Bonnie Johnson frowned, immediately realizing the crucial issue: "But if there's an opening on the side, won't the propellant gases leak out during launch? It might even injure the soldiers ' hands."
"I've got it!" Tennyson immediately chimed in, gesturing to the inside of the cartridge lid. "We'll put a layer of grease-soaked burlap inside the lid. When it's closed, the burlap will seal the gaps. Even if a little gas leaks out, the grease will block it, and it definitely won't hurt anyone. Plus, burlap is very cheap, and we can replace it when we run out. It's not much trouble at all."
Paul's eyes lit up instantly. He stepped forward and fiddled with the rifle blueprint, his fingers tracing the areas the other man had indicated. The more he thought about it, the more ingenious the idea seemed.
"Great idea! Mr. Tanssimni Perez, you have a quick mind, this method is very practical!" Johnson's modification method reminded him of the French snuffbox rifle.
He turned to Hoffman, his voice brimming with excitement: "We currently have a large number of muzzle-loading rifles in our equipment. If we could convert half of them to this type and give them to the vanguard troops first, wouldn't the problem of rapid-fire firepower be temporarily solved? Once you've solved the gas tightness and firing pin problems of the needle-firing rifles, you can gradually switch to the new rifles. This way, we won't delay our operations on the grasslands, and we can make use of all the old rifles we have. We'll save a lot of time and materials!"
Johnson pondered for a moment and nodded in agreement: "It is indeed feasible. The modification is simple and blacksmiths can learn it in no time. Moreover, the soldiers use old-fashioned rifles every day. After the modification, they don't need to practice again. They can be simply taught how to open the magazine and push the bullets, which saves a lot of training effort."
Paul patted Perez on the shoulder. "Well done, Mr. Perez. You not only solved the immediate problem, but also reminded us that sometimes you don't have to focus on brand new things. If you figure out the old things you have and modify them well, they can be just as useful. From today onwards, you will take the lead in this modification project. As for how many people and materials you need, just ask Mr. Johnson directly. I will talk to the Political Affairs Council and ask them to give you priority in allocating resources."
Perez blushed with excitement and nodded vigorously: "Thank you for your trust, Marquis! I guarantee that I will produce the first batch of modified guns within half a month!"
Paul nodded in satisfaction, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, his tone becoming firm: "Johnson, you continue to focus on the technical challenges of the needle-fire gun, striving to create a mature prototype as soon as possible, while Tennyson is responsible for modifying the old guns. You must handle both aspects well. Make sure that within six months, the army has sufficient rapid-fire firepower to deal with the upcoming grassland war."
The atmosphere in the meeting room instantly warmed up. The heavy feeling that had been hanging over the technology problem vanished without a trace, and everyone's face showed anticipation, as if they could already see Alda equipped with a modified rifle. The scene depicts soldiers firing at Orc Cavalry on the grasslands.
As the sun began to set, Paul and Catherine finally concluded their inspection of the 51st District and, escorted by their servants, boarded their carriage for the return journey.
Inside the carriage, Catherine rubbed her slightly sore shoulders. "Today's trip was really worthwhile. These craftsmen—ha, I should call them engineers—are really quick-witted. If the modification plan can be successfully implemented, dealing with the grassland war will be much easier."
Paul agreed: " Alda has people like these who are willing to think things through, which is better than anything else. Once the modified rifles are mass-produced and equipped to the troops, and combined with the Cannon, no matter how many cavalrymen Abar has, they won't be able to turn the tide."
The carriage traveled smoothly along the gravel road, the crunching sound of the wheels over the stones mingling with the calls of birds returning home in the distance. Attendants rode on horseback to protect the sides of the carriage, vigilantly observing the surrounding mountains and forests, for there were many wild animals in the forest, and no carelessness was allowed.
Just as the carriage was about to leave the woods and enter the outskirts of Lakeheart Town, a figure suddenly appeared in the middle of the road ahead.
The man was wearing a dark cloak with the hood pulled down so low it almost covered his entire face. He was dragging a figure that was bound hand and foot—judging from his short, stocky build and rough linen clothes, he was a dwarf.
Captain Victor immediately reined in his horse, placed his hand on the sword at his waist, and shouted, "Who are you? We are the Lords Manor caravan, please make way!"
The cloaked man did not respond, but instead shoved the dwarf in his hand forward. The dwarf fell onto the road in front of the carriage with a muffled groan, clearly having lost the ability to resist.
Having done all this, the cloaked man turned to retreat into the nearby woods, as if he had only completed an insignificant task.
"Stop playing tricks!"
Just then, Paul, who had poked his head out of the carriage, suddenly spoke, with an undeniable certainty, "I know you are Nathan." Glaeman, my brother!
The cloaked man abruptly stopped, and the surrounding servants instantly became alert, drawing their swords and fixing their gazes on the mysterious figure. The atmosphere suddenly became tense.
After a moment of silence, the cloaked man slowly raised his hand and removed his hood, which was pulled down very low. The last rays of the setting sun fell perfectly on his face, revealing a face that bore a striking resemblance to Paul's—it was Nathan, Paul's long-lost younger brother. Glaeman.
He frowned and looked towards the carriage window, saying nothing, simply standing there.
Catherine, inside the carriage, paused slightly and instinctively looked at Paul, but Paul was only looking at Nathan outside the window.
Upon closer inspection, the cloaked man was indeed Nathan. After Rodney arrived, Captain Victor was taken aback for a moment, then realized what was happening and raised his hand to signal the guards around him: "Lift the alert, he's one of our own."
The guards put away their weapons, but remained vigilant. Most of them were unaware that their lord had a brother, making it impossible for them to completely let their guard down. Their eyes darted back and forth between Nathan and the dwarf on the ground.
The car door opened, Paul straightened his coat, and stepped out, the setting sun casting a warm golden glow on his figure.
He took two steps toward Nathan and stopped. The two stood facing each other in silence, about three or four steps apart. The only sounds in the air seemed to be the rustling of the wind through the trees in the distance and the occasional faint breathing of the dwarf on the ground.
Nathan's eyes were rather cold, and there was also a hint of unspeakable entanglement.
Paul suddenly chuckled softly, breaking the silence first: "I say, brother, you really are a twisted person."