Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 3 What is a spellcaster?
"Is wrestling fun?" Winters asked.

Winters and Ekko, who had just left the field, were helping each other remove their training armor.

The weapon of criticism is clearly not as effective as the criticism of weapons; Winters punched Ike hard in the back.

Ike is Axel's nickname, and that's what Axel's friends usually call him.

The fist struck Ike with a dull thud, but Ike didn't feel anything—he was still wearing his training armor, while Winters was in excruciating pain.

"Hurry up and get this cumbersome outfit off me. If I keep wearing it, someone will really die," Ike urged.

The training armor they wore was essentially half of the full cavalry armor, which was difficult for a person to put on and even more troublesome to take off.

Therefore, in swordsmanship class, two people spar with each other, helping each other put on and take off their armor.

After taking off their training armor, the two hurriedly stripped off their military uniforms, which were completely soaked, as if they had just been pulled out of the water.

The reason why sword fighting in the summer is so painful is that this cotton-padded coat has to bear as much responsibility as the sun.

In the Cenas Gulf region, this cotton armored clothing is perfectly adequate for winter wear, but wearing it in the summer becomes a form of torture.

"How did the knights back then fight in the summer wearing this stuff? Did they also have to wear chainmail on top of that?" Ike said with a sigh as he took it off.

"Why not just avoid fighting in the summer? If we have to fight, the enemy will be wearing the same suits anyway, so it's a contest of who can endure it longer." Winters continued his pointless chatter.

They placed their longswords and armor on the stone benches, then ran shirtless to the large water vat in the corner of the training room and began to gulp down diluted salt water.

Where did the salt water come from? The swordsmanship instructor had prepared a large vat of it in advance, enough for everyone in the training room to drink as much as they wanted.

People in this era don't understand what ion balance is, nor do they understand what water intoxication is.

However, the instructors at the Army Academy already knew that one should never drink large amounts of water after sweating profusely, otherwise it could be life-threatening.

They paid the price of two lives for this invaluable lesson.

The lightly salted water in swordplay lessons actually contains a profound yet simple truth: using a technique does not mean you need to understand the underlying principles of that technique.

The bird doesn't know why it can fly; it just knows how to fly.

After drinking to their hearts' content, the two slowly walked back to the stone bench where they had stored their equipment.

In the competition venue, the clanging sound of longswords clashing could be heard intermittently.

Ike still remembered the proper demeanor and manners of an officer, while Winters casually lay down on the ground, finding the cool touch of the stone slab quite comfortable.

As soon as I relaxed, the pain returned.

The pain in his left shoulder constantly reminded him: You just lost eight points in a row.

He looked at his left shoulder, where a large area had been smashed and turned blue, with the bruise extending all the way to his collarbone.

“Seriously,” Winters coughed, “I thought you had split me in two.”

Ike also noticed the bruises on Winters' shoulder and felt a pang of guilt: "I should have held back."

Does Winters really hold a grudge against Ike? Of course not.

He knew perfectly well that minor clashes and bumps were normal in sword fights. Why wear heavy armor if there was no danger?
Ned longsword has a specialized training sword, making it safer.

However, the instructors insisted that the officers and students compete with unsharpened real swords, because it was unsafe and meant that they would get minor injuries from time to time.

Winters didn't care about Ike's sword. He made conversation because he was nervous and subconsciously covered up his next question.

He swallowed hard, deliberately avoiding eye contact, pretending his attention was on the game, only showing Ike the back of his head.

He adopted a nonchalant attitude and casually asked Ike, "I'm curious myself, how did I manage to score seventeen points? Did you let me win in the previous rounds?"

“No.” Ike’s tone was natural and sincere: “When you’re fighting, you only think about winning. Who cares about giving away points? I was also impatient because of your attack, and in the end I couldn’t even control my sword.”

Winters let out a soft breath; the more indifferent he pretended to be, the more he cared. To reach match point against a master was an honor in itself.

He suddenly felt a pang of regret, because he really had a chance to win the game.

No matter what he thought in his heart, he couldn't show his weakness on his lips. Winters laughed loudly, "Bullshit! I think you've already planned out the script. First, you let me get match point, and then you make a splendid comeback."

Ike burst into laughter.

The fencers on the field put on a brilliant offensive and defensive showdown, and Winters and Ekko applauded and cheered.

“You… actually need more practice,” Ike suddenly said seriously. “Practice your strength first, then spend more time on swordsmanship. You were the one who won just now.”

Between the two shirtless men, Ike's muscles were noticeably more defined than Winters'.

Winters' physique can only be politely described as well-proportioned; he's far from being strong.

“You never do any self-discipline training, and you never do extra practice. You’ve never lifted a stone bell, never pulled a stone roller, and you spend most of your time catching up on sleep.” Ike concluded, “You still managed to get seventeen points, I think you’re pretty good.”

Winters was speechless: "I really don't know if you're praising me or being sarcastic..."

"Of course it's praise! The highest praise!" Ike suddenly stood up, drew his longsword, and swung it three times in the air.

Each time, the sword swept along the same trajectory and stopped at the same position, without the slightest deviation.

Aiger, leaning on his longsword, said to Winters, "The power of a musket comes from gunpowder, but the power of swordsmanship comes from muscle. Technique cannot replace strength. You don't train your strength..."

"Stop talking," Winters interrupted Ike. "Go away, I need to find something."

"what?"

"I want to crawl into a crack in the ground."

"I'm really complimenting you."

Winters shifted to a more comfortable lying position and said lazily, "The truth hurts more than a lie. Please spare me, Master."

The "master" Winters refers to is short for "Fencing Master".

In the Cenas League, this is not a name that can be used casually.

Instead, it requires certification from the blacksmiths' guild before it can be officially bestowed upon them.

Only those sword masters whose swordsmanship theories are widely recognized and studied are qualified to be selected as sword masters.

To date, no living person has received this honor.

With his long arms, narrow waist, broad shoulders, and long body, Ike's greatest strength lies in his ability to always use his brain when sparring; he is a natural-born swordsman.

He only began learning Ned longsword after entering the preparatory school, and soon became invincible among his peers. Even Winters, who had practiced Ned longsword since childhood, could not defeat him.

Once Ike's strength reached its full potential, he became invincible across all age groups.

The officers, all graduates of the Army Academy, had all learned Ned's longsword technique. But no matter who came, they couldn't score 20 points against Ike.

It can be said that the Lu Academy can no longer gauge Ike's true strength.

His skill level is a cut above everyone else here; he is the uncrowned king, the chief swordsman without a title.

So, at some point, Ike got the nickname "[Master of Swordsmanship]", which was quickly simplified to "[Master]".

When the conversation was pleasant, even the instructors would jokingly call him "Master".

A year ago, when General Taylor, the Secretary of the Army of the United States, visited the Army Academy, he learned that the officer in front of him was named Axel and blurted out, "You are that master?"

From then on, the nickname spread even further.

But Winters rarely used this nickname because it carried a hint of curse—no living person had ever received this title. "You... I reckon by the time you come back next year, all your old tricks will be gone," Ike said earnestly to Winters.

Winters remained nonchalant: "In my view, a sharp mind is more important than well-developed muscles for a military commander. Getting enough sleep is my inescapable responsibility."

"And think about it, what if I practice diligently but still can't beat you? Wouldn't that be a huge loss?" Winters did the math: "So not practicing is the same as not losing anything."

"Veneta people." Ike exclaimed, both amused and exasperated. "Veneta people!"

Winters rolled over: "I was sent to the United Province to study preparatory courses when I was thirteen. You say I'm a Venetian, but Venetians probably still think of me as a United Province person. If there's anything wrong with me being a Venetian, it must be because I was corrupted by the United Province."

The sound of swords striking stopped, and another group of officers and students took their place to suffer.

“Sometimes I can’t help but think,” Ike suddenly said with a touch of sadness, “the owners of these armors practiced using weapons longer than I did, and wore thicker armor than I did. In the end, weren’t they still dragged off their horses and killed? Does individual bravery really mean anything in war?”

“That’s a bit unethical of you,” Winters laughed. “You stole my line. You have to have lost before you have the right to say something like that.”

Ike, however, was serious: "I've had this idea for a long time, and I understand why you don't practice swordsmanship. You're a spellcaster; I can hold my own in a sword fight. But on a real battlefield, you could kill me with a single spell."

……

It's no secret that there are spellcasters among the military officer cadets. Even if it were a secret, it wouldn't be hidden from their classmates who spend every day together.

For most people—including Ike, a highly educated cadet—the image of a spellcaster is forever associated with pointed hats, towers, white-bearded old men, and strange folklore.

If he hadn't attended military school, Ike would never have seen a spellcaster who could breathe in his entire life—nor would he have seen one who couldn't breathe.

People with magical talent are already very rare.

It is more difficult to select talented individuals from the vast sea of ​​people and train them into magicians than to give birth to a child with magical talent.

It was so difficult that non-magicians had no idea where to begin.

All known magicians in this world are court magicians or royal magicians employed by feudal monarchs.

They were scholars, advisors, bodyguards, and henchmen for emperors, khans, sultans, and high nobles, serving only the very top of the feudal class.

Magicians walked through the courts of feudal monarchs, and ordinary people had no chance to see them—they should pray they never saw magicians.

Who are those court mages using aliases? Are they really human? At what age were they chosen? And how were they trained to be mages?
These secrets are probably known only to the magicians and rulers themselves.

The techniques for selecting potential talents, the training programs for magicians, and the methods for implementing spells are all secrets strictly guarded by the highest levels of the ruling group.

The common people's understanding of magicians is basically somewhere between "if you cry again, the witch will capture and eat you" and "a brave prince receives a divine sword from a reclusive magician and wins an empire".

The Senas Alliance, a nation founded by commoners who overthrew the emperor and nobles, could not possibly have magicians.

Not only were there no magicians, but the Alliance was also a major victim of the feudal ruling class's monopoly on magical power.

In the sovereign war in which the Allied forces won national independence, countless officers and soldiers died at the hands of court sorcerers employed by Richard IV.

Every time the Mad Emperor sends court mages to the battlefield, it unleashes a bloodbath.

Moreover, until the emperor withdrew his troops, the allied militia failed to capture or kill any of the court mages.

The Alliance's magical combat power was born after the war.

After the emperor withdrew his troops, the alliance was formed.

Antoine Laurent, a major general and scholar who was "a magician without magical talent," summarized his experiences of facing court mages many times during the war and finally figured out how to identify humans with magical talent.

General Antoine Laurent then invented the corresponding testing tools.

From this moment forward, the Alliance Army will screen children and teenagers with magical talent within the Alliance territory every year.

Then, they would use reasoning, bribery, intimidation, and other methods to "persuade" the parents of these children to enroll all of them in military academies at various levels.

The seedlings were there, but new problems followed one after another.

How can a child with magical talent be trained into a mage like a court mage? Everyone in the alliance was completely clueless.

The training system for magicians is one of the core competencies of the ruling group, and it has always been a closely guarded secret with no external experience to draw upon.

It was General Antoine Laurent who spearheaded the establishment of the Army Magical Operations Bureau, beginning the process of trial and error.

Starting from scratch, the Magic Operations Bureau painstakingly explored ways to train spellcasters and implement spells.

Today, 25 years after the establishment of the Magic Operations Bureau, it has finally made some achievements.

The Combat Bureau initially divided magic into two major disciplines: Spellcasting and Alchemy, and further divided spells into three categories: fire-based, speed-enhancing, and sound-based.

Twelve spells have been reproduced, and a spellcaster training system with "independent intellectual property rights" has been initially formed.

Because in the traditional sense, a magician is equivalent to a court magician.

To distinguish themselves, the alliance stopped using the term "magician" and instead referred to their spellcasters as "casters".

In fact, even the Magic Operations Bureau doesn't know whether the path it's on is right or wrong.

The high-ranking officials of the various republics generally believe that although the Magic Warfare Bureau claims to be training magicians, the level of its spellcasters is far inferior to that of the court magicians they had seen in the past.

The intuitive feeling is also a bit different—it might be because standing too close makes it lack a sense of mystery.

However, Alliance spellcasters can indeed reproduce some of the spell effects seen on the battlefield back then.

As the saying goes, "Even if you haven't eaten pork, haven't you seen a pig run?"

But the current situation is very special. The Allied Army has only been injured by pigs. They have not only not eaten pork, but also have not seen how the pigs ran.

Although the various republics did not know whether the path pioneered by General Antoine Laurent was right or wrong, they firmly supported the Magical Warfare Bureau in continuing, based on the simple idea that "something is better than nothing."

Winters was a spellcaster, but his magical talent was only identified after he entered the Army Junior School.

Of the 171 cadets in his class, 21 were spellcasters.

This is a rather astonishing proportion; nearly half of the spellcasters in the Gulf Alliance who are the same age as Winters are here.

The other half of the spellcasters are mainly women, and a small number of men whose physical conditions are not suitable for being military officers.

All spellcasters studied infantry and cavalry, but none studied artillery (the Army Officer Academy only had these three subjects).

This is because one of the design goals of the Army's spellcaster training system is to cultivate front-line officers with spellcasting abilities as much as possible.

The late General Antoine Laurent believed that the Allied Powers would be unable to cultivate top-tier spellcasters of the court mage level for a long time.

Since it is impossible to follow an elite path like feudal states, the only option is to win through sheer numbers.

In contrast to the mad Richard IV's cautious approach to using mages in the war, the Allied military's strategy was to deploy magical warfare forces to the front lines and train as many officers as possible with magical abilities.

However, the implementation of this policy ultimately went astray...

……

Winters originally thought that his classmates at the military academy would at least have a basic understanding of spellcasters, but he didn't expect that even Ike thought he could kill someone with a single spell.

He denied it helplessly: "I don't practice swordsmanship because I'm lazy, it has nothing to do with my identity as a spellcaster. Besides, so what if I'm a spellcaster? You still beat me up, didn't you?"

“But I can’t beat you once you use magic,” Ike said matter-of-factly.

"How am I supposed to explain this to you?" Winters covered his face and let out a long sigh.

(End of this chapter)