What's up my lovely, lovely readers!
I wrote a chapter!
And it did not take me a month! Or two weeks! It only took me three days!
April 6, 2024
Start
"John." Captain Hertha stood in front of the bush. "You can't stay in there forever."
"I want to disappear." Said John flatly, hiding behind the foliage, blanketed by the shadow.
"It's all just a misunderstanding, alright?"
"How does that make it any less embarrassing? Hng." Said John blankly like he had lost all hope.
"Well, to be fair, what else were we supposed to think? You two were rather loud in there, and I thought both of you were... talking in euphemisms. It was all a big misunderstanding."
"Hng..." John made this awful noise. It sounded like a cat dying in agony.
It's a good thing the two are behind the apartment.
"John… You've got things to do. You can't stay here forever."
"I deserve some break. Leave me alone. I want to be a plant."
"You're not a plant."
"I don't care. Right now, I am a bush. I am one with nature." John warned dramatically. "Leave, being of flesh and bones and blood. Do not force me out of my natural abode."
Hertha facepalmed. Her palm slipped down and her arm became jelly. She took a deep breath and wondered how she could ease his trouble.
John's stomach rumbled.
"… Is the 'plant' hungry?"
"… Yes."
"… Want to eat?"
"Not in public."
"You can return to Ematol's room," Hertha suggested kindly. "I could send a runner order something from Good Hunter. Does that sound good?"
She could see John peer just above the outline of the bush. She felt like she was babysitting someone's pet. He's just a handful, isn't he?
"… Uh." John sounded hesitant. "Do you have a dish that's like… a round, flat bread shaped like a plate? It's got all kinds of toppings. But it's sauced with tomato, scattered with sliced meat, and sprinkled with cheese."
"Huh?" Hertha paused to think of a dish with such a description. "Do you mean pizza? Yes, I think the Good Hunter has them."
"That's what you call it? Pizza?" John tilted his head, skeptical. Unknowing to her, he's weirded out how it's called the same here.
… What is he on about? Hertha connected this odd behavior to his amnesia. Well, the fact that he can describe what a pizza is without knowing its name tells something about his memory. Is that a sign he's recovering?
"I'll order the most meatiest and tastiest pizza there is, John. That is… if you return with me." Hertha reached out her hand. At this point, she's treating John like some scared animal, silly as that sounds.
"Mm…"
…
"You… ugh." Hertha palmed and rubbed her face. "What was that earlier!?"
"Is he doing alright?" Albedo, still in his borrowed armor kneaded a dark red 'dough' on his workbench. The sunlight through the window illuminated the whole room.
"He's fine, just recovering from the embarrassment you started."
"I started?" He paused. "Odd. I wasn't the one who first eavesdropped."
"It's complicated. Long story short, I was gathering information about John. But then… Blanche." Hertha groaned loudly. "Oh, that woman. I'll share the story later. But you could have been silent about it!"
"I see…" Albedo gave her his signature calculating deadpan. "How bad did I do it this time?"
Hertha took a deep breath.
"At least this isn't as bad as when you hired two prostitutes to 'go at it' for your research about human mating nearly half a decade ago." Hertha cringed, staring flatly for a brief moment. Albedo wasn't the brightest when it came to human relations, as he absolutely lacked common sense back then. Still is now, but it's not as worse as it was. "Moving on… from one captain to another, what do you think of him?"
"Productive. Abnormally so. There's something… inhuman about him. I'm sure you've noticed."
"He's inexhaustible with manual labor," Hertha recalled the time he was working under her. "Combat capable with a… shield. I heard from the maids he's a gifted chef. Now here we see him doing tasks that whole teams cannot do in an hour."
"Speaking of, I'm grateful you transferred him over to us. What was it that prompted you? Was it his conversation with Timaeus over our transport balloons?" Albedo merely chuckled at her reaction. "If you're wondering, Timaeus won't stop talking about him."
He retells to Hertha the story of how John saved Timaeus. How John heroically blocked panicking people from stomping Timaeus to his potential death, how he fought back three hilichurls with powerful kicks and shield throws, and how he stayed behind to help those in need.
"I've heard of his deeds, but this is the first I've heard of that."
"He is a good person, Hertha. As far as we should be concerned? I believe everything else is irrelevant." Albedo stared for a few seconds for Hertha to process the layers of his message.
The atmosphere between the two changed.
"… Is there something you want to share, smart guy?" Hertha crossed her arms. "Anything I… or rather the entire Knights of Favonius should be concerned of?"
"I do have some hypothesis about him… but they're merely conjectures." Albedo set aside the 'dough' as he poured another set of reagents that John processed. "I think I want him in my company as an official member."
"Hey. Tell that to John. Not me."
"I was being rhetorical."
"Coming from you?" She smirked. "I cannot tell."
…
"… Hey." John greeted meekly while peeking out the doorway.
"Hi, John." Ematol sat behind the lab workbench, mixing powders and grinding them together. She smiled oddly. "Are you going to come in or not?"
"Yeah." John pointed at the bunk bed. "Uhh… can I?"
"Feel free."
She felt a tinge of excitement seeing a young man nearly as old as her, combat-capable and skilled in alchemy, lay on her mattress.
Thinking about it, she's never had a boy in her room!
When John sunk his face into her pillow, some perverted voice in the back of her mind told her to never wash the pillow cover for eternity.
The noise became louder when he stretched his body across the bed, fingers and toes uncurled, making a whine that eased his whole body.
She wished she was the pillow.
"So… I remember our conversation from earlier." John scrolled through his [Conversation Log]. "You test experimental weapons?"
"Oh! Uh, want me to know more about my job?"
"Yeah. It sounds interesting."
"Hmm… shall I start from the beginning?"
Ematol shared her story ever since she started working under the Knights of Favonius. She shared how she barely passed the basics. Her physical capability is downright horrendous. She's inept with the art of blade. Terrible with bows. Has reflexes subpar to a hilichurl. And… well, she kept on and on about how she sucks at combat, so to speak.
Where is this going? John asked himself. While he was not skilled in socializing, he wasn't sure if this was some sort of strange confession or a self-deprecating rant.
"When I was young, I always wanted to be a knight!" Her cheerful tone is a contrast to her unenthusiastic look. "But… there's just no hope for me ever joining any combat divisions. I found myself capable with handling flasks, and that's how I became an alchemist."
"Mm hm." He's sensing that she's about to say 'but'.
"But my life changed when she came along."
She talked of a figure with borderline reverence, of a young bomb-throwing demolitionist whose name is referenced in pages upon pages of the headquarters's damage reports.
Ematol shared one particular story that changed her life. It was a battlefield operation involving the now Acting Grand Master Jean Gunnhildr and Klee. Ematol was there to witness everything, where Jean used her magic to propel Klee's explosives to destroy invading hilichurls… while at the same time accidentally obliterating a chunk of a mountain.
Wait. What. Did he hear it right? "So… this Klee. She's a literal child. She's an official knight. And she has bombs?"
"Yeah!" Ematol replied with stars in her eyes.
He deadpanned. "I'm not the kind of guy who'd let children handle bombs... but go on."
"And that explosion pretty much inspired me to be like her! If I can't draw strength from my own, then I shall have it drawn from my bombs!" She presented her bomb-jar proudly. "I dream of making my team one day. A squad dedicated to the art of sparks in honor of Klee!"
"… Woah. You're quite radical, huh? In a good way." John smiled supportively. "It makes me wonder why swords are still the norm here. You know what I think? I think a bomb or two should supplement a knight's fighting power."
"You think so too!?" Her eyes sparkled. 'I've actually been researching a throwable bomb like Klee's, but so far... ugh. I've yet to design a stable enough mechanism that can endure rough handling without failing."
She sighed deep and depressed.
"Mmm… Can you demonstrate a small sample of your bomb?" Said John, sitting on the mattress. "I don't mean anything that can blow up this room. Just something that can… deflagrate."
"Oh of course!" The bomb expert unlid the jar and poured a thimbleful of explosive powder on the workbench. He expected that she use a flint and steel to ignite, but instead, she went to her cabinet, grabbed a smaller jar with a white powder, then poured a little beside the 'main charge'.
She set aside the jars in a safer place. Grabbing a pestle, she smacked the spot of white powder. The mixture ignited into a puff of smoke. If his eyes did not mistake him, the smoke had a teal hue for some reason.
"You have impact sensitive explosives?" John said with some surprise, "Nice. It's definitely more convenient than lighting a fuse or striking flint and steel."
"You guessed right just from that..."
As Ematol rambled about how her explosives were incomparable to the ones made by the aforementioned child, he wondered if he could go straight into percussion caps.
But his guts are telling him that something is wrong. Mondstadt has the means to make gunpowder and has references to firearms from other countries. What else do you need to start a gun industry? If such technology isn't as widespread here as it is compared to others, then are there invisible forces at play that are stopping Mondstadt from advancing?
Is there a shady organization with unquestionable power and influence all over the world? Influential enough to pull strings behind the scenes? Advanced enough to have the means to destabilize countries? Capable enough that no matter what they do, they still operate so openly despite countless evidence of their vile deeds?
A bit like the CIA?
Maybe introducing guns to Mondstadt might bring him the wrong kind of attention. All kinds of attention. And while a little while ago he was paranoid about what would happen to him if he raised all sorts of alarms, he was more worried about what would happen if he did nothing at all.
As they say, pick your poison. The monsters are troublesome themselves.
Also, he wants shooty shooties.
Finger snaps interrupted his thoughts.
"What? Huh?"
"John. You were zoning out. Don't think I didn't notice." Ematol pouted. "You weren't listening, were you?"
"… No. Sorry. My mind got busy."
"Hmm." She puckered her lips. "What were you thinking?"
"Gunpowder. All this talk about gunpowder made me think about some stuff - Oh. I smell something good."
A few knocks got Ematol to open the door, revealing Captain Hertha with a round straw basket hanging on her arm.
"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything, Ematol?" Hertha entered and put the basket on Ematol's workbench.
"Oh. We were just talking about gunpowder, ma'am."
"Is that so?" Hertha turned to him. "Why the particular interest, John? Does it jog your memory?"
"Kinda. I'm just interested in technology. Speaking of, can you tell me some things about Snezhnaya and Fontaine, Captain Hertha?"
"Oh? What do you want to learn?" Hertha pulled out the cloth covering the basket. "Want some pizza?"
…
"So…" John took a small bite of his slice, his jaw busy as he was in mind. He swallowed promptly. "So Snezhnaya's industry based their technology on a long-dead civilization? Every bit of their technology is more or less integrated from parts salvaged from these… ruin machines you speak of?"
"Mm hm." Hertha nodded while holding a slice of her own. "Adventurer guilds throughout Tevyat have dedicated teams expert in dissecting and harvesting ruin machines. There is even a whole industry. Snezhnaya pays very handsomely in that regard."
"Also, from what I've read-" Ematol added. "There have been reports they also salvage weapons from ruin machines, but no one has seen them ever using it. That is if they got it in working order in the first place."
"Wait… so… there are robots from a very advanced country destroyed half a millennia ago that still function to this day?" John's eyes sparkled with interest. "I want to see them!"
"John. No!" Hertha rebuked. Oh by the archons, why would he be so interested in those monstrous machines!? "They're dangerous!"
"But… but giant robots!" John gestured wildly. "That sounds so cool! I want to have one!"
"Oh, Barbatos." Ematol glared. "John, ruin machines are not something you can just play with. Trust me, it's not worth fiddling with its components."
"And what do you mean by that, Officer Ematol?" Hertha stared at her suspiciously.
"Uhh…" Ematol started to sweat, turning away from her superior's glare. "I mean that only Snezhnaya knows how to and… they… keep a tight lip about… it?"
"Uh huh."
"Fine fine. Moving on." John waved dismissively. "Then there's Fontaine whose technology uh… only works domestically? And their energy sources are only exclusive in their country, which is why it's not widespread. And they have humanoid clockwork machines that serve a good part of their labor force and national security?"
Hertha thought how adorable he was always tilting his head. His innocent expression cannot be faked so naturally. As they say, to trust is a fool; as a captain, there's no such thing as being too skeptical, but seeing him question everything about Tevyat proves he does have amnesia.
"I think they call it clockwork meka." Hertha deadpanned at his childishly curious expression. He had this gaze not so dissimilar when a child looks at a new toy. "Let me guess, you want to see them?"
"If I could, I want to own one!" He could only giggle at her response. "By the way, if you two don't mind me asking… how come the Knights of Favonius have no guns?"
Silence struck the three for a brief moment.
"Excuse me?" Hertha widened her eyes.
"Where did that come from?" Ematol merely raised an eyebrow.
"What? No offense, but I'm just wondering how Mondstadt is primitive in weapons technology."
"Swords work just fine, John. We're not primitives." Hertha crossed her arms. She took offense to that.
"But John has a point! Bombs are better." Ematol reacted in a way as if she heard blasphemy. "Besides, have you ever seen Klee swinging a blade?"
"Nooo!" Hertha scolded in equal disdain. She pointed a finger at both. "Do not bring her up. That child is an exception. Sweet as she is, do you know how many of our assets got blown apart because of her?"
"Uhh…" John smiled awkwardly. He finished his pizza slice and munched fast. "You people let a child fight with bombs. By comparison, what I said was nothing."
"It's complicated. End of discussion." Hertha said flatly.
"Okay. Back to the topic then." John raised his palms. "I've heard from Ematol that cannons exist. I'm going to guess that it's widely used for naval applications. That said, how come I don't see its smaller cousin?"
Another set of silence dawned on the three, but his question brought Captain Hertha of the Knights of Favonius a serious concern.
"Jooohn." Hertha drew out his name longer than needed. She pressed her lips together and licked them wet. Slowly, she asked, "Do you know how to make guns? Or how they work?"
"I don't know. I never made one before if my memory serves right." He shook his head fervently. "I do know how they work though."
"Wait! You do!?" Ematol leaned forward from her chair. "Teach me!"
"What…?" He stared like she just said the sky was blue. "I thought you know how cannons work."
"I do, but not firearms!"
"Then what are you on about!?" John madly spread his arms like a bird unfurling its wings upon seeing a predator. "Are you telling me no one tried miniaturizing a cannon before outside Fontaine and Snezhnaya? At the minimum, it's just a metal tube with a closed end and a small hole for ignition. You two have no idea that I'm having a very hard time believing how firearms aren't as widespread as cannons are, when they're literally the same thing except in size!"
Hertha cupped her chin. "Thinking about it, I must agree with you... it is abnormal. Ematol? You're a weapons officer, yes? Do you have anything that can enlighten us?"
"There had been attempts." Ematol paused to think. "But historically speaking, it never gained momentum outside the two countries. I've tried to find any relevant literature in the past, but it's not like you can find a technical manual about firearms in any public library."
John hummed heavily, his gaze were downcast.
Fontaine advanced the realm of robotics whereas Snezhnaya became an industrialized superpower through salvaged technology. Never gained momentum, she said? And yet somehow cannons are relatively well known to the public?
John has a bad feeling about this, but perhaps he's reading too much into it.
"Why would you even need a gun?"
"Yeah! Bombs are better!"
"Ematol, do not encourage him."
With that question, it was John's turn to be flabbergasted.
"Why would I need a gun? Because they're better than swords." He said with absolute sincerity, uncaring what knightly ideas and concepts they associate with the weapon. "I planned to get a sword of my own that complements with a shield, but if possible, I'd rather have a gun... it's not illegal here, is it?"
"I don't think we have laws about firearms. Then again, we're not as strict compared to other countries." Hertha giggled. "Here in Mondstadt, anything goes for the most part as long as no one gets hurt. But back to the topic… you sound so obsessed with firearms. Why do you think guns are better? Why do you think swords are, in your opinion, primitive?"
"Give me a minute to answer that."
The two waited patiently as he lightly scrunched his face. He formulated an answer that fitted their perspective. His mind gathered concepts and broke them down into their base elements. He referenced things that locals should be familiar with. His high school curriculum had public presentations a part of the course. He never knew he'd use it to explain why guns are more effective to… alien humans, strange as that sounds.
The System helped.
The System projected his thoughts into texts he could review.
The System drafted his speech, erased unnecessary words, then revised it again and again according to his liking.
Damn, that's so fucking handy, he thought.
"Okay. Here's a question." He stood and moved to the center of the room. "Between windmills, sailships, animal-driven carts, and cavalry, what is the single most important aspect overlapping between all of them?"
"… That's a tough one." Hertha cupped her chin. "I'm hoping you're being rhetorical."
"Mm hm." He nodded, "So before I continue, just so we're on the same page, energy is the power to do work, which is the effort to do something. You got all that? Nod for me."
The two nodded attentively.
"Okay. Good. The answer is this: their energy is sourced externally. And by that, I mean the energy source to do work is not sourced from a person."
He took a breath.
"Sails draw power from the wind to propel ships, thus doing work for us. With sails, we don't have to row ships ourselves. Same for windmills or watermills to mill grain." He gestured himself, palm on his chest. "Why should farmers pull plows or merchants pull carts, when they could have a beast of burden in their stead? Why should spearmen charge on foot when they could do so on a horse?"
He took another breath.
"Sails, horses, watermills, windmills. Why would anyone rather use them? Because it makes things easier, as there is only so much the human body has energy, and thus, has limits outputting work. So why not apply the same in combat? Archers can't shoot arrows all day. Knights can't swing swords forever. Wait! We actually do! Ships use cannons, no? "
And another.
"Say we have a hypothetical crossbow that can match a cannon, it'd take forever to manually cock it. The work you need to power said crossbow would be immense. It's why I think guns are superior; unlike a manually operated crossbow where you use your muscles to ready it, why not use the energy from explosives to propel a projectile?"
And then another deep breath.
"Expanding that notion, let's make a comparison you two can imagine; a battalion of knights can chop a log into sticks, but a bomb can obliterate it into splinters in an instant."
He gave them a few seconds to digest his words.
"Which means a bomb can output more work than several knights, then a projectile propelled by explosives should be incomparably powerful, no? So then, why pick a sword when a gun has greater power?"
He clasped his hands with a clap, signifying the end of his speech.
Welcome to my TED Talk, I'm John Smith, and I today I shared you my perspective as a 'machine thinker.' He thought.
The two were stumped into a deep, long contemplation. It took half a minute for them to make sense of everything.
"… I never thought it that way." Hertha had this pensive gaze, but then she bursted into chuckles. "As one who works with logistics, there is only so much a laborer can do in a day. When it comes to combat, it's the same thing. When you put it like that... I guess guns could make things a lot less of a hassle."
"I agree with her, one-hundred percent! I've never thought it like that too!" Ematol bobbed her head enthusiastically. "I always think that bombs are better, but your explanation clarified so many things! Man... now I want to make an all-gun team."
"A gun is a tool that directs an explosion, so I guess we share the same perspective." John did a thumbs up, earning Ematol's appreciative nod. "Captain Hertha, now do you understand why I'm racking my brains thinking why firearms aren't widespread, all things considered?"
"I do now." A young male voice outside the room cut off Hertha. The three noticed that the door had been left open since the start, and there stood the chief alchemist of the Investigation Company. "From an objective point of view, you made an elaborate explanation."
"Bro come on." John squawked. "Is boundary and privacy not a thing here?"
"My apologies for eavesdropping. I never intended to invade your privacy. I was here to inform Captain Hertha of our progress, but I didn't want to disturb your discussion. Especially one so… enlightening." Albedo stroked his chin staring down the floor. "Even if it's not your intention, you've convinced even me to switch to firearms in the future."
Enlightening? Even Captain Albedo is impressed!? Ematol kept switching glances between the two. Suddenly, she saw John in a much different light and felt the distance enlarge between him and her. She didn't see him as her apprentice anymore, but as someone whose level was near to the person who she looked up to.
"Yeah, that is if anyone can make them." John reasoned.
[Albedo]
"So… Uh… Albedo, right?" John checked his System's [Conversation Log]. He has nothing much on him thinking about it now, hence the lack of title. Holographic texts highlighted words exchanged with Albedo. "What do you do again in the Knights of Favonius?"
"I am a captain. Specifically, I'm the chief alchemist overseeing the Investigation Company."
"… What?" John stared like a wide-eyed dog. "You're my superior!?"
"Yes."
John chuckled. "Pft… I called you a kid and a creep when we first met at the healer's ward last night."
"… Did you? When did you - Oh… I remember. You did call me those." Albedo closed his mouth halfway, revealing only his upper teeth. "I'm impressed with your memory. How can you remember something so trivial?"
"Trivial? Not for me. I didn't expect someone like you to be a captain. Besides, you stole my clothes."
"He did?" Hertha asked rather quickly. "Albedo, look at me. Did you?"
"It was a misunderstanding I…" Before Albedo continued, he noticed Captain Hertha's well-hidden wink. Is she flirting with me? Hmm… that's very unlikely.
Don't tell we're investigating him, doofus! Hertha hoped he got the message.
"Well, I did." Albedo tried to lie and gathered ideas. At the time, Albedo acquired his jacket from the laundress - wait, that could work. "I was sniffing to determine your jacket's smell."
…
"Wat." John gawked with a blank stare. "Are you a pervert?"
No you - Agh! Hertha was dying from secondhand embarrassment. She fought so hard to facepalm.
"Perhaps," Albedo replied casually, ignorant of Hertha's twitching eyelids. "I was checking the smell. As the chief alchemist, it's part of my responsibility to sniff-"
"Detergents." Hertha cut him off. "We never take hygiene for granted, John. We ensure our staff gets the clean clothes they need. Prevents diseases. One of the responsibilities of our alchemists is to ensure detergent quality, and there's no better way to judge the effectiveness than… sniffing."
"… Okay." John couldn't even laugh at the absudity. He turned to Albedo. "So… why wear my shoes?"
"I like your shoes."
"…"
"What?" Ematol exchanges a glance at all three. "Am I missing something?"
"You know what? Water under the bridge." John waved his hands dismissively, much to the noticeable relief of Captain Hertha. "What are we talking about earlier?"
"Firearms."
"Guns."
"Bombs."
"Right. Those." John took a moment to think. He looked at both captains. "So… about guns… is there a smithy I can borrow?"
End
April 24, 2024 - some rewriting.
August 21, 2024 - I rewrote the section where he explained a technical analysis why guns replaced swords with Captain Hertha and Ematol. Hope ya'll enjoyed it.
It's been months since the last rewrite, and there had been many chapters uploaded since this one, but my writing skills had some noticeable improvements, so I rewrote what I think could be improved.
There's a saying that art is never finished, only abandoned.
I hope you liked this chapter!
Like, seriously. Sometimes I wonder if the dialogue gets boring for ya'll. I am very open to criticism. As a humble writer, I would appreciate any sort of feedback. Should I speed up the plot? Should I lessen the 'screentime' of NPCs? Should I do this? Do that? Blah bla bla.
Regardless, if I keep this up the next chapter might not even take a week to finish.
Which is... wow.
It took me three days to write a 4K word chapter. I mean, sure! Word count isn't everything, but way back then, I was struggling to write a chapter that only had a 2K word count that took me a month. I overthink about how I'm going to write my chapter. But now it's getting a whole lot easier. And I would have never achieved the skills I have without your support!
I am a perfectionist. I said that many times, I'm aware. I get frustrated with myself when I don't follow my plans and outlines. Chapter Seven made me cringe so hard to the point where I wanted to rewrite the entire story. But there was a silver lining to it. That is, I'm learning how to adapt to my story, rather than force the story into how I want to be.
The point is, that my story is getting more and more alive in every chapter. I think I'm evolving as a writer if I say so myself.
So I'm very thankful to my followers for this journey. Especially to my reviewers! You guys rock! You're the fuel that keeps this story going! Sometimes I wonder if I'm not fit to be a writer, but that voice is shrinking with every review. I'm sorry if I don't reply directly, but I want you to know that I read every review with pride.
See you next chapter ;D