The 60mm Mortar really was small. Even with its stand, it was shorter than an ordinary person. For someone as burly as Pan Long, it barely reached his height even when he crouched.
It was light, too. One gunner could hoist it onto his shoulder and walk off. The Shield of the Heavenly Father squad had fourteen members and no fewer than four of these little mortars. Lined up in a row, they made an impressive sight.
They normally did not set up all four, since ammunition was limited. But to bombard the Ghost Ship, they needed as much firepower as possible. Alongside the two they usually used, they brought out both spares.
Three people operated each mortar. One observed where the shells landed and guided them with a Spell; another loaded shells and checked the equipment to keep it working smoothly; the third steadied the mortar to prevent accidents.
They had all received specialized training. Holy Servants these days might not be good at drawing swords and cutting people down, or know much about healing the sick, but each of them knew at least one of the arts of bombardment, observation, correction, or maintenance.
...That counted as keeping up with the times, perhaps.
At the veteran captain's order, four streaks of white light rose from the observers, traced parabolas through the air, and landed near the Ghost Ship.
The four arcs then shifted rapidly. Within a second or two, all their landing points had moved onto the Ghost Ship.
Only then did the observers raise their hands, signaling that they were ready to fire.
The gunners loaded their shells, and the assistants steadied the mounts. A series of booms rang out, and puffs of white smoke burst from the barrels. Holy shells made of steel mixed with silver tore