Gunpowder Plate Armor and the Magic Revolution

But Noze underestimated Monet's omnipresence and utter lack of scruples, because the officer's sneak attacks were completely unpredictable.

Monet would cause trouble during meals, casual conversations, and even when changing dressings for the wounded.

He even went so far as to say, "That's how it is on the battlefield; you can be ambushed at any moment. So train yourself well."

This is absolutely outrageous!

However, considering the immense power of [Deflection], Noze ultimately swallowed back the complaint that was on the tip of his tongue.

He had to admit that even though he was disoriented and even badly injured by the sudden attack, he could genuinely feel the improvement in his abilities.

While there may be some truth to that, being chased and ambushed with lead bullets every day would be unbearable for anyone, as being unable to withstand the impact would indeed cause significant pain.

Under such strict "tutelage", Noze quickly made some progress in his Deflection Technique.

As Noze managed to deflect a lead bullet accelerated by Monet's speed spell while chatting with someone, Monet finally nodded, acknowledging his progress.

Being recognized is naturally a happy thing, but who can understand the bitterness behind it...?

"When you can swing your sword and cut people down while protecting yourself with [Deflection], as long as you're not too unlucky, you can earn the title of a hundred-man warrior on the battlefield. If you also have some leadership skills, you can become a junior officer in the legion."

"If war breaks out, it will be easy to make a name for yourself and become a colonel. Even if you don't have any achievements, as a mage, you will naturally be promoted faster than an ordinary officer."

As Monet put it, "Well, what can we do? We're magicians."

"And you, have you ever earned the title of 'one against a hundred men'?"

"snort……"

Monet dismissed this idea with disdain.

--------------

As the Goldflesh and the White Gull reached safe waters near Monsoon City, the Fang finally stopped, no longer venturing forward, as further inland it might encounter patrol ships of the Orentia Navy.

Please don't misunderstand. Although Rear Admiral Bilkin has been attacking the Navy Department as a bunch of good-for-nothings, even the most incompetent army is still an army, and even the most cunning pirate is still just a pirate. You can't really compare the two.

"Boss, what do we do now?"

Old Scar stepped forward and asked.

"Return to Soma Island."

Jeffrey nodded, his gaze falling into the depths of the Emerald Sea. "Red Wolf is dead. I should go back and settle accounts. 'Pirate Republic,' hmph..."

The Fang turned its bow around, hoisted its sails, and sailed into the depths of the Emerald Sea.

The Goldfleur and the White Gull continued their journey, and after another day, they finally saw Monsoon City.

Following the pilot's directions, they slowly sailed into the monsoon harbor.

The port was far more bustling than Norz had imagined.

Countless sailboats were densely packed in the berths, ranging from tiny fishing boats in the nearshore to three-deck armed merchant ships in the ocean, with masts like a forest and sails like a shadow.

Looking up, you can see the magnificent spire of the Orentia Cathedral gleaming in the sunlight, facing the white light of the harbor lighthouse.

The warrant officers on the ship clung to the gunwale, gazing at the city they hadn't seen in so long. Some had tears in their eyes, while others excitedly pounded each other's shoulders.

"Finally here! I never want to drift at sea again!"

Lucas, clinging to the ship's railing and gazing at the nearby dock, whistled excitedly, "I love the earth!"

Norze smiled and leaned against the railing, finally relaxing completely.

Just then, his gaze was drawn to a particularly conspicuous large ship in the deep-water berth at the innermost part of the harbor.

The ship was a size larger than the largest ocean-going vessel in the harbor. The hull was inlaid with brass carvings, and a phoenix with outstretched wings was carved on the bow. The gilded wings shone so brightly in the sunlight that it was hard to open one's eyes.

The portholes on all three decks were inlaid with stained glass. Instead of the Orentia flag, the mainmast was adorned with a crimson flag with a blazing golden flame embroidered in the center. The intricate and ornate patterns were so finely woven that the details were visible even from a hundred meters away.

"What kind of ship is that?"

Noze couldn't help but nudge Andrew beside him, raising his chin in acknowledgment.

Andrew looked in the direction he was pointing, glanced at it, and nodded knowingly. "That's the flag of the Republic of Edric... It should be Edric's private boat? Anyway, it's definitely not a warship."

"The Republic of Edric?"

Lucas joined in, looking bewildered. "I've only ever seen this name in geography textbooks; it seems to be in the western part of the continent."

"Yes, they are different from Orentia. They are a republic formed by the union of various city-states, and they are most famous for forging, smelting, and design."

Andrew's gaze fell on the magnificent ship, and he explained in a low voice, "The best steel billets in the entire Federation are produced by Edric, as are the cannon barrels on the ship and the precision compasses used for navigation. Most of them come from their workshops. Those who can afford to travel on a ship of this size are either high-ranking government officials in Edric or wealthy tycoons who control the smelting workshops. Their status is definitely not ordinary."

Nozer nodded thoughtfully.

He wanted to take a closer look, but then he heard the first mate's voice behind him.

"Gentlemen, please do not disembark yet."

The first mate strode over, a helpless smile on his face. "The customs tax inspection hasn't been done yet. According to the rules, no one can leave the ship. We have to wait for the tax officers to board the ship, count the goods and people, and collect the commodity tax and head tax before the port authority will let us dock."

"We have to pay a head tax too?"

Lucas frowned instantly, looking displeased. "We're officers in the Orentia Army, and we have to pay customs taxes?"

"Yes... Initially, the tax was levied based on the size of the ship, then it was levied based on the maximum cargo capacity, but later it was found that measuring was too troublesome, so it was changed to levying the tax per person."

The first mate explained.

"Luke, rules are rules."

Nozer tugged at his arm. "There are not only us on board, but also Captain Evan's cargo, which will definitely have to go through customs procedures."

Major General Bill King also came out of the ship's deck, his face not looking friendly.

"Kid, just bear with it. Even if the Emerald Palace commissioners came, they'd have to be skinned alive to get through the customs at Monsoon Harbor."

"Just wait and see, these bastards who eat people without spitting out the bones..."

Hearing that even the highest-ranking official, Bill King, said this, Lucas could only shut his mouth in embarrassment.

Within fifteen minutes, two customs boats approached.

A rope ladder was thrown onto the ship's side, and two men in dark brown uniforms climbed up it.

When Norze saw what the two looked like, he couldn't help but be stunned for a moment.

He had originally thought that customs officers were nothing more than clerks with account books and abacuses, but the two men in front of him were even more burly than army soldiers.

Both men were over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and thick backs, and were very strong. They each had a curved knife and a short musket hanging from their waists, and were wearing tightly tanned black cowhide armor.

The collar reveals the reflective lining of chainmail, and he wears a round cap made of pressed hard cowhide, with the bronze emblem of the Orentia Customs pinned to the brim.