April 12, 2024
Start
"John! Come here!" Sara waved urgently.
John jogged towards Good Hunter with concern on his face. "Need help on anything?"
She placed a plateful of chicken-mushroom skewers on the counter with a more-than-professional smile. "No. But you can help yourself instead."
"Huh? Wait. I didn't order anything. I was just passing by."
"Good thing you did. I was looking everywhere for you. It's on the house!"
… But why would she? John's mind rushed like a getaway car as he opened the System's [Conversation Log]. But something happened else instead. Reading the intentions of his mind, the System presented him a page in the [Quest Log] and [History Log]. He helped her in one of the finished quests. Oh. That's why.
"On the house means it's free, silly." Sara giggled tenderly. "And you've been busy helping around, right? You must be famished."
"… Thanks." Despite his apprehension, he smiled gratefully. He took the plate as he looked for any available table. Few are only occupied.
"Uhh." Before John could take a step, Sara forced out her words. "Do you have plans for today?"
"… Kinda. But I wanna ask something. Does this frequently happen? The siege, I mean."
"Oh. No." The waitress paused, "Sometimes you have peace for a year, sometimes every week for a few months, sometimes you get stuck here for the entire winter season."
"Entire season?" John raised an eyebrow. Spending a winter in the city trapped by monsters. What an interesting lifestyle. "And… everyone here just shrugs it off like its nothing?"
"Business does get slow, but that's just it. Sometimes even Liyue gets involved. Oh yeah, the Favonius did send a large expedition a few days ago." Sara yawned a big one before continuing. "The Abyss Order must think of this as the biggest opportunity they'll ever get. I guess that's why this siege is the biggest one yet."
Yet? She talked about it like it's nothing.
"… Is everyone here in Mondstadt carefree or just apathetic."
After a few seconds of silence, she merely chuckled. "Just wait until nighttime. That's when it gets crazy."
"Huh!? That's not reassuring!"
"Ah well, that's just how it is." She shrugged, her smile never faltering.
John took a skewer and munched off the tender mushroom. He stared with a blank face as he tried to read her intention and her tone. "… I'll meet with Captain Albedo later. Or… I don't know, honestly. I think I'll take a stroll around town."
"You've got a lot on your mind, don't you?" Sara said, attentive to his expression.
She wasn't wrong, but it's nothing too heavy. John recalled other incidents from eavesdropping. The Abyss Order has been targeting significant assets. A skirmish around the pier where supplies are transported. Harassment in apartments where knights are sleeping in shifts. Tents of mercenaries were trashed as if some tornado passed by. He wished he could have helped, but it's not like he can predict the exact time they'll attack.
"I'm just… uh." He bobbed his head, breaking down all his troubles into a single sentence. "I'm just having trouble adjusting, is all."
"I say you're adjusting pretty fine for someone in your situation."
"A very absurd situation," John said monotonously. "This will sound random, but sometimes I wonder if I'm in some kind of dream. Take that however you will."
Sara chuckled, "I can't even imagine putting myself in your shoes. How's your life going here in Mondstadt so far?"
… Where is this conversation going? John idly bit off the mushroom from the skewer. "It's…"
For as long as there was no other customer in line, John talked about his day summarily. How he tried his hands on cooking, how he got transferred to the Investigation Company, how he got tasked to do alchemy stuff, and so on. He said nothing about his project, but he did mention the people he got closer with. The leader of the Favonius. That maid at the headquarters. The knights and alchemists he's worked with.
"Hm!" Sara hummed joyfully. "You know, I remember the first time we met each other. Remember when Amber gave you a tour? I noticed that time that you had this… look on your face that's anything but peaceful."
"Huh?" Seriously. Where is this conversation going? For reasons that alluded him, her genuine expression put him in a trance. He felt the casual atmosphere morph into something more… real. He's unsure where this is going, but he listens.
"From what I can tell, you were doing everything to keep yourself calm. Ever heard the saying that eyes are the window to one's soul…?" Sara laid her arms on the counter and leaned forward. She's making arbitrary hand gestures as she continues, "Ugh... Forget it. I'm such a sap. What I'm saying is that I'm happy for you that you're liking your stay in Mondstadt, even if we're not in the most… impressionable situation. I can only wish you farewell and safe travels once everything gets back to normal."
Get back to normal?
He can't visualize a normal life. What is it like to live normally here? What even is normal? What is normal for him? What is normal for something like him?
"What?" He squeaked. "I'm not going to leave so soon."
"… Wait." She arched her brows. "How long will you be staying here?"
"Can't say… but I think I will stay for a long time."
Sara fell in contemplation for a brief moment.
"You're planning to live here? Don't you have anywhere to return to? Don't you have people waiting for you?"
Yes, yes, and yes.
But he can't get back home. If he had it his way, he would have said his final goodbyes if he had known of his destiny since the beginning. John tried to form words in his head. Nothing came up. Foggy memories swirled in his head. He opened his mouth to force out anything. His lungs felt bloated. His chest felt caged. His throat felt choked. His eyes felt-
John found it hard to breathe.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I swear I didn't know!"
He took this chance as an escape. He didn't know what else to say.
"I'm just going to take a walk. Thanks for the food. Really." He took the last skewer with him as he turned around and sauntered like nothing happened. He wiped his eyes dry with his jacket sleeve.
Not in public.
Why?
Why does he want to avoid this conversation? Is it because he hadn't yet fully accepted that he's not inside of some game? That he's talking to real people? That this reality and the lives within it as complex as any other?
No that feels wrong. They're not fucking NPCs.
In the brewing chaos in his soul, he searched for an answer.
He may have lived a short life, but that cannot erase his lifetime's worth of memories. Memories that turned into ashes, carried on by friends and families still alive in his homeworld. They will move on. It might take years. Decades. But eventually, they'll live out the rest of their lives where most days are lived without a single thought about him. He wouldn't mind. It's what he wanted. It's what anyone would have wanted. No good person wants to be a lingering pain to everyone important to them.
But where does that leave him?
He cannot avoid the topic that he is in a very unique situation.
It's only natural to mourn for those dear to you. But since he still 'died', should he grieve for himself?
How would that even work?
How do you mourn for yourself?
How can someone like him move on?
Please. Not in fucking public… Oh, look. Cat.
Right. Sometimes he forgot that cats exist here.
"Ps ps ps ps ps. Come here. Ps ps. Yeah, you're so cute~"
A calico cat ran towards him and bumped its shapely head to his palm with a crisp meow.
The cat rubbed its entire body against his shin as he felt lovely vibrations.
He squatted and massaged everything from head to tail.
He heard purring. What a pleasant noise.
Life was not as bad as before.
Serotonin. Happy.
…
Bang!
The gathered crowd flinched. The sudden boom was replaced with loud silence the next second as everyone gaped in muted shock. No one dared to break the palpable tension in the training hall. Alchemists, knights, officers, librarians, maids. No matter their capability, their careers, or their contribution, they all shared a breathless reaction to the lethal novelty.
At some point in everyone's career, they got used to the presence of the ever-rambunctious Klee and adapted to her ever-explosive antics.
But this?
This is different.
The explosion sounded… snappy; like a crack of thunder, and flashy as it was abrupt.
"That's a gun?" Hertha started meekly, overwhelmed in disbelief. Her voice was barely audible, but it was heard with clarity in the face of the stunned silence. She had been wrong to assume that a hand cannon is anything similar to a crossbow. So damn wrong. How can a ranged weapon with a smaller profile be multitudes mightier?
She gawked at the rubble of shattered bricks. Before the demonstration, the chief alchemist deduced that archery straw targets would fail to visualize the power of the weapon he was to present, so he ordered bricks to be gathered and a table to stack them on.
The maids cleaned fragments as others rather hurriedly reorganized the brick stack for the next shot.
"If you would." He gestured to the short line of archers. The volunteers drew their arrows at full draw. Arrows collided with the untouched stack of bricks. None did the same amount of damage as it did with the bullet. Some bricks were split into two, some into three, while some just lamely pushed it out of the table and thudded on the floor in one piece.
None had this oomph that it did like its thunderous competition.
Their arrows were nothing compared to the destruction brought upon them by the single hand of Albedo. What are the implications? What does this prove? That years of body conditioning and the finest warbows can barely compare to an object so… minuscule?
Albedo reloaded the pistol with half a thimble of his custom gunpowder, stamping down a perfectly spherical lead ball to the breech with a short ramrod. There was no need for wadding, as the bullet is nearly identical to the bore. The vacuum should be more than enough to hold it in place. As a precaution, he kept the hammer uncocked.
All watched him reload with mixed feelings.
The Alchemist handed the gun to the next curious person.
Underestimating the outcome, Kaeya never expected it to be powerful.
This isn't just some better crossbow as he believed. It deserved a weapon class of its own.
"… How long did it take to make this?" Kaeya avoided placing his finger on the trigger with precaution. His hand fit well around the wooden grip, but what took his attention the most was that the grip was larger than the component critical of its function. Three inches! The barrel has a length of a mere three inches!
What if it was longer?
"My apologies for the lack of precision, but an hour or so," Albedo answered vaguely. He decided to add answers that would best complement the context. "If you're curious, it could have been faster. John and Schulz spent more time developing custom tools than the gun itself. If we go into technicalities, they forged all the components whereas I used my magic to refine the parts and assembled everything into working order."
Faster?
It could have been made faster?
If the process is refined, could they arm squads in mere days?
By a single oddball and friends who recently learned how to gunsmith in a fucking afternoon?
"Kaeya." Jean hesitated like a child too shy to ask. With her fealty to the sword, what she is about to do would be a betrayal. But she must test its capabilities herself. "May I?"
Without a word, Kaeya handed it to Jean who gripped the thing with an iron fist, her index gentle on the trigger. She mimicked how Albedo flipped back the striking tool with a thumb. She heard a click, and the trigger felt a little lighter. She was a few paces away from the target. She pointed the end of the barrel at the unmortared brick wall with a stiff arm.
Bang!
Like a trebuchet throwing a boulder against fortification, the bullet crashed against the stoneworks.
"This is…" She felt the gun shove against her wrist. It wasn't bad. More surprising than anything else. The teal smoke from the barrel flowed out like a snuffed candle. She didn't know what to say about this weapon. Terrifying? Impressive? Otherworldly? Whatever the case, it's a weapon that should never fall into the wrong hands. If Klee ever meets John, the two would certainly be… troublesome.
"It's a prototype. A proof of concept as John had put it." Albedo filled in what he thought would be best to add for this context.
"Prototype?" Kaeya muttered. That word hung in the room like a miasma. Everyone knows of its definition; a model built for demonstration. In this context, the gun is merely a step towards a better iteration. He said the word again with a heavier weight, "A prototype. You're telling me that this is a prototype?"
Jean passed the gun to Albedo. "Where's John?"
"Taking a walk, but he never specified where."
"Everyone! Call in!" Jean snapped with a mild frown. All the knights felt their chests jump. The knights rushed in formation - with some nearly tripping. Every knight, sans the captains, stood at attention. Her voice was loud and clear. "I declare a censorship protocol! Whatever happened in this room shall not be disclosed to the public! Search for John Smith and kindly invite him into my office, now!"
Under a unified spirit, they all saluted. With a direct command from the Acting Grand Master herself, all present personnel, regardless of company and division they serve under, dispersed and exited the training hall.
"Captain Kaeya, Captain Albedo, Captain Hertha." Jean faced the three. "We cannot have this technology leak to the public. Find out everyone who was involved in John's firearms research and have them sign an NDA of his project. Suppress the forging techniques and confiscate any related assets if you have to."
"A gag order, huh?" Hertha sighed. "You surprised me. Master Jean, tell me you're not going to arrest him. Please."
"You're just going to waste this opportunity?" Kaeya shook his head disappointedly. He can't accept this, but as a cavalry captain, maybe he can change her mind. "Ah, what a shame. Tut tut. I was already thinking of all-gun platoons as an alternative, you see."
"Alternative?" Jean arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms in casual amusement, a contrast to her earlier aura. "You mean a temporary replacement for cavalry?"
"… Maybe? Hehe~" Kaeya hummed coolly. "As you've seen, this hand cannon is powerful and disruptive. Might be great for breaking enemy formation and morale, don't you think? A bit like a cavalry charge."
Hearing that from the captain himself, Hertha recalled John's impromptu speech of how he listed sharing traits between windmills, sailships, beast-driven carts, and cavalry. It was oddly funny. Going by the implications, John might think that guns can equal the power of cavalry-
… Wait a minute.
Hertha tried to read Kaeya's unreadable expression. Seeing her stare, he hid his intention behind a playful smile.
I know that look you fucking manipulative bastard.
She humored the idea of whether a gun platoon could go against a cavalry platoon.
Her mind played out a scenario of a duel on a grassy plain. She imagined a line of horsemen charging to a line of gunners. Some horsemen would survive the initial onslaught of lead, but that's enough to sow chaos. By then, both sides will be racing against time. It's either the gunners reload first before getting slaughtered, or the surviving horsemen bringing vengeance.
Her arm hair stood on end from goosebumps. She forgot one factor outside of combat.
Production.
Horses take years to mature, whereas John didn't even cost him a day to make a gun. By the time a horse can carry a person, a blacksmith guild can arm entire companies with firearms, over and over and over again. A dead horse will not be easy to replace too. All that investment spent on horse husbandry. Gone. Resources, labor, time. Gone.
From a cost-benefit analysis, guns take the lead to the skies.
What if you combine two elements? Firearms and horses? A gun cavalry?
As the logistics captain, her job involves a lot of numbers. She never thought of a day when she could not calculate the immeasurable implications of what guns can bring to the table. Indeed, firearms are a class of their own. A different kind of beast in every way that matters. With all that in mind, she found her gazing deeper at Kaeya. They had a wordless exchange and a shared look of understanding. Kaeya smirked widely.
Of course, you realized that sooner. Hertha snorted softly, prompting a silent chuckle from her seasoned peer. John may be familiar with the theory, but Kaeya had years of practical experience. The thing that bothered them both the most was that the demonstrated weapon was a prototype.
John could make a gun with more power, with more range, with more accuracy.
And the Investigation Company acted as the catalyst.
Captain Hertha suppressed a sigh.
"Huh?" Albedo noticed he was sandwiched by blank stares. He looked at Kaeya, then Hertha, then back to Kaeya. "Why are you two giving me that look? What did I do?"
Albedo cupped his chin, absolutely unaware of the racing minds of his peers.
"Is it about this?" He gestured to the pistol he held. "Should I dispose of it?"
"Why would you suggest that?" Jean asked straight-faced. "On the contrary, no. Hopefully, its next iteration is ready for field application."
That came off as a surprise for the three.
End
*Insert Author's Notes.*
I had fun writing this.
But I'm getting tired. I need to sleep. Supposedly, I was to finish the chapter yesterday, but my brain juice is in short supply. I'm serious. I've been feeling down lately. I'm trying to push my limits as a writer.
This chapter drained me.
Writing the part where everyone is really thinking about why guns will change the battlefield drained me. For us, guns changed society, and this is chapter is my short essay on why from an analytical viewpoint. How would the knights really react to guns? I really wanted to capture the essence of their perspective.
And I really hope I did a good job. What say you, my dear followers?
Did I capture the essence?
I want to sleep. SLeppeepFOISdfjoi agSLeep
SLeep.
SLEEEEP
I'll probably delete this AN later
By the way, if you don't mind buying me coffee, check out my Ko-Fi page in my profile!
Anything would help. Like, coming from a third-world country, a dollar can buy me a meal.
What will I use it for?
Coffee.
Literally.
And food.
I sometimes eat once a day. I kid you not. I wish I wasn't serious.
I need a therapist.