“It’s basically a golden M14 without a selector lever and chambered in 5.56,” Levin concluded after we watched a few videos on how to shoot an M14. He guided me on how to field strip the rifle and I felt him whistle after we disassembled it. Levin was worried I would hurt myself, but I assured him that being a maid meant I was far more accustomed to physical labor than most thought.
“I was wrong,” he sucked in a breath. I felt a phantom wind through my teeth, a small side-effect of sharing our senses. “Huh? Oh, what the hell, that’s so cool! On the outside, it looks like an M14. On the inside, it’s basically an M16. Tell Duin I am very, VERY impressed with what he’s done in less than half a year.”
“I’ll be sure to send your regards, Darling,” I ran my fingers across every individual piece. Each metallic section appeared to be made of bronzed gold, but Levin and I knew better: they were forged from Goldfire Renala’s scales. Stronger than any metal on Valeria and lighter than a fish’s scale. I dipped a small paintbrush in the specialized oil Duin sent along with the rifle and coated all the metal parts as Levin ordered then reassembled the rifle.
“God, that’s so hot. I can’t wait to watch your fat ass jiggle when you shoot. It’s going to be fucking fantastic.”
I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Don’t make me spay you, Darling. Now go, it’s time for you to play General.”
Levin chortled and I felt his warm presence leave my mind, though our bond still remained, ready and waiting to be used.
I took off my rose gold engagement ring, balanced it on the tip of the rifle’s barrel, then shouldered the rifle into the pocket of my arm as Levin instructed. I exhaled and at the natural pause of my breath, gently squeezed the trigger on the rifle. It clicked with a satisfying, metallic snap and the small ring vibrated only once. I raised my cheek off the buttstock, took the ring, and slowly lowered her rifle as dawn peeked into my room to quickly warm the chill air. For the past two days, I trained in what Levin called a dime-and-washer drill in order to master the four US Army fundamentals of rifle marksmanship: consistent sight-picture, breath control, steady positioning, and trigger squeeze. To make up for this time, I had to wake up two hours earlier than usual, but my practice was already bearing fruit; I was able to perform this drill while standing up with no issues, which apparently was a huge accomplishment. Levin was impressed when he watched me practice through our shared senses.
I decided to continue the drill until my work day started in a few hours.
Levin promised to let me use real ammunition soon. Rounds and bullets, he called them. There were precious few even with Tinkerer Duin and his staff secretly manufacturing more every day. They were made by hand and the crafting process was heavily assisted by never-before-seen Spells invented specifically for this task. A single round took twelve hours to make. Tinkerer Duin provided us with four magazines of 20, which meant it took 40 days for this current stock. I couldn’t be wasteful, but just holding this rifle, this weapon, gave me a sense of security and power I’d never felt before, even with Levin at my side. I loved the polished, wooden body, and greater length.
Just holding this weapon gave me a sense of intoxicating strength. It was a power independent of my position as the Queen’s Lady-in-Waiting or even as Levin’s second wife. This was a power I could personally use. My eyes grew hot. If I had this rifle before, when the coup started, or when those bandits attacked, then I-
“I’m going to name it the Vloster Mark 1,” Levin suddenly said, pulling me out of my darker thoughts.
“VM-1, then? I know you fancy your acronyms,” I said then a knock interrupted our little conversation. I pushed Levin away, tucked the rifle between my two mattresses, and answered after straightening out my uniform.
“Miss Anna,” it was one Blacksmith Derek, the royal family’s personal blacksmith. Like me, his talent was collected by the royal family to serve them directly. “The sword you requested. I have to admit, your demands were a bit strange, Miss Anna. Do you mind me asking why you wanted a small hole in the guard? Is this related to the strange items Tinkerer Duin has been ordering me to forge?” He handed me a long knife, a borderline shortsword, however, the crossguard had a hole, just large enough to tightly fit around the VM-1’s barrel, and some other specialized studs on the pommel and the guard.
“It is a state secret, for now, Mister Derek, but you’ll be among the first to know, I am sure.”
Derek nodded after a shrug then turned away from my door. I sent Levin a telepathic image of the sword. The blade itself was somewhat golden; forged from a scale of Goldfire Renala. Even with my limited experience with magical weapons, the aura it exuded was undeniable. This was a Mythical sword.
“Nice!” Levin praised after I thanked Derek and watched him leave. “That’s an M1917 Springfield Bayonet. Well, I guess now it’s the VM1 Bayonet.”
I smiled like a young maiden at Levin’s giddy tone. Being so far away from him, Lydia, and Idyia was far more difficult than I first imagined. Being able to share in this mutual hobby was one of the brighter moments of my day. I retrieved the rifle, infected by his enthusiasm, and followed his instruction on mounting the bayonet.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“It’s a spear?” I raised my brow at how sturdy it felt and tried my best to pry the bayonet off.
“Yep. It’s a weapon of last resort, for when the enemy closes distance in melee or you run out of ammunition. The bayonet can be detached if you screw it off, but it won’t budge otherwise. Trust me, I’ve punched through metal barrels with a bayonet. It’s solid and reliable. Holy shit, Anna. You have Mythical-level weapons and armor, now. With the rest of us gone, you might be the strongest person in Renalis at the moment.”
I slipped the sword sheath onto the bayonet and hid it under my mattress once more.
“Then, perhaps, you will allow me to go monster hunting?”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
“Levin-”
“Sorry, I meant, absolutely fucking not until you learn how to use the rifle properly. And you’ll also train with the royal guards in spearmanship. Then you’ll only go with a group, okay?”
“So how long-”
“US Army Basic Training lasts for approximately ten weeks with an additional four weeks of infantry training. I’m going to drill you from here. It won’t be the same as going through actual military training since I’m essentially doing this over the telephone but we’ll make due.”
“Some of those words I didn’t understand, Darling.”
“It’s fine. Once you’re trained, then you can join a team and go hunting, so long as you promise me to stay as safe as possible.”
“Are you so confident?” I hugged one of my pillows and tucked my head into it to hide from the sun. I recalled all the hours leading up to meeting Levin and even when the bandits attacked us in Altanova. I was so pathetic. I was no warrior. I was just a woman driven to the brink by desperation.
“Trust me, Anna. It’s hard to explain, but going through the training gives you a sense of confidence and courage that’s hard to replicate as a civilian. It’ll change you, for the better, I’m sure.”
His voice exuded a certain level of confidence and masculinity I found terribly attractive. I wanted him here. I wanted him to hold me. I wanted him inside of me. But I couldn’t say that. I couldn’t shake his resolve. It was easy to forget because Levin consciously barred me from seeing through his eyes, but he and the others were fighting a war. A war against a horde of man-eating demons. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the bloodshed.
“Levin. I want to start as soon as possible.” I steeled my heart. Annabell Vloster would no longer remain sidelined. I would never allow myself to feel so helpless ever again.
“All right. Tell General Belmond you want to train with the infantry. Clear your schedule aside from anything Lydia needs you to personally manage. You’ll want at least 10 hours to train every day. You’ll spend eight with the soldiers and two after you wake up with me coaching you.”
I tried my best to send Levin a kiss through his Skill. “Yes, Darling.”
Discussing my current plans and desires with the Queen was daunting. I was officially her Queen Regent, which meant allotting ten entire hours of my day to train with General Belmond and Levin meant I would have to inevitably give more control over to the country’s ministers and politicians. With how recent the coup was, if the Queen decided it was too risky, then I would have to acquiesce to her demand that I remain completely in charge.
“I shall allow it.” The Queen declared to my surprise and relief. “The confrontation with King Arthur has taught me Levin’s lifestyle will involve great and terrible danger. Learning to defend yourself will do more good than harm. And it is not as if you will be leaving the capital to train. Just handle whatever problems arise at your leisure, Anna.” Her tone was patient and measured.
“And if any of the nobles try to step out of line, warn them Renala can burn their territories to smoldering ash within a day or two. Our political and military situation is not the same as before; I now have the power to enforce my decrees with impunity, even from a distance. Any attempts at another coup will end in dragonfire and brimstone.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I genuflected mentally, then made to inform the highest ranking ministers of my plans.
General Belmond was eager and Archbishop Balin was supportive and that brought the rest into compliance. I left the conference room and returned to my quarters after General Belmond told me to meet him in the citadel barracks within an hour.
During the meeting, traces of fear still remained across the more rebellious nobles. Even disregarding Lydia’s draconian approach to rulership, many witnessed Levin’s personal crusade across the countryside and rightfully feared his reaction should they overreach. Even now, he still failed to understand the true implications of his actions over Renalis. Most people would never see a Hero in their entire lives, but Renalis was ruled by one; one that actively left the capital to hunt down monsters, criminals, and demons on dragonback. It was a myth told straight out of legends and no one in their right minds wanted to test how true it could be.
Given enough time, I was certain Levin’s reputation would match that of Hero-King Arthur Pendragon, a man who ruled with absolute authority that none dared question except for his fellow Heroes.
I shivered when I recalled that horrific day in Camelot’s throne room. Blinded and deafened, I had no idea Levin even raised his blade against King Arthur until after we returned to Renalis. A wave of hopelessness and ineptitude threatened to crush me, but I fought it off long enough to change out of my maid uniform, bandaged my breasts flat, and into my best copy of Levin’s alien military fatigues.
I turned in front of my mirror and lamented at how my womanhood blended into the fabric, melting away into nothing but muted greens and browns. I took great pride in my curves and to see them vanish was heartbreaking. I threw a glance at my empty canvas. There were still about 30 minutes; enough to start a sketch or two.
I hummed a sweet hymn from my childhood while I drew out some clothes fit for a child.