Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 470: Chapter 75 Standing Before the Divine Arts Barrier_2

“””

Winters rushed over upon hearing the words and questioned urgently, “Priest? Are these all the Herders’ Shamans?”

“Yes,” Bell nodded frantically.

“Go find them!” Winters bellowed again at the militias outside the tent.

The militias scrambled to carry out their tasks.

Winters’s emotional swings were too great, and all the officers noticed that something was amiss.

“What’s the matter?” Colonel Jeska asked.

Winters couldn’t answer, finally understanding why the secrets of the court spellcasters could be kept for thousands of years.

Because no one wanted to share that knowledge.

Just like Winters wasn’t willing to casually share this knowledge with the Paratu People.

Capturing a weakened user of Divine Arts was an opportunity that came once in a millennium.

It was probably the closest anyone had come to breaching the walls of Divine Arts since Antoine-Laurent established the Spellcaster system within the Alliance.

You see, unless a spellcaster surrendered voluntarily, no one could capture one alive.

And unless a spellcaster spoke willingly, no one could extract a single word from their lips.

Even with Winters’s hands and feet bound, he could still cast a splitting spell that would blast his enemies’ heads apart… or his own.

The same was true for capturing users of Divine Arts alive.

Capture a mage or priest alive and then interrogate them?

It would be easier to just kill them outright.

The only time to capture a user of magical abilities was when they couldn’t use those abilities.

Winters was almost certain that the leading Herder Shaman had definitely been the one guiding the Spell.

With the other eight Shamans all dead, the one guiding the Spell couldn’t be faring much better.

“The resonance of multiple spellcasters can push the power of a Spell to unimaginable levels.”

This thought had been echoing in Winters’s mind for a full year and a half.

It had started to take root the night that a fire tornado swept through Guidao City.

At first, it was just an inadvertent thought, like a low chant carried on the wind.

As Winters’s experiences grew, this thought was not forgotten but instead took root and flourished.

After witnessing how the Herder Shamans could destroy all gunpowder weapons with a torrential downpour, the low chant in the wind had turned into a rolling thunder.

A voice roared in Winters’s heart: “It must be so! Find that Shaman!”

But he was too impatient, too out of sorts—he realized that too.

Winters didn’t want to play games with Colonel Jeska, but he was also unwilling to divulge the knowledge of spellcasters.

After steadying his mind a bit, Winters asked in return, “Do you remember when I almost lost consciousness upon arriving at the battlefield?”

“Hmm,” was the response.

“I’m afraid that was some sort of attack concocted by that group of Herder Shamans. I want to find that Shaman and ask how he did it,” Winters speculated.

“He’s inside the city, you’re outside. How could he attack you from such a distance?” the Colonel raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, which is why I need to find him and get some answers.”

After thinking for a moment, Jeska casually suggested, “Have your men start searching nearby. If the eight who died ended up like that, the one still alive must be half-dead.”

Winters nodded repeatedly and turned to run out of the tent, but Colonel Jeska grabbed him.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high. If this Shaman really matters that much…” Colonel Jeska began pacing the tent in circles, “…he’s probably been smuggled out of the city by the Herders already.”

“Right here!” Jeska stopped, flipped a saber forcefully into the ground, its tip embedded almost a palm’s depth.

With a sudden pull, the Colonel yanked up the rug along with the wooden board underneath, revealing a dark tunnel entrance.

“Barbarians are the craftiest.” Jeska dusted off his uniform, seemingly not surprised: “I taught you that.”

…

The inside of the tunnel was damp and cramped, only allowing the passage of smaller-statured individuals bent over.

Winters simply couldn’t enter—without armor, he could crawl through the tunnel, but with it on, he would get stuck.

Colonel Jeska also wouldn’t allow Winters into the tunnel.

It was uncertain whether it was a passageway or a trap, as there might be enemies waiting within.

In the end, the Colonel selected several short but robust militias to scout the tunnel, while Winters anxiously awaited news within the city.

Meanwhile, unplanned and organized looting was taking place in Bianli.

“””

War was too harsh, and most spoils of war had nothing to do with the soldiers.

For the soldiers, plundering after breaching a city was their only way to obtain “compensation.”

If an army managed not to loot after a battle, it must have had something more noble than material goods sustaining them—clearly, the Paratu soldiers lacked such a thing.

But in Winters’s view, the Paratu People were like gnawing on the meat of a skeletal lamb’s leg.

The best booty was, of course, portable and valuable items like gold, silver, and jewels.

However, there was nothing in the longhouses of Bianli; the Herders could be called destitutely poor.

Bianli City was so poor it clinked, and the wealth of a single street in Sea Blue exceeded that of the entire Bianli.

Most of the city’s warehouses were empty; the wealth of White Lion wasn’t stored in Bianli.

“I allow you to be the first to enter the city,” Alpad said to Colonel Jeska.

At the time, Winters didn’t think much of it, but looking back now, it was surprisingly flattering.

Because the few valuables in the city had already been taken by the first group to enter—Jeska’s battalion.

The troops that entered later almost got nothing; the only property left in Bianli to sell was “people.”

Those who failed to break out with White Lion, the elderly, the women and children, and the wounded were inevitably becoming slaves.

Winters witnessed the quartermasters imprison, register, and catalog the people of Bianli with extreme efficiency.

Slave traders who appeared from nowhere spoke various dialects, haggling with the Paratu quartermasters.

The Paratu People prepared carts, intending to transport the Herder slaves back to Paratu before exporting them—because the Paratu People did not use Herder slaves.

The Venetians and United Provincials were considerably shocked, while Colonel Jeska remained composed.

Finally, the militia from beneath the ground ran back from outside the city.

…

“This is the place! Sir!” The militia led Winters and Bard all the way to the northeastern corner outside the city.

The exit of the tunnel outside the city was protected by double-layered wooden boards, covered with earth.

Winters noticed that the dirt on the boards had even begun to grow grass, indistinguishable from the surrounding turf.

This meant that at least by last summer, this tunnel was already opened, which made Winters increasingly anxious.

The terrain of Bianli was elevated, and the tunnel sloped upwards. About ten meters inside from the exit was a small space with several small boats stacked up.

“Damn!” Winters turned and rushed out of the tunnel upon seeing the boats.

The exit was close to the Confluence River, and one could vaguely see traces of boats being dragged on the riverbank.

Looking into the distance, where were there any signs of the boats?

“They’ve run?” Bard followed Winters out of the tunnel.

“They can’t have run!” Winters bellowed, “Get the boats out!”

The militia hurried back towards the tunnel.

Winters began to remove his armor, speaking rapidly, “The boats in the tunnel are all small, they can’t carry horses. There are no boats on the opposite bank of the riverbank either, and with White Lion’s crushing defeat, the north bank is all our people. That Herder Shaman must’ve taken a boat downstream.”

“Should we continue the pursuit?”

“Pursue!” Winters handed the reins of the sturdy horse to Bard, “You take people across the river using the Floating Bridge and pursue on the north bank. Have Andre lead people to pursue on the south bank. I will pursue by boat. I don’t believe we can’t catch him!”

“Wait,” Bard raised an eyebrow, “Can you swim?”

Winters’s breath hitched, “Then you go by boat, and I’ll lead the pursuit on the north bank.”

A few cavalrymen galloped from the riverbank, with Andre at the forefront.

Winters shouted excitedly, “Andre! Your timing couldn’t be better!”

“What’s good?” Andre halted his warhorse in front of Winters and panted, “The colonel wants you back immediately.”

“What happened?” Winters had a bad feeling.

“The legion has ordered the destruction of Bianli, the disposal of all Herders, and the burning of all untransportable supplies,” Andre said with a bitter smile, “The entire army is retreating! Break camp now!”

…

“W.M’s Spellbook”

Entry: Rain Summoning Spell

Rank: Army scale

Principle: Unknown

Method of Casting: Unknown

Remarks: Bell, that kid, said that during dry seasons, tribe Shamans always hold rain summoning rituals. Some work, some don’t. Isn’t this just typical shaman tricks? But that downpour couldn’t be faked. The Shaman in the felt tent didn’t seem to do anything but chant… only ended up dancing himself to death. Could it be that the Herders’ Rain Summoning Spell is the real deal? That would mean the Rain Summoning Spell is essentially civilian magic converted for military use?

Additional Note: Requires overcast weather…

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