Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 1 Prologue
Imperial Calendar 523

Dukedom of Forthland
An unnamed hill
The four-year-old warhorse had lost control after being dragged, cut, and stabbed several times.

Its tough skin was ripped open, revealing deep red flesh. The pressure difference between the inside of the blood vessels and the atmosphere caused fresh blood to gush out uncontrollably.

With each powerful heartbeat, the warhorse loses more blood.

It leaped up and kicked wildly, howling to stop any human from getting close, and even tried to turn back and bite its rider several times.

The young knight on horseback endured more attacks than his warhorse.

Although the knight's armor was sturdy and he had no sharp weapon wounds, the several powerful blows still caused him so much pain that he almost couldn't breathe.

The knight disregarded his injuries; he only wanted to escape this deadly place as quickly as possible.

His legs gripped the horse's belly tightly, while his left hand held firmly to the reins and saddle, struggling to avoid being thrown to the ground by the out-of-control warhorse.

His spear pierced the body of the first enemy during the charge, but due to the horse's speed, he couldn't pull it out and it slipped from his hand. His shield was also nowhere to be found.

The only weapon he could use to defend himself was an armed sword, and his mind was completely blank.

Skills, techniques, and his teacher's teachings were long forgotten; all that remained was to slash, swing, and forcefully knock away any weapon that approached him.

He couldn't understand how this motley crew of peddlers and craftsmen could withstand a flanking attack without collapsing. Instead of scattering and fleeing, they took the initiative to engage him in a fierce battle.

Most of the cavalry that launched this charge have already broken out of the battle zone thanks to their speed and are regrouping.

However, a small number of cavalrymen failed to break through the encirclement cleanly. Their speed was slowed down, and they were horrified to find that enemies were on all sides.

If the enemy is routed by a flanking attack, the cavalry can drive the defeated troops and sweep across the entire front line in one fell swoop.

However, if they fail to break through the enemy and become trapped among them, the cavalry fighting individually will soon be wiped out.

He was one of the few cavalrymen trapped among the enemy.

"Boom."

A loud bang startled the young knight.

He knew it was the sound of a matchlock gun, the enemy's most powerful weapon and the one he feared most.

The gunshot was reflected multiple times by the nearby hillside, making it sound exceptionally long.

He was overjoyed to find that he hadn't been shot again, but this joy was quickly overshadowed by gloom—his lack of gunshot wounds meant that another comrade might have fallen.

At this moment, his warhorse's frenzy began to subside, and he could feel that the horse was no longer trying to throw him off its back.

The warhorse's physical pain began to be relieved by the pain-relieving hormones secreted in its body, and the aggressive desires caused by panic and rage gradually subsided, with the instinct to escape danger taking over.

The horse just wanted to get away from this area filled with the smell of blood and noise as quickly as possible.

The knight sensed this shift and lightly nudged the horse's ribs while guiding it with the reins and his legs, trying to direct the horse toward a place where the enemy was less numerous.

Upon receiving the rider's command, the warhorse stopped thrashing about and began to accelerate in the direction the rider indicated.

The enemy dared not stand in front of the charging warhorses and gave way.

They retreated to the side of their warhorses, took their spears, and thrust them fiercely at the man and the horse.

Only a few seconds had passed since the warhorse stopped its madness, and now three more wounds had appeared on its side, belly, and thigh.

The knight was struck twice by the spear, but he was overjoyed.

The knight discovered that while the common people were in high spirits, they were not brave enough to stand still in front of charging warhorses and risk their lives for each other.

This means that as long as his warhorse gets going, he can escape.

Saved! We'll be out of there soon! The knight silently praised his one true savior over and over again.

Suddenly, a huge pulling force came from my left shoulder.

Caught off guard, the knight was dragged off his saddle.

While the knight's warhorse was still going berserk, a halberdier at the edge of the crowd had already noticed him.

As the knight spurred his horse toward the less crowded area, the halberdier waited in his escape route.

The knight's horse's head passed directly in front of the halberdier, who decisively struck, extending his halberd towards the knight's side.

When the halberd touched the knight's arm, a tremendous force instantly acted on both him and the halberd's hand through the halberd.

The halberd master's hands gripped the wooden handle tightly like iron clamps, and his feet were firmly planted in the ground like tree roots.

One second ago, the knight thought he was about to be saved.

The next second, he was dragged off his horse by the halberdiers.

The knight felt as if he were flying, but after a brief flight, he crashed heavily onto the soft grass.

The horse shed a burden and sped away from this hellish place.

The knight struggled to get up, but found that he couldn't use his left arm—the huge pull had dislocated his left shoulder.

When his enemies saw him fall from his horse, they immediately dropped their weapons and pounced on him. They stepped on his left arm, held down his thighs, and pressed down on his body.

The knight could feel a pair of hands trying to pull off his helmet.

He was terrified, clutching the neck brace tightly with his right hand, letting out incoherent howls.

He struggled desperately but couldn't move.

One enemy lifted his skirt armor, and another musketeer pressed his gun against the chainmail beneath the skirt.

Realizing what was about to happen, the knight cried and kicked and struggled desperately, but the enemies' hands were as heavy as a thousand pounds, pressing him firmly to the ground.

The musketeer's assistant poured gunpowder into the powder bath at the breech of the matchlock musket and attached the match cord.

Without hesitation, the musketeer pressed the firing lever, and the faintly burning match cord slid towards the powder pit, igniting the gunpowder inside.

The flames spread into the chamber, igniting the propellant packed tightly inside. The powerful thrust generated by the propellant gases propelled the lead bullet out of the chamber.

With a deafening roar and acrid smoke, the lead bullet, carrying immense kinetic energy, pierced through the chainmail, armor, and the knight's skin, burrowing into his soft abdomen and wreaking havoc inside his abdominal cavity, tearing his organs to shreds.

The young knight twitched a few times, lay on the ground, and never moved again.

———————————— Imperial Calendar Year 528

The Duchy of the Mountain Frontier / United Provinces Republic

Shitang Ferry
"A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity has presented itself! The false emperor is at the ferry crossing! Follow me!"

The general with a red feather on his helmet took the lead, leading his cavalry through the gap between the two large square formations, charging fearlessly toward the emperor's banner.

“Uukhai! Uukhai!”

The warriors of Palatine roared in unison, like a boiling ocean, and formed an arrowhead formation, closely following behind their general.

The horses' hooves thundered like rolling thunder, gleaming sabers were raised high above their heads, and swallowtail flags fluttered at the tips of their spears.

The knights who tried to stop the charge were instantly overwhelmed; their gleaming silver armor vanished like splashes of water in a red torrent.

The remaining spearmen and crossbowmen were terrified and threw down their weapons, fleeing in panic.

The hussars, like prophets parting the Red Sea, wiped out all the enemies standing between them and the false emperor.

Cannonballs, bullets, and arrows rained down on them, but the hussars did not flinch. Their only target was the head of Richard IV.

The Royal Guard was the last line of defense; they laid their halberds flat, braced the ends with their boot heels, and pointed the tips directly at the approaching riders.

The cavalry at the forefront and the halberdiers who refused to retreat even a step were almost killed together.

But it was the halberdiers' formation that was broken first, and the cavalry rushing past cut down all those who were still standing.

Finally, the red-feathered officer could see Richard IV's gilded helmet.

"The False Emperor! Madman Richard! Die!"

The fierce cavalry general with crimson feathers raised his saber and led the last of his cavalrymen in a charge towards the emperor of the Holy Muro Empire.

His last perspective in life was one of tumbling; all the scenery tumbled before him, and he flew up as if he were a bird.

He now finally understood why the false emperor dared to refuse to back down.

"Damn it, court monk, damn it."

As he thought this, he closed his eyes, and a cluster of flames went out.

The cavalrymen didn't see the two masked men in front of the emperor make any moves, but they saw the general and his horse reduced to several pieces of limbs, as if torn apart from the inside by a tremendous force.

These men from the Paratu Plateau did not recognize the [Disintegration] spell. Seeing their beloved father-like figure die tragically, they charged at the enemy with bloodshot eyes.

A masked man raised his hand, from which streaks of cold light shot out. One after another, the cavalrymen, riddled with holes in their chests, fell from their horses.

The other masked man remained motionless, but the cavalrymen in front of him turned red in the face, their limbs stiffened, and they stopped breathing in an instant.

“Black magic! Witchcraft! Servants of the devil!” the last hussar cried out in panic.

Even the most resolute warrior was terrified by the sight before him, and he desperately threw his saber at the false emperor.

A masked man beckoned with his finger, and the saber veered off course, as if pulled by an invisible hand, turning a corner in the air and flying into the bushes.

The masked man's hand shot out another cold glint, piercing a hole in the head of the last cavalryman and ending what should have been a successful charge.

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Imperial Calendar 531

Republic of Forthland
Guido/Drenthe
The city gate was slowly opened, and the unlubricated hinges emitted a harsh rubbing sound.

This is the first time the west gate of Guido has been opened since Richard IV's army besieged the city two years ago.

The soldiers brought out the pre-prepared components and built a simple pontoon bridge leading to the other side of the moat.

A soldier rode his horse onto the pontoon bridge. He walked across the moat, across the land soaked with blood, and across the trenches and earthen walls that the enemy had built to blockade Drenthe.

He walked through the enemy's camp under the numb or hateful gaze of the enemy, and all the way to the emperor's residence.

Finally, amidst the angry glares of Richard IV's senior ministers, he sat down at a long table.

The emperor himself entered the tent only after everyone was seated.

He sat in the main chair, looked at the soldier, and asked casually, "So you want to surrender now, Ned of Tormes?"

“No, Your Majesty. It was I who brought you peace,” Ned Smith replied earnestly.

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Imperial Calendar 532

United Provinces Republic

guitucheng

"It's done! It's done! It's done!" Brigadier General Antoine Laurent jumped and laughed as he held the letter.

He shouted excitedly, slapped his thigh hard, and waved his arms in the air.

He wasn't satisfied with that, so he pulled out a long sword from the cabinet and swung it wildly around the room, smashing many bottles and jars.

His wife heard shouts and sounds of house demolition coming from the study and rushed over to check.

When Antoine Laurent saw his wife push open the door, he threw the longsword in his hand to the ground, picked up his lover, and spun her around the room several times.

"Oh dear, what's wrong with you? What's gotten into you?" His wife was so frightened that her face turned pale.

Antoine Laurent put his wife down, but did not let go of her hand.

He hugged his lover and kissed her hard on the cheek: "We're going to have our own magician too!"

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"We should understand history, because everything that is happening now can be traced back to the real reasons in the past."

—Ned Smith, the first Field Marshal of the Cenas Union
I finally couldn't resist and started writing it myself...

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(End of this chapter)