Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 1006 - 56 Prologue_3
Chapter 1006 -56 Prologue_3
Caman noticed the change in Winters’ tone and also adopted a formal attitude to listen attentively.
Winters cleared his throat: “We, the Alliance School of Magic—if there ever is such a school—our spellcasters believe that magic is not a wish-granting machine; it does not ‘go from A to B’ by skipping all paths.
If using a spell were likened to ‘shooting a firearm,’ then the spell of the Alliance School is not giving you a high-speed lead bullet directly. The spell of the Alliance School is more like a matchlock gun, with stock, barrel, and gunpowder; magic plays the role akin to the tiny weak spark at the tip of the matchlock.
And every part of the matchlock gun should be subject to study, understanding, and improvement, for it abides by laws that we do not yet know. As for the method of exploring these laws, it is only through repeated experimentation and demonstration.
Since your Holy Church has scholastic philosophy, I might as well call the thought process of the Alliance spellcasters [Experimental Empiricism]—if the spellcasters of the Alliance truly have a school and indeed hold some kind of philosophy.”
Caman nodded expressionlessly.
“Spellcasters like me, who are destined to join the military, are merely cultivated and trained as tools by the Magic Combat Bureau—I only began to understand this after meeting you.” Winters sighed, somewhat regretfully saying: “I’ve never taken any speculative courses, nor was I told what logic or ethics the Alliance spellcaster system is built upon, as long as we know how to use spells…”
Winters paused for a moment, glancing at Caman, and added: “This is somewhat similar to you.”
Caman was slightly taken aback and narrowed his eyes to ask: “Do you mean to say, your so-called ‘Alliance School’s magic is not a ‘wish machine’ but like a tinder—’a critical impetus’ that realizes magic through ‘giving a push’ to an already existing system?”
“At present, that’s what I believe,” Winters replied with precision: “What it is specifically still needs to be proven through experiments.”
“Good, I understand, please continue,” Caman said with an imperceptible trace of mockery that quickly vanished from his expression.
But Winters caught it and quickly asked Caman: “What are you laughing at?”
“I’m not laughing,” Caman flatly denied.
“Lying will send you to hell!”
“Even if I thought of something happy, wouldn’t that be ok?”
“You’re laughing because you think you’ve found a fatal flaw that could completely defeat what I’ve said before, and you have evidence to prove this flaw exists,” Winters said, staring at Caman, and quickly laying out his conjecture: “But you don’t want to tell me, so you can only declare your victory through a sneaky smile.”
Caman turned his head to look at the lake, avoiding eye contact with Winters: “Alright then, let’s go back to talking about the barbarian shamanic magic.”
Not willing to open up, Winters couldn’t force Caman to reveal the truth.
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So Winters somewhat dispiritedly asked Caman: “Did you know that there are actually two types of Beast Spirit Speakers among the Herders?”
“Which two?”
“Chosen and non-chosen,” Winters succinctly stated: “Among the Herder tribes, Beast Spirit Speakers are those who can communicate with wild beasts, not directly related to being a Chosen. The one I dealt with in Qingqiu was a Chosen. Bell is not a Chosen, but he spends all his days with the little fellow—that incredibly lazy lion—, and he is also able to communicate with it. So in the eyes of the Herders, Bell is also a Beast Spirit Speaker.”
Caman nodded, responding with “Mhm” in agreement.
“Of course, this is my distinction as an observer; the Herders themselves wouldn’t distinguish in this way.” Winters picked up a wolfhound and placed it in front of Caman: “Back to the original question, why do you think they obey me?”
“Because… you spend day and night with them?” Caman ventured a guess.
“Because they see me as the alpha wolf, the leader, a family member,” Winters answered directly: “Herder shamans believe that beasts also have souls, and they, like humans, have concepts of family and community. Just as guard dogs would risk their lives to protect their owners, not out of fear of the owners, but out of a similar love for family members. So those non-chosen Beast Spirit Speakers, the majority raised their spirit beasts from a young age, and are naturally seen as family by the spirit beasts—just like Bell.”
Caman was unconcerned about the non-chosen: “What about the Chosen?”
“The Chosen?” Winters stroked the wolfhound’s head: “The Chosen Beast Spirit Speakers are on another path. Have you ever seen the cavalry train warhorses?”
“No,” Caman shook his head.
“Horses are very skittish creatures; they are afraid of fire, loud noises, and the harsh smell of gunpowder. Faced with these things, their instincts are to flee,” Winters shrugged: “But nowadays, battlefields are filled with flames, firearm sounds, and dense smoke, so the cavalry’s warhorses must overcome their instincts. So what do you think is necessary for a warhorse’s training to overcome instinct?”
“Place firearms next to them, and let them gradually get used to it?”
“That’s part of it, but there’s more,” Winters pulled out a small pouch from his bosom and opened it to show Caman.
The pouch contained jerky.
“While placing firearms near the warhorses, firing the guns, you should also feed the warhorses sugar cubes.” Winters pulled out some jerky, feeding it to the nearby wolfhound and explaining to Caman: “This way, they gradually associate ‘eating sugar’ with ‘firearms.’ After a while, the warhorses will not only stop being afraid of the flames and gun sounds but may even become excited by them.”
