My Lord, Times Have Changed

The sharp crack of air heralds a bullet, glinting with metallic sheen, as it leaves the barrel. Under the layered wind-attribute magic arrays, it surpasses the speed of sound; the roaring gusts blow sand and gravel aside along its trajectory.

Then, the bullet—etched with reinforcement runes—pierces through the steel plate before Guinevere, barely a finger's thickness, and continues its forceful path to slam into the stone wall behind, quickly drilling a hole.

"?"

Guinevere's breath halts for a moment at the sight.

"No—what on earth is this?"

He looks at the blacksmith apprentice serving as test shooter, holding that rudimentary-looking tube—so simple it barely qualifies as a "hand cannon," the name chosen with some pride. Yet this very device just fired that bullet. Guinevere's eye twitches. A bullet exceeding the speed of sound—and capable of penetrating a finger-thick steel plate, then drilling a hole in stone—seems like the work of a high-caliber rifle. But he knows this is merely the experimental prototype crafted by his blacksmiths, technology still at the "hand cannon" level… If judged only by its power, he might have mistaken it for a sniper rifle.

"You call this a hand cannon?" he asks.

"No—am I mistaken?" The apprentice, hands trembling, lowers the barrel and hesitantly replies:

"But we followed exactly the approach you provided… Oh! If you dislike its appearance, this is only a prototype; the production version will have decorative fittings…"

"No, no, don't be nervous. You misunderstood me." Guinevere places a hand on the apprentice's shoulder, signaling calm.

"I mean: its power shouldn't be that of a mere hand cannon. How did you achieve this?"

"Not much different…" The apprentice's face remains puzzled. At that moment, an elder fairy blacksmith approaches, shielding his apprentice behind him, and explains:

"We experimented with many combinations of basic runic engravings. Through systematic trials, we found that simply stacking wind-attribute acceleration sigils is most effective. Since the projectile is so small, it easily reaches very high speed. Currently, this model uses eight overlapped wind-acceleration arrays."

"Hmm…" Guinevere pauses two seconds, then asks: "I don't need a detailed breakdown of the runes. Tell me: what's the production capacity? How long to produce one?"

"A skilled blacksmith can craft one in two to three days. If you require, we can mobilize all fairy blacksmiths to rush production—about twenty in a day."

"Although carving these arrays isn't trivial, the magic arrays themselves aren't complex. They only need to be etched using catalysts; it doesn't require a magic-adept fairy to carve. After the catalyst etching, a bit of magical input allows easy activation."

"You mean…" Guinevere's breathing quickens as he grasps the implication.

"Yes. You can mobilize all human blacksmiths in Norich as well." The elder blacksmith nods:

"There are far more human smiths here than fairy smiths. Although apprentices work more slowly, the process isn't complicated; a few apprentices collaborating can manage. Given Norich's current workforce, I estimate a daily output of around a hundred units."

"…Incredible." Guinevere inhales sharply. He impulsively reaches into his pocket for a Pocky stick Lico had sent him, intending to eat it to calm down—but realizes eating it might not fit his status and reluctantly puts it back.

The elder blacksmith, observing Guinevere's expression, senses they'd misunderstood his intent. He tentatively asks:

"You seem quite pleased with the prototype?"

"Pleased? Extremely pleased!" Guinevere waves his hand decisively:

"Order: conscript all blacksmiths in Norich into the arms factory to fully rush-produce our new weapons."

He thinks briefly and adds: "Name this new firearm 'Magivac Model I.'"

…

[Two days after Woodworth declared war, Woodworth's entire army arrives at Norich's walls and begins the siege.]

[That day, Woodworth issues a challenge under the city walls. You remain behind closed gates, while hastily equipping your elite troops with the first batch of Magivac Model I for shooting drills.]

[Since your elite troops are mostly fairy warriors who have fought alongside you repeatedly and have ample experience with magic-based ranged attacks, they adapt to the Magivac Model I very swiftly.]

[Woodworth commands assaults by small squads, but they are repelled by longbowmen stationed on your walls, suffering heavy casualties. You then withdraw the longbowmen, deploy cannon-fodder units to wear down his forces, and finally send out the Princess Knights to crush them from the battlements.]

[Your first batch of troops has gradually mastered the Magivac Model I; meanwhile, a second batch of firearms is built and immediately issued to train the next unit.]

[You decide to collectively call these new firearm-equipped units "Magic Gunners."]

This explains why Guinevere insisted on Norich as the battleground: abundant blacksmiths, high production capacity, and the ability to remain behind closed doors while ramping up equipment manufacture.

[After holding the walls for five days, your steel and funds are temporarily exhausted, so Magivac production pauses.]

[After another day of training, you field a Magic Gunner unit of 500 men.]

[You decide on the seventh day to make battle with Woodworth.]

…

"My Lord, per your orders: after these days of defense, the Firebolt Battalion and Skyfire Battalion have withdrawn from the front."

Before the decisive battle, Queen Knights Katari and Aster report to Guinevere.

"Mm," Guinevere nods. "The cannon-fodder battalions have suffered heavy losses and are now few; merge them into one battalion… call it 'Undercloud Fire.'"

"Also, order Magic Gunner Company One to station on the walls; Company Two to await orders at the gate."

"Yes!"

Katari adds with confidence:

"My Lord, your finest warriors have donned armor; the Princess Knights await your command."

"Good, prepare to deploy." Guinevere nods, then regards Katari:

"By the way, Katari, why are you so excited?"

Katari hesitates, then smiles wryly:

"You see, Lord… I've been a Queen Knight for seven hundred years. When I first emerged in the army, the three fabled Fairy Knights serving the Queen—Sir Gawain and Sir Tristan—had not yet appeared."

"At that time, Sir Woodworth still commanded the Queen's forces; I witnessed him in battle suppressing a calamity. Back then, he was hailed as the strongest warrior in the Fairy Realm."

She looks at Guinevere with hopeful eyes:

"My Lord, today, will you end Sir Woodworth's undefeated legend?"

"No—no, that's not quite right." Guinevere shakes his head.

"Eh? Does My Lord lack confidence in this battle?" Aster asks in surprise.

"You only miss a point," Guinevere gently pats Katari and Aster on the shoulders:

"The one to end his myth isn't just me… but us."

…

Woodworth is furious—beyond furious. That brat Guinevere tricked him repeatedly, letting him lose Salisbury, Norich, and Sheffield in turn. Now Guinevere dares taunt him, saying he deserves burial because he's ancient. How dare a mere human—empowered only by the foolish Banquix—mock him?! Unforgivable! He decides to break the old taboo: he will drain his sinews, strip his flesh, eat his meat and drink his blood, then tear off his head for venting his fury!

With that resolve, Woodworth storms to Norich's walls to show that insolent brat the meaning of cruelty. Yet Guinevere stays behind the gates for seven days straight. How outrageous! Mock him when he's safe, but now he shrinks from battle? No! Woodworth vows, "I won't return to Oxford without killing him."

Even so, Norich's walls prove troublesome: that wretched Spriggen fortified both the vault-city and the outer walls thickly, maddening Woodworth. Over these days, his troops kill many defenders, but Guinevere's men keep flowing in. Each time Woodworth nears breaching the wall, a fresh elite unit—unknown to Woodworth—pushes his soldiers back.

On the eighth morning, Woodworth finally sees Norich's gates slowly open. There stands that infuriating human boy, leading his troops at the gate. His eyes blaze with rage.

"Woodworth!" Guinevere, arranging Magic Gunners in formation at the gate, calls out loudly:

"You wanted my head, did you? But knowing you could never seize it yourself, I mercifully give you a chance: if today one of your soldiers can reach me alive, I'll consider you victorious. Agreed?"

"Impudent brat! Even now you look down on me?!" Woodworth snarls.

"That was your own proposal—don't regret it!"

Woodworth shouts: "The city gates are open! All troops, charge! Bring that damned human to me! Rewards await!"

Though sensing something amiss, Woodworth's fury overrides caution—he believes in his strength.

[Oxford's army launches a full charge against you.]

"How simple-minded," Guinevere shakes his head, then raises a hand:

"Magic Gunners, ready—load! Do not fire until my command."

Although Woodworth's troops are within range, opening fire too soon would allow survivors to retreat. Guinevere intends to utterly cripple Oxford's army in this battle. He waits until Woodworth's force is about five hundred meters away before suddenly sweeping his arm:

"Times have changed, Woodworth!"

"All units, open fire!"

At his command, a hail of supersonic bullets tears through the charging Fairy warriors like reaping grain.