Chapter 4: A Matter of Transparency
Waters shuddered to even think of the Ice Storm. 'Cooldown' didn't even begin to cover the terror it was. That was a proper Ice Storm. But they were outside of it now. Far from The Mound in fact. Progress had been slow until they escaped the Storm. Once they were out, Durn's Trawler breezed along the desert as if it had been purpose-built to deal with the Desert. Then again, it probably was purpose-built to deal with the desert. The Kamel could only be tugged along.
Three days had gone by, since the Storm, and asides from some conversation with Durn, they had done little. All Waters could do was wait, be bored, and watch Durn build whatever the hell he was building. With Durn's Trawler resupplying wasn't a problem; they had supplies enough to last for at least two months. He glanced at the large circle that had was drawn upon his map. That was the second problem. It was quite clearly intentional; either that or they were experiencing some freak mana incident that manipulated entropy. His only guess was that Durn wanted to finish the blunderbuss before he went anywhere- if he was going anywhere.
Over the course of three days, the weapon had become much less heavy- from the titanic shotgun that looked like something Atlas might wield- to a simpler and smaller crystal-powered gun that even he could easily use. But why a blunderbuss- that was the question. A mechanist's skills lay not in making weaponry, it was in designing semi-magical equipment. Building something like a trawler- or perhaps a Crawler- That was what a mechanist usually did. Durn seemed to not fit even a single conception of what a Mechanist should be. And the blunderbuss- it was quite clearly the very antithesis of what a mechanist ought to be doing. Waters had his doubts as to whether the man really was a mechanist, but here he was, in Durn's employment, it was a little late to complain now.
The fourth day too, went by without event. The blunderbuss remained in it's current incomplete state. Whatever Durn was tweaking at this point, it wasn't apparent to Waters. And finally it was over. Durn had sat awake through the entire night, refusing to answer any questions at all, as he did whatever he wanted to the weapon. He had looked upon it intently for several hours, ignoring sleep and exhaustion; like an artist who had come upon a roadblock, he sat through it all hoping to find some solution to whatever happened to plague him. Waters had been optimistic for a while that Durn might die from exhaustion, but he could quite clearly feel something nagging him rather painfully at the back of his mind each time he thought of Durn's death. The Bloodbound contract no doubt.
As Durn sat up with the finished weapon, Waters was mildly disappointed. The gun looked
like any ordinary blunderbuss, excepting the fact that there was nowhere at all to insert any ammunition. He looked upon it curiously; it was unadorned for the most part, and seemed unimpressive at first, second and third look.
"It's done?"
"It's done," Durn called out. They both stared at the hunk of metal.
"A little disappointing isn't it?" muttered Waters'
"Oh, just wait till you see what this bad boy can do." They watched as Durn twirled the weapon with flair and then pumped whatever mechanism sat upon its front half. Silently sand was sucked into its funnel-shaped barrel. With a grin upon his face, Durn pulled the trigger. Shards of something shot out, piercing the sand in front. Shot out was really an understatement. Hell, to say he even saw the bullet was a joke. He merely saw the trigger being pulled, and the sand collapse inwards. While the gun's design seemed to offset its recoil, Waters could feel a wave of air hit him. It was the force of pure concentrated mana being released. It was an incredible pressure. Best of all- there was no explosion of gunpowder or telltale flash of mana.
Waters examined the foot-deep holes in the sand. It was filled with glass. If this hit flesh- he doubted anything would survive. Even a single shard grain of whatever mana and glass mixture he shot out was likely to guarantee an instant lethality. A one-hit kill. It was as clear as day to him now. The marketing potential, the license value, every goddamn thing about this simple blunderbuss could change life on the desert. Surely, a cheap black-crystal cannon that used sand as ammunition would be popular amongst not only mercs, hell any civilian with his fingers still on could use this beauty.
"I take that back- this shit is gold."
Durn grinned. "You came around in a short while, huh?"
"What do you mean came around," Waters spoke out as he tried to grab the blunderbuss from Durn. "This is the mother-lode, Durn. Do you know what you're sitting on? Tell me you're selling it, heck I could make you a millionaire in a minute. This is pure and utter gold- the best. It's an invention befitting of a Mechanist. If I was dubious earlier, hell I'm your servant now." Durn cackled at those words as he threw Waters the weapon.
"Here, play with this baby for a while then." The weapon sailed through the air in a neat arc, before snapping Water's wrist and falling upon the sand. "Damn you don't have a gauntlet do you?" Amidst Waters' screams, Durn fancied he heard a 'no motherfucker' or a curse of equal magnitude, though that might have just been him.
It was seven hours, and two apologies later that the two of them talked again. Waters' wrist was mangled. Perhaps unusable, unless they managed to find a high-grade mage. But mages- bah they were an unsavory lot. Always so uptight and pedantic, they tried their hardest to be mysterious. He knew his fair share of mages, all of them absolute imbeciles, especially the high-grade ones(pompuous assholes them), perhaps a decent few amongst them, but as a rule, he tended not to enjoy their company. But that could wait till later.
To an extent Durn found it amusing- he needed to get used to how irritatingly weak Waters' was. The kid's patience was pitiable really. His talent at business barely offset any of that. He couldn't even catch a damn blunderbuss, and he planned on selling it. Still for an untrained human, the kid had balls at least.
The weight of the weapon was no joke, and with the sheer force from the steam gauntlet that Durn wore, catching it was likely a significant struggle. Still the fault was his, he supposed and for that he owed Waters' his due. Durn patched Waters up with a metal cast. A basic healing spell had to suffice for now, he didn't want to waste a high grade potion on the idiot. That would be an investment wholly unworthy of its return. They hadn't moved at all for the whole day, and under the blistering heat, they did exactly that- blister. Compared to Durn who had long gotten used to the climes of the desert, Waters' was far more exhausted. Blisters popped up in the most uncomfortable places that were possible. His only saving grace was the money was about to fall into his hands.
Waters stared at his broken hand. Broken was really an understatement. It was shattered. Mangled. Twisted till flesh and bone had become infused with naturally high mana density of the atmosphere, moulding into a painful lump of agony. The bones were all still there, as were his veins. It just wasn't a hand anymore. He protested for his rights of course; but his methods of protest were a little limited when Durn was the only person keeping him alive in the desert. A slight problem. His cast had more or less settled after an hour, whatever spell that was less anger than he had expectd at Durn happened to cast silenced his pain- temporarily at least.
Hopefully that goddamn bastard would die and let him go back to his con business. He was angry- yet within him, there was a small part that felt that his hand was disposable. Hell if he could earn millions from this, what was a hand? He could even buy a brand new, even more functional hand off of the black market. That was capitalism for you- always providing convenient solutions for all your problems. Was he content with being a conman for the rest of his life? Was he content with being a false noble? Fuck no. Perhaps if he accumulated enough money, he may as well buy himself a better title. Hell if he was rich enough the king would give him a title. Bah, with enough money he could become the king. He could buy the king. But that was ahead. For now... For now he had made an investment, and it was time he mades sure that the investment paid off. With a sigh he acknowledged whatever Durn had been telling him, that he hadn't heard. Sure his hand was fucked, what more could Durn say? He looked deeply into Durn's apologetic eyes and spoke.
"Yes, fuck you too Durn. Fuck your mother while we're at it. You can't give me my hand back, but hey, as my dad used to say, there's nothing in the world money can't pay for. And you sure could pay me some." He followed up his statement with a meaningful look towards the blunderbuss.
Durn looked at the blunderbuss too. He frowned; there was something wrong with the weapon. It was... It didn't look right. It looked strange as if it had been glazed like pottery. it gleamed, reflecting the suns light into their eyes. They hadn't quite noticed it till now. It was a very distinct texture- definitely unlike steel. Waters' broke the tense silence first.
"Is it supposed to be like that if it falls on the ground?" he asked curiously. Durn frowned as well. He prodded the shimmering mass that used to be the Blunderbuss. As they looked upon the now shattered mass Waters' whistled again. "It's an actual fucking glass cannon, huh?" Durn grimly nodded. "Well, we've got a broken cannon, and you owe me a little money, so chop-chop, let's get to earning that shall we? You've got to learn to treat your employees better really. And so it was that they began their second loop around the desert.
A weapon needed to be durable- tough enough to survive the desert and whatever other rough use it would have to undergo. If it broke, it wouldn't sell. Though that was slightly self-evident. The current gun was useless. After shooting once, the mana crystallized all of it. It became glass- just like the sand. Well not precisely glass, but as glasslike as metal could become. At least that was what Durn had told Waters' so far, from their limited interactions. The blunderbuss had to be ready. Only when it was completed, would they head to an Oasis. It was an odd insistence, but Durn was a Mechanist, and a Mechanist was almost expected to have his eccentric insistences.
Weekly Power Status
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