As the morning mist hung heavy over the gates, Ethan stood with his brother, Gruffudd, watching him prepare for the journey ahead. The sound of clinking armor and the thudding of hooves filled the air as Gruffudd mounted his horse, his men assembling around him.
"Safe journey, brother," Ethan called out, his voice steady. "May our enemies fall."
Gruffudd, glanced over his shoulder with a grin that spoke volumes. "Aye, brother," he said, his voice filled with the certainty. He nudged his horse forward and paused, looking back once more as Ethan approached him with a parchment bound tightly in his hand.
Ethan held the bundle out to Gruffudd. "These," he said, "carry the designs for improved cannons. Don't lose them."
Gruffudd raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. The men behind him looked on with interest, sensing something more than a simple farewell.
Gruffudd's lips curved upward into a small, almost proud smile. His voice a mix of admiration and disbelief. "A dream again, was it?"
Ethan's smile was small but resolute, "Yes, it was a dream."
Gruffudd gripped the parchments tightly, feeling the weight of the designs in his hand. He understood the gravity of what was being asked of him now. If these blueprints worked, if they could be used to break the enemy's lines with the force of the new cannons, then the battle would be theirs. He knew this was no idle suggestion.
"If these work…" Gruffudd muttered, the words trailing off as his thoughts raced. He gripped the parchments tighter, his determination set.
Ethan's gaze hardened, his expression turning serious as he stepped closer to his brother, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Kill those bastards and take back our castles."
Gruffudd nodded, his face now a mask of grim purpose. He turned to his men, signaling them to mount up. "Move out!" he commanded. His voice carried through the mist, firm and unwavering. One by one, his men followed, the sound of hooves and clinking armor gradually growing fainter as they marched toward their goal.
Ethan stood at the gates, watching his brother and the men disappear into the distance, his thoughts heavy with the weight of what he had set in motion.
And so here I am Ethan thought, his mind racing as the echoes of the marching men faded into the distance. Altering history... but I'm just rearranging the wreckage of human nature. You can build, break, or burn it all down, but in the end, we just keep coming back to the same fucking point.
----
The night before, Ethan was in the quiet of his chamber, working on intricate blueprints for a weapon he hoped would change the course of the war. His gift for Gruffudd would be a cannon—reworked to overcome the critical flaws that plagued the cannons of this time, These early cannons were wildly inaccurate, with several key issues.
First, the barrels were hand-cast, often uneven, leading to unpredictable trajectories. The inconsistent quality of gunpowder—due to variations in sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter—meant that shots lacked reliability and force. Additionally, there was no proper aiming system; gunners relied on crude estimates of distance and angle. Over time, the barrels wore down, making their shots even less reliable. The cannons were also smoothbore, without rifling to stabilize the cannonball in flight, further compounding their inaccuracy.
Despite these drawbacks, cannons in the 1400s were still vital for breaching fortifications and causing terror among enemies, although they were rarely precise. Ethan's blueprints aimed to fix these issues, improving both the cannon's accuracy and reliability, making it a more effective weapon in warfare.
His mind raced through the possibilities, each step taking him closer to something that could shift the balance of power. The candlelight flickered, casting erratic shadows across the page as he detailed his ideas for a new form of artillery—one that could wreak havoc on enemy formations with devastating efficiency.
What if a cannon could fire not just a single, powerful shot, but an explosion of smaller projectiles that could scatter across the battlefield, striking down groups of soldiers and breaking up cavalry charges?
His hand moved with precision, sketching the canister shot—the basic concept that would form the heart of his weapon. A metal canister, a small cylindrical shell, filled with dozens of iron balls, could wreak more destruction than a single cannonball ever could. He imagined the chaos it would cause—soldiers struck down at a distance, the air filled with the sound of metal crashing against bone, the enemy scattered like chaff before a storm.
He began outlining the specifics. The shell itself would need to be made from iron, perhaps bronze if it could be managed to cast it properly. It would be a sturdy thing, reinforced along its seams so that it would hold together until the moment of impact, when it would burst open with devastating force. Inside, small iron balls, roughly the size of a clenched fist, would be packed tightly together, their rough surfaces meant to tear through flesh and armor alike. They would serve as the projectiles, scattering in all directions once the shell broke apart, causing chaos among enemy ranks.
He smiled at the potential. It was an elegant solution, one that could change the course of battles.
Turning to the next sheet of parchment, Ethan began to sketch the cannon that would deliver the canister shot. His mind raced with possibilities. It needed to be powerful, reliable, and capable of firing more than just a single shot before reloading. He considered the rotating barrel, a concept that, in his time, would eventually lead to the development of repeating firearms.
A rotating barrel would allow for multiple shots before the cumbersome process of reloading. A set of chambers, each loaded with a canister shot, could be fired in quick succession, making the cannon far more effective than anything the world had ever seen. Of course, there were complications.
The recoil would need to be carefully managed. The materials of the time—iron, bronze—were strong but not always reliable when faced with the stresses of rapid firing. He would need to strengthen the barrel to ensure it didn't warp after several shots. And then there was the matter of the mechanism, the method used to ignite the gunpowder. It was rudimentary, but if he could adjust it, perhaps even find a way to use a more consistent, reliable ignition source, the cannon might function as he envisioned.