The next morning, as Kisor awoke to the sounds of soldiers training and construction work, Zidan made his way to a forgotten section of the castle in the far south. Unknown to most, this area consisted of ancient cellars that had become neglected storage rooms over time. But Zidan, drawing on the original Zidan's memories, knew their secret.
Passing through a dark corridor, Zidan opened a heavy wooden door leading to an underground chamber. A faint light and strange smell - a mix of sulfur and burnt metal - emanated from within. This was a primitive laboratory, filled with peculiar instruments: glass tubes, small furnaces, and unknown chemicals.
At the center stood a man in his late forties, his hair disheveled and face smeared with soot. Wearing thick glasses, his eyes shone with sharp intelligence and unmistakable passion. This was Master Rogo, the scholar Zidan had entrusted with a highly secret mission: gunpowder experiments.
"Good morning, Master Rogo," Zidan said as he entered.
Rogo turned quickly, his soot-stained face breaking into a wide grin. "Lord Baron! I've been eagerly awaiting you! I have magnificent news!"
"Tell me, Master Rogo. Have the gunpowder experiments succeeded?" Zidan asked, his tone carrying hidden anticipation.
Rogo's eyes sparkled with excitement. "They have... almost, my Lord! We've produced a considerable quantity of black powder. It's powerful, extremely powerful!"
He picked up a small container holding coarse black powder. "We've conducted preliminary tests, my Lord. The explosive force is astonishing! But..."
Rogo paused briefly before continuing: "I believe it's more suitable for those bombs you mentioned in your papers, my Lord. The ones that can be thrown by hand or launched by catapult. The explosion is strong enough to cause massive destruction among enemy ranks or within fortifications."
"What about firearms? Muskets?" Zidan asked, pointing to rough musket sketches he'd drawn from memory.
Rogo shook his head. "Unfortunately not yet, my Lord. The current powder burns too quickly with tremendous destructive force. If used in small firearms, the weapon might explode in the soldier's hands. We need a slower-burning, more controlled formula for individual firearms. But..." he added, "it could be adapted for artillery as well, my Lord. That just requires more testing and study."
Zidan wasn't discouraged. This was just the beginning. "What about the cannon?"
Rogo's face lit up with satisfaction. "The cannon, my Lord! That's the exciting part! We've worked tirelessly on your design. We've cast the bronze, built the mold... I believe a 24-pounder culverin is nearing completion!"
He gestured toward a corner where a massive bronze structure was slowly taking shape - an enormous cannon with a wide muzzle and thick, sturdy body. Inspired by 18th-century Earth artillery, this weapon represented firepower this world had never seen.
"With this, my Lord, we'll crush any force approaching our land!" Rogo declared, eyes shining with confidence. "This cannon, combined with our new bombs, will make Kisor an impregnable fortress. It's genius, my Lord! Sheer genius! I could never have imagined such power existed!"
Zidan examined the cannon, then looked at Rogo. This world that relied on swords and spears was about to witness a true revolution. "Well done, Master Rogo. Continue your work. I want this cannon operational as soon as possible. And keep experimenting with firearms. We'll need every possible firepower."
News from the Northeastern Front
No sooner had Zidan left the secret laboratory than new, more alarming reports arrived - this time from the northeast.
Marion, commander of the Special Company, approached Zidan with deep concern etched on his face. "Lord Baron, we've received urgent reports from our spies in the northeast."
"Speak, Marion," Zidan said, bracing for the worst.
"Part of Duke Friedrich's forces - about 2,000 soldiers led by his second-in-command, Major - have advanced deep into the Givari Forest," Marion said, pointing to the map. "They're moving rapidly to crush Viscount Gerfork and the town of Miradny, just 117 kilometers northeast of Kisor."
Zidan stiffened. Miradny - a small town but strategically located. Its fall would expose Kisor to greater danger.
"Major?" Zidan asked. "Is he a skilled commander?"
"A ruthless, merciless leader, my Lord," Marion replied. "Known for brutal tactics. His troops are well-trained and eager for plunder."
"What about Viscount Gerfork? Does he have enough forces to resist them?"
Marion shook his head grimly. "No, my Lord. Viscount Gerfork's forces number only a few hundred. They stand no chance against Major's 2,000 soldiers. The Viscount has sent desperate pleas to the king, but received no response."
The Battle of Miradny and the Viscount's Fall
Within days, terrible news arrived.
The skies above Kisor grew overcast, as if foreboding doom. An exhausted messenger arrived, his horse panting, face covered in dust and blood. He knelt before Zidan in the castle courtyard.
"Lord Baron! Lord Baron!" the messenger cried, his voice barely a whisper. "Miradny has fallen! Fallen!"
Zidan felt a blow to his heart. "And Viscount Gerfork?"
"He... he was killed, my Lord," the messenger said, tears in his eyes. "He resisted bravely, but Major's forces were more numerous and brutal. They crushed the town, looted everything. Left nothing behind."
The news spread through Kisor like thunder. Miradny's fall and Viscount Gerfork's death meant Duke Friedrich's army was now dangerously close - just 117 kilometers away.
This news served as a deafening alarm bell. War had come to Kisor's doorstep. No longer a distant rebellion, but an immediate threat. Zidan knew the time had come. He had prepared Kisor as best he could, and now faced the inevitable confrontation.
Gazing toward the northeastern horizon where Miradny had fallen, Zidan knew the coming battle would be decisive. But he felt no fear. He had a trained army, a fortified castle, and a surprise waiting for Duke Friedrich: the fury of gunpowder.