by Eric Vall
“He’s my little buddy,” I said with a smile, and I reached out to pat Stan’s head. “He’s also my prototype. He’s powered by my magic and functions somewhat independently. I plan to make more of him, on a bigger scale, and with some added weapons of course.”
The captain shook his head in disbelief but didn’t take his eyes off of Stan for a single second. I stifled a laugh, and then I noticed some men had begun to trickle into the courtyard. They started to line up in straight rows, but all their eyes were pinned to us.
“Looks like the show’s gonna start soon,” I said to the captain as I gestured to the soldiers. There had to be nearly forty of them now, and more were arriving from every direction. Most of them entered the courtyard at a run. I guessed Mayard didn’t like to be kept waiting, and his men knew it.
“And here I thought the weapons you used in Lindow were the miracles,” Mayard muttered as he blinked and looked up at me.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Cayla interjected as she set Stan on her shoulder and grinned up at me. “Can I help with the demonstration? I rather liked shooting that rifle the other night.”
“And you were damn good at it,” I replied with a smile. “So yes, you can help me.”
“I do not think the princess--” Mayard started to argue with a frown, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.
“She’ll be fine,” I promised. “She knows how these things work, and she knows the dangers. I’d be more worried about your men. These weapons aren’t like swords. They can be volatile, and accidents can happen very easily.”
“I’ll be sure to instruct my men not to be fools,” the captain responded dryly.
“Perfect,” I said as I clapped my hands together. “Then let’s get started.”
Mayard pursed his lips but nodded.
“Fine,” he grunted as he cast Stan one last curious look, “let us begin.”
Then the captain led us across the courtyard to where the men had lined up. I watched as the three soldiers Mayard had picked out earlier rushed back into the courtyard with five targets carried between them. Without even glancing in our direction, they scurried to set up our temporary firing range along the far stone wall. The targets were little more than splintered slabs of wood, and they were deeply pocked with old holes and gashes from past arrowheads.
“Set three of them fifteen yards away from the starting line,” I called out to the men. “And set up the other two at fifty yards away.”
The soldiers paused mid-motion and glanced at Mayard expectantly.
“Well?” the captain shouted as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You heard the man. Hop to it!”
“Yes sir,” the soldiers yelled back, and then they set out to follow my instructions.
Five minutes later and everything was ready.
Across from the targets, sixty soldiers were lined up in five rows that were twelve men deep. At the front of the rows, the box of guns I had crafted was smack dab in the center, and I saw most of the men eye the weapons with a mix of nervousness and excitement.
As Mayard and I walked toward the front of the group, a call went up, and all the soldiers stood at attention, arms at their sides and eyes locked straight ahead.
“At ease,” Mayard grunted, and the men relaxed. “Now, you have been summoned here so Mage Flynt can give us a demonstration with these weapons. You will listen to everything he says, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” the men shouted in unison.
Mayard nodded in approval, and then he turned to me with an expectant look.
Aurora and Cayla brushed both of my arms in a supportive gesture, and I shot them quick smiles of gratitude. Then I cleared my throat and took a step forward. As I did, sixty pairs of eyes slid to me, and I made sure my spine was straight, and my chin lifted under their scrutiny.
“Good morning,” I said in a raised voice. “My name is Mason Flynt. I’ve come from Illaria to help you deal with your bandit problem, and this box here is one of the solutions. With these weapons, you’ll be able to put Camus Dred and all his men in the dirt quickly and efficiently.”
One soldier toward the front lifted his hand. He was a big fellow, probably a few inches taller than me, and he was built like a brick house. He had a mop of black hair, a bulbous nose, close-set eyes, and his voice was like thunder when he spoke.
“How exactly are we going to do that?” he asked, and there was a honed edge to his question. “I do not see a sharp end on these so-called weapons. Are we meant to beat Dred over the head with them?”
Some of the men snickered, but then Mayard shot them a death glare, and they fell silent.
Instead of being riled, I merely grinned at the hostile soldier. “I mean, you could bludgeon someone with these weapons in close quarters combat, but they’re much more effective over longer distances. Here, let me show you.”
Before anyone could say a word, I spun around, jerked my top break out of its holster, and put one of the targets at fifteen yards in my sights. I exhaled sharply, thumbed back the hammer, and squeezed the trigger. I popped off three shots in quick succession, and the loud retorts reverberated across the courtyard. When I lowered my gun, I saw that I had put each bullet so close to the others that a hole the size of a golf ball had been blown out of the center of the target. I smirked, reholstered my weapon, and turned back to the men behind me.
“Does that answer your question, soldier?” I asked the man who had spoken out.
He didn’t respond this time. He was too busy gaping at the gun and the target like the rest of the men. Even Mayard looked impressed, and I saw the captain’s gaze go hungrily to the rifles in the box.
“Great,” I said rhetorically. “Now, these weapons are called guns in general, but they also have more specific classifications. The one I just used is called a revolver. It’s smaller and more useful over shorter distances. The long weapons in that box are called rifles, and with some training, they can pick off a bandit from hundreds of yards away. Both of these types of guns are incredibly dangerous, as you just witnessed, so we’re going to go over some safety precautions before we test them out. Sound good?”
“Yes, sir!” the men shouted in unison again, even the hulking giant who had spoken out against me, and I couldn’t help but grin.
“Good,” I replied. “The first thing I’m going to go over are basic rules that are not dissimilar to ones you probably already use on an archery range. Number one is to never point these weapons at anything you’re not willing to kill. So don’t goof around and point these at your friends in jest. These weapons can go off accidentally, and they will kill or hurt someone if you’re not careful. Understood?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” the soldiers responded.
“Perfect,” I said with a broad smile. “Then the rest of this training should go by swimmingly. Now, let’s break up into groups of twenty so you can all get a closer look at these bad boys.”
The soldiers began to jostle for position, and I saw excitement burn in all their eyes.
“Have some discipline, men,” Mayard shouted, and the soldiers started to make more orderly lines, but I still saw quite a few elbows through.
I shook my head with a laugh, and then I bent down and picked up an unloaded fixed-frame revolver from the box at my feet. It was going to be a long morning.
I spent the next two hours training Mayard and his men, and while I had my doubts at the beginning given how many soldiers there were, I actually had a lot of fun. The men were attentive, curious, and eager to learn. I explained to them the basic mechanics of how the guns operated as I field stripped a revolver and rifle each. Then I showed them the bullets and how to load them and reemphasized the need to always keep the barrels aimed down range.
“Can we make more of these?” Mayard asked as he inspected a long rifle bullet that he held between his forefinger and thumb.
“I already gave Gwain a small supply of the powder used on the inside, and I also gave him the recipe and schematics for the
bullets themselves,” I replied with a smile. “It’s not a glamorous process, but I think the end result is worth it.”
“Clearly,” the captain muttered, and then we turned to watch his men try to hit one of the targets. Most of the time they were unsuccessful, and bullets pinged off the courtyard walls and cobblestones, but there was a decent learning curve. With a little more practice, the men would be picking off bandits in no time.
“There is the issue of maintenance though,” I pointed out with a frown. “These guns need to be regularly cleaned, especially after they’ve been used. I’ve been using soap and hot water, but what we really need is a good lubricant like an oil or grease. The lubricant will reduce the wear and tear on the weapons, and it also stops them from jamming.”
As if on cue, a soldier to our right squeezed the trigger on the rifle in his hands, but instead of a roaring bullet all that came out was a muffled click. The man looked at the weapon in his hands with confusion, and I saw his next move before he could even think it.
“Don’t look down the barrel!” I shouted, and the man twitched guiltily as he glanced at me. “Rule number one, dude. If a gun jams like that, just pull down the lever and cycle in the next round. Never look down the barrel unless the gun is in pieces and you are absolutely, positively, one hundred percent sure it’s not loaded. Looking down a barrel doesn’t leave you very pretty for a funeral, got it?”
The soldier nodded meekly and then did as I instructed. The next time he put his finger on the trigger, the rifle barked as it fired, and splinters exploded off one of the targets fifty yards away.
“Nice,” I remarked with a nod, and the soldier grinned excitedly in response.
I turned back to Mayard as he was shaking his head.
“Some of these men,” he grumbled in displeasure, but then he looked up at me with a thoughtful expression. “On another note, I do have a suggestion for the lubricant.”
“Really?” I asked with an arched eyebrow. “What is it? I’m all ears.”
“There is a creature known as a Barbil,” the captain replied. “It is a large native fish in Lake Falder.” Mayard turned and pointed to the horizon, where a great body of water glimmered on the outskirts of Eyton. “The Barbil is a local delicacy, but it also secretes a special oil. We use it on our armor and weapons to keep them from rusting.”
“That’s perfect,” I breathed with wide eyes. “Where can I get some?”
“I’ll have my men procure you a barrel or two before you depart for the mine,” Mayard said with a nod.
“Thank you,” I responded with a smile, and then I caught sight of something and turned to the left with a sharp, ”Hey! Rule number one!”
The soldier in question froze with his revolver half turned toward him. I rolled my eyes and marched over to his side to see what the problem was.
When the sun hung high above our heads and sweat slid down the back of my neck, Mayard finally called for his soldiers to halt. A good number of them had been successful with the revolvers, but only three men had been able to even hit a target using the rifles.
Well, two men and Cayla. Currently, the princess was surrounded by soldiers asking her how she managed to put a bullet almost dead center in one of the targets. The raven-haired beauty smirked as she patted the rifle at her side almost affectionately, but I couldn’t hear her answer over Mayard’s put-out sigh. I turned to find the captain frowning at the farther targets.
“Don’t worry about it too much,” I said to him. “Accuracy takes practice. They’ll get it, eventually. And even if they can’t hit anything just yet, I guarantee you any bandit that hears that retort is going to go running for the hills.”
“Not if I can manage to take out his legs,” Mayard replied with a sharp smile.
I laughed. “I did something similar back in the town of Keld. Two to the knees. It’s quite effective.”
“I am eager to see for myself,” the captain replied, “but for now, we have our other duties. Are you, your companion, and Princess Balmier ready to depart?”
I nodded. “Should be. Our provisions are all packed, well besides that Barbil oil you mentioned. I just need to retrieve Bobbie, my mechanical steed, from the stables, and we’ll be golden.”
“Good,” Mayard grunted. “I’ll have my men fetch that oil right now, and then the three of you can be on your way. I do not want you to be caught on the road once the sun sets, and you have a lot of distance to cover to reach your destination.”
“Well then, mines, here we come,” I said with a grin, and then I went to collect Aurora and Cayla so we could get going.
Chapter 11
It took about another half an hour to get all our supplies down to the gates of Eyton. When I saw the dozen castle servants packing several crates into a small uncovered wagon, I turned to Aurora and Cayla with an arched brow.
“Little bit much, don’t you think?” I asked. “Don’t tell me that’s all clothes.”
Aurora rolled her emerald eyes at me.
“Please,” the half-elf said, “we each have one changes of clothes. Most of that is food and first aid supplies for when you inevitably overtax yourself.”
“Aw, you really do care,” I teased as I batted my eyes at her.
“Perhaps a little,” the Ignis Mage sniffed. “Now, come on. We have to get down to the gate and figure out a way to attach our supplies to Bobbie.”
“Yes, dear,” I chuckled, and then the three of us hopped into the back of the wagon, and our horse and driver began to roll out of the courtyard.
Mayard insisted on accompanying us so he wound up trailing after our wagon on horseback. As Cayla and the captain carried on polite conversation, I took one last look at the capital around us. Eyton was beautiful in the daylight. From the castle atop the hill, I could see miles in every direction. Lake Falder was a shimmering mirror to the right of the city, and green plains and gentle hills spanned out in every other direction.
As we clopped through the streets, people moved out of the way to watch us go by. Most people looked indifferent to our passing until they glanced in the back of the wagon and saw their princess idly swinging her legs and waving at anyone who caught her eye. I saw more than a few jaws drop at that and had to stifle my laughter.
At one point, we came to a gentle stop at an intersection as another cart and horse crossed our path. As our driver waited for his turn to move forward, a small child darted out of a doorway to our right. She couldn’t have been more than four or five, and she had bright blonde hair and big gray eyes.
“Horsie!” she squealed as she toddled up to our driver. Then she saw Mayard’s horse, a great black beautiful beast, behind us, and her eyes nearly fell out of her head.
“Pet horsie!” she screeched, and then she darted toward Mayard as she made grabby motions with her hands.
The captain drew his horse back a little, and I could see the shock and uncertainty in his face. I hid a snicker behind my head. The big scary soldier done in by a little girl.
Suddenly, a man lurched out of the house the girl had originated from, and when he took in the surrounding scene, his face went pale. He sprinted forward and scooped up the girl right before she could touch the leg of Mayard’s horse.
“P-please excuse my daughter,” he stuttered as he looked up at the captain. “She can be a little overzealous with her affections.”
“It is not a problem,” Cayla said from beside me, and the man turned in confusion at the new voice that had addressed him.
When he caught sight of the princess of Cedis, he nearly dropped his daughter.
“Y-your Highness,” he squeaked as he executed a quick but low bow. “M-my humblest apologies for delaying you.”
Cayla smiled warmly at the anxious man. “As I said, it is not a problem.” Then she slid off the back of the wagon and grinned at the girl suddenly hiding in her father’s neck. “What is your name, sweet one?”
The girl gazed at Cayla with her big gray eyes but remained silent.
“F-Farah, Your Highness,” the man stammered. “Her name is Farah.”
“Well, Farah,” Cayla said as she leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially, “would you like to pet Captain Mayard’s horse?”
The little girl peeked out from behind her father’s hair and gave a small nod.
“Y-you really don’t have to do that, Princess Balmier,” the man said as he looked between Cayla and the scowling captain behind him.
“Yes, princess,” Mayard grunted, “we really must be on our wa--”
“It will only take a moment,” Cayla protested with a wave of her hand. Then she nodded at the captain, and he sighed before he walked his horse forward several feet.
“Here, look,” the princess told Farah as she reached out and stroked the horse’s nose. “His name is Altair, and he is very soft.”
Farah gaped at the horse, and then she looked to her father as if to ask permission. The man gave a shaky nod, and then he leaned over so Farah could reach the horse. The little girl hesitantly extended her arm, and Cayla grasped her hand gently and laid it on Altair’s muzzle. Farah gasped, and her gray eyes were filled to the brim with childlike awe. Cayla laughed melodiously, and then she lowered her voice to whisper something to the little girl.
Her father glanced around him like he couldn’t believe this was happening. I managed to catch his eye, and I tried to flash him a reassuring smile.
“I-I really am sorry about this,” he said to me with a worried look on his face.
“And like the princess said,” I chuckled, “it’s really not a problem.”
And, honestly, it wasn’t. Mayard might have been annoyed or irritated with a little girl interrupting our journey to the gates, but I felt endeared to the little girl. By the look of her and her father’s clothing, they weren’t exactly well off, but absolute pure joy shone from her face as she petted Mayard’s horse, and even her father was beginning to smile. These people had probably suffered a great deal. From what Cayla had told me, Cedis was never rich, but now most of the citizens could barely feed themselves. But as I watched this man and his daughter, I could tell they were grateful for this moment, and they obviously loved each other a great deal. Farah kept turning to her father and babbling with excitement, and the man simply nodded and smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead.