Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 36 Internship Volunteer
In the early stages of human civilization, the form of warfare was organized by propertied persons who provided their own weapons, armor, and horses to join the army. These propertied persons with political rights were called citizens by the Gumro Empire and nationals by the Guselica Empire.

From this period onward, the commander's ability to boost morale became extremely important.

In small-scale brawls involving numbers in the double digits, eloquent words from the leader are less effective than leading by example.

But if it's a thousand people fighting against a thousand people, then figuring out how to get the soldiers to willingly follow you into hell becomes a skill that can determine success or failure.

The simplest and most direct approach is to "provide the money and the people."

But money isn't the problem; the problem is not having money.

War is a money-burning affair, a crucial point that military strategists throughout history have repeatedly emphasized.

In war, it is rare for money to arrive on time; it is the norm for money not to arrive.

Throughout history, countless generals and kings have died in battle due to unpaid military pay.

Leaving aside distant examples, let's talk about something more recent. The landmark event that marked the full-scale outbreak of the Sovereignty War was 38 years ago when the "Butcher" Duke of Arlian led his troops across the Shaded Mountains to attack the rebels of the Duchy of the Foothills.

In later generations, Alliance historians will find thousands of metaphysical reasons, such as "justice will prevail and evil will be defeated," to explain why the Duke of Arlian was able to defeat the rebels so easily in the early stages, but in the end he was trapped in a lonely city, defeated and committed suicide.

But in this era, in an era where history is still a vivid memory, not just words in books, every Allied soldier who experienced the Sovereignty War knew in their hearts why they won: because the Duke of Arlian was out of money.

If Richard IV had been able to pay the Duke of Arlian's military pay on time, the United Provinces Republic would still be the Duchy of the Empire's Piedmont.

Duke Arlian, the most capable and battle-hardened army commander of the empire in the past century, did not die by his own sword, but by bankruptcy.

While money can't buy true warriors, in feudal times, a general who could ensure his soldiers were well-fed, warmly clothed, and paid on time was considered a great general and would certainly be worthy of a place in later textbooks.

For most of history, the biggest problem officers faced was never how to persuade soldiers to go to the battlefield, but how to persuade a group of soldiers who were starving, poorly clothed, and owed wages to go to the battlefield, and this was true for both sides.

At this point, an inspiring pre-battle speech is the simplest and most effective method.

A capable officer can get soldiers red-eyed and roaring as they charge forward with just a few words.

The brigadier general speaking at the podium clearly lacked eloquence. He had written a prepared speech, but his delivery was monotone and lacked any variation, like a wooden lyre with only one string remaining.

As soon as the brigadier general opened his mouth, Winters felt his head spin, his eyelids drooped involuntarily, and he blinked more and more frequently.

The sun was setting in the west, and the warrant officers sat in twos and threes in the stuffy small auditorium of the Army Headquarters, having a meeting.

This was an introductory meeting, originally intended to introduce trainee officers to the various trainee positions within the Army.

But the person on stage was so hypnotic that Winters managed to concentrate, but all he heard was a bunch of repetitive nonsense. If Bud hadn't been secretly nudging him, he would have fallen asleep long ago.

One person after another came down from the stage and went up, explaining their department of responsibility. Although several senior officers spoke, their level of expertise was about the same as that of the brigadier general who spoke at the beginning.

A somber atmosphere permeated the small auditorium; not only Winters, but all the warrant officers were drowsy and swaying.

Winters truly couldn't hold on any longer; his head drooped, and his eyes closed. This time, Bard didn't wake him, because even Bard couldn't stay awake any longer. As for Andrei, he had long since given in to his own world; if you listened carefully, you could even hear his soft snoring.

Just as Winters was about to fall into a deep sleep, a thunderous drumbeat suddenly resounded from the podium.

Legend has it that after a wise king in ancient times killed an evil dragon, he made a war drum using the dragon's skin as the drumhead and the dragon's bone as the drumstick. When the drum was played, it could be heard for miles around.

This myth was originally told by Kosa to Winters as a bedtime story when he was a child, but Winters now thinks that the drum might be on the stage.

The sound of the drum jolted him awake from his slumber, leaving him drenched in a cold sweat and instantly banishing any sleepiness. All the trainee officers in the auditorium immediately perked up.

Winters looked toward the podium but didn't see any of the legendary dragon drums. Instead, he saw a man in a sergeant's uniform smiling as he surveyed the small auditorium.

The man appeared to be in his early thirties, with prominent eyebrows, rounded eyes, a high nose, and thin lips. Among the group of tall and imposing officers, he was only of average height, but his bearing made him appear taller than everyone else.

Winters stared at the officer in front of the podium. Just then, another drumbeat came from the podium, and this time Winters saw it clearly.

There was no drum at all; it was just that the officer snapped his fingers. An ordinary snap of the fingers couldn't possibly produce such a loud sound, so the answer was obvious: it was a spellcaster who amplified the sound of the snap with a sound-amplifying magic.

However, Winters found it strange. In his mind, amplification spells could only be used to amplify the sound produced by the caster's own vocal cords. He had never seen a caster who could amplify external sounds.

Seeing that his methods had captured the attention of all the trainee officers, the officer smiled smugly and nodded.

"Are you all awake? Actually, I almost fell asleep just now too." The officer's voice was calm and clear, but it was much louder than an ordinary person's voice. Everyone in the auditorium could hear it clearly, which was obviously the effect of amplification.

Winters figured that amplifying his voice wasn't difficult; the challenge lay in maintaining such a steady volume. For a spellcaster, using magic wasn't as simple as pressing a button to achieve a certain effect.

The process of a spellcaster using magic is more akin to muscle exertion. Major Moritz's Burst of Sound spell releases as much magic power as possible in an instant, like throwing a punch with all one's might, pursuing explosive power.

The officer, however, used amplification to maintain an extremely steady volume, speaking and casting spells simultaneously, much like reciting poetry while walking a tightrope. Ordinary officers might not see anything amiss, but to the spellcaster, it was blatant showing off.

Winters became interested in this senior spellcaster.

The officer continued indifferently, "I don't want to take up any of your time, so I haven't prepared a speech, and I have very little to say."

The spellcaster swept one hand across all the trainee officers in the small auditorium: "You graduated from the first military academy on this continent. The men in front of you all praised you as the most promising and brightest young men in the army?"

"The most promising and brightest young people?" The officer scoffed, raising his voice: "Where? I don't see them. All the active-duty officers in this auditorium are your senior alumni. You'd better become one of us!"
What kind of promising future is it to become an army bureaucrat who can make you sleep like logs the moment he opens his mouth? We've all come from where you are now, so as a senior member, I have two pieces of advice for you.”

This sudden denigration startled all the warrant officers in the audience; often, sharp criticism is more effective at attracting attention than praise.

The officer held up one finger: "First of all, everyone here is exaggerating the work of their department, but let me tell you, it has nothing to do with you. You are just probationary officers, and for the next year, you will only be doing trivial tasks! Copying reports, changing ink, that's all."

Winters and Bud exchanged a wry smile; the lieutenant colonel had slapped all the warrant officers in the face.

Then he raised a second finger: "Secondly, although you are only responsible for doing odd jobs, you are doing odd jobs in the most powerful violent organization on this continent!"
Listen up! You will be able to observe up close how the Vineta Army's power center operates and makes decisions—an opportunity that even officers from ragtag backgrounds wouldn't risk their lives for! If getting this close to power doesn't excite you, then you don't deserve to be officers and should take off this uniform and get out of here!

"Go! Dismissed! Go run errands for the officers and generals! But if a general's wife sends someone to ask about his evening schedule, just say he has a meeting, understand? That's all I have to say! Meeting adjourned!"

The warrant officers burst into laughter, and the small auditorium resounded with prolonged and enthusiastic applause.

"Who is this person? Which department head?" Winters asked Bard while clapping vigorously.

Bud turned the notebook to the next page: "Lieutenant Colonel Field Drams".

————I am the dividing line for odd jobs————

Later that day, at dinner time, Aunt Cossa and Cousin Elizabeth were busy in the kitchen, while Antonio and Winters were setting the table.

The two generals, smelling the aroma, clamored at the kitchen door and refused to leave, but unable to go in, they could only lie at the door and lick their fur to satisfy their craving.

"How did the meeting go this afternoon? Who would you like to intern with?" Antonio asked Winters as he distributed the cutlery.

Every year, the warrant officers who return to Venetta hold a meeting to help the newly graduated probationary officers understand the basic structure of the Venetta Army, and then the warrant officers can choose which department to train in.

Although theoretically the selection is voluntary, if a department receives too many applications, that department will select a few trainee officers, while the other applicants will be distributed to departments where no one has applied, thus maintaining a roughly even distribution of trainee officers among the Army departments.

“I want to go to Lieutenant Colonel Field’s office,” Winters answered honestly as he set out the dishes, genuinely attracted by the colonel’s charisma.

“Field Drams?” Antonio was slightly surprised.

Winters nodded. "Yes."

Antonio chuckled at the name, saying cheerfully, "That's a notorious troublemaker. Zio is always clamoring to throw him into the war history department. If he weren't a spellcaster, he would have been sent overseas long ago."

“Maybe.” Hearing his uncle tease him about the lieutenant colonel who might become his superior, Winters thought it best to listen honestly. He scratched his head and said, “I just think Lieutenant Colonel Field is more sincere.”

“To dare to say anything, what else could it be but sincerity?” Antonio’s tone was not derogatory; he simply found the matter quite interesting.

After setting out the tableware, the two sat there waiting for the dishes to be served.

António opened a bottle of wine, but Winters, ever since witnessing Major Moritz's situation, had avoided alcohol like the plague, so he only drank water.

Winters carefully recalled the lieutenant colonel's performance at the meeting today and said, "Actually, I'm not sure I'll be able to go. Lieutenant Colonel Field was very popular today, and I think there must be quite a few people applying to go to him."

"Do you want to go?" Antonio took a sip of his drink and asked his nephew casually.

Winters nodded repeatedly: "Of course I want to."

“Then go ahead, it’s good for you to get some exercise,” Antonio said casually.

Winters' eyes lit up. He understood his uncle's meaning and was about to push his luck: "I have a friend who's from the cavalry department. He's also applied to go to Lieutenant Colonel Field's office. Lieutenant Colonel, could you..." Antonio wasn't offended at all and said with a smile, "Then let's go together. What's your friend's name?"

“Bard, Bard of Gerald.”

Aunt Kosa came out carrying a basket of sliced ​​bread. Seeing the two men in the house drinking and chatting, she was furious and slapped her husband on the back: "You two are so leisurely, setting out the table and starting to drink. Come and help with the work."

Antonio and Winters were ushered to the kitchen by Cossa. Antonio seemed to remember something and tilted his head to ask his nephew, "By the way, you don't know which department Field is in charge of, do you?"

"It sounded like something like M, but I didn't quite catch it. Lieutenant Colonel Field didn't say it either." Winters was too embarrassed to tell his uncle that he was almost asleep at the time.

“Haha.” Antonio patted his nephew on the shoulder: “It’s MP, Military Police.”

"What? Military police?" Winters was certainly familiar with military police; weren't they just military academy inspectors? Not exactly a popular role.

"Dad, you take this; brother, you take this." Elizabeth assigned tasks to the two men and then hurried off to attend to other matters.

António and Winters each picked up a deep iron pot, one containing stewed meat and the other broth. The stew smelled delicious, but Winters' mind was elsewhere: "Lieutenant Colonel Field is in charge of the military police?"

“To be precise, Field is just the head of the military police at the Venetta Army Headquarters.” Antonio explained carefully to his nephew: “The soldiers of the regular army are under the jurisdiction of the military police of the regular army; if an army soldier commits a crime in Blue City, it is under the jurisdiction of the military police of the garrison command; Field’s military police office is a powerless institution set up specifically for troublemakers like him, with a very narrow scope of jurisdiction, and basically does nothing.”

After explaining the inside story, which was unknown to outsiders, Antonio asked his nephew, "So, do you still want to go to Field's place now?"

“I want to go.” Winters nodded firmly.

"Oh?" Antonio asked, somewhat puzzled.

“Lieutenant Colonel Field is a very skilled spellcaster, and I want to learn magic techniques from him.”

“Then go ahead, it’s good to learn something.” Antonio nodded, his attitude still relaxed: “Although Field has never worked under me, judging from the fact that Zio was driven half to death by him several times, he still couldn’t bear to send him overseas and specially set up a sinecure to keep him at headquarters. You can tell that this guy must have some ability.”

Once all the food was served, four people sat down at the table again. Kosa was clearly very happy and began to do her pre-meal prayers. The four of them held hands and formed a circle, and Kosa began to chant.

All spellcasters in the Alliance are atheists, and they firmly believe that their abilities come from knowledge and training, not from the gifts of some being.

Winters was not a believer; he was just going along with Kosha's gesture to avoid upsetting his aunt. However, he had his own principles: he would never join in the prayers and would remain completely silent each time.

Winters was preoccupied with his internship. As soon as the pre-meal prayers ended, he eagerly asked his uncle, "I don't understand why all the internships are in government agencies? Why can't we intern in the real military?"

"Because there aren't that many troops."

"what?"

António patiently explained, “Where would we find so many troops for you to train with? Otherwise, why would we put you in administrative units? Nowadays, most officers work in administrative units and don’t actually lead troops. Veneta has three corps designations, two of which are standing corps. Each standing corps only maintains half its strength in peacetime, which is one chief battalion plus four battalions.”

Antonio's words surprised Winters. According to his uncle, the entire army of the Republic of Veneta theoretically has three legions, but only two of them are standing armies, and the actual strength is only a little over one legion, with more than five thousand men.

After the War of Sovereignty ended and Richard IV withdrew his troops, scholars began to seek answers in ancient texts in order to answer the question, "What happens without an emperor?"

Finally, they found the answer they were looking for: In ancient times, the Muro people had also overthrown the king and established the Muro Republic without a king, which was powerful for hundreds of years.

"So we weren't the first to do this," the scholars breathed a long sigh of relief.

Since someone in history has done this and succeeded, it proves that it doesn't matter if there's no emperor.

Thus, the Cenas Gulf Alliance began to fervently imitate the Republic of Muro in ancient texts in every aspect, from politics and military to even works of art, to fully revive the ancient empire.

This period of history is referred to by later generations as "using the past to reform the system," because these imitations were simply putting new wine in old bottles. They merely borrowed the name of the old system to implement new policies.

For example, politically, the republics of the Muro people and the republics of the United Provinces are both called republics, but they are completely different things.

The former was an aristocratic republic; while the latter slaughtered the aristocracy and was a republic of the urban class, while the vast rural areas were not included in the republic.

For example, in the military sphere, they also imitated the Republic of Muro by forming a legion, and copied the structure of ten-man squads-hundred-man squads-battalions-legion.

But now that matchlock guns are widespread, apart from formations, the two are completely different in terms of tactics, training, and the ratio of cold and hot weapons.

"Why are there so few troops?" Winters asked hurriedly.

"Isn't more than five thousand a small number?" Winters' naive question left Antonio speechless.

He said to Winters helplessly, "That's five thousand full-time standing troops! Kid, do you know how much it costs to support a fully-time professional soldier? If you want them to be dedicated to military service, you have to pay them the salary of a newly apprentice craftsman. That's equivalent to paying the salaries of five thousand craftsmen, plus their food, clothing, lodging, weapons, and equipment. To be honest, if it weren't for maintaining a deterrent effect, I would think five thousand is a bit too many."

"What if there's a war?"

"If we have to fight a war, we have to temporarily conscript reservists. Reservists also have to receive military pay, so we have to disband them as soon as the war is over. Thirty years ago, when there were wars, there were refugees everywhere. You could recruit people to the army by giving them a meal. It's different now. Wars are burning money. The standing army is enough to deal with scattered bandits and a few farmers who don't want to pay taxes."

"What?" Winters's worldview was completely shattered: "Isn't the purpose of establishing a standing army to resist foreign enemies?"

"Haha, how could that be? The biggest role of a standing army is to deter enemies from within the country. A few thousand men are not enough to fight against foreign enemies."

The two, one big and one small, were engrossed in their conversation, while Elizabeth listened intently. However, Kosha was furious.

She put a lot of effort into making dinner, but none of the other three family members ate properly, and no one praised her cooking. She is now very aggrieved.

Kosa tapped her glass, barely containing her anger: "Can we not talk about things outside of the dining table while we're eating?"

"Oh my, this beef stew is really good." Antonio immediately noticed that his wife was in a bad mood, so he quickly winked at Winters and praised his wife's superb cooking skills.

Elizabeth, another member of the family with a lower social standing, understood perfectly and exclaimed loudly how delicious the beef soup was.

Winters offered a few half-hearted compliments, his mind preoccupied with the inside story of the army that his uncle had just told him, leaving no room for anything else.

After eating a few bites, he couldn't help but ask his uncle, "So, if I go to the government office, am I only destined for a clerical job for the rest of my life? I originally thought I'd be able to lead troops, but it turns out things aren't what they expected."
"Don't rush. Once you become full officers, you'll take turns leading troops in the army. Right now, there are too many officers and not enough soldiers, so we have to take turns."

"Uncle, were you like this when you first graduated from military school?"

Antonio said proudly, "I'm different from your father back then. When there was a war, we went straight to the army to lead troops. Now there's no war, so we don't have as many troops, but peace is actually a good thing."

Antonio hesitated for a moment: "You don't need to rush, we might need to call up the reserves soon..."

Kosa tapped the cup heavily again: "If you want to talk about these things, go to the study after dinner!"

Now, even someone as oblivious as Winters has realized that his aunt, like a volcano, is on the verge of erupting.

Praise for the hostess once again became the main topic at this dining table.

————This is the dividing line at the dinner table where you can only praise the chef————

Although weapons and tactical concepts have been iterated countless times, the army organization of the republics in the alliance is still completely copied from the Muro Legion, which can be described as being possessed by Muro.

Each legion is primarily composed of infantry, with cavalry and artillery serving as independent auxiliary forces.

Infantry were divided into ten-man squads of eight men each.

(That's right, isn't it common sense that a ten-person team only has eight people?)

Ten teams of ten people each, totaling 80 people, make up a team of one hundred people.

Each group consists of 6 teams of 100 men each, totaling 480 men, forming a large brigade.
Nine battalions of 480 men each, plus a chief battalion of 750 men, totaling 5070 men, form a legion;
Cavalry and artillery, as auxiliary units, were used in a concentrated manner and were directly subordinate to the legion commander.

The number of artillery and cavalry depended on the actual situation and fiscal policies of each constituent republic.

For example, the United Provinces Republic is backed by the Victory Arsenal, so the number of artillery pieces assigned to the United Provinces' legions far exceeds that of other member states.

The Highland Republic (Palatu Republic) is famous for its fine horses, so the Highlanders value cavalry more and pay less attention to the development of infantry.

————This is the dividing line for Legion————

Thanks to Social Justice Lao Wang, Book Friend 20181013204343295, and Li Gongchang for their recommendation votes.

Thank you to the user "Stormblade with Vampiric Blood" for the donation.

I bowed in thanks.

(End of this chapter)