The production of artillery is progressing steadily, with the second gun barrel now in the barrel expansion phase, while the third artillery piece is still in the material stockpile.
If fortune smiled, he would soon be equipped with a formidable four-gun twelve-pounder battery after a month. While the firepower advantage was undeniable, Roland had been grappling with how to translate this superiority into decisive victory.
Before his time travel, he was merely a mechanical dog, sharing most people's understanding of war through history, movies, and games. In a conventional cold weapon battle, he would have Carter and Iron Axe take command. But this fight was different—no one knew the mechanics of firearms better than he did.
So he had to combine all his knowledge and make every step of the plan with a vision higher than the times.
To secure victory, Roland had the Lightning shuttle between the fortress and Border Town daily—first to assess terrain conditions, then to calculate distances precisely. He believed that military success depended on extensive reconnaissance and computation. Both tactical planning and battle simulations required these two critical elements.
Using the dimensions he had set during the last cannon casting, he crafted several one-meter iron rods and a hundred-meter hemp rope. At the artillery range west of Border Town, he drew a roughly one-kilometer-long flight path by projecting the hemp rope and wooden rods. Meanwhile, Lightning practiced controlling Magic Power consumption, repeatedly traversing this kilometer at a steady pace.
After memorizing the Magic Power output, Roland began measuring the distance between the fortress and the town. Using the sundial's round-trip time, he calculated the distance to be approximately fifty-four kilometers.
Of course, this is just the straight-line distance. In reality, the land route requires two major detours to avoid the foothills of the Desolate Mountains. In any case, if the Duke chooses to march on land, it would take at least three days to reach Border Town.
With lightning as his scout, Roland could clearly identify the enemy's position and determine the appropriate course of action.
Within a two-kilometer radius west of the town, he has installed distance-marking markers. When enemies enter this zone, the artillery unit can instantly adjust the gun angles without firing.
Now he began to feel somewhat apprehensive—what if the other party failed to arrive?
Just then, the door was knocked on.
The Nightingale who had been chewing dried fish slices on the sofa vanished instantly. Roland cleared his throat and said, "Come in." The Minister's Assistant Barov pushed open the door. "Your Highness, a Noble from the Long Song Fortress wishes to see you." "Who?" Roland was momentarily taken aback. "They sent another ambassador?" "No, not an ambassador," Barov shook his head. "It's Baron Coris, who left before the Demon's Moon and has returned now." Roland paused for a moment before recalling that the Border Town had indeed housed a Noble from the Fortress before. But how dare they return? And why come so early in spring? Hadn't they witnessed the iron fist of royal dictatorship? "What does he want?" "His house was demolished for obstructing the city walls," the Minister's Assistant shrugged. "If you refuse to receive him, I can help you decline." Roland considered agreeing but changed his mind. "Let the Baron wait in the drawing room." Prince thought. Perhaps through him, some pressure could be exerted on the Long Song Fortress.
After a half-hour of dragging his feet, Roland finally arrived at the reception room. A man with a bulging belly had been waiting impatiently by the long table, pacing back and forth with his face trembling from the weight of his steps. When he saw His Highness appear, the baron halted, barely bowing in greeting.
"Sit down." Roland returned to his seat. Normally, even if it wasn't mealtime, he'd have dessert prepared in the kitchen, but today he hadn't even had tea made.
"Your Royal Highness," Baron Curtis blurted out before settling into his seat, "How could you let those foolish stonemasons tear down my house! It was a fine manor—bricked walls, beams, and rafters all made of the finest timber. I spent a hundred... no, one hundred and fifty Golden Dragons on its construction!" He gestured with his fingers.
"One hundred and fifty," Roland chuckled inwardly. If he had just arrived in Border Town, Prince might have believed it based solely on his recollection. But now... "Are you talking about the house at the western end of town?" Coris nodded repeatedly. "Exactly, that very one. It's the second-largest mansion after Baron Simon's residence." "That's a shame," Roland paused. "Too close to the city walls, hindering my men's access." "But the town hall has compensated," Coris said. "How much?" Roland extended two fingers. "Twenty Golden Dragons." "That's too little! Your Highness..." Coris opened his mouth as if to protest but ultimately held back. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "Alright, twenty is twenty. Where should I collect this payment?" "Collect it?" Roland feigned confusion. "The funds have already been distributed to the mansion's owner." "What? Wait... I'm the owner!" "Not you, Blair, my Second Militia Captain." "Who's that?" The baron shouted. "Your Highness, you're mistaken! I'm the owner of that mansion!" "Is that so? But I didn't see you in winter," Roland raised an eyebrow. "How could that house be yours?" "I'm heading back to Long Song Fortress. Who'd want to stay in this cursed place? You might accidentally feed the evil beasts!" "Idiot," Roland mused, his tone still icy calm. "So you mean you fled from your Lord, terrified of the demonic beast?" "Uh..." The baron froze mid-sentence.
"Guard." Roland clapped his hands, and two bodyguards immediately entered through the reception door, pinning Kauris between them.
"Your Highness, what do you mean by that?!" "It's simple. You now face two choices," Roland stood up from his seat, his gaze filled with disdain. "First, admit your mistake—the house doesn't belong to you. I'll treat this as a farce and let you go. Second, during the Evil Moon's reign, you betrayed your Lord by leaving the territory without permission and shamefully fleeing to Long Song Fortress. I'll imprison you and execute you for treason. Which option do you choose?" Sweat dripped from Coris's forehead as he swallowed hard. After a long pause, he stammered, "Your Highness, I... I was mistaken. That wasn't my house." "So this was a misunderstanding," Roland shrugged toward the guards. "Send Baron Coris away." As Coris approached the door, Prince called out, "By the way, when you return by ship, deliver a message to those... nobles who might share your confusion. If you're not choosing the second option, there's no need to waste time coming to this town." "As... you wish, Your Highness," Coris said with a forced smile. But the moment he turned, Roland saw the look of God-like fury etched on his face.
This would surely cause a great uproar on the fortress side, he thought.