Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Winters paced to the top of the battery, where heavy guns were arrayed inside the sturdy fortress, and smaller caliber cannons were exposed to the elements here.

He sat on the low wall, and the sea under the moonlight appeared a deep black, with a solitary warship adrift on the waters. That very warship was the one that had just bombarded Duckbill Fort, yet for some reason, it hadn't joined the battle at the docks.

The docks were ablaze by now, as Haidong Port served as Vineta Navy's home base, not only a supply harbor but also the location of the Vineta Navy's shipyards.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Buildings inside the harbor had been engulfed by flames, and Winters could only spot one ship berthed, burning fiercely. The attackers were in the shipyard, setting fire to the laid keels and the ships under repair.

Gunshots emanated from the shipyard as Winters watched the navy sailors attempt several times to recapture the docks, only to have their formations scattered by volleys of gunfire and forced into retreat.

There was bloodshed in the shipyard, while just six hundred meters away in Duckbill Fort's battery, the warrant officers were indulging in a drunken revelry, with most officers having found a place with a roof to rest. The fight was over, and the entire battery rested in an eerie quiet and tranquility.

Andre, carrying two bottles of wine, also came up to the top of the battery, nonchalantly speaking to Winters, "It was no fun alone there; I came to keep you company."

He bit off the cork and handed a bottle to Winters. Then, biting open another, he took a huge swig, "This officer's cellar wine doesn't seem anything special."

Winters took the bottle but didn't drink, pointing towards the shipyard, "The battle over there is fierce. If we go and support them, attacking from both fronts, do you think we could win?"

Andre scrutinized the situation at the docks and said with a sneer, "If these attackers were of the same caliber as the folks in this battery, the navy men wouldn't be needed. A hundred or so of us could rout them with a single charge. But having spent so many years in military school, would you be content to die like that?"

Winters was at a loss for words, as Andre bluntly and cruelly voiced everyone's selfish thought—it wasn't worth it.

A stray bullet, a flying arrow, a long spear could easily claim a life. It wasn't death they were afraid of—anyone afraid to die wouldn't have assembled at the eastern camp tonight. Leading the soldiers to die on a charge was one thing, but to die like an ordinary trooper, hardly worth it.

"Stop worrying, we are just two warrant officers, the least valuable of the officers. We do what we're told, no need to overthink," Andre said, introducing his 'tool man' theory once again. He excitedly nudged Winters, poking him in the side and asked with a manic tone, "How many for you tonight?"

"How many what?" Winters didn't understand what Andre was getting at.

"Come on, you don't get it?" Andre gestured with a chopping motion, "This, how many?"

Realizing what the madman was asking, Winters replied helplessly, "None."

Andre burst into laughter and held up three fingers, "Three for me tonight, now we're tied at five each... but truth be told, my five are of a higher quality. The chaplain, zero, hahaha."

Montaigne, the warrant officer, sighed deeply, "Brother, no matter what you're talking about, you've won."

Andre replied, but Winters only saw his lips move; the roar of the heavy guns drowned out Andre's words.

The thirty-two-pounder cannons of Duckbill Fort unleashed their fury for the first time that night, targeting the invaders.