cannon of Terdun did not burst.

Another six or seven minutes passed, and four consecutive booms resounded without any bursts.

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The design purpose of Revodan’s city defense works was to withstand cavalry charges. Thus, the facade of the walls was rather steep, allowing the cannonballs to “bite” into it more effectively.

The people of Terdun were not firing aimlessly, their twelve shots consistently targeted one arrow tower, fiercely bombarding it.

Continuously struck by external forces, a corner of the arrow tower collapsed, and large chunks of earth fell into the trench.

Although the wall was still intact, Terdun’s gun crew had already proven their capability to threaten the wall.

Mason sighed, took out a handkerchief, and wiped the dust off his face.

The sergeant picked up the cannonballs and proudly presented them to Mason, “Your Excellence, it was very dangerous just now…”

Mason took the cannonball, weighed it, and showed a faint smile, “Iron cannonballs.”

The sergeant and the surrounding militia did not understand.

“On the Great Wilderness, iron is as valuable as gold and silver, Terdun calls iron ‘black money’. Now Terdun is essentially using money to fight us.” Mason patiently explained to the militia around him:

“If they were using stone cannonballs, it would mean that the people of Terdun were very well prepared. But now they are using iron cannonballs—they do not have the capability to cast iron cannonballs, these must have been left by the Expeditionary Force on the wilderness, and with each shot, their supplies diminish.”

The militia seemed enlightened.

Mason flipped and examined the cannonball, trying to find any inscriptions or markings, but there were none.

He casually threw the cannonball onto the ground, “I reckon it won’t be long before the people of Terdun start using pebbles as grapeshot and switch to close-range firing tactics.”

The militia nodded understandingly, whispering and discussing quietly among themselves.

“Then are we just supposed to endure the bombardment?” One tall, thin young sergeant boldly asked, “Your Excellence?”

“Of course not,” Mason smiled calmly, “We need to teach them a lesson too.”

How to teach the opponent a lesson? Mason had a bold idea—fighting cannon with cannon.

A third-generation wooden cannon was placed on the parapet, Mason, as if encouraging it, gently patted the barrel.

This was the best quality third-generation wooden cannon he had at hand, capable of firing a solid iron cannonball weighing about four pounds.

The third-generation wooden cannon was designed by wrapping twined rope and iron hoops around forged iron tubes, which were then secured with wood.

By design, its purpose was to fire grapeshot, but it was not incapable of firing solid shot.

Mason stretched out his arm and thumb and estimated that Terdun’s cannons were about a hundred meters from the city wall—thus their firing was so accurate, rarely missing.

Four cannons were lined up in a row, the cannon bases constructed of thick wooden planks.

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If Mason were on the offensive, he wouldn’t have placed the cannons so close. One hundred meters falls within the lethal range of grapeshot.

The thick wooden planks could withstand the firing of matchlock guns, and perhaps could also endure a storm of grapeshot, but the opponents clearly hadn’t considered the possibility of the defenders fighting cannon with cannon—or possibly it was intentional, leaving the defenders an opportunity.

Mason spent a lot of time adjusting the angle, then started the loading process: gunpowder, wooden boards, cotton, and hemp wadding were stuffed into the cannon one by one.

He signaled to disperse the observing militia, nodding to his subordinates that they could load the cannonball now.

The fierce man with a red birthmark on his face spat twice into his palm, scooped up a red-hot cannonball from the furnace using an iron spoon.

A few shouts of surprise erupted from the crowd, and the militia then understood why they were not allowed to stand nearby to watch.

The four-pound iron ball, faintly flaming, was placed into the cannon, and Mason lit the fuse with a long rod, quickly retreating to a distance.

With a loud “boom”, the cannon shook violently, moving from its original position.

The red-hot cannonball shot out of the barrel, tracing a beautiful arc in the air filled with hopeful victory.

Then, under everyone’s gaze, it flew over the heads of Terdun’s gun crew, leisurely landing in the distance, bouncing a few times before coming to a silent stop—It had overshot.

The huge disappointment involuntarily drew sighs from the militia.

Unperturbed, Mason first repositioned the cannon, then adjusted the angle with a plumb line, reloaded, and fired again.

The second shot also missed, hitting the ground too early and bouncing a few times before stopping—it was too short.

A militia member couldn’t help but mutter softly, “Is Captain Mason really up to this?”

There were also old soldiers confidently vouching for the Civil Guard Officer, “What do you know? During our previous battles, Captain Mason’s first three shots were off, but the fourth shot hit directly! That’s called artillery skills! Test firing, understand?”

Mason was busy adjusting the firing angle with a plumb line and didn’t hear the other militia members’ remarks. Even if he had heard, it would be hard for him to explain to them.

He was indeed calibrating the shots.

In the first shot, he deliberately had the cannonball land farther away;

In the second shot, he let the cannonball land closer;