Coming back to one’s self after a bout of Arcane Inspiration was always a challenge, and this time was no different. All at once, Mimi’s otherworldly focus receded; her hands stilled, and the whispers in her ear fell silent. The strange magic she used to harness the skill of past Gunsmiths had dwindled away, leaving her alone with her thoughts… And the banging of tools. And the sweltering heat. And the pair of hapless dependents she’d brought along with her.

And, of course, the product.

She cradled it in her hands like a child, marveling at the intricacy of its design. A gently curving masterwork of pink and black, the shoulder stock was undoubtedly destined for Roulette. A strange, multihued wheel stood out on its side, encased in tempered glass, but otherwise it looked to be a perfectly normal and functional accessory for a gunslinging girl on the go.

“Oh, my! It is beautiful!” Beretta exclaimed from behind. “...What is it?”

“A gunstock,” Luca replied. “It’s an attachment designed to steady your aim and reduce recoil.” He sidled up to Mimi and stroked his chin, then, peering down at the finished piece with a puzzled expression on his face. “I’ve never known a Gunsmith to craft anything but a gun, though. What gives?”

“It’s exceedingly rare,” Mimi said with a frown. “But, according to my former master, Gunslingers of merit sometimes outgrow the potential of their destined weapons. When that happens, it’s possible that a modification–or a sister weapon–might be crafted by a Gunsmith on their behalf.”

“Huh. And here I thought I knew everything there was to know about my trade,” he laughed. “Guess I should’ve spent more time in here rubbing shoulders with the eggheads.”

“Don’t feel bad. Like I said, it’s rare.” With a final, lingering glance at the completed stock, Mimi took up a clasp from the workbench and clipped it to her belt. “Now all we have to do is get it into Roulette’s hands.”

“Wait… Did you just say Roulette?”

Mimi looked up, blinking. “Yeah. Why?”

“I’m her old buddy, Luca!” he blurted. “Man, I can’t believe you guys actually know her! How’s she doing? I haven’t seen her since I gave her that lead on– W-Well, y’know what, it’s not important. But seriously though, how is she?”

“She is fine!” Beretta chirped. “Father is helping her fight the Gun Czars!”

“...Beretta…” Mimi said with a sigh, “You can’t just tell people that. What if he’s on their side?”

“I’m not! I’m not, I promise,” he swore. “Hell, I was a part of the resistance before it all fell apart! If Roulette is back here sticking it to ‘em, I definitely want in! Where is she now?”

Mimi exchanged a glance with Beretta. “We don’t know,” she admitted. “The Call is drawing me out west, but I couldn’t say how far. And it’s all academic, anyway–our airship will be shot down if we try flying it over the range.”

Luca nodded sympathetically, staring off into the distance as he mulled it all over. “That’s quite the pickle. You’d want some kind of automobile, most likely, but those cost a fortune. Aside from that, you could always get yourself a horse…?”

Mimi overruled Beretta’s emphatic cries of “Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!” with a pointed wrinkling of her nose. “Never again. I’m done with pack animals.”

“But Mimi, horses are fast,” Beretta whined. “And we need fast! Diallo and a bunch of other bad men are here, right now!”

“Diallo… As in your psychotic uncle Diallo?” Mimi scoffed. “That’s impossible. You shouldn’t tell lies just to get your way, Berry.”

“It is not a lie!!” she fumed, stamping her little foot in indignation. “Sniffer and I heard them! They came into that little room you left me in–I had to hide under the table!”

Mimi rolled her eyes, smiling wryly at Luca. “Don’t mind her. She has a flair for the dramatic,” she explained. “I’d been hoping to avoid this, but we may need to pay my family a visit. They aren’t as wealthy as they once were, but with a bit of cajoling I think we can secure the funds we’ll need to travel in style.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Luca shrugged his shoulders. “I’m good with whatever. Lead the way!”

She smiled sweetly and obliged without another word. How nice it was to be dealing with someone pliable for once! Compared to Beretta–who was currently stomping along behind her in a show of childish discontent–the man was a breath of fresh air.

If only her parents could be so accommodating!

She guided Luca and Beretta back through the Gunsmithy and down the hall, leading them into the crowded reception hall. The murmur of countless conversations and transactions enveloped them as they crossed the room, and Mimi could see through the building’s ornate front windows that twilight was coming on. Time really flies when you’re smithing, she mused. Surprising that Berry managed to sit still for all that–

Before she could finish the thought, the front door of the GGE swung open to admit a most magnificent man. Bespectacled and clad in a slim-fitting red suit, he sauntered into the place as if he owned it–and, for all she knew, he did. For this was none other than the Alistair Montrevi standing before her: exemplar of the upper crust, longtime friend of the family, chairman of the Trigger City Historical Society…

…And the object of her most tenacious crush.

“Mr. Montrevi!” she gasped, lifting a self conscious hand to smooth her hair. “What are you doing here? It’s been ages!”

“Ahh, if it isn’t young miss Villeneuve, returned to us from her apprenticeship overseas! How are you, darling?”

His smile was wider than she would’ve expected given how little they’d interacted over the years, but she could hardly complain! To be so much as recognized by a man of his stature was an incredible honor, and it was one she took very seriously…

…Which is why she raised a hand to swat Sniffer’s nose when he–it?–started growling audibly from its place on Luca’s hip. “I’m doing well, Mr. Montrevi! So well!”

“And how are your parents?”

“I was just on my way to see them, actually,” she said in a rush. “I have… Business out west, you see, and I was hoping to enlist their help in getting there.”

“Who are you?” Beretta interjected. “You smell like mothballs.”

“Ah~Hah~Hah~! Oh Beretta! You’re a treasure!” Mimi wheezed, patting the girl on the head more roughly than she’d intended. “Out of the mouths of babes and all that! I am so sorry Mr. Montrevi, she’s being very naughty today…”

“Not at all, not at all,” he chuckled, dismissing the issue with a wave of his hand. “I am concerned, however, to hear that you’ve got business backcountry. I assume it’s to do with your calling as a Gunsmith?”

“Astute as always, Mr. Montrevi,” she gushed. “It’s not my first choice of travel destination, but we do as we must, don’t we?”

“That we do,” he replied. “And for my part, I must insist that you make use of my own private locomotive to bear you there safely!”

Even well-bred as she was, Mimi couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping. “What?! The Armature Express?!? Oh, Mr. Montrevi–I couldn’t!”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “I’ve no use for it now. My political campaign has made the prospect of travel quite impossible, and your parents would never forgive me if I allowed their only daughter to scrabble around in the dirt shoulder-to-shoulder with those awful range-dwellers. Make your way to the station at once with my blessing; I’ll have a man waiting to bring you and your friends aboard.”

“Yes, sir! Of course, sir! Thank you, sir!” she babbled. Was this really happening? For the first time in a long time, she found herself feeling faint. A free trip on the most luxurious locomotive in Wesson? Recognition from the man who defined the Trigger City elite? It was almost enough to make her consider tossing all this Gunsmithing business aside and returning to her roots as a big city socialite.

Almost.

—

Montrevi departed with a gracious wave, making his way into the bowels of the GGE with a growing smile on his face. What a stroke of luck! To encounter one of those meddlesome rebels here, of all places… It defied all reason!! His spies had confirmed reports of Mimi’s involvement with Morgan and the others over a week ago, and now here she was, falling into his lap.

So naive. So easily manipulated. Aboard the Express, she and her friends would be sitting ducks!

He strode into the private firing range as scheduled, eager to see what his newest recruit’s weapon could do. But before getting down to business, he held up a finger and cleared his throat, locking eyes with each of his subordinates in turn.

“The demonstration will go ahead as planned,” he announced, “but a new opportunity has presented itself. Once we’re done here, gentlemen, I’d advise you to pack your bags:

“I’ve a young lady in desperate need of an escort.”