Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (23/?) (Patreon)

“So, does that weapon of yours have a name?” The wolf inquired with unrestrained enthusiasm. If his voice didn't already give it away, then the ferocious wagging of his tail most certainly did.

“There’s… a lot of nomenclature involved, but for the purposes of this conversation I’ll try to keep it brief. We call it a gun, Thalmin.”

The gun.

A tool as varied in complexity as the problems it was designed to solve.

An answer to a question that has been asked in a thousand different languages, over a thousand different ways, across a thousand different eras.

A question that ultimately boiled down to a single, simple, sentence:

What is the most effective way to kill?

For most of human history, and the Nexus it seems, the answer was almost always reliant on solutions as simple and as limiting as the hands that gripped them. From the club to the blade and the spear to the polearm, strength and skill had proven itself as the only reliable means to achieving this deceptively simple end. Acting as the indisputable limiting factor to any who attempted to answer this age old question.

This placed a hard limit on things. Most notably, it restricted scalability and accessibility.

Civilization, however, wasn’t ever content on leaving a question of such importance answered so half-heartedly.

The Nexus seemed to stumble upon a better answer to this question by virtue of their inherent gifts, extending their effective reach, and embracing the natural advantage afforded to them in the form of mana manipulation.

Humanity, however, wasn’t so fortunate.

We didn’t have the ability to summon lightning, earthquakes, and missiles right out of the gate. We didn’t have the privilege of evolving a second, unseen set of limbs through which to manipulate the world around us in ways previously inconceivable.

All we had to our name was a set of two gangly hands, ending in those five, blunted, wiry digits.

But that didn’t stop us. In fact, it was those very ‘limitations’ that forced us to think outside the box.

As what we lacked in claws, in fangs, in venom, or in magics, we made up for in deductive reasoning and innovation.

For all it took was a simple mix of chemistry and metallurgy for the tides to truly shift, and by the advent of industry, that shifting tide had all but become an unassailable wave leading to nearly two millennia worth of further refinements and unprecedented advancements.

Two millennia, that saw us starting off with bamboo tubes with some spicy powder, before arriving at fifth generation composalite with a veritable buffet of chemical propellants and magnetic accelerants to choose from.

Although unlike the Nexus, what we had wasn’t a force multiplier exclusive to a select few, nor one that was gatekept behind ancient tomes and hidden spells.

What we had was a weapon. One that only took two hands, a good eye, some bullets, and a tempered resolve to wield. A weapon that with a single squeeze of a trigger, was capable of bringing forth to the table a destructive potential once locked behind decades of training and practice. A weapon which was capable of bringing that same destructive potential to bear consistently and without fail, until you ran out of bullets or resolve.

This weapon wasn’t rare, either. It wasn’t locked away in a far flung tower to be handed and gifted to adventurers daring and brave enough to make the long, perilous journey. Nor was it talked about under hushed breaths within the dark corners of taverns or the deepest depths of a scholar’s study.

It was as common, or perhaps even more common, than your average spear. It was so ubiquitous that there were, at the present era, enough of them to arm every single human currently alive more than a hundred times over.

Humanity, with all of its so-called ‘shortcomings’ with a lack of magic, mana, or other such natural ‘gifts’, had answered this age-old question with the ultimate testament to its indomitable resolve. A resolve which was only satisfied so long as the envelope kept being pushed. To forever address and re-address all of life’s questions, especially the ones that were so crucial to its continued survival.

To do anything but innovate, to be satisfied with the current standard, was to invite stagnation to begin its inevitable creep.

“So, what would you like to know about guns?” I asked Thalmin with an excitable grin underneath my helmet, the wave of underlying anxiousness that had lingered from the battle being supplanted somewhat by this new hyperfixation. A part of me knew this was a temporary distraction from the uneasy feeling still welling within my gut, but another part of me knew there was no point in allowing it to eat at me more than it already had. Or, at least that’s what I told myself.

“Well first off-”

“Could we see it?” Thacea, surprisingly, interjected with a great deal of apprehension, cutting off Thalmin before he could even finish his sentence.

Both Thalmin and I turned to face each other in a small bout of disbelief, but just as quickly turned back to Thacea with a toothy grin on both of our respective faces.

The avian, however, didn’t seem to share in either of our enthusiastic spirits.

We made our way over to the sofas and lounge chairs, set against the backdrop of the deep orange rays of the dwindling sunlight. It was here that I once more found myself palming my holster, and the magnetic locks that kept my sidearm virtually impossible to rip from my side.

The only real way of doing so would be to disable the suit’s power supply, which really did give a whole new meaning to prying it from my cold dead hands.

“Alright.” I spoke to no one in particular as I flicked open the maglocks, only for my heart to flutter. This… wasn’t the fluttering of excitement, however. I knew how that felt, and this wasn’t it. It took me a second to recompose myself before I realized what it was, as that uneasy feeling of gut-churning vertigo came back with a vengeance only to disappear again as soon as it began. My breath hitched for a moment, my shaky hands taking a second to steady themselves. My mind didn’t immediately register it, but the feeling was undeniably similar to when I’d first unlocked the pistol from my side back in the gardens.

I refused to let it get to me however. It was literally just one engagement, I was fine.

Resuming the motions that had all but been drilled into muscle memory by this point, I pulled out the gun in a single swift motion, the weapon’s safeties automatically set by default as paired with the suit’s current threat alert status.

As expected, both Thacea and Thalmin’s gazes were utterly transfixed by the decidedly simple weapon.

Though it was clear to me that it wasn’t its design or ornamentation that caught their eye, but the raw destructive potential it held within such a small, compact, and unassuming form.

They’d seen what it was capable of after all.

They knew it could kill.

And it was clear from Thacea’s piercing gaze that she was trying to dissect it, even before I started explaining anything.

With Thacea seemingly caught in a trance, it was Thalmin who broke the awed silence with a question I thought I could anticipate coming from a mile away.

Emphasis on the thought part.

“Well, two observations first and foremost. One, that’s a very unassuming name for such an impressive weapon. Two, that’s a very bland and frankly, uninspired design for such an impressive weapon. All of this leads me to believe that the people of your realm do not know the ways of the aesthetic arts as it applies to weapons crafting and design.” The lupinor mercenary prince had put his all into roasting my gun. So unexpected was this response that I was caught completely off guard.

Though it was clear by the tone of his voice, and by the exaggerated expressions on his lupine face, that this was more a facetious jab than anything.

“And I like it that way.” The prince quickly added with a sly smirk. “Flashiness does not a good weapon make.” He spoke resolutely. “I know a good weapon when I see one. A masterfully crafted blade and a mana-imbued artifice, needs only speak for itself in the field of battle. I judge a good weapon the same way I judge a soldier’s character: by their actions and not their boisterous displays. The moment a weapon attempts to speak outside of its intended role, is the moment that weapon loses all pretenses of its original purpose, relegating it to becoming more of a decorative piece than a functional tool. The design of a weapon ultimately speaks volumes to the values of its people of origin. Which in your case Emma… means that my respect for your people yet again grows stronger.”

I couldn’t help but to feel the inklings of a grin forming across my face at the lupinor prince’s bait-and-switch. “Well Thalmin, if you think this thing is bland, I don’t know what you’d make of some of the ergonomic monstrosities some of the psychos back at home had come up with over the years.” I chuckled, my whole body shuddering at the thought of some of the freak designs humanity had come up with over the millennium. “Compared to what’s being passed off as standard issue nowadays, this thing is borderline art.” I spoke off handedly, which seemed to catch Thacea’s attention, but not enough to elicit any questions or comments just yet as she merely looked on with that same apprehensive look of dread.

Thalmin, however, seemed content enough to continue with an unrestrained bout of enthusiasm. “Let’s leave that discussion for another day, for now, I want to know just how this gun of yours works, Emma. I think that's what we're both dying to hear!” The Lupinor’s eyes met my own, giving me a look that could best be described as a cross between the ravenous hunger of a fully-fledged predator and a half-grown pup’s insistence on begging for seconds.

It was clear we were beating around the bush up to this point, so I made no further pretenses in delaying the inevitable, as I placed my gun on the table for both to clearly see. “You can look, but just don’t touch it.” I warned, taking stock of the ravenous gaze of the mercenary prince as I did so.

“There’s… a lot to unpack.” I began with a deep breath. “It’s been two thousand years since the inception of the gun, and a great deal has changed over that course of time. It would be a lie to say that some fundamentals haven’t changed either. But I’ll try my best to break it down. What you see in front of you is a specific class of gun that falls into an overarching category we refer to as kinetic-based weapons systems, or KWS’ for short.”

“I’m starting to see that your culture seems to have a rather unhealthy affinity for abbreviations, Emma. Dare I say it, it’s almost as if you abhor long-winded titles, yet still desire to maintain it in your own convoluted ways.” Thalmin briefly interrupted with a dry chuckle, before raising a single hand for me to continue; that one gesture was perhaps the closest he got to living up to his noble heritage thus far.

Well, he isn’t wrong… I thought to myself, before moving onward just as swiftly. “At its core, KWS’ work by accelerating a solid-state projectile at high velocities towards its intended target. The end goal, as you can imagine, is usually to inflict damage through penetration for the purposes of neutralization.”

“Like a bow or a crossbow?” Thalmin interjected once more, this time however it was done in a clear attempt to understand, as he attempted to tie the concept to something he had some familiarity with.

“Fundamentally, yes. They both accelerate a solid-state object towards a target. However, there’s a component of that description that places bows, crossbows, and any mechanically-charged weapon into its own sub-category.”

“That component being?”

“The fact that contemporary KWS’ are defined by the accelerant component being anything other than mechanical. And by mechanical, I mean a user’s strength. The draw of a bowstring, the cranking of a crossbow’s winches, all of that qualifies as mechanical-charging as it relies on the user putting in the energy to fire the projectile forwards. In effect, it relies on the direct or compound translation of physical strength to kinetic energy.” I explained as best I could, which led to more questions on the part of the lupinor.

“You’re speaking as if you’re leading up to an explanation that involves mana.” The mercenary prince spoke bluntly. “If it isn’t for, in your words, mechanical charging, then what other method is there to propel a projectile forwards? It’s at this point that I’d expect a Nexian mage to come in to enlighten us on the wonders of mana-imbued weaponry. But-” The lupinor prince paused for effect, as if to emphasize the point he was making. “I understand that mana is dangerous and entirely unheard of in your realm. So, and this is not my attempt to sound like the Vunerian-” He leaned in forwards, his eyes practically inches away from the gun at this point. “Pray tell, what exactly is causing this hidden projectile to surge forwards at speeds reserved only for the mana-imbued weapons of the Nexian outer guards?”

The wolf was very much animated at this point, his tonality, his expressions, everything about him was trying desperately to understand a weapon so far removed from his reality.

Which gave me pause as Thacea seemed to be doing the exact opposite, as she sat there, completely unflinching, her eyes still glued to the weapon sitting idly on the wooden coffee table.

“You’re right, Thalmin.” I acknowledge the wolf’s assertions with a single nod. “There’s no mana involved. In fact, I think you could tell by the lack of any ‘mana-fields’ around it when idle and in use.” I shuddered as my mind went back to the battle for the split second, only for me to force those images out of my head as quickly as they’d apparated in. “All that’s involved is a clever manipulation of the laws of the natural world, and a game of trial and error that stretches back over two thousand years.”

I decided that the best way to move forward, the best way to truly hammer home the core fundamentals of how the gun worked was by visually demonstrating it.

Without the actual discharge aspect of it of course.

I removed the gun’s ‘magazine’, placing it butt first on the table, as I palmed one of the few physical indents on the device, releasing just one of the immaculately-packaged ‘rounds’ that would’ve seemed entirely foreign to anyone born prior to the 25th century.

Advancements in material sciences, applied chemistry, and in the reliability of military-grade electronics, coupled with centuries of aggregated datasets across hundreds of wars had made what was once a fragile and expensive novelty into something that had now all but phased out the traditional firearm.

This shift was subtle, adoption having been staggered, until a certain point where it all seemed to happen at once; akin to any other paradigm shift in human technology.

Caseless became the standard, electronic firing mechanisms and electrothermal-chemical technologies supplanted traditional mechanical actions, barring a few exceptional circumstances.

This mission, almost being one of them.

“This.” I held the ‘round’ between my fingers, pinching what amounted to a rectangular pellet that looked as if it’d come straight out of a stack of those hi-chew candies. “Is both the projectile, and what we call the ‘propellant’, basically the stuff that allows the projectile to be pushed forwards.” I started simply, before I began pointing at the aforementioned parts which made up the cartridge. “Whilst its design has changed over the years, the fundamental principles have remained more or less the same. You ignite the propellant, causing a controlled explosion, which pushes the projectile forward.” I explained succinctly, yet still felt as if I’d let down over two thousand years of ballistics experts and gun enthusiasts alike. Having reduced their lives’ works and passions into a single, simplified sentence.

It was at this point that Thalmin’s expressions began to shift. His excitement had become restrained, his perky ears remained as they were, but seemed tense as they refused to flutter about as they usually did with every cock of his head. Something started to click inside of the wolf, as his questions began reflecting his newfound understanding of the terrifying weapon sat benignly in front of him.

“So if I’m to understand this correctly.” He began, his voice retaining its curiosity, but with its excitement dampening down towards a more reserved one of concern. “That small little-”

“Cartridge.” I quickly added.

“-Cartridge.” The wolf mimed back, before continuing. “Barely the size of one quarter of my finger, is what killed the null?!” His voice shook, not in fear, but moreso in disbelief.

“Well, yes, the bullet did. Which, given current technologies, is what makes up most of the cartridge nowadays.” I attempted to explain.

This would be the perfect time to slip in the I bought the whole bullet, and I intend on using the WHOLE bullet joke. But I knew this wasn’t the time or the place for it.

“Right.” The wolf nodded several times over. “I think I get it-”

“What Emma means is that a single cartridge contains both the projectile and the accelerator. The projectile takes a portion of the weight and size, and by the same logic, the accelerator, be it a powder, a solid, or what have you, must also share that same space. That’s why a point was made in order to delineate between the bullet and the rest of the cartridge.” Thacea blurted out in a string of words that carried with it a heaviness of intense realization that mimicked the shock and awe from our discussions regarding the nature of human technologies the previous night. It was honestly quite jarring hearing the explanation coming out of the avian’s beak, given that everything she said was entirely accurate, at least to the extent of what I’d divulged thus far. This meant that she’d sat there, absorbing every last scrap of information, without misunderstanding a single beat.

“That’s… all entirely accurate, princess.” I reaffirmed, my tone of voice clearly relaying just how impressed I was from the avian’s deductive reasoning skills.

With that being said, it wasn’t surprising that Thacea temporarily took the reins of the conversation over from Thalmin as her piercing gaze now landed on the gun and the cartridge I held between my fingers. “To delve deeper into the specifics of this weapon… am I correct in assuming that these cartridges are single-use?”

“When discussing this specific type of cartridge, yes.” I answered simply, which seemed to elicit a slight twitch of the avian’s feathers.

“And am I correct in assuming that there exists some complex… mana-less mechanism by which this propellant is ignited?”

“That’s a given for all guns, but the complexity really depends on the specific system each model uses.”

There was a sudden pause as Thacea seemed to be taking everything in. Her eyes never once deviating from its fixated gaze on the cartridge I still held between my fingers.

“Emma, if you’ll allow me to continue off of my previous line of questioning, I would like to inquire further into the specifics behind the implications of your statements regarding this weapon’s model.” Thacea began, before diving deep into her line of questioning. “The existence of this model implies other competing smithies with similar weapons. However, the nature of this weapon seems to be so very… precise. It seems more akin to a hyper specialized artifice, than anything that would be adopted across an entire army. Which brings me to my next point…” The avian took a deep, sharp breath. “Emma, are you implying that this model of weapon, and others like it, are the standard weapon-of-carry for the soldiers of your realm?”

“Yes.” I stated bluntly. It was clear what had been gnawing at the princess throughout this entire conversation now.

It was with this revelation that Thalmin had firmly placed his entire muzzle into the crook of his hands. I could see his pupils dilating, his leg starting to shake in place, as the ramifications of this revelation started to sink in.

“Every soldier’s a battlemage.” He spoke under hushed breaths to himself.

“Correction, every soldier equipped with outer-guard grade enchanted equipment and near-tier artificed weaponry.” Thacea quickly added in a series of deep, resonant coos.

“What… what of swords? Surely your people couldn’t have just done away with melee combat.” The wolf continued to mutter out, his mind clearly going through the wringer as he tried to visualize a whole world, an entire realm, armed with the same ranged weapons. “What sort of combat is fought when everyone fights on the same playing field as a Nexian Outer-Guardsman? I can’t even begin to visualize…” The wolf trailed off, as Thacea took his place amidst a wave of internalized crises that this one revelation had brought upon him.

“The only limiting factor I see is that this weapon, unlike swords and enchanted armaments, are entirely useless without these cartridges.” The avian deduced. “To deploy an army armed exclusively with such weapons must require an immense number of these cartridges, which leads me to the disturbing thought of a society that places an inordinate amount of time, effort, energy, on such an esoteric fixation.” The avian turned to face me now, piercing eyes of genuine concern and disbelief meeting my own.

“But we do… and all I can tell you right now is that we have more than enough to supply our armies for decades-long campaigns if we needed to, and that’s just the active stores.”

“But why?” Thacea snapped back.

“Because we have no other choice.” I expressed emphatically. “We weren’t born with the advantages afforded to everyone else. We weren’t magically imbued with the ability to fly, to summon lightning, to crack open the earth with a single glance, but we always wanted to, and so we did. And when I say we didn’t have a choice, I don’t mean that this was done out of desperation, but rather, out of a natural extension of our developmental trajectory. The state of affairs we find ourselves in is a direct result of a society that thrives on continued innovation out of necessity and in response to new, unprecedented challenges. This has always been the case with humankind, and it continues to be the case as we press onward.”

Another silence descended on the room after I’d made my case. A silence which emphasized the sheer dread on the pair’s faces as they both slowly came to terms with these series of earth-shattering revelations on their own terms.

“Emma.” Thacea began with a weary, yet determined cadence. “If your kind is capable of committing to such novel eccentricities in the way of the sword, then I cannot even begin to imagine what you’re capable of in the way of the plowshare.”

“What?” I uttered warily, taken aback by what felt like a complete shift in the conversation’s trajectory.

“I’ve seen what you’re capable of, and I’ve seen how you chose to deal with the challenges you’ve faced. From the moment you arrived through that portal to where you sit now, only once have you resorted to violence, and displayed any affinity for a warlike zeal.”

“Heh, two instances of violence if you ask Ilunor.” Thalmin briefly interrupted with a sly grin.

“There have been so many opportunities where you could’ve gone with a strongman’s persona, or dictated the conversation by virtue of your imposing artifces, but you didn’t. You could’ve very well shown us memory shards of war, violence, or aggression as evidence as to your mana-less devices, but you instead showed us works of industry and serene natural beauty. I… am very much still shaken by the revelation of the choice of armaments and the radical ramifications that choice implies in your realm, Emma. But you didn’t willingly choose to lead in with that. You lead in with a desire for diplomacy, and friendship. This entire conversation, however, was an action born out of practical necessity. And a gesture of trust which I fully intend on respecting.”

“Here, here.” Thalmin seconded with a strong, woof-like bark.

I didn’t know what to say, I blinked for a few moments, taking stock of the entire situation, before replying in the only way I knew I could. “Thank you, Thacea, honestly I… Look. My mission, my entire purpose for being here, was always predicated on the peaceful intent of my people and its government. Humanity desires peace, but in doing so, they made sure I was ready to deal with any eventuality I may find myself in on the other side. I’m not adopting a strongman’s persona because that’s not who I am. That’s not who or what humanity is. We’ve been through so much heartache, so much hardship, and we’ve grown from that. Peace and understanding is what we desire as a species and as a civilization, and we tentatively took the leap to the Nexus with a hope for peace and a willingness for dialogue, but also with a solemn understanding and willingness to defend ourselves if need be.” I paused, taking a deep breath as I met the pair’s eyes once more. “Whilst at first I thought I’d be going all in on the latter, it’s clear to me now that the former is also possible, because of you guys.” I smiled warmly, letting out a heartfelt sigh of relief as all the tension that had been built up had subsequently started to resolve itself with this exchange.

The pair acknowledged my entire spiel with a curt, prolonged nod, which I assumed was more than likely a more serious form of a regular acknowledgement.

“With all of that being said… you need some rest, Emma.” Thacea urged, gesturing towards the rapidly setting sun as she did so.

“But, I need to head over to the weapons inspection-”

“We can’t afford you to crash at the weapons inspection, Emma. We need you in tip top shape, so come on, it’s time to rotate out.” Thalmin urged with a toothy grin of reassurance.

“Like we said, Emma. We’ll watch over you while you rest.” Thacea quickly added.

“Besides! There’s a good…” Thalmin paused, reaching over to grab what looked to be a similar variant of the pocket watch I saw Thacea pulling out earlier in the dining hall. “Four? Five hours to rest before the night’s end?”

I let out a massive sigh as I regarded the pair with weary, worn out eyes.

Who was I kidding, I fucking needed the sleep.

“Alright, I think I’ll catch three or four hours of shuteye.” I managed out through a yawn. “Should give me about an hour for the weapons inspection.”

With a group sentiment of agreement, I began walking off, my sights set on the tent, and the cold hard flexible composite floor that called my name.