Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

"Use money?" Winters proposed another straightforward method.

"We can't offer a price high enough to warrant their lives, the dockworkers' association doesn't go easy on rats," Field shook his head: "Besides, ordinary workers wouldn't know anything valuable, we need to look for those in charge, but right now they definitely won't tell us where those leaders are."

In these past few days, Winters had a new thought in his mind but prudently didn't rashly propose it. Now, seeing the investigation had hit another deadlock, he felt it was time to share his new idea. Your next chapter is on empire

"I got my hands on a wheel-lock gun these days, almost identical to the one fished up," the wheel-lock gun Winters referred to was actually Sofia's: "After experimenting a few times, I first noticed that this gun is far from ordinary, and the gunner even more so."

After Sofia was taken into custody at the military barracks, the wheel-lock gun she carried was left behind at the Serviati residence. Winters, unable to resist his own curiosity, dismantled the gun, then spent three times as long reassembling it.

Being a person with a natural intuition for mechanical structures, Winters quickly figured out the construction and principle of the wheel-lock gun. The essence of the gun's firing mechanism is a friction wheel connected to a coiled spring; it requires winding up the friction wheel "tight" before use. When pulling the trigger, the rotating friction wheel scrapes against the flint to produce sparks, igniting the gunpowder.

In Winters' view, the advantage of this design was that, unlike matchlock guns, it did not require careful attention to keep the slow match lit, and there was no open flame.

One should know that matchlock guns are quite dangerous weapons, both to the enemy and to the gunner themselves. Since the match, although slow-burning, is still an open flame, it poses a risk to gunners who carry a large amount of gunpowder and are covered in powder residue; just not igniting oneself already qualified one for a salary.

Another advantage was that it could be used with one hand, as the shooting process of a matchlock gun requires two hands; hence there were no one-handed matchlock pistols. Wheel-lock guns, however, could be shot by holding the gun and pulling the trigger with one hand, which is how dock assassins could wield a gun in one hand and a sword in the other.

However, at the same time, Winters also noticed the danger in this design—the wheel-lock mechanism was far too complex, too fragile, and not reliable enough.

Trigger, sear, coiled spring—if any one component came loose, the gun could discharge unintentionally. How could an assassin dare to carry such a gun at their waist, not fearing it might discharge and blow apart their own thigh?

"What's so special about it?" Field lay back on the sofa with lackluster interest.

"It's difficult to handle! The person who made the gun didn't even consider the reality of using it one-handed, still using a long gun barrel. Essentially it's just a sawn-off long gun, shooting thirty-gram lead bullets. With such caliber, the difficulty of one-handed use is tremendous; if I were to design it, I'd make the caliber smaller," Winters confidently shared his thoughts: "The gun we fished up has an even larger caliber than the wheel-lock gun I have on hand. Whoever could shoot accurately with that gun must be proficient in firearms."

Field lay back on the sofa, softly humming a response: "Then what?"

"The customs autopsy report gave me an inspiration; the coroner infers their identity and social status from the cadavers' physique, appearance, and calluses on their hands. I believe we can also speculate on what type of person the assassin is based on the evidence we have."

"That's interesting," said Field, sitting up slowly: "Go on."

"Four assassins, with at least two proficient in firearms, able to use these large caliber wheel-lock guns single-handedly; there are also insiders within customs, so they knew when the Bandit Gull was docking and were waiting at the docks in advance; the four passengers approached them on their own initiative, thinking the assassins were there to meet them, which is quite strange... And yes, their horses, those draught horses pulling the cart didn't panic at the sound of gunfire... Hah, untrained draught horses probably couldn't manage that."

Field's expression turned extremely serious; even Moritz noticed the change in the atmosphere and quietly put down his wine glass, and the colonel said to Winters in a grave voice: "Speak your mind directly."

"Those assassins also left a very, very, very deep impression on me with their swordsmanship expertise, especially their familiarity with Marshal Ned's Longsword techniques."

Winters used three "very"s to express his thoughts, and he continued, "It's as if they have sparred thousands of times, knowing exactly how to counter the Longsword with the Swift Sword. The moment I crossed swords with the first assassin I encountered, I nearly got my belly slashed open. It definitely wouldn't have been that close if it had been an ordinary swordsman. Major Moritz also fought with one of them, and you could ask for his opinion as well."

"Experts in the military academy's Longsword technique, proficient in firearms, and horses trained to be unafraid of gunfire—there aren't many who fit this description in Vineta," Winters gritted his teeth as he came to his conclusion: "This is my own thinking, but the assassins we are looking for likely include a few alumni... one of whom had his jaw kicked off by me."

"Alumni," which alumni? What Winters meant was clearly army officers, but the accusation was so serious that he still used the term alumni, yet Field would not have any misunderstanding.

"Are you very skilled in swordsmanship?" Field asked abruptly.

"Not bad, but there aren't many swordsmen who can put me in such a tight spot."

"Let's go, there are training swords in the club," Field stood up, grabbing his uniform coat: "Talking won't do, a spar will show us."

Half an hour later, on the second floor of the officers' club.

Field took off his helmet and wiped the sweat from his forehead, panting, "You rascal really have something. I didn't expect a newcomer would make me the one with the worst swordsmanship..."

Without training armor, just the helmets and a stop at touch, Winters scored 20-0 against Field. Winters had thought about giving the Colonel a few points, but as soon as he held the Longsword in his hands, all he could think about was winning. Colonel Field's sword skills were far inferior to his skills in Magic.

"Your turn," Field called to Moritz, gesturing with a hook of his finger and tossing the helmet to the Major.

Facing Moritz, the pressure on Winters surged. True to his reputation as one of the top swordsmen in the army competitions, the Major's reaction time and control in a sword exchange were much sharper than the Colonel's.

But... still a notch below Aike. Even though Winters routinely got beaten by Aike, Aike was a true master of swordsmanship. Through countless defeats, Winters' own swordsmanship also kept accumulating, and he even came close to beating Aike in the end.

Major Moritz was a strong swordsman, but he was still just top tier. Not only was he unable to suppress Winters, but it was Winters who grew stronger the more he fought, ultimately winning the duel.

Colonel Fidel watched with shining eyes from the side.

"This year's competition is relying on you to bring honor to the Military Police, Moritz doesn't have the drive, you must train hard," Field came forward and firmly shook Winters' hand: "Make sure to take down all the bastards from the Security Headquarters."

Winters, flattered, nodded again and again.