There's no magic needed to fire a rifle. Pour shot and powder down the barrel, prime the pan, take aim, and then pure skill will carry the bullet towards its target without any need for sorcery. There's no magic needed to fight with a 1796 pattern cavalry sabre, letting it swing in a high arc before landing its blow in the face of a French infantryman, brutal and heavy and bloody just like the kind of fighting Richard Sharpe has always known.

What he hasn't known is the kind of fighting where muskets are replaced by magic; cavalry replaced by conjuring; swords replaced with sorcery and supernatural forces are unleashed upon the enemy. It's unnerving and awe-inspiring and Sharpe isn't sure if he trusts it. But when the familiar Pas de Charge is sounding; the French are a swarm upon La Haye Sainte's defences, and he's seen square exposed to artillery again with only magic to divert the cannonballs, Sharpe is grateful to have the man Strange in name and as well as strange in nature serving as Wellington's magician.

Jonathan Strange, for all his magic, finds he's grateful that the soldiers keep their volleys quick and their bayonets sharp.