Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 363 Another Hunt (Part 4)
[Center of the Hunting Ground]
Siegfried was nearing his limit; every muscle in his body was tearing with pain, and every breath felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.

The bull showed no signs of fatigue, as if it possessed inexhaustible energy.

Its neck is protected by high-rising tendons and thick fur, making it difficult to penetrate.

Moreover, this beast was extremely adept at using its large, sharp horns. It moved left and right, its head lowered as if in retreat for half a second, and then it launched a fierce upward slash for the next half second.

The spearhead had barely pierced the bull's thick hide when the bull's horns were already pointed at the humans again, giving them no chance to take advantage.

This meant that Siegfried could only leave shallow wounds on the bull's neck, unable to deliver a fatal blow.

Some people gradually began to see some clues: although the bison that Earl Harlan was fighting was slightly smaller than the one that Hernan had fought, the latter was not worthy of being compared with the former in terms of ferocity and danger.

This is no longer a mindless beast; it is clearly a powerful gladiator wielding two short swords and weighing half a ton.

After a brief and intense struggle, Siegfried seized the opportunity to create distance, and the two faced off silently once again.

The Castilian nobles erupted in cheers and applause, but a persistent cloud of doubt hung over the viewing platform of the feudal lords: "How dare the Castilians choose such a ferocious beast as their victim?! Do they really intend to publicly slaughter His Majesty's beloved general?"

……

The blond knight in the center of the hunting grounds was unaware of what the others were thinking, and he didn't care.

While many nobles were already mourning or gloating, Siegfried entered a state of extreme excitement.

The physical pain and the opponent's strength a thousandfold fueled Siegfried's desire to win, even enabling him to think beyond his own limitations.

High-intensity combat sports deplete physical strength and energy far faster than aerobic exercise.

Siegfried coldly assessed his own condition: if another entanglement ensued, he might not even have the strength to shake off the pursuer, while the bison in front of him could fight for at least ten more rounds.

However, there is no difference between ten rounds and one round, because Siegfried has already figured out his opponent's attack range and movement pattern.

He only needs one chance, one chance to sever his opponent's artery and trachea in one blow.

This is it, Siegfried crouches, gathering his strength.

He tapped the ground lightly with the tip of his spear, and the bull immediately pounced.

Like a spring compressed to its limit being released from its restraint, Siegfried dodged to the left with lightning speed—he was left-handed—and then thrust out his spear with the swiftness of a thunderbolt.

The force traveled from Siegfried's lower limbs, waist, abdomen, chest muscles, and arms to the tip of the spear, which then pierced the bull's neck with absolute precision and ruthlessness along an absolutely straight line.

This time he didn't hold back, thrusting the spear forward with a doomed resolve.

The spear sank into the bull's neck like butter, until the blade disappeared completely.

But the next moment, the bull's massive body twisted around and slammed into the spear shaft with unparalleled force.

The force was transferred back to Siegfried's end, and the spear shaft broke free from Siegfried's hands, striking him hard in the chest.

The thick hickory spear shaft snapped in two, the front half bursting out of the cow's neck wound, while the back half remained in Siegfried's arms.

The confrontation happened in the blink of an eye, and it ended in the blink of an eye.

Most of the nobles didn't even see what happened; they only saw the giant bull twist its head, and the blonde "beauty" was flung away.

The crowd gathered around the oval hunting ground gasped in surprise, and a scream even came from the Royal Grandstand.

The intense pain drove the bison into a frenzy; it lowered its horns and plowed at the human lying on the ground.

Just as the emperor's favorite minister could not even leave behind a complete body, the corpse in the center of the hunting ground began to move—Sigford was not dead; he stubbornly tried to use the latter half of his spear shaft to block the horns.

However, the bison tossed its head up and flung the blonde "beauty" away like a sack of flour.

This time, even the remaining half of the spear shaft slipped from his grasp.

Siegfried landed heavily, and time seemed to slow down at that moment: the alcoholic father, the weeping mother, the royal manor sheltering orphans, Elizabeth's smiling crescent-shaped eyes, the battlefield strewn with death, the French south dug out from the pile of corpses, the fiery red cavalry charging across the snow-covered land...

In the end, all that remains is a little regret and a lot of apologies.

Siegfried sighed softly, probably the first time he had ever sighed in his life, and then closed his eyes.

"state".

"state".

"state".

The sound of shields being struck? And someone shouting?

Then came the sound of horses' hooves, rapidly approaching while the sound of cattle's hooves faded into the distance. Accompanying the sound of horses' hooves was a series of clear, melodious bell sounds.

The spectators outside the fence only saw the raging bison suddenly abandon Earl Harlan and charge straight at the fence. The dozen or so nobles facing the bison were caught off guard and scattered in terror.

Just then, a silver-gray steed leaped into the hunting grounds. The rider on its back was dressed in finery, holding his lance upside down, with a small triangular flag attached to the tip of the lance fluttering in the wind.

The bison immediately turned and charged at the silver-horse rider.

Seeing that he had successfully attracted the bison's attention, the silver-horse rider calmly led the bison to the other end of the enclosure.

Judging solely from the knight's dashing figure as he rode his horse, the Castilian nobles present would not mistake his identity—Young Hernan, the best gladiator on the Castilian Peninsula.

Cheers erupted again from the crowd, with the younger generation of Castilian nobles shouting their approval for young Hernan.

For a time, almost no one paid attention to Earl Harlan, whose fate was unknown.

While Hernan distracted the bison and the audience, Farnan, carrying something wrapped in red silk, crossed the fence and ran towards Siegfried.

Another man in black robes carrying a spear followed Fanan into the hunting grounds, but he was left far behind by Fanan.

Without uttering a single unnecessary word, Fanan went to Siegfried's side and immediately examined Siegfried's injuries.

"What brings you here?" Siegfried coughed violently, forcing a smile as he asked.

“I’ve come to bring you a weapon.” Farnan gave Siegfried a reproachful look and quickly cut open the latter’s shirt. “Your spear is broken. I’m your assistant, and bringing you a spare weapon isn’t against the established rules.”

As they were talking, the black-robed man carrying a spear caught up.

The man in the black robe was in his early thirties, with a round, chubby face, and was panting heavily after running a few steps.

He immediately introduced himself: "Count Harlan, I am Brother Luke of the Michael Order."

“The Michael Order?” Sigurdsson’s name sounded familiar. “No serious external injuries,” Farnan explained Sigurdsson’s condition simply: “No fractures have been found so far.”

“No fractures? You’re very lucky, the Lord is watching over you, Earl Harlan…” Brother Luke muttered as he took an exquisite silver box off his neck, dipped his finger in the holy oil in the box, and smeared it on Siegfried’s forehead, chest, and abdomen.

He placed the holy emblem on Siegfried's forehead, pressed his hand to the emblem, and solemnly and devoutly recited: "[...may all who take refuge in you rejoice, and always shout for joy, for you protect them. May all those who love your name rejoice in you, for you will bless the righteous, and you will guard them on all sides with grace like a shield...]"

As Brother Luke chanted, Siegfried clearly felt the pain in his body gradually subside and his strength return somewhat.

“Young Hernan will take over.” Farnan looked at his friend. “For you, the best strategy now is to just leave.”

Siegfried remained silent, gritting his teeth, and tried to get up by supporting himself with his hands on the ground.

Farnan sighed, untied the red silk, and a single-handed rapier appeared before Siegfried.

This sword is shorter than a ceremonial scabbard, and its entire body is flat with no gradual change in width. Its most distinctive feature is that the blade is not straight; the tip has a slight curve.

“Young Hernan gave it to you,” Farnan said calmly. “He said this is your only chance.”

……

[The clock is turned back slightly]
"...The neck has blood vessels and a trachea, it's a weak point, that's true. But wild animals also know it's a weak point, they'll fight tooth and nail to protect their necks." Little Hernan enthusiastically shared his insights with Farnan: "So, Earl Harlan's seemingly correct strategy of aiming at the bison's neck was actually a huge mistake..."

Farnan spoke politely yet firmly: "Young Hernan, please explain briefly."

“Alright, alright, to put it simply, Count Harlan wants to take down that big guy.” Little Hernan took out a specially made one-handed rapier: “This is the only way.”

“This?” Farnan took the rapier—less than a quarter the length of the spear.

“This is it.” Hernan nodded vigorously.

"How to use it?"

“Uh.” Little Hernan cleared his throat. “It’s simple. When the bull charges at you, you jump up and plunge this sword into its back. The curve of the blade is enough to bypass the ribs and spine and pierce its heart…”

“Young Hernan,” Farnan stared intently at young Hernan, “you mean, you want Earl Harlan to take this short sword, and the instant the bull charges at him, plunge it into the bull’s back, and then, with perfect accuracy, into its heart.”

Hernan nodded frantically, as if afraid Fran wouldn't believe him, and quickly added, "If you can't aim properly, you can pierce the lung. A bison won't last long if its lung is injured—but that would be a very ugly sight. If you miss a little and pierce its liver or intestines..."

Farnan interrupted Hernan directly: "Have you tried it yourself?"

“Of course! Otherwise, why would I give it to Earl Harlan?” Little Hernan protested loudly, then added somewhat embarrassedly in a low voice:

"However, the few times I tried it... the largest bison was only 300 kilograms, smaller than the one Earl Harlan dealt with... uh, a little smaller. But I guarantee, the heart was in the same place. Sigh, I put a lot of effort into this sword, and its first public appearance benefited Earl Harlan. To be honest, I'm a little heartbroken..."

"Leaving aside feasibility," Farnan said seriously, "Count Harlan has never practiced this skill. Do you expect him to succeed on his first attempt?"

Hernan the Younger also stopped smiling: "It's not that I expect him to succeed on the first try, but if Earl Harlan wants to fight that bison honorably, this is the only way."

Hernan kicked the spear leaning against the fence with the tip of his boot: "This thing works for small guys, but it's useless against big guys. Earl Harlan doesn't fight beasts on horseback, he fights them on foot! I admire his courage, but I can tell you, without the help of a warhorse, Earl Harlan's strength alone cannot inflict a fatal wound on a bison."

The French side tacitly agreed with Hernán's words.

"Therefore, to kill a beast on foot in a single blow, you must rely on the beast's strength to fight it." Little Hernan took back his short sword and casually swung it a few times. "Otherwise, do you think you can just use human arm strength to send this sword into the heart of a bison?"

Inside the hunting grounds, a man and a beast were locked in a standoff, and Fanan didn't have much time to make a judgment.

“Of course, there’s another way,” Hernan said casually. “Let Earl Harlan step down, and I’ll take over the bison… that’s what my father ordered.”

Fran did not answer.

……

[Rewind to the present]
“Little Hernan and his men will help you control the bison and create opportunities for you to make a move,” Farnan explained succinctly, then carefully demonstrated how to use the short sword.

Siegfried didn't ask a single question, and simply took the short sword: "It's dangerous here, you should leave."

“There’s something else, Hernan asked me to tell you.” Farnan handed the burqa he had just picked up from the ground to his friend: “He said that bison prefer to attack moving objects. If you want to deal with a bison, you should never move around. Just use the burqa to attract the bison’s attack. Whether you believe him or not is up to you.”

"Do you believe him?" Siegfried asked.

Fanan frowned and replied, "I believe you."

Siegfried replied without hesitation, "Then I trust him too. It's dangerous here, you should leave quickly."

Brother Luke looked exhausted and didn't want to stay a moment longer, urging Fanan repeatedly.

Fanan nodded to Siegfried and got up to leave.

"I'm sorry," Siegfried whispered to Fanan's retreating figure.

Farnan paused for a moment, because this was the first time he had heard Siegfried apologize, and he didn't know that he had also missed Siegfried's first sigh.

Farnan smiled, shook his head at Siegfried, then nodded, and quickly left with Brother Luke.

……

[Royal Stand]
“…Stop them, please, Father.” Princess Elizabeth could no longer hide her pain. She clutched the Emperor’s left hand and sobbed, “Please stop.”

The emperor gently wiped away his daughter's tears and calmly asked a question that surprised the princess: "Ella, do you still find the hunt boring?"

Elizabeth was stunned.

The emperor did not continue speaking, but waited quietly for his daughter's reply.

Elizabeth's tears welled up in her eyes again: "That's because...that's because..."

The emperor said calmly, "I'm not asking why."

Princess Elizabeth was unable to answer any further.

The Emperor looked at Hernan the Younger and Siegfried in the hunting grounds: "The fiercest beasts make the greatest warriors. Hernan the Younger's skill is beyond doubt, but it is precisely because his skill is so superb that the onlookers overlook the ability he is demonstrating, forget the danger he is facing, and regard the process of Hernan the Younger bringing down the bison as a slow torture."

"Young Hernan's performance will soon be forgotten, but Earl Harlan's battle will be remembered." The Emperor paused briefly: "Perhaps forever."

Princess Elizabeth was nearly out of control: "But Siegfried will die! He will die!"

The emperor's expression was indifferent: "Therefore you must keep an eye on him even more, and not miss a single moment."

Ignoring the attempts of her maids and guards to stop her, Princess Elizabeth ran down from the royal viewing platform, crying loudly.

[Tomorrow, another hunt (finally), definitely]
[I feel like... all these episodic storylines should be written and released all at once (facepalm)]
[But I need to adjust my sleep schedule and not live like a ghost, so I'll write more tomorrow.]
Goodnight everyone.
[Thank you to all the readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, rewards, and comments. Thank you everyone!]
[And: The emperor's lines were edited repeatedly; it always felt like something was missing.]
[(It's all the author's fault for never being an emperor.jpg) (If I were an emperor, I would definitely find someone to type for me so I could just pet cats and talk.)]
[Furthermore: However, judging from historical records, the actual emperors were generally far from being wise and powerful (facepalm), especially those who were not the founders of dynasties (they were all makeshift regimes)]
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(End of this chapter)