“Gunsmith? Young miss, don’t you think that there is a better career path than a gunsmith?” Albert comments as he almost spurts out the whole content of his book to the table. Well, if it fails, it will only be taken as curiosity, right? There’s no harm in asking, to be honest.

After yesterday, I decided that it is a good idea to ask Albert to give me a tour around his workshop to know more about gun manufacturing. I don’t really care how will my parents or my sister view that, but to be honest, as long as I can learn more about my magic, it’s alright.

“What’s so wrong with being a gunsmith? I think gunsmith is cool and all,” I give my reason.

Albert scratches his head. I know that I am from the upper class, but is it really wrong for me to learn about gunsmithing from him? I am also a materialmancer, so what’s the purpose of being a materialmancer if I can’t craft something?

“Young miss, I don’t think gunsmith is even a preferable or even good profession. Besides, let’s start with the basics first, if you don’t mind. Let’s hold the horse first, and learn the basics. If you insist, let’s start with the most basic thing,” Albert says as he grabs a book from his bag and puts it on the table.

“Like making a barrel for a musket?” I comment.

“The most basic of accurate gunsmithing is the mastership of the duplicate procedure. It means you have to be able to print the real blueprint to the imaginary blueprint by using the duplicate procedure itself. Am I too fast?” Albert realizes that he is too fast in explaining it to me, if I were the real Helen, that is.

I understand that gunsmith requires a painful amount of accuracy in materialmancy, but still, if I never learn, I won’t be able to do anything in this world that involves me actually crafting a firearm. Sure, this world has muskets, but I like an AR-15 more. Maybe I can craft an AR-15 from wood? Hahaha.

“No, sir, that’s good enough for me,” I say. “So, can I just draw a blueprint on a piece of paper and copy it into my imaginary blueprint?” I ask.

“Yes, you can. In fact, your imaginary blueprint is the best way to keep your blueprint if you don’t want anyone to meddle with it, or need quick access to it anywhere,” Albert says. He then opens his book. “However, in my opinion, if you want to leave a successor, a book is better.”

I agree. If not for the countless blueprint that the United States government releases, I won’t be able to be an engineer in any weapon system, in fact, create any weapon whatsoever. Evolution requires the previous generation’s knowledge, alongside trial and error. However, any modern firearm will be seen as revolutionary in my opinion.

Suddenly, a goblin barges into the studying room. The goblin wears a butler uniform, along with a thin glass holding a squeaky clean hand towel on his hand. His name is Larse, our butler. Albeit small in size, probably in the real of 5” or less, he’s not a normal fantasy goblin.

The best way to describe him is to imagine a human with green skin, alongside a large ear and a large nose in comparison to a standard human. In short, he’s not an ugly stupid gremlin. He’s just a servant to our family, that’s all.

“Anything I can help you with, Larse?” Albert asks.

“Pardon my intrusion, but Lord Ferrett is calling the young miss,” Larse says.

“I see,” Albert nods. “Am I allowed to return to my workshop yet?”

“No, sir, in fact, Lord requires your presence also,” Larse says.

Albert fixes his glasses. He picks up the book from the table and put it in his bag. He then walks to the door alongside me. Larse opens the door wider so both of us can walk right past the door. Larse closes the door behind us and resumes his work as a butler, cleaning the window of the mansion, and making sure it’s squeaky clean.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

We walk side by side on the top of the wooden panel covering the entire mansion from top to bottom. It only has one floor, but it is big enough to accommodate the four of us. Lord Ferrett, aka my father, is the angel participating in the Alduria Civil War, according to the pictures in the whole mansion, with him wearing knight armor in the full Alduria kingdom emblem. I wonder how she met my mother.

We walk to the middle of the mansion, and eventually, to a room overlooking the whole garden of the mansion. The entrance of the room is a very big door that requires two hands to just open it. Albert opens the door and in there, my father is sitting down on a big leather chair behind a large wooden desk.

“Good to see you two, Albert, how are you?” Ferrett asks.

“I’m fine my lord,” he replies.

I look around the whole office. This is the first time I enter my father's working room. Working as a lord seems to be a tough job, considering the number of books scattered around the whole place inside of bookshelves, alongside the stacks of paper on my father’s desk. Beside him is armor, with a hole in its chest part.

The hole is a bullet hole. There’s no doubt about it. It’s as big as a musket ball, so the hole is made by a musket. It seems to be a great reminder of my father in his previous glory and crusade, and perhaps, the reason why he loves guns so much.

I walk to the armor, observing it. I don’t know why, but the armor sparks an interest, especially with the bullet hole. History explains that a knight is our equivalent of the main battle tank, an unstoppable force that requires specialized weapons to deal with. However, the invention of gunpowder pretty much makes them semi-obsolete, if not straight obsolete.

“Helen, can you wait outside, my dear?”

“Yes, father.”

I walk outside of the room and wait right in front of the door. Albert then closes the door behind me and locks it, making sure that I can’t enter. The thing is, I can eavesdrop on whatever they are talking about from outside the door. Of course, I am curious.

“My lord, is there something I miss?”

“There’s nothing you miss, Albert. How’s the situation?”

“Not that good. My lord, I have a bad feeling about this. It’s best in everyone’s interest if you leave now before everything goes out of control,” Albert says.

“What a leader will become if it leaves its people?”

Albert lets out a large sigh. “My lord, I am not in the state of convincing you, but if you say so, then so be it. However, my lord, I’m still trying my best to stall the inevitable, so please, rethink your decision, my lord.”

“I will, can you call Helen back in?”

“Sure, my lord,” he opens the large door. I still stand there without making any suspicion that I just eavesdrop on them both.

I then enter the room again, without saying anything, and give them a warm smile. My father smiles back at me and Albert just gives a flat face. My father then says, “Albert, can you give Helen a tour around the village? I am worried that she really lost her entire memory.”

“I can do that, my lord.” Albert nods.

“Helen, my dear, have fun.”

I nod back. Albert then holds my hand and both of us walk outside of the room. Larse is already waiting outside the room while holding the door open for both of us. Both of us walk outside the door and into the hallway. After that, we head outside of the mansion.

“Let’s talk a walk around, the village is not that big, after all,” Albert says, referring to the size of the village itself.

We get out of the mansion, and I have the first look at the world outside of the mansion. In front of me, people were walking back and forth in the wheat field. Behind the wheat field is the village, the place where most of the villagers live. Then, there are several small houses located far away from the village.

“In front of you is the wheat field. Lord Ferrett likes the view of wheat, for some reasons.” He then points his finger at a corn field on the left side, right across the gravel street separating between the wheat field and another field. “That’s a cornfield. This village relies much on its plants' output.”

“Where do you live?” I immediately strike the obvious question.

He then points to the house located very far away on the other side of the village. There are two small houses in the direction that he points at. It is located quite far enough from the village, and probably, fair enough not to be taken as part of the village. “That’s my house and Healer Rosa's house.”

“Can I visit your house?” I ask.

“Young miss, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please…” I beg.

“Fine… but don’t touch anything, got it?