Gunmage-Chapter 257: A kingdom built on confidence

Lugh clicked his tongue in irritation.

There had to be a limit to ignorance. And there was most certainly a limit to his tolerance.

When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, but laced with a bite that cut through the idle chatter around them.

"Danger? You’re asking me about danger? Perhaps the ballroom dances, the sweet cakes, and the perfumed letters have dulled your senses. But you shouldn’t forget one simple fact... your country is quite literally at war."

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The weight of his words carried just enough restrained frustration, just enough authority, to quiet the circle around him.

Someone huffed and scoffed in return.

"Yeah, we know that we’re in a war. What does that have to do with anything?"

The comment came from someone further down the circle, someone who hadn’t waited for her turn to speak.

Sela, seated by the edge, sighed and crossed her arms. The moment the topic turned serious, no one would follow the rules anymore.

Lugh exhaled, long and measured, then spoke again.

"OK... what’s your name?"

The girl blinked.

"...I’m Lily."

"OK then, Lily. You see, war is not a metaphor, and it’s certainly not a pageant.

It is an event—no, a process—where people from opposing nations gather their armies, sharpen their weapons, and do their absolute best to kill each other.

Right now, as we sit here talking, thousands of soldiers are marching, flying, hiding in trenches or atop battlements, each one carrying tools built specifically to end lives.

They want to kill us. Not metaphorically. Not eventually. Not symbolically. If that doesn’t qualify as a threat, then what does?"

For a moment, no one answered.

Then a voice rang out—smoother, familiar.

"Oh, sweet sweet Lugh,"

Anna said, with the sort of condescension reserved for someone who thought they were older than they truly were.

"I know why you might think like that. After all, you were just introduced to magic society."

He turned to her, slowly, his eyes narrowing.

"But this war... it’s not what you think it is."

"Explain,"

He said without hesitation.

She nodded.

"I’m sure the your family might have kept certain things from you—for reasons of safety, or perhaps politics."

She leaned forward, her tone suddenly serious.

"But do not forget, Lugh... we are wielders of magic."

He opened his mouth, but before he could interrupt, she continued, her voice softening.

"Why do you think this war has dragged on for nearly a decade?"

That gave him pause.

It wasn’t entirely unusual for a war to last that long. History was full of bloody stalemates and prolonged attrition. But something about it didn’t sit right.

From what he’d gleaned from the Heieg soldiers, their army was certainly advanced enough to lay waste to the kingdom.

He was assuming they had been holding back because they wanted an overwhelming, clean victory with minimal casualties. But now, he wasn’t so sure.

His frown deepened, and his gaze slid over to the scion of House D’Aramitz.

Cassius. A boy of few words, backed by a family of seasoned generals and military researchers. If anyone here knew more than Lugh, it would be him.

"What do you think, Cassius?"

The boy met his gaze calmly, then looked around at the rest of the group.

"I agree with Lugh,"

He said.

A chorus of groans immediately followed.

"Not this again..."

Someone muttered loudly enough to be heard.

The reactions were telling. Lugh didn’t need to analyze long—clearly, this wasn’t the first time Cassius had raised the point.

But Cassius didn’t flinch.

"I said it before, and I’ll say it again. You people are ignorant of the facts. If Heieg ever decides to take this war seriously—and they will, soon—then—"

"Oh my gods, Cassius! We’re not dumb,"

Someone cut in.

"No,"

Cassius responded, coolly.

"You’re just arrogant."

Another voice joined, angrier now.

"You keep going on about Heieg this, Heieg that. Do you really think they’re the only ones not taking the war seriously?"

"On the contrary—"

Cassius spoke

"They’re the only ones taking it seriously."

Despite the obvious contradiction, they understood what he was implying.

Even outnumbered, he stood his ground, a posture that gave Lugh the distinct impression this wasn’t his first skirmish in the battle of opinions.

"Okay, okay, we get it,"

A third voice shouted over the rising volume.

"Guns are strong. Guns are powerful. Does that mean magic isn’t powerful?"

"No, what I’m saying—"

But he was cut off again.

"What’s a gun going to do when a hurricane tears through your command post? Can bullets shoot down thunderstorms enhanced by mana?"

Cassius’s jaw tightened, but his voice was sharp and fast.

"Do you really think you’ll get close enough to cast your storm spells?"

The conversation devolved into a flurry of voices—spells versus science, enchantments versus explosives, arrogance versus caution.

Accusations flew. No minds were changed. Volume replaced clarity.

Until Robert, leaning back with exaggerated disbelief, threw his arms up.

"I can’t believe this guy."

He turned his attention directly to Lugh, eyes gleaming with challenge.

"Yo, you seem to share his... philosophy. So tell me—can your guns stop a tornado made of magic?"

The room quieted in an instant. All eyes locked onto Lugh.

He didn’t blink.

"How many of you here... can actually make magic tornadoes?"

The silence thickened. Some looked away. Others blinked awkwardly.

"Ah, well, the—"

"I asked a simple question, Robert."

Lugh’s voice was calm. The calm that only made it more unnerving.

Robert struggled.

"The answer isn’t that simple."

Cassius let out an exasperated sigh.

Lugh leaned forward slightly, as if giving Robert the stage.

"Enlighten me."

Robert adjusted his posture, straightening.

"None of us might be able to wield that level of magic just yet, true. But our powers will grow. In time. And even before that, if we can rally enough mages with wind affinity, then—after some refinement—we can use joint casting to create such a spell."

He paused to catch his breath, scanning the room.

"Also, the kingdom has existences like your grandmother." freewёbnoνel-com

That, at least, seemed to land. Heads nodded.

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. Confidence returned to Robert’s tone.

"And once the elves join us—then our victory isn’t just likely. It’s inevitable."

Cassius said nothing, but the set of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders betrayed his frustration. The mention of elves always derailed his arguments. Lugh had noticed.

But Lugh’s voice came again, even, precise.

"So... what you’re saying is that the survival of your nation depends on the will of a select few."

That struck harder than he expected. The confidence vanished, as if air had been sucked from the room. For a brief moment, no one responded.

Then Drey broke in.

"No. That’s not what we’re saying. We’re saying we’re strong enough. Strong enough that Heieg doesn’t pose a significant threat. The elves just make the difference final."

Again, the crowd rallied around this sentiment.

Nods. Affirmations. Echoes of agreement.

Lugh nodded as well, slowly.

"Okay then. I agree with you."

They blinked.

"You... agree?"

"For the moment,"

He added.

Their confusion deepened.

"I still believe you’re severely underestimating our opponents,"

He continued,

"But I can’t make concrete claims until I’ve uncovered the whole truth."

A long pause. Then a shout from the back.

"See?! This is someone younger than you, Cassius! You should take notes!"

The tension snapped. Laughter returned, cautious but growing. Someone stood, raising the Tool of Speech—the decorative pin passed from speaker to speaker.

"Alright! Now that’s settled, let’s get back to the Tool of Speech."

"Tool of Speech!"

The others echoed, almost gleefully.

The speaker cleared their throat, then tilted their head at Lugh.

"This is kind of unrelated but... why are you running away from duels?"

Lugh narrowed his eyes, and the air seemed to still once more.

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