Gunpowder Plate Armor and the Magic Revolution

None of the three brought up the topic again, and they silently finished what was on their plates.

As Lucas carried his tray towards the recycling bin, he nudged Nozer's arm. "Are you going to the church after class this afternoon?"

"Yes, I made an appointment with the priest, but since it's still early after class this afternoon, we can go to the training ground to practice our swordsmanship first."

Nozer nodded.

"Alright, perfect timing, I can teach you, so Captain Lyman won't beat you to a pulp next time."

"I really envy you guys... you don't have to stay up all night doing math."

"Raymond! You artilleryman have no reason to say you're envious. You guys are sheltered from the wind and rain."

The three of them walked out of the cafeteria chatting and laughing. The summer sun was blazing, and it felt hot on their skin.

Noze glanced back at the direction of the cafeteria, sighed softly, looked away, and followed his two friends toward the teaching building.

Once they reached the teaching building, Norze and Lucas parted ways with Raymond and climbed to the fourth floor for what all the students considered the most boring tactical theory class.

The afternoon sun slanted into the classroom for the tactical theory class, and the air was filled with chalk dust.

On the podium, Major Brandon, nearing fifty, read his lesson plan in his signature monotone, which concerned the evolution of the Empire’s “flexible defense” tactics during the middle of the Thirty Years’ War.

The dry charts and densely packed place names rolled across the blackboard and in the trainees' minds, like a powerful hypnotic drug.

"...Therefore, the Imperial Army, relying on its pre-established fortification system, locally consolidated its forces to lure our assault troops deep into the territory, and then launched a counterattack with reserves...The core of this tactic lies in..."

Noze's head sank lower and lower, his eyelids feeling as heavy as a thousand pounds.

He forced himself to scribble a few lines on the notebook, but the writing quickly became blurry. Finally, his forehead rested on the open notebook, and his consciousness sank to the edge of chaos.

This is the price I paid for staying up all night last night.

Lucas sat next to him, equally bored.

He rested his chin on one hand, while the fingers of his other hand silently tapped the table with the rhythm of his swift sword's parry. His eyes were vacant, and he clearly hadn't taken much of the major's words to heart.

He glanced at Noze, who was already "dead" beside him, twitched his lips, and didn't bother him.

The atmosphere in the classroom was as thick and stagnant as maltose about to solidify, with only Major Brandon's steady, almost mechanical voice echoing through the room.

"...In conclusion, this tactic caused great trouble for our initial offensive, until Panier proposed a targeted solution of 'rapid infiltration with infantry groups'..."

Time seemed to stretch out in this heavy classroom atmosphere.

Some people even started secretly calculating how many minutes were left until the school bell rang, using the projection of the sun.

Finally, the long whistle signaling the end of get out of class broke the afternoon's tranquility. Major Brandon closed his lesson plan, leaving only the words, "There will be a quiz next week, covering the content covered today," before turning and walking out of the classroom.

The classroom erupted in chaos, filled with cries of agony.

Norze was awakened by the whistles and wails. He looked up abruptly, staring blankly at the empty podium and the students packing up their things around him.

"Awake? If you had slept any longer, you would have missed dinner."

Lucas's words were clearly exaggerated. Looking at the dazed Nozer, he pulled him up.

The two packed their things and followed the flow of people out of the classroom. Just as they reached the stairwell, they bumped into Andrew Hart, who was walking out.

He remained as taciturn as ever, carrying thick textbooks and notebooks in his arms, his back ramrod straight, avoiding the noisy crowd.

When the surrounding trainees saw him, their excited chatter instantly subsided, their eyes filled with an indescribable sense of detachment. Some even curled their lips and pulled their companions aside to make way for him.

Andrew seemed used to these stares, but quickened his pace, wanting to leave the noise as soon as possible.

Just as he was passing by Nozer, Nozer suddenly nodded at him.

Andrew paused abruptly, looked up at Nozer, his pale face expressionless, but a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he only gave a barely perceptible nod to Nozer, then quickly walked down the stairs and disappeared into the crowd.

Why did you greet him?

Lucas raised an eyebrow, his tone devoid of malice, merely a hint of confusion. "Nobody at school wants to get too close to him, not because of anything about him, it's just... you know..."

"He is himself, and others are others."

As Noze watched Andrew's disappearing figure, he said, "It's so unfair to pin all the blame on him just because of something that happened decades ago."

"What you said makes sense."

Lucas scratched his head, patted Nozer on the shoulder, and looked like he was thinking about how to convince him with impeccable logic.

Noze didn't say anything more, and just walked down the stairs.

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the stairwell window, casting dappled patterns of light on the floor. Andrew's figure had long since disappeared into the noise downstairs, leaving only the empty stairwell corner.

"But that's what everyone does."

"Honestly, if you get too close to him, people will inevitably gossip about you."

Lucas followed behind him, his voice still tinged with worry.

"I'm not trying to get close to anyone, build relationships, or form cliques."

Noze shrugged, not stopping. "I just think he didn't do anything wrong and shouldn't be treated like this. Besides, he's not some ignorant person."

He understood the feeling of being swept up in the shadows of the times.

Throughout history, such people have been common. They are born in a specific region and carry the debts left by their ancestors. No matter how cautious they are or how hard they try, they cannot escape the prejudice and disdain of others.

The debts of history are never calculated per head; they are branded like a mark, etched into the very bones of everyone involved, passed down from generation to generation.

Lucas sighed and didn't try to persuade him further.

Noze may seem gentle and mild-mannered, but deep down he has a stubborn streak and is impossible to sway once he's made up his mind.

The two had just reached the entrance of the teaching building when they bumped into Lieutenant Colonel Hoffman, who was walking towards them.

He was still wearing his crisp, well-pressed uniform, with his top button fastened tightly, and he was carrying a thick stack of documents. When he saw the two of them, he paused.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Colonel!"

Nozer and Lucas immediately stood at attention and gave a standard military salute.

Hoffman returned the greeting, his gaze falling on Nozer. "Nozer Stella, did you send over the letter of introduction I gave you yesterday?"

"Reporting to the colonel, it's been sent! Father Cisse has accepted me as a student and has me come to study there every afternoon after class."

Noze immediately answered loudly, with a hint of youthful pride.