Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 65 New Practice Methods for Deflection Technique

“How could General Serbiati possibly mutiny over a few crazy words? Your Excellency knows this perfectly well.” In the slightly swaying cabin, Count Narcía took two glasses from the cabinet, poured wine, and asked in a relaxed tone, “I just don’t understand why you said these things to him.”

After the honey-colored liquid was poured into the glass, Narzia took a few ice cubes from a tin can covered with a cotton cover, added them to the drink, and handed it to Lionel.

Lionel was completely different from how he appeared in Antonio's study; now he looked more like the shrewd, capable, and responsible chief civil servant of the federal government.

The Secretary of State took the glass, swirled it a few times, and said calmly, "I've already failed because I couldn't persuade Debella. The rest are just minor fixes, futile and expected... But the corrupt practices of you nobles always give me a little surprise. To have the court magicians make ice just to drink some ice wine, isn't that a bit too extravagant?"

“It’s not really extravagant, after all, I’m one of His Majesty’s most trusted lackeys,” Count Narzia replied with a smile.

The day after the State Secretary's unexpected visit, the Virtue, carrying the Emperor's delegation, departed from Aquamarine. She would stop in Guitu for supplies before sailing directly back to the Empire. Veneta's deployment of troops to the Taniri Islands was now a foregone conclusion.

As the USS Merdeka departed the dock, an expanded meeting of senior officers, attended by all generals of the Army Headquarters, was underway. The atmosphere in the Throne Room of the Army Headquarters was extremely tense. The meeting had been going on for a whole morning, but they still hadn't reached a conclusion.

"...Mobilize three more legions, clear out the outer islands in one month, take Golden Harbor in two months, and wipe out the Taniri Islands in three months..." Major General Layton, who was appointed as the commander of the First Reserve Legion, was spitting on his colleagues around him with a radiant smile.

"Bullshit! If you can't take down the Federation in three months, will you commit suicide to atone for your sins?" Another general sitting opposite Layton retorted without any politeness: "You're talking about mobilizing three more legions, a total of five legions. Are you going to dig money out of your ancestral graves?"

Enraged, Layton roared and drew his sword. The opposing general, not to be outdone, drew his saber. Seeing the council chamber about to turn into a gladiatorial arena, nearby officers quickly restrained the two.

The senior officers seated further away were already used to this kind of situation. In the more than thirty years since the founding of the Venetian Empire, far more generals had died in duels than in battle. Seeing the infighting within the army, the naval officers were even more composed and enjoyed watching the spectacle.

"They're making a fool of themselves in front of our own troops!" General Zio, the military governor, couldn't stand it any longer and roared, "Take their swords off!"

Their superior was truly enraged, and Layton and his rival dared not act recklessly any longer. The two handed over their swords, sat down in their chairs, and fumed, trying to burn each other to death with the fury in their eyes.

Another army general spoke up: "Layton is right. If we're going to fight, we should kill the Federation. Sending five corps at once to wipe them out is better than sending them one corps at a time. The longer it drags on, the more likely things will change."

"Can five legions really take down the Federation in three months?" someone else retorted.

"The federation is a disorganized mess, why can't it function?"

The one who refuted sneered: "The false emperor thought the same thing. He claimed that he could eliminate us before the Spring Festival, but the sovereignty war has lasted for eleven years!"

"Who do those pirates and slave owners of the Federation have the right to compare themselves to us?" The officer who supported Layton was also angered: "Besides, it was the Federation that chose war, not Veneta!"

"Stop arguing!" General Zio interrupted the two men, calling out another person's name: "Antonio, you speak!"

"I'd like to hear what my fellow comrades have to say."

“Just say it! The main force attacking Taniriya was your Third Legion.”

Antonio cleared his throat: "Then I'll share my own thoughts."

The conference room fell silent instantly.

“I agree with the points mentioned earlier. The longer the war against the Federation drags on, the more disadvantageous it will be for us,” António said in a deep voice. “But I absolutely do not support the idea of ​​a quick victory. Once the war begins, the most important thing is how to end it. But I have no idea how the ruling council wants to end the war.”

As he spoke, Antonio left his seat and walked to the large map of the inland sea hanging on the wall of the military council hall. Pointing to the Taniri Islands, he said, "Where can this war end? By capturing Golden Harbor? By the surrender of the Federation? By conquering the entire archipelago? By turning Taniri into a province of Venetia? Our task now is to figure out our strategic objectives."

“Didn’t Governor Debera say that the Tanilia Federation must be destroyed?” someone interrupted Antonio.

“That’s right, but what constitutes destroying the Federation?” Antoni asked rhetorically. “Hanging the Federation’s leader? Dissolving the Federation? Arresting and executing all the Federation’s members? And what will we do with Tanilia after destroying the Federation? Maintain its independence? Take over the Federation’s rule? Or turn the islanders into Veneta citizens?”

Finally, Antonio concluded: "Different strategic objectives lead to different strategies. Without clear strategic objectives, there can be no true victory. Furthermore, Veneta should prepare for a protracted war in any case. War is a matter of life and death for a nation, and there should be absolutely no wishful thinking about a quick victory."

At this point, Antonio recalled the erratic words of Secretary of State Lionel and added somberly, "Because our greatest threat does not come from Tanilla, but from other... potential enemies."

At 3 p.m. that day, an order signed by the consul of Debera and four governors was sent to the thirteen-member military council:
"The war budget has been fully approved;"

The Second Reserve Corps of the Army began its recruitment drive, in preparation for the establishment of the Third and Fourth Reserve Corps.

Authorize the navy to attack any Tanilia Federation vessel;

Organize a retaliatory strike against the Tanilia Federation as soon as possible.

Along with this order, a public statement was also issued from the ruling council:

"The noble Republic of Veneta and the Federation have entered a state of war, and all treaties, contracts and agreements are null and void."

Anyone who supports or assists the Federation will be considered a traitor.

Any Tanirians who support or assist the Federation will be considered an enemy.

The Taniria Captains and Plantation Owners' Union will be destroyed.

Victory belongs to Vineta.

That evening, Winters, Bader, and Andrei, who were all trainee officers under Lieutenant Colonel Contel, received official orders to bring all their equipment and assemble at the Western Camp at 8:00 a.m. the day after tomorrow.

——Cut——

The following night, at Major Moritz's residence.

The half-drunk Major Moritz held Winters tightly and wouldn't let go. No matter how Winters refused, the major insisted on teaching Winters how to use "deflection" as a farewell gift.

Three officers from the former Army Headquarters Military Police gathered once again at Major Moritz's residence, but this time it wasn't for a meeting; Field and Moritz were seeing Winters off.

"How could I possibly have the skill to use deflection techniques?" Winters asked Lieutenant Colonel Field with a wry smile.

However, Field was so drunk that his eyes were glazed over and he couldn't understand what Winters was saying at all.

"Don't worry... don't worry... I'm going to teach you my own unique training method." Moritz let out a long hiccup: "The... deflection technique doesn't require explosive power, the key is precision... precision, understand?"

The major released his grip and turned to search for something: "Where's the chair? Where's the chair?"

Winters, both amused and exasperated, quickly handed his chair to Major Moritz, though he himself hadn't figured out how to practice the deflection technique with a chair.

Moritz grabbed a chair and wobbled onto it. Winters quickly went to support the man, who was already delirious, while Major Moritz reached out and took a thin rope from the rafters.

The instruction on deflection techniques suddenly turned into an instruction on hanging, which startled Winters so much that he quickly pulled the major off the chair.

The thin rope was very long, hanging from the rafters all the way to the tabletop. Moritz tied a small dinner knife to the end of the rope, then had Winters back up. He kept backing up until the rope was taut, but the tip of the knife was still a finger's width from Winters' nose, and he couldn't go any further.

"Stand still, and don't move," Major Moritz said to Winters before releasing his knife.

Winters watched as the knife in front of his nose swung away like a swing to a distance, and then swung back towards him from a distance.

The gleaming blade traced an arc through the air, about to pierce Winters' eye, but Winters turned his head to dodge. "Don't move, it won't hurt you," Major Moritz explained. "The knife won't return to its original height. You'll see."

As he spoke, Major Moritz demonstrated it himself. He held the knife to the tip of his nose, backed away until the rope tightened, and then released his grip.

The knife, tied to the rope, swung out and back like a pendulum. Major Moritz remained motionless; the knife returned to within a hair's breadth of his nose, yet it did not injure him.

When the knife swung back again, it didn't meet Major Moritz head-on like last time. Instead, it veered off course and swung to the major's shoulder.

"Do you understand now?" Major Moritz asked with a smile in his eyes.

"I... I'm starting to understand now." Winters hadn't expected Moritz to actually pull out something, instead of just being drunk: "Senior, you're a true genius!"

The principle of the deflection technique is actually very simple: it is a horizontal arrow-throwing technique.

The real difficulty of this spell lies in the precision required.

The spellcaster must precisely target an object flying at high speed; and must also be able to change the object's lateral speed just before it hits them, causing it to deviate from its original trajectory.

The bigger problem than the difficulty of the spell itself is that there is no safe and easy training method for deflection.

Deflection is an extremely risky spell, used to save lives in critical moments. But even the most skilled kinetic spellcasters dare not completely rely on it, because a mishap could result in being shot.

Training with firearms would be suicidal; the current training method uses bows and arrows. Light bows are used to shoot arrows at the trainee, allowing the spellcaster to learn by practicing deflecting arrows, before gradually switching to harder bows.

Even with arrows whose arrowheads have been broken off and wrapped in cotton, accidents still frequently occur. An even bigger problem is that the caster themselves often finds it difficult to distinguish whether the arrow has gone astray or been deflected by the spell.

Using spells, like archery, is a matter of 'feel'; practicing spells is about developing that feel. How can an archer develop that feel if they don't even know whether their arrows hit the target each time?

Major Moritz's training method was very ingenious:

When the weight tied to the rope is swung back, it will not exceed its original height, and the trainee will be in an absolutely safe position without any additional psychological pressure.

During the swing, the closer the weight tied to the rope is to its original position, the slower the speed and the easier it is to use spells. You can practice step by step.
The most ingenious part is that the caster can clearly know whether they have successfully cast the deflection spell. If the pendulum deviates from its original trajectory, it has succeeded. Otherwise, it has failed.
Simply increase the success rate, and once you've memorized the feel of the spell, you can switch to a bow and arrow for practice. This is much easier than practicing directly with a bow and arrow.

"A genius? More like a born cripple, he just uses some tricks." Major Moritz beckoned to Winters: "Try it yourself."

This time, when the knife flew towards Winters' nose, Winters overcame his fear and did not dodge. The knife missed Winters, reaching its limit very close before swinging away again.

When the knife swung back, Winters tried to use the Arrow Technique horizontally on it. However, the knife moving rapidly in the air was not nearly as difficult as the stationary steel cone in his hand, and Winters failed several times in a row.

“You know what’s going on? Go back and practice more. It’s not that easy to master the knack.” Moritz stopped Winters. “Let’s have a drink!”

He patted Field on the shoulder, who was slumped over the table, but the lieutenant colonel didn't react: "One's already down?"

Winters quickly helped the already sleeping Field to lie down on the sofa, and worried that the lieutenant colonel would choke on his own vomit, so he adjusted the lieutenant colonel to a side-lying position.

Major Moritz watched Winters adjust Field's sleeping position and said with a smile, "You're very thoughtful."

After saying that, he lay back in the wobbly recliner, looked up at the ceiling, and said casually, "You're a good lad, but you mustn't end up like me... haha, and don't end up like Field either."

This statement was rather heavy, and Winters was momentarily at a loss for words.

After a long silence, Winters finally asked a question he had always wanted to ask but had never asked out of politeness: "I don't understand, why would a spellcaster as powerful as you drink so much... You are the most powerful spellcaster I have ever seen, without exception... Why? Have you forgotten what Antoine Laurent said?"

“Any addictive substance is poison to a spellcaster, I remember that.” Moritz sniffed, clutching the bottle, his eyes sparkling. “But Winters, you still don’t understand, the only thing that can prevent a rational soul from falling into the abyss is bad habits. Answer me, do you believe in God?”

"If you don't believe it, the spellcaster must be an atheist."

“I don’t believe it either. I’ve visited miracle sites, studied scriptures, and searched for evidence of divine existence. But the more I learn about various religions, the less I can believe in the existence of gods. Winters, answer me one more question: have you ever lost someone close to you?”

"No." The parents, whom I've never met, are clearly not close.

"That's a good thing. Have you ever thought about where people go after they die?"

"……No."

"The Normans believed they would feast with the gods after death; Catholics believed they would go to Paradise; the Celica believed they would enter a cycle and be reborn as animals. Do you know why all these religions depict the afterlife?"

"……have no idea.

"Because people fear death, because humanity hopes their death isn't truly 'death,' hoping their souls can continue to exist. But for us spellcasters, these atheists, these rational beings, death is the complete dissipation of consciousness; everything that happens in the world afterward is irrelevant to you, you feel nothing… No, death means even the absence of feeling itself. The world's scorn, mourning, and commemoration of you mean nothing to you… not even meaning itself. When you're dead, nothing remains… Do you understand?"

The amount of information was too much for Winters to grasp at first.

Moritz murmured, "One day you'll understand that everyone dies, and one day you'll lose people who are important to you. You'll start to wonder where they all went. In the end, you'll get a cruel answer: they didn't go anywhere. They just cease to exist, they're gone..."

Winters gathered his thoughts and countered, "Does this mean that people who believe in God are different when they die? Aren't people who believe in God being deceived?"

“Of course he was deceived,” Moritz replied softly. “But what does it matter if someone’s consciousness has ceased to exist? He won’t be angry, regretful, or resentful anyway. Since everything dissipates completely after death, it’s better to be deceived and gain peace while alive.”

"Then why are you still an atheist?"

“Me?” Moritz curled up in the recliner, laughing. “There’s no point in pretending to believe; you can’t deceive yourself. I’m rational enough not to be deceived by religion, but I’m not brave enough to accept death. I’m living now just to live, without any meaning. But I don’t want to die, so I’m just living in a daze. You still have important people in your life, which means your life still has meaning. Protect them, don’t become like me…”

Major Moritz's voice grew softer and softer until he finally began to snore gently; he had fallen asleep.

Winters took the bottle from Major Moritz's hand and covered the major with a thin blanket. After confirming that Lieutenant Colonel Field and Major Moritz were both asleep, he went into Moritz's bedroom.

Opening his backpack, Winters took out a finely crafted wheel gun. After confirming that the ignition mechanism could produce sparks, Winters began skillfully loading ammunition.

Among the gifts brought by Count Narzia was a pair of exquisitely crafted and luxuriously decorated wheel pistols. The inside of the barrels was polished as smooth as a bronze mirror, allowing for pinpoint accuracy within thirty paces.

Antonio gave Winters one, and Winters is now loading it.

After loading the ammunition, Winters quickly changed into a tight-fitting black outfit. He deliberately didn't wear military boots today, but instead wore a pair of soft leather shoes.

He inserted the spring-loaded gun into the holster on his right leg, tied a long dagger to his left leg, and finally slung the leather belt with the steel spikes on it diagonally over his shoulder.

After confirming that the other two officers in the living room were already drunk, Winters opened the window of Moritz's bedroom and climbed onto the roof.

He didn't quite understand what Major Moritz was saying, but he would protect those he cared about at all costs, a principle the major didn't need to teach him.

Winters Montagne's alignment changed from Lawful Good to Neutral Good.
Thank you to all the readers who voted for this book before, especially writersblock, Douqi Fengbao, Yanyunsan, Ami, and 20181013204343295. Thank you everyone.

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(End of this chapter)