Kingdombuilding: All My Inventions Are Novelty

Outside the City, Alonso returned to the Dutch encampment with a grim expression.

"Ambassador, it seems your negotiations have failed." Zack lounged nearby, a mocking smile spreading across his face. "I told you that the people of the Empire were arrogant and ignorant. Talking is useless with people like them. Guns and cannons are far more persuasive."

He paused before adding, "Unfortunately, we have already missed our opportunity."

Alonso snorted.

"Damn it! Who could have imagined that the Prince would master flintlock technology? But you’re right about one thing. That prince is far too arrogant. Does he honestly believe that possessing flintlock firearms will allow him to challenge the Dutch at sea?"

"Exactly!" Zack replied. "We should teach them a lesson they will never forget."

His gaze shifted toward the soldiers gathering atop Ashenford city walls. Their muskets were already trained on the departing Dutch troops.

Zack understood the situation perfectly. Whatever their ambitions, the Dutch could not afford to start a battle beneath those walls. If the defenders opened fire from their elevated positions, his men would suffer terrible losses before they could even approach the gates.

Alonso followed his gaze and clenched his jaw.

"I must return and report everything. The three conditions are absolutely unacceptable to the Dutch."

Without further discussion, Alonso and Zack led their troops away from Ashenford.

Neither man had any intention of surrendering the interests of the Dutch East. If negotiations had failed, they would have to find another way to force the Prince to reconsider.

Unfortunately for them, the situation was no longer as simple as they imagined.

***

By the time the Dutch troops withdrew, Simon had already reached the city wall.

Standing beside Benjamin and O’Neill, he raised his telescope and carefully examined the enemy’s equipment.

The longer he looked, the more serious his expression became.

An army’s equipment was more than a collection of weapons and uniforms. It was a reflection of the industrial strength supporting it.

The Dutch soldiers wore leather boots, tall hats, and gray cotton uniforms. Their clothing was remarkably consistent, suggesting that the Dutch possessed a well-developed textile industry capable of supplying large numbers of soldiers.

Their flintlock muskets were equally impressive.

The polished barrels reflected the sunlight, while the metal fittings appeared carefully manufactured. Although individual weapons differed in quality, the overall standard was considerably higher than that of the matchlock firearms still used by many armies in the Empire.

Then there were the six-pound field cannons.

Six pieces of artillery stood among the Dutch troops, each drawn by powerful warhorses. Their mobility alone made them valuable weapons on an open battlefield.

Simon slowly lowered his telescope.

If this army had appeared beneath the city walls two years earlier, the city might already have fallen.

Back then, the Empire lacked the industrial foundation, firearms, and military organization necessary to confront an European force of this quality.

But two years could change a great deal.

Especially when one side possessed knowledge that the other had never imagined.

"My Lord, what do you think?" Benjamin asked.

Simon returned the telescope to its case.

"It’s time to send Desmond. The Dutch won’t take us seriously until they see our warships."

Benjamin nodded immediately.

He understood why Simon had allowed the negotiations to proceed despite knowing that the Dutch would probably reject his conditions.

Words alone could not convince men who believed themselves superior. Sometimes, the most effective argument was to let them see the consequences of underestimating their opponent.

Benjamin quickly summoned a scout and ordered him to ride to the bay, where Desmond’s fleet was waiting.

Afterward, Simon descended from the city wall and turned toward O’Neill, the commander responsible for the city’s defenses.

"From now on, Ashenford will occupy an increasingly important position in our military plans. You must begin preparing for attacks from the sea."

O’Neill immediately straightened.

"Your Highness, please give your orders."

"We need coastal artillery positions capable of striking enemy warships before they can approach the harbor."

O’Neill blinked in confusion.

"Coastal artillery positions?"

The term meant little to him. His experience centered on defending cities against land-based enemies, not constructing specialized installations to fight ships offshore.

Simon waved away his confusion.

"You don’t need to understand every technical detail yet. The engineering battalion will handle the construction and explain the necessary arrangements. Your responsibility is to provide manpower, materials, and whatever assistance they require."

He paused.

"Simply put, we will place heavy cannons along the coast so that any enemy ship approaching the city will face our guns before it can threaten the city. Do you understand?"

O’Neil’s expression immediately brightened.

"Understood, Your Highness!"

Although he did not fully understand the engineering involved, the purpose was clear enough.

If the enemy intended to attack from the sea, Ashenford would answer with cannon fire.

Until recently, Simon had concentrated most of his military resources on the northern frontier. The threat posed by the northern tribes had forced him to prioritize the army, firearms production, and defensive preparations along the land borders.

The sea, however, could no longer be neglected.

The Dutch had demonstrated that foreign forces could arrive with powerful warships, advanced firearms, and ambitions extending far beyond ordinary trade.

Ashenford needed to become more than a coastal city.

It needed to become a fortress guarding the empire’s maritime gateway.

As for the army stationed there, O’Neill had already begun preparing for the changes ahead. He frequently traveled to Brambleford to observe military training and familiarize himself with the methods being developed there.

Once flintlock muskets became available in sufficient quantities, he would be responsible for turning Ashenford’s soldiers into an effective firearms force.

Simon intended to ensure that the next foreign army arriving at Ashenford would encounter a very different enemy.

"Your Highness," O’Neill asked as they walked toward the city gate, "should we pursue the Dutch?"

Simon smiled.

"No. Let them return to their ships. I want to see their expressions when Desmond arrives."

Benjamin glanced at O’Neill. The two exchanged a knowing smile.

They had witnessed the development of Desmond’s fleet and understood the confidence Simon placed in it.

The Dutch might believe that their warships gave them unquestionable superiority.

Soon, they would have an opportunity to reconsider.

***

Approximately an hour later, Alonso and Zack reached the coast.

Small boats carried them from the shore to the Dutch warships, where Earl Grey had been waiting impatiently for news.

The moment Alonso stepped aboard, Grey approached him.

"Well? What did the Prince say?"

Alonso’s expression darkened.

"The negotiations have failed. The Prince’s demands violate the fundamental interests of the Dutch. Two of his three conditions would be sufficient grounds for war."

Grey face grew cold.

"Tell me everything."

Alonso repeated the prince’s demands, explaining each condition in turn.

With every word, Grey’s expression became more hostile.

When Alonso finished, he let out a furious laugh.

"That fool! Does he imagine that colonies are merely pieces of land we can abandon whenever someone demands it? Our colonies are extensions of our national interests. They are the foundation of our influence overseas!"

His voice rose.

"His demands are practically a declaration of war!"

"That is precisely why I refused them," Alonso replied.

He straightened his back, his earlier frustration giving way to indignation.

"Consider the trade routes alone. They are the lifeblood of the Dutch Republic. We have fought the Spanish, English, and French to protect our commercial interests. Countless men have died defending those routes, and countless fortunes have been invested in securing them."

He struck his chest.

"The Dutch do not surrender what they have earned!"

Grey’s anger softened into approval.

He placed a hand on Alonso’s shoulder.

"You have done well. Anyone who makes such outrageous demands of the Dutch deserves to be taught a lesson."

Nearby, Zack watched the exchange with a faint smile.

He had spent years sailing the seas as a pirate and had traveled alongside Dutch raiders. Although he was not European himself, he had learned to recognize the attitudes that drove many of these foreign adventurers.

They were not motivated by trade alone.

They wanted wealth, influence, and control over the routes that connected distant markets. Every successful expedition encouraged them to reach farther, and every victory strengthened their belief that no obstacle was insurmountable.

To Zack, their ambition resembled a kind of fanaticism.

Ordinary pirates might be satisfied with a few captured ships and a profitable raid. The Europeans he had encountered often pursued something much larger: entire ports, overseas territories, and monopolies over the commerce of distant lands.

And unlike pirates, they possessed the resources of powerful commercial organizations and governments.

They could lose ships, recruit fresh crews, obtain new weapons, and return to the sea again and again.

Their ambitions rarely ended with a single victory.

Zack had expected Alonso and Grey to react violently to the Prince’s demands.

After all, Split Rock and the contested trade routes were not abstract political interests to them. They represented investments, profits, and personal fortunes.

Both men had a direct stake in preserving the Dutch overseas privileges.

Even the soldiers aboard the fleet depended on the continued success of these operations. Their wages, supplies, and prospects were tied to the commercial activities.

Zack remembered hearing the Europeans discuss shares and investments. Their financial arrangements allowed men who had never set foot aboard a ship to profit from distant voyages, while the officers commanding those voyages could accumulate enormous fortunes.

The entire structure encouraged expansion.

And when someone threatened its profits, peaceful negotiation could quickly give way to violence.

Sure enough, Grey’s fury soon spread throughout the fleet.

"War! War!"

As Dutch soldiers raised their flintlock and shouted from the deck.

Another followed.

"Drive those natives into the sea!"

"Let them learn what happens when they insult the Dutch!"

The cries multiplied until sailors and soldiers across the nearby ships had joined the uproar.

Some raised their muskets. Others pounded their fists against the railings.

The atmosphere changed in moments.

Only a short while earlier, they had been waiting for the outcome of negotiations. Now, they were imagining the destruction of the very people they had failed to intimidate.

Grey watched the growing frenzy with satisfaction.

He had no intention of allowing the Prince to dictate terms to the Dutch.

If Simon believed that flintlock technology gave him the right to challenge the Dutch, Grey would show him the difference between possessing a few modern weapons and commanding an experienced maritime power.

He climbed onto a raised section of the deck, making himself visible to the assembled soldiers.

"Men of our father’s land!"

The shouting gradually subsided.

Grey removed his hat and held it above his head.

"The Prince believes he can take what belongs to us! He believes he can seize our colonies, close our trade routes, and force us to bow before him! As what?"

A wave of angry shouts answered him.

"Never!"

"Not while we live!"

Grey eyes swept across the assembled men.

"Then tell me! What do we do when these people threaten everything we have built?"

"Kill them!"

"Drive them out!"

"Destroy their army!"

Grey raised his voice above the uproar.

"Exactly! We will use our cannons to teach these people how to speak to the Dutch! We will—"

"Enemy sighted!"

A sudden shout rang out from the lookout tower, cutting through the soldiers’ frenzy.

Grey froze.

For a moment, he appeared unwilling to believe that anyone would dare interrupt his speech with such an announcement.

Then he turned toward the mast.

"What did you say?"

The lookout pointed urgently toward the northern horizon.

"Warships! A large formation of warships!"

Grey immediately snatched up a telescope and strode toward the bow. Alonso followed, his earlier confidence replaced by unease, while Zack’s faint smile disappeared.

All three men raised their telescopes toward the approaching fleet.

At first, they could distinguish only dark shapes against the distant water.

Then the shapes grew larger.

Masts emerged from the haze. Sails filled with wind. The silhouettes of hulls gradually became clear.

One ship led the formation, its imposing structure rising above the surrounding vessels.

Behind it sailed a line of warships arranged in disciplined formation. There were second-rate and third-rate vessels, followed by smaller ships that maintained their positions as the entire fleet advanced.

For several seconds, Grey said nothing.

The wind continued to blow across the deck, but the atmosphere among the Dutch soldiers had changed completely.

Their shouts had died away.

The men who had been demanding war moments earlier now stared toward the approaching formation.