Chapter 437 — Calibration
Blade of Dawn · Page 2 of 4
As Sir Marchi had predicted, once the Cecil men found that their magical apparatus could not quickly breach the fortress, they abandoned any plan for a forced assault. When the sun rose the next day, the Cecil men had still not "opened fire" again. The mages on the mage tower confirmed the enemy camp's situation with their mage-eyes and reported that the Cecil men had merely sent part of their force a short distance northwest and established a new camp on a height there; beyond that, there was no sign of any active offensive.
In the military hall of the castle district, Sir Marchi marked the Cecil positions on the plain on a rough map. Pointing with his sword at the enemy's new camp, he said to the others: "Here—compared with the Cecils' first camp, it is not much closer to Boulder Fortress; it is simply nearer the Whitewater River. What do you make of it?"
A southern noble stepped forward and said: "I judge that the Cecil men set it up for convenience in drawing water. After all, when they entered the plain they came by the 'White Valley Pass,' and that exit is too far from the Whitewater River."
"Their courage seems to be lacking," Sir Marchi clearly accepted this noble's explanation. "It appears that once they realized their magical apparatus was useless, they began to worry about Boulder Fortress's trebuchets—even when choosing a water source, they have to creep forward so cautiously..."
The situation seemed to be developing in the direction Sir Marchi had hoped: the Cecils' "myth of skyfire" had failed before the fortress's powerful magic barrier; that army, rumored to be so terrifying, could now only honestly settle into a long war with the fortress, and they even seemed afraid to advance within range of the trebuchets on the walls—which further confirmed a conjecture he had made earlier:
Those Cecil soldiers were merely riding on the coattails of their magical artifacts; in truth, they lacked courage.
That meant that as long as their attacks continued to be thwarted, the Cecil men's morale would surely fall rapidly...
...
On the second height where the Cecil legion was encamped, Phillips was overseeing the emplacement of the new artillery position, while on a transport cart behind him, the figure of Sir Byron was materializing above a magic-net communicator.
"So that lot of soft eggs in Boulder Fortress really aren't coming out?" The veteran mercenary knight never cared about decorum when he spoke; he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "I thought they'd at least come out to trade a few symbolic blows with you before you opened fire..."
"They are not stupid. They realized the power of guns and cannon during their probing attacks days ago," Philip said offhandedly, then raised his head and gazed at the towering walls of Boulder Fortress in the distance, brimming with magical radiance. "But then again... this magic barrier of Boulder Fortress really is a bit more formidable than I imagined."
Sir Byron was taken aback: "Hey, that's not what you said before. What do you mean, more formidable than you imagined—are the cannons really useless against that thing?"
"It has not come to that. The power of the magic-crystal rail cannon is always effective; it is just that the barrier's strength really is very high—it fully withstood last night's bombardment. Although we only fired twelve test shots, it was still quite unexpected," Phillips said honestly. "My estimate is that if I wanted to use the magic-crystal rail cannon against a barrier like this, I would need to bombard it continuously for at least six hours."
"Ha, what's so formidable about a barrier that can be broken—those nobles in the fortress are probably still celebrating their indestructible barrier right now," Byron's tone was thick with disdain, and he went on at once: "Don't waste ammunition on that barrier—leave it to the Rainbow Light Cannon."
Philip frowned: "You keep saying that—when exactly are you all arriving?"