The streets were significantly more crowded than last night's excursion. Around me the buildings gave me an aged feeling, as if the cobblestone didn't already do that. But the shops, the people, even the clothing felt normal, unlike me in my rags, empty holster and my unruly tail. These streets differed from the high and mighty shops I'd seen before by actually feeling like they could be run by people I knew. Although despite me not being the only non-human I was still getting stares, another reminder that I wasn't me anymore.
Looking through the various shop signs I found my mark, a revolver painted in deep black ink to contrast the birch it was painted onto, the only piece of birch I'd seen since I woke up here. Pushing past the crowd to the store I quickly entered before closing the door as fast as I could. Immediately I was met with the smell of smoke and the sounds of metal clanging on metal coming from the man in front of me before suddenly stopping.
In front of me was a tall slender person turned away from the door, long threads of old white hair flowed from their head and onto his shirtless body. He was lanky, probably at least twice my height, his thin and bony arms stretched to lengths that no human would ever reach. The ears on his head were sharp like mine, but they were long, stretching far past his scalp. In this tiny shop he looked like he was stuffed inside without a care for proportions, to me he felt like a giant. Just behind him was a sort of forge. There was an anvil, a chimney, and all kinds of metal tools, but from what I could see no fire. On the anvil was a half complete sword.
“Ah hello child.” I was greeted by the voice of an old man, calm, wise even, not the kind of person I'd expect to run a forge, and definitely not the kind of voice I'd expected from him.
“Um, Kael told me to cash in one of his favors. Apparently I'm picking up a gun for him?” Thanks to me messing up and losing Kael his revolver he'd sent me to go pick up his new one, hopefully I didn't mess up this time.
“Yes yes, he came in yesterday for his armament, I had it ready a few hours ago. Although…” The man turned to me and I could finally see his… his face. The thing plastered onto his head wasn't human, it was too perfect. A face of a man decades younger than the smith's apparent age bored into me with a cheshire grin. I'm not sure why but it gave me a queasy feeling. I took a tentative step back before remembering I had a job to finish.
“Be not afraid, child. I know my appearance is unusual in these lands, but you have a task do you not?” Somehow he sounded both genuine and mysterious at the same time.
“I'm not a kid, I'm twenty. All I need is the gun then I'll leave.” Every moment in the shop left me more and more uncomfortable, I needed to leave as soon as possible.
“So still a child you are, and with such bravery too. I commend your efforts with your objective.” From his forge he produced the revolver I'd been aiming for, a replacement for the one I lost.
Dropping the weapon into my hands with his lanky limbs I could finally leave. Eyeing the revolver it barely looked any different from the last one, this time just without the rust. If I ever had one I'd have definitely made it more modern looking, none of this crap from the eighteen hundreds in a medieval world.
Turning to leave I almost made my way back to the door, but unfortunately the man stopped me before I could leave.
“Before you go I have a proposal for you.”
“A proposal?”
“I see your eyes. You yearn for it don't you? A weapon of your own. If you would let me, I'd aid you in crafting your own. Free of charge, no price beyond some of your time.” For some reason the old man seemed a little desperate to keep me here, but I couldn't pass down the opportunity to get a gun of my own.
“Alright, but this better not be some kind of scam.”
“I wouldn't dare deceive a Wyrm Child, I give you this opportunity freely.”
“What did you just call me?” Worm child? The words were more confusing than insulting to me.
“I mean no offense, it is just so rare to see a Steilae in Rosurnan, or anywhere in general. It is quite the blessing for a wayfarer to be reborn as one.” That word again. Damian called me that when we entered the sewers and now this… person, just called me it again.
“I keep hearing that word. What's a Steilae?”
“You are a Steilae, a descendant of the great Wyrms, those dark green scales and pointed tail are signifiers of your lineage. Though you are a wayfarer that does not lessen your glory, it merely means that there is opportunity for a new bloodline. To be both a Steilae and a…” He kept rambling on and on about lineages, and bloodlines, and honor or whatever. I know I asked the question but in just a few seconds boredom made its way to me.
“Am I boring you?” In a moment that man's grin faded into something terrifying. Suddenly his youthful appearance changed into a wrinkled old frown, his entire face shifted into one that belonged on his bony body.
Stolen story; please report.
“Oh- oh no, of course not. It's just um, I'd really like to get my gun made and Kael needs me back sooner or later.” Once again his eyes drilled into me, I struggled to maintain eye contact with him.
“Why of course, I did not mean to waste your time. Come Wyrmling, let us begin.” With that he turned his back on me and entered a room I hadn’t seen because his body had blocked the way.
Following him into the backroom I realized it was more of a storage closet, it was large enough for both me and the gunsmith to walk inside. Looking around the room I quickly realized what was stored inside of here, metal, dozens upon dozens of bars of various metal, each type on their own shelf with a label engraved with that same black ink from the shop's sign, although I couldn't read Rosurnan's language if I tried. Bronze, steel, iron, all kinds of metal, and many I couldn't even try to name.
“Ah, this should do finely.” The man pulled down a steel bar from a shelf that I doubt even my old body would’ve been able to reach.
It was labelled in some gibberish I couldn't understand. He placed the bar into my hand before gesturing for me to follow him back into the main room and towards the anvil. There were various amounts of weapon molds, swords, knives, but the only gun molds were for revolvers.
“Now then before we begin, have you ever wielded a red gem before?” I nodded.
“Good, very good. As loath as I am to lose the opportunity to teach you, it will hasten the forging.” From out of his pocket he retrieved a red gem and handed it to me, but this time it wasn't a crystal like the one Kael’s gun used. This was a hard and dense rock, but still bright red in color.
“Now then, weave a thread around the steel, it need not be tight but merely held together. Let it melt into a crucible, then the mold. You may choose any of them.” He gestured to the revolver frame molds on a rack beside him.
“Does it matter which I choose?” My eyes swept through the various options, they were in pairs and filled in where the cylinders would go. The area where the handles would go was thin, probably for something more custom later.
“The molds hold no significance beyond preference.” After searching for a few minutes I found a mold that I liked. It was modern and straight unlike those revolvers from the wild west.
“A fine choice, now then, let us begin.”
“Alright, let's do this.” I whispered the words to myself before producing a thread of red light and wrapping it around the bar before placing it into the crucible. I felt the heat course through the threads, but something was off.
“It's not hot enough.” I muttered the words out loud and looked to the gunsmith for any help, but he just smiled at me.
Then it hit me, I knew what to do. Suddenly the thread grew warmer and warmer as I formed a star in my fingers. Just like with the rat I started thinking of warm stuff, blankets, fire, the sun, heat itself. Bit by bit the steel began to soften as I tugged at the string slowly cutting into the steel. Finally after minutes of maintaining concentration on the string all that was left of the bar was a bucket of molten steel.
“Very good. Now then, using these you must pour the steel into the mold.”
He handed me two giant tongs before placing the already combined mold on its side, a box of dirt and wood with a hole. He probably did that while I was concentrating. There was an opening in it big enough for me to pour the lava. Putting the gem into pocket I surrounded the crucible with the tongs before lifting it up.
The moment it left the ground it nearly fell over, the gunsmith didn't even flinch at the notion of his shop burning down. As gently as I could I poured the heavy crucible into the mold. My arms were starting to fail just as the final drop of steel entered the hole. With a sigh of relief I let the crucible back down onto the ground before not so gently dropping the tongs from my shaking hands.
“Splendidly done child, now we must wait. Whilst we do so it would be wise to continue work on the other components.” As he finished his sentence he grabbed a small metal cylinder from a shelf, I didn't need to be told what part of the gun this would be.
“As well versed you are in the art of weaving you are not so versed in the art of smithing. I will only demonstrate this once, so watch closely.” He tapped the gem from my pocket and grabbed a small hollow pipe from his pocket, wide enough to fit a bullet.
Wrapping a red string around one end of the pipe he poured heat into it, enough heat that the pipe should have melted by now, but it stayed sturdy. And then with one string push he jammed the pipe deep into the cylinder, slicing through the metal like it was butter. Pulling the pipe out he revealed a hole in the cylinder. Using the hole as a landmark he indented five more holes using the pipe, although he didn't cut them out.
“Do your best child, if you make a mistake I will not help you.” He handed me the cylinder and pipe before turning his back on me.
I tapped the gem in my pocket and did the same motions as the gunsmith did, heat at my fingertips. The pipe rested on the first indented the man created, ready to pierce steel. With a deep breath I began twisting and turning the pipe. I knew that if I jammed it in like he did I'd probably mess it up, this was my only option. Slowly but surely I drilled my way through the cylinder. With every twist my concentration died a little bit until it became a repetitive motion, mindless. Eventually I felt the pipe slip through and I released a sigh of relief. One down four more to go. The other holes were easier to cut through after having done one already and by the fifth it'd become second nature to me.
“I'm done!” I'm not sure how long I took but I was certain the cylinder was perfect.
“Hmm…” The gunsmith examined the cylinder as if looking for any flaws. “Well done child, very well done indeed. Though your technique was crude it was effective. I shall finish the forging from hence onward.”
He took the cylinder from my hands and opened up the gun molds revealing an unfinished frame of a revolver. In a blink he had already begun to shave off extra steel with tools I had no idea existed. Somehow he had taken the gem from my pocket and was molding and reshaping the steel to his liking. Soon the once frame of a revolver was beginning to take form as he grabbed various parts from around the workshop, sights, prongs, even the trigger. And finally the last piece of the gun was attached, the gunsmith began to push the gem deeper and deeper into the revolver before it was fully embedded within.
“Finally your weapon is made.” He offered the weapon to me with both his arms outstretched. I inspected the weapon in my hands, sleek, new, the weight and shape reminded me of life back on Silt.
Just then there was a knocking at the door, loud, hard, and interrupting the moment. The gunsmith looked a little more than displeased at the interruption. Opening the door revealed a figure illuminated by the setting sun, has it really been that long? With the gunsmith in front of me I couldn't tell who it was.
“Where is she?” The moment I heard the frustrated voice I knew I messed up as Kael stood in the doorway.
“The child is here, safe as can be.” Despite being met with Kael's displeasure the gunsmith maintained his composure.
“She was supposed to have gotten my gun hours ago.” Kael leaned to his side and spotted me in the shop. “I see your back there! Let's go!” His shouting nearly made me flinch.
“Yes Kael!” I muttered up my courage and squeezed past the gunsmith and to Kael who was waiting for me as I handed him his new revolver.
“I only asked for one gun,” His voice was confused for just a moment before he turned to the gunsmith, “this better not cost me later.”
“It is not for you, nor does it come with a price, it is merely a gift for her.” For some reason that only made Kael's confusion grow further.
“A gift? No costs, no contracts, nothing?” The gunsmith only nodded. I wasn't sure what Kael was going on about, why would a gunsmith give contracts?
“If that's that then we're going back to the inn now.”
“Ah, before you go I have one final gift for the Wyrmling.” He left the doorway and began looking through the various shelves before he grabbed an inconspicuous bag.
“When you told me a Steilae was going to retrieve your weapon it would have been rude of me not to give her a small present.” He placed the bag into my hand where my revolver still was.
“Well then, goodnight.” And just like that the man was gone.
“The hell was that about?” My thoughts escaped my lips before I could stop them.
“I'm not sure, but let's go back home.”
