Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

Abel's muscles were tense, veins bulged on his forehead, and his breathing was heavy and rapid.

The hydraulic oil lines hissed and screamed under the high pressure of steam. The piston rod slowly descended, squeezing the gray substance in the mold and extruding it from the circular die hole into a slender and uniform cylinder.

The cylinder landed on the receiving plate, its surface smooth and without a single crack.

Richard's eyes widened; they were very close to the Kodak explosives.

He hadn't expected Abel and Thomas to progress so quickly. Less than a week had passed since he left for Turford, and they had already gone from "this concept is interesting" to "being able to squeeze out pills."

Finally, Abel finished that section of the compression, straightened up, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

The hissing of the hydraulic press stopped, and only the hum of the steam fan remained in the explosion-proof room.

He turned around and saw Richard, his eyes narrowing.

Richard recognized him smiling; the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes were gathered together, and a muffled voice came from behind the respirator: "You've come, Richard."

Richard stepped forward and extended his hand.

Abel grasped his hand, shook it twice, and then let go.

"It looks like the experiment is going well?" Richard's voice was also drowned out by the respirator.

Abel nodded: "You've given me almost everything I needed—ideas, equipment, and a testing ground."

He turned to look at the small hydraulic press, which was still warm from operation: "Thomas and I aren't just sitting around doing nothing."

Richard smiled modestly and gestured with his chin towards the small hydraulic press: "It doesn't look like everything yet. Where did you get this hydraulic press?"

Abel replied nonchalantly, "From the Woolch Arsenal. But don't worry, there are plenty of those machines; they're just gathering dust in warehouses. Nobody will even notice if one is missing."

Richard considered his words carefully and said softly, "That would be wonderful, but please don't do that again. The lab has ample funding; you can ask for anything you want."

Abel didn't argue, but simply touched the back of his neck: "Of course, of course. What brings you here this time?"

"Oh, I'd like to have a few words with your assistant, Thomas," Richard explained.

Abel's brow furrowed slightly, as if he were considering something.

Then he walked up behind Thomas, hands on his hips, and said in a gentle tone, "I'll take over. That gentleman over there wants to have a word with you. Don't forget what I said."

Thomas loosened his hand from the valve handle, bowed slightly to Abel, and walked toward Richard, extending his hand to him in return.

"Mr. Brian?" Thomas said respectfully. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for giving me this opportunity."

After a brief handshake, Richard smiled and said, "Don't be so polite, let's go outside and talk. I'm thinking of taking this thing off my face."

Thomas chuckled awkwardly twice, and the two walked out of the laboratory. Richard closed the door behind them, and the lock clicked shut.

Finally outside, Thomas removed his respirator, took a deep breath, and his shoulders broadened, making him appear taller.

His face had several bluish-purple marks from wearing a respirator for a long time.

He turned to face Richard, giving him a bright smile.

"Mr. Abel said you'd like to speak with me," he said. "What can I do for you?"

Richard also removed his respirator, leaned against the opposite wall, and put his hands in his pockets: "You look very young. What year were you born?"

"In the spring of 1843, sir," Thomas replied politely.

Richard did a rough calculation and found that the woman was twenty-six years old, about the same age as Richard himself.

Looking at Thomas's somewhat haggard face, ravaged by sleepless nights and chemical reagents, he felt a pang of sympathy.

"You're young, but quite accomplished." Richard slowed his speech. "How were your days at the Royal Chemistry Academy?"

Thomas's expression changed, his gratitude overflowing: "Mr. Brian, the Royal Chemistry Academy is my rebirth. If it weren't for His Highness Prince Albert and the academy's free admission, I would probably be stuck in the East End inventing soap."

He paused, suppressing the emotions welling up in his chest, and resumed his initial respectful tone: "You are willing to give me this opportunity to participate in a top-secret project, and I will dedicate myself to your experiments and the Empire's artillery."

Richard listened without making any comment.

Thomas's answer was too perfect; his politically correct sentiments and impeccable wording were flawless, so perfect that Richard had some doubts.

This is not surprising, though. A student from a poor family completed his studies with a free place at the Royal Academy of Chemistry, was selected by Abel to be his assistant, and was then recruited into the government's secret laboratory.

Now that the lab director has pulled him aside for a private questioning, what can he possibly say?

Richard crossed his arms and changed the subject: "Let's talk about your experience studying at Heidelberg University."

Thomas's eyes underwent a subtle change, an emotion so complex and indescribable that even Richard couldn't discern what it was.

Perhaps he just inhaled too much toxic fumes in the lab, and his brain became a little dulled by the fumes.

he does not know.

Thomas hesitated for a few seconds, as if organizing his thoughts, unsure of where to begin.

He clasped his hands together in front of him and asked, "What specifically do you want to ask about that period of time?"

Richard casually shrugged, "How are you doing there? How are you doing? You know, college stuff."

Thomas nodded and began to speak to Richard face to face: "I had the privilege of studying under Robert Bunsen at Heidelberg University. He was an academic giant, but..." He gave a wry smile, "...a tyrant in the laboratory."

"If you make a mistake while generating sediment, he'll rip your report off the clipboard, throw it in the trash, and make you start over." He looked down at his no-longer-healthy fingers.

"But when you don't make mistakes," Thomas looked up, his eyes filled with emotion and tenderness, "he was a humble, gentlemanly, and approachable mentor. His strictness and demanding nature were precisely a reflection of his dedication to scholarship; he would never allow his students to slack off in science."

Richard nodded.

He certainly knew the name Robert Bunsen, the man who, in his laboratory at Heidelberg University, used a platinum wire and a spectroscope to discover cesium and rubidium in mineral water.

Among this master's students were Adolf von Bayer, Fritz Haber, and even Dmitry Mendeleev, who studied and worked under him. Each of these names shone brightly in the night sky of 19th-century chemistry.