Ben knew about that kind of thing, using discarded magic crystal shards as primers and striking the shards with active element probes to ignite the gunpowder—'a firearm belonging to this world.' The Ofrans had begun equipping flintlock guns thirty years ago and had even established two flintlock gun teams; the dwarfs' history with matchlock guns stretched back even earlier, to the Silver Year.
Firearms had tremendous power at close range, with the finest flintlock guns dealing damage comparable to brass label weapons of the same level within fifty paces. Moreover, the tactics of concentrated firearm use had become very sophisticated in this era, though they still lacked a decisive edge compared to the equally mature enchanted projection forces.
However, he knew many mercenaries favored using firearms, especially handguns, though rifles were still in the minority—one should remember that bayonets did not exist in this era. Ben glanced at the guy, thinking that in a world of magic, firearms had not profoundly altered warfare in the same way they had in his own world; gunpowder weapons were not widespread, so he had no interest in studying how bayonets worked.
Antitina felt her face flush slightly, "Vulgar mercenary—" she thought, but she still cautiously asked, "What did you mean just now?"
"My meaning is, the tactics you mentioned, those concerns would be for a regular army. We're struggling mercenaries, naturally, we have our methods—whether it's heavy infantry or lightly armored swordsmen, in any environment, everyone should fight side by side. Your statement is correct, of course, but one must also consider reality..." Frank respectfully replied. Though outwardly deferential, his dismissive tone was hard to miss.
Antitina choked for a moment, deeply aware that her knowledge, drawn from books, seemed shallow, but to be considered naive to her face still angered her a bit. This noblewoman glanced at Ben, then turned back, her bright eyes still wary but now quietly asked, "Do you believe what they say, Mr. Ben?"
Ben looked at Frank and nodded.
"But what?" he retorted.
"Do you really believe—" Antitina looked at him, questioning with her eyes.
Ben smiled, greeted Frank and Sanfde, then spurred his horse to move faster. He didn't answer, leaving only his back for the noblewoman to see. But Antitina was never one to give up easily. She urged her horse forward, coughing as she pursued and asked, "Lord, I think they're not quite right."
"And you, Little Roman, what do you say?" Ben asked without turning his head.
"I don't know," Roman shook her head vigorously, "but aunt said that explanations that are too vague or too detailed are signs of a guilty conscience!"
Ben smiled faintly, turned back to flick her nose, and laughed, "You clearly know but still make a detour, such a cunning little fox."
"I-I really don't know!" Roman raised her small eyebrows, hurriedly defending herself.
Antitina felt awkward beside the couple bickering flirtatiously, not knowing how to react, but she finally understood. Ben wasn't unclear but overly clear; it looked like he had suspected these people's motives all along. Claiming that heavy infantry walk slowly, so they're placed at the back of the group, sounded like an excuse. She breathed a sigh of relief at this thought.
"Since that's the case," the noblewoman glanced at Roman and Ben, her face blushing, "what should we do?"
"Just adapt as needed," Ben replied.
He fully remembered the plot mentioned in that strategy article now, thinking that as long as the trouble wasn't aimed at him, everything would be negotiable. Though the whole situation had some challenges, he couldn't help feeling a headache; he had intended to avoid some trouble, but he found himself caught in a new one instead. If anyone was to blame, it would be Macaro and Bujia for getting involved with such tricky opponents.
It was said to be competition between two mercenary groups, but it might be more accurate to say that the Black Hand behind the "Paper Card" mercenary group had its sights set on the Gray Wolf Mercenary Group.
Ben couldn't help glancing at the people around him, not worrying about their fate but considering how to extricate himself from this trouble. Nonetheless, it was unusual for a small mercenary group to attract the attention of those guys in the first place.