After sending the servant Ron away, Paul eagerly inspected the "goods" strewn across the tent floor.


    "Haha, how can i call myself are reincarnator if I don''t put my big ideas into action?"


    Before him lay heaps of sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter—the essential ingredients for gunpowder. Paul understood the power of this ancient formula; it had shattered the armor of feudal knights and aided conquerors in their quests for empires.


    "This time, gunpowder will help me, Paul Greyman, to ''civilize'' this strange world."


    Initially, Paul had planned to manufacture matchlock or flintlock guns en masse, instructing Philip to gather a team of blacksmiths. But with spring planting on the horizon, the farmers were too busy maintaining their tools to assist. Instead, he needed to find a couple of blacksmiths for experimental purposes, hoping to demonstrate the "great significance" of his invention through a spectacle of firepower.


    He quickly approached the servant who had just entered the adjacent tent.


    "Ron must have warned you not to breathe a word about what happens here. Otherwise..." He made a swift gesture across his throat, emphasizing the seriousness of discretion.


    Nods of agreement followed.


    "Good. Gather everyone here; we’re about to create a secret weapon—a tool that will turn the tide of battle. If you do well, handsome rewards await you."


    He pointed to a familiar servant, "Kelly, you’ll oversee this group from now on."


    With a flourish, he revealed the gunpowder ingredients he had brought along. "This is saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal. To the untrained eye, they seem ordinary, but I’ve discovered that when mixed in the right proportions, they create a volatile substance."


    Without a hint of humility, Paul claimed the credit for the discovery.


    He carefully mixed the three powders in a ratio of one part saltpeter, two parts sulfur, and three parts charcoal. After instructing everyone to step back, he ignited the mixture with a long matchstick, using a torch to spark it from a safe distance.


    "Ah!" gasps echoed around the tent.


    The powder erupted into a dazzling flame, followed by a thick cloud of smoke, and an acrid smell filled the air.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "Did you see that? The reaction was intense; it burned away almost instantly."


    Indeed, what had once been a pile of powder was now reduced to mere remnants.


    "The lord wants to use this to create a weapon?" one of the astute servants asked, grasping the implications.


    "Exactly. I call this mixture gunpowder, and it will be our weapon against bandits. But merely igniting it won’t suffice; it must be contained to harness its explosive power, making it a true threat to our enemies."


    "This is just a preliminary idea. This weapon is still in the conceptual stage. We need to refine the formula and design an appropriate container. I’m counting on all of you to brainstorm. I promise, for each good idea I approve, you will receive at least one silver coin. The more valuable the idea, the greater the reward."


    Excitement sparked among the men at the mention of coin. They vowed to deliver and not let their lord down.


    "However," Paul continued, his tone growing serious, "you’ve seen the demonstration. This substance is incredibly dangerous. If mishandled, it could injure not just you but others around you. I’ll draft safety protocols for you to memorize. I’ll be conducting surprise checks, and anyone who fails to comply will be dismissed. To ensure secrecy, those who leave this project will find their lives drastically altered."


    The group nodded fervently, a mix of motivation and fear driving them to commit to their tasks.


    Paul summoned a soldier and instructed him to guide the new recruits around the camp while a few blacksmiths remained behind.


    He turned to one of the older blacksmiths, "You’re Herman, correct? The castle’s blacksmith?"


    "Yes, my lord. My family has served the Earl for generations. I crafted the old Earl''s armor."


    "Good to know. You witnessed the power of gunpowder just now. What are your thoughts?"


    "My lord, you are truly a genius. Had I not seen the materials and process for myself, I would have dismissed it as mere legend."


    Paul felt a swell of pride at the praise from those outside his world.


    "Yes... but what I demonstrated is just the beginning. There are far more refined and sophisticated applications for gunpowder."


    "Oh? That’s why I’m still here, right? Please enlighten me, my lord."


    Paul unfurled a piece of parchment, revealing a detailed drawing. "Look closely at this design. I need you to craft a weapon based on this blueprint..."


    ---


    From that day forward, an area near the training camp was off-limits to ordinary soldiers, guarded day and night by internal security. Yet, strange explosions often echoed from within, drawing curious onlookers who were promptly escorted away for "tea" by the newly formed picket team.


    However, mere explosive gadgets and makeshift pipes were not enough to satisfy the Earl. They intensified their search for skilled metal casters, hoping to find those experienced in crafting bells and working with bronze.


    Shortly thereafter, another team was assembled, comprising robust men like Makarov. In addition to their regular training sessions, they engaged in specialized drills, tossing polished stones into circles marked on the ground.


    They called themselves the Grenadiers.


    Some murmured among themselves, speculating whether the lord''s finances had dwindled too low to afford proper weaponry, resorting instead to using stones. But with longer-distance slings, they reasoned, the stones could still reach the enemy effectively. The thought of hurling heavy stones repeatedly, however, left them doubting their own endurance.