Trenches, Guns, and Magic

Southern Apennine Peninsula, Naples.

The atmosphere around the Church of Santa Maria la Nova was in stark contrast to its solemn exterior.

Hundreds of clergy members were distributed inside and outside the church, some holding holy relics and whispering prayers.

Meanwhile, a massive golden magic circle had fully unfurled, covering nearly the entire area of the church.

The lines of the magic circle glowed continuously, and the air inside the church was filled to the brim with holy light.

At the very center of the magic circle lay the ground of the backyard of the Tuvolo Chapel. The floor tiles here had been completely opened by some mechanical structure, revealing a sealed secret chamber a certain depth directly below.

Operated by several Paladins, a stone sarcophagus sealing the heart of Vlad III was slowly being hoisted up from underground by a lifting mechanism.

The first seal placed on the sarcophagus by the Holy See had already been broken. A second, older-looking Latin seal was flashing intermittently, attempting to suppress the heart within.

But as time passed, the brightness of this seal began to dim. Clearly, as the [Heart] awakened, its suppressive power was continuously declining.

At the four corners of the coffin lid, blessed silver crucifixes were temporarily placed, enveloping the entire sarcophagus in a thin curtain of light.

The [Heart] inside the sarcophagus had completely ended its slumber and was beating violently.

"Thump... thump... thump..."

Through a gap at the top of the sarcophagus pushed open by internal energy, a dark red light seeped out, flashing rhythmically in perfect sync with the heartbeat.

The frequency of the red light flashing on the sarcophagus grew faster and faster, and all church personnel nearby became increasingly tense.

"My Lord, the fluctuations are strengthening again!"

A cleric in charge of monitoring jogged into the magic circle and reported to the bishops.

Three bishops clad in red robes stood at the most critical nodes of the magic circle. Before each of them sat a reliquary stand, displaying holy relics used for amplification.

The leading bishop was the oldest, his gray beard hanging to his chest. Although he looked in good spirits, his legs were clearly failing him, and he leaned on a cane to remain standing.

"Excellent... the activity is still rising." The old bishop's voice was steady. "The battle in Bucharest must have reached a critical juncture. It seems the Saxons' intelligence was correct; someone really has obtained the legacy of Vlad III..."

He turned to look at the other two bishops.

"Gentlemen, prepare to begin... Once its activity reaches its peak, we act."

The two nodded.

A moment later, the three began simultaneously injecting a type of energy similar to magic, but manifested as golden particles, into the critical nodes of the magic circle. The light of the magic circle suddenly brightened significantly.

But just as everyone was focused on the ritual preparations, a pale-faced young cleric stumbled into the church, heading straight for the bishops.

However, the Paladins guarding the magic circle immediately stepped forward to block him, forcing him to wave anxiously at the core of the magic circle.

"My Lord! My Lord!"

"What is the matter?"

The old bishop frowned, clearly displeased that someone was interrupting the ritual at a critical moment.

However, seeing it was a young cleric he usually held in high regard, who was also the liaison officer at the port, he waved his hand, signaling the Paladins to let him pass.

The young man wasn't annoyed by being stopped. Instead, he politely thanked the two Paladins who blocked him, then hurried over to the old bishop and the others.

"My Lord... at sea... outside the Port of Naples..."

The young man panted, out of breath. "Patrol boats spotted Britannian warships! Seven have been observed so far! One of them matches the characteristics of a dreadnought and is moving toward the coast!"

A commotion stirred among the originally low prayers in the church, and the leading old bishop's face instantly darkened.

"Damn it, why did it have to be now..."

The atmosphere inside the Church of Santa Maria la Nova suddenly tensed up after the young cleric's report. The three bishops exchanged a glance, clearly all thinking of one possibility...

The arrival of Britannian warships at this time being a simple "coincidence" was too much of a stretch. It was much more likely there was a mole within the Church.

Such speculation from the bishops was not surprising, because the mutual deployment of spies between Catholics and Protestants was basically an open secret.

Neither side lacked sleeper agents from the other side, or "apostates" from their own, that they publicly burned at the stake every year.

"The main force of the Church's navy all left port two days ago..." one of the younger bishops said in a deep voice. "Only a few patrol boats are left along the coast of Naples; they can't possibly stop a fully formed warship squadron."

The old bishop didn't respond immediately, merely tapping his staff lightly on the floor.

"How much time do we have?"

"Pardon?"

"I'm asking, how much time is left from their position until their artillery can cover us?"

The young messenger, who had rushed over in a panic, swallowed hard, rapidly calculating in his head. It was precisely because of his knowledge of maritime affairs that he had been assigned to liaise at the port. "My Lord... according to the patrol boats' observations, those warships are approaching at full speed. If their target is the urban area of Naples and they've prepared for bombardment in advance, their main guns could cover our position within 20 minutes."

The old bishop closed his eyes. Only 20 minutes... And once the purification ritual began, it would take at least 15 to 20 minutes to complete.

The timing of the other side was perfectly calculated... or rather, it gave the old bishop the feeling of being outplayed.

"My Lord, I suggest you relocate to a safe place first—" the young cleric started to say, but was roughly interrupted by the old bishop before he could finish.

"Absolutely not!" the old bishop's answer was resolute.

He opened his eyes; his previously somewhat cloudy eyes were exceptionally sharp at this moment.

"If we abandon the purification ritual now, what happens to those fighting for their lives in Bucharest?!"

He raised his voice so everyone in the entire church could hear.

"Cleric Cristiano is fighting vampires with elite Paladins! Soldiers of the Saxon Empire are bleeding and sacrificing themselves to crush this dark power! They've given so much, waiting for us to sever the 'Blood River'... and we turn tail and run now?!"

No one answered.

The old bishop swept his gaze over the crowd in the church.

"In 1527, Pope Clement VII, facing the siege of those rebels, said a sentence... 'Even if the sky falls, the Mass will be held as usual'..."

He turned his attention back to the magic circle.

"It's the same today! Have the cathedral raise the protective magic circle... and continue the ritual."

The other two bishops exchanged a glance and nodded simultaneously, without any objection.

"But my Lord, if the energy reserves of the protective magic circle are used to defend against naval gunfire..." a Paladin commander guarding nearby spoke hesitantly. "It might affect the energy supply for the purification ritual."

"Then we make up for it with our own power!"

The slightly younger bishop said decisively: "We brought so many senior clerics from the Vatican... it's more than enough to power a purification ritual. Execute the order!"

After the order was issued, layers of golden protective barriers began to light up on the spires, flying buttresses, and stained-glass window frames on the exterior of the church.

The entire church was enveloped in a dome of golden light.

Simultaneously, on several auxiliary buildings around the main church, large magitech runes embedded in the walls began to glow.

A second, transparent hemispherical barrier slowly unfurled from the church roof, covering the entire building within.

This was a protective facility equipped by the Holy See for important holy sites. It was rarely used in peacetime, but today it was clearly a necessity.

And inside the church, the purification ritual officially began under the auspices of the three bishops.

They simultaneously picked up the holy relics from the stands in front of them and stepped onto the nodes of the magic circle beneath their feet. Golden holy power flowed from their bodies into the center of the magic circle.

Following their actions, the other clerics and Paladins inside the magic circle, including the young cleric who had come to report, also began injecting their own power into the magic circle while praying.

The runes on the magic circle lit up one ring after another, the light growing stronger and stronger.

The beating sound from the sarcophagus grew more violent, and the silver crucifixes sealing the coffin lid began to tremble slightly.

And the blood-red light seeping from the cracks in the sarcophagus began to produce a violent opposing reaction with the golden light of the magic circle.

The two diametrically opposed powers clashed on the surface of the sarcophagus, sizzling loudly.

"Maintain output! Do not interrupt!" the old bishop shouted sharply.

All clergy participating in the ritual increased the volume of their prayers, and the input rate of holy power climbed accordingly.

At the same time, the relatively young bishop who had decisively insisted on continuing the ritual earlier, while everyone was focused on the ritual, quietly slipped his right hand inside his robe.

His fingertips touched the scroll kept close to his body, the parchment cold and smooth.

The scroll bore no Holy See crest, nor any other mark that could prove its origin... but this young bishop knew very well that it was a 9th-circle spell scroll, created by a high-circle mage expending massive amounts of precious spell materials over 48 weeks.

The bishop hesitated for a moment, then pulled his hand back... Not now. It wasn't time yet.

Outside the Port of Naples, seven warships formed an "umbrella" formation. Destroyers and light cruisers spread out in front to form a screen, followed by a single column composed of capital ships and armored cruisers, pushing toward the coast at a speed of twenty knots.

The flagship of this special task force was the Invincible-class battlecruiser Inflexible.

A displacement of 20,200 tons, equipped with four twin-mount 45-caliber 12-inch main guns, with the two turrets amidships arranged en echelon fore and aft... At this moment, three of those turrets were pointed off the starboard bow, directly toward the coast of Naples.

Inside the bridge, the captain of the Inflexible observed the distant coastline through his binoculars.

The silhouette of the city of Naples was clearly visible in today's decent sea conditions and weather, a dense cluster of buildings spreading along the bay.

And in a certain area of the city, a thin blood-red pillar of light shot straight into the sky from the ground.

"Interesting..." The captain lowered his binoculars. "There seems to be some magical activity over there."

The executive officer nearby flipped through the mission dossier in his hands.

"Sir, the target coordinates provided by intelligence are the Church of Santa Maria la Nova... It should be right near that pillar of light, and according to the signal from the sleeper agent in Naples, this is also our attack target."

The captain nodded.

"Excellent, that makes target identification even simpler for us... By the way, did the sleeper agent say anything else?"

"According to the encrypted telegram sent by the other party, when the red pillar of light enters strike range, the fleet may initiate the attack at any time..."

Hearing the executive officer's words, the captain turned to face the other officers on the bridge.

"Order the entire formation: Prepare for shore bombardment. Target: the area around the red pillar of light at the Church of Santa Maria la Nova!"

"Sir!"

A young officer hesitated for a moment before speaking up: "That's the territory of the Papal State... and it's a church. We are not currently in a state of war with the Holy See..."

"Lieutenant."

The captain cut him off, replying in a flat tone: "The orders we received are to bombard specified coordinates. The orders come from the Admiralty, signed by the First Lord of the Admiralty and members of the Highland Mage Council..."

He took the mission dossier from the executive officer and tapped it.

"As for the political consequences, that's for the people on Downing Street to worry about. We just execute."

The young officer shut his mouth, and the captain didn't dwell further on his somewhat rash remark, calmly issuing subsequent orders.

"Notify the plotting room: Calculate firing parameters using that pillar of light as a reference point."

"Main guns, load high-explosive shells."

"All hands, battle stations."

Orders cascaded down the chain of command, and the deck of the Inflexible bustled with activity.

Massive turrets turned slowly. Ten thick gun barrels adjusted their elevation, aiming toward the coast of Naples.

The Canopus-class pre-dreadnought Goliath following behind was doing the same.

The output firepower of one pre-dreadnought and one battlecruiser might be completely negligible in a large-scale naval battle, but for shore bombardment, these dozen or so tubes with calibers over 300mm were a devastating force.

At this time, in the Inflexible's small plotting room, barely 18 feet (5.5 meters) square, Plotting Officer Harry Heller squeezed by the central table, hard at work.

On one side of the table was a roll of paper, stretched across to another roll on the opposite side. The receiving roll rotated, driven by magic, continuously moving the paper.

The paper output information transmitted back from rangefinders conducting optical ranging, as well as the current sailing status of both friendly and enemy ships. This was exactly what the sailors and officers responsible for firing needed.

Of course, for static shore bombardment, many steps could actually be omitted.

This was also why Harry Heller was able to lean over the table conducting related work today; his superiors also hoped he could gain more practical training opportunities.

This young officer had completely botched range corrections during his previous service, and was famous throughout the fleet for missing the target for the first eight salvos in training...

On the bridge, the captain raised his binoculars again. The blood-red pillar of light in the lenses was pulsing slightly.

And at the base of the pillar of light, a dome of golden light had just risen.

"They actually raised a protective barrier..." The captain lowered his binoculars, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. "It seems the Holy See's people have discovered our movements."

As he spoke, he also noticed the three destroyers at the front of the fleet accelerating forward.

Soon, the destroyers flashed light signals, indicating they had spotted the opponent's patrol boats and were moving in to drive them away.

Hearing this news, the captain of the Inflexible only sneered, then remarked to the executive officer that these destroyers had finally found an opportunity to score some combat merit.

The executive officer shrugged, indicating he was used to it, then continued asking: "What about the Holy See's protective magic circle? Can our shells penetrate it?"

"I don't know." The captain's answer was frank.

"But a salvo from 12-inch main guns, plus the firepower of the Goliath... If we can't penetrate it, we just fire a few more salvos."

While the two conversed, Plotting Officer Harry Heller in the plotting room behind the bridge finally completed his work.

His superior came to his side, glanced at the data he had written on the paper, and glared at him sternly: "If there's a problem with the bombardment this time, I swear I'll shove a shell fuse up your ass!"

"There will absolutely be no problems, sir!"

The Plotting Officer stood up with a start, and then, at his superior's signal, began transmitting the firing solution to the turrets participating in the bombardment.

Soon, everyone in the plotting room heard the crisp ring of the firing bell. Immediately following, amidst the massive roar accompanying the firing of the shells, this critical campaign involving two regions spanning thousands of miles veered onto a new branch.