He smiled, though he had a feeling it was a little plastic. “Ah, you used it then?”

To be honest, he’d been expecting it would be a week or more before he had to have this conversation. Certainly, he’d made a show of giving the woman the rifle as a gift, complete with written instructions on how to use it, but given the way she’d looked at it, sensed the lack of Ki, and then immediately set it aside, he’d rather been hoping to have his affairs in order before she summoned him to explain exactly what it was.

Instead, he’d had one night.

Say what you would about the magistrate being the picture perfect image of a spoiled noblewoman, she apparently didn’t fuck around.

Nor was she slow on the uptake, given the way she was now staring at the gun.

A shame, he thought. This would all have been a lot easier if she was stupid.

Alas, for all that the local ruling class were arrogant assholes, they weren’t stupid when it came to warfare. Traditionalist and hidebound perhaps, but not slow on the uptake. Yin had proven that when she’d taken all of five seconds to go from being pelted by gunfire before she started closing the distance.

It hadn’t helped her with the minefield, but he couldn’t really hold that against the woman.

Admittedly, closing the distance wasn’t exactly a masterstroke of strategic genius, but that didn’t mean it was the wrong choice in the moment, he thought. More often than most seem to realize, a simple answer is usually the best.

A strategy he fully intended to employ here. Mostly because he couldn’t think of a better one.

Across from him, Huang’s eyes glinted dangerously. “Do not play the fool, Johansen. It doesn’t suit the man who invented a device capable of allowing a mortal to kill a cultivator.”

…Or not?

“As opposed to a bow or a crossbow?” he asked.

The woman snorted in a manner that somehow managed to be elegant. “Both problematic weapons, utilized by traitors and bandits to evade Imperial justice. Each pales compared to this.”

He shook his head. “It is a simple escalation of a similar concept. One that has made the mortals under my command many times more useful.”

“At the expense of true warriors?” The woman tapped a single gold painted fingernail against the wood of her throne’s armrest. “I know not the cost of this weapon, but I know the cost of good steel. Something my sources tell me your mortal guard are inundated with. From their armor to their cooking equipment, to the swords at their waist.”

She eyed him. “Yet you come to my city with but one cultivator in your retinue? One that could not have been in your service long. This suggests a misallocation of resources better spent elsewhere.”

Jack resisted the urge to point out that he had two cultivators in his retinue. He had a feeling it wouldn’t impress the woman.

“Perhaps. I make no bones about the armament of my mortal guard. As I have stated, guns like the one in your possession have made the investment in their protection worthwhile.” Inwardly he was patting himself on the back for being eloquent as fuck right now. “Yet you make one mistake.”

Huang’s eyes flared and she reared back, giving the feeling she wasn’t told that often. Unfortunately, he’d already said it and it was too late to back out now. So instead, he’d double down.

“For when a man feels the winter chill coming on and chooses to start a fire, he gathers loose sticks and branches. He does not seek out and carve up a… spirit tree, only to cast it into the flames.”

…Fuck, were ‘spirit trees’ even a thing? He had no fucking clue. It sounded right though.

Fortunately, it seemed that despite his word choice he’d caught the Magistrate’s interest, as she leaned forward.

“You are suggesting that sending a cultivator into battle is… wasteful?” she asked.

“Hardly.” He shook his head. “I am however suggesting that when time is of the essence, it is sometimes more appropriate to make use of a lesser resource in the interest of saving time.”

He held out his arms in front of them, stretching his palms apart. “A cultivator is a product of many years, thousands of spirit coins and thousands of man hours not just on their part, but on the part of their teachers and other trainers.” He brought his palms together. “By contrast, a mortal ‘rifleman’ can be trained in weeks, requires only the assistance of other mortals, and can be armed for but a handful of gold coins.”

“Even with your ‘rifle’, a single mortal is no match for a cultivator.” The woman pointed out, but he had a feeling it was more for the sake of face than anything else.

“Of course.” he nodded quickly. “The cultivator is and always will be the dominant force on the battlefield. Yet as I said, a rifleman is cheaper, more plentiful and most importantly quicker to train. Fifty mortals may be trained and armed for a pittance of the cost and time it would take to train a single cultivator. For roughly the same level of initial killing power.”

Sensing the theme he was pushing, Huang frowned. “And why, my mysterious male, is time a factor?”

He had no idea what his gender had to do with anything, but he continued regardless. “Because when war beckons, time is the most valuable resource. For the army that can replenish its losses the fastest will invariably be the victor.”

The Magistrate was silent for some time. Long enough to make him nervous. And when she finally did speak, her words did nothing to abate that nervousness.

“What are you implying?”

Steeling himself, he continued on. “This war will not be ended within the year. Perhaps not even in the next ten. And it will only grow. The Empire’s reserve of noble daughters is not without end. With every one lost, years of preparation on the part of the Empire go with her. Mortals do not suffer from this issue. They are cheap, plentiful, and with my new weapon, may actually prove useful on the field of battle.”

The silence stretched between the pair once more before Huang spoke again.

“Powerful words. Dangerous words. Yet know that the Instinctive incursion will soon be driven from the Empire, the Arch-Traitor finally slain, and the Northern Breach repaired.” She said the words, but there was no feeling behind the latter half of that sentence.

She couldn’t have made it more obvious it was a deliberate repetition of the ‘party line’ if she’d tried. Something he was sure was intentional.

Because it was a warning, on two accounts, one he would have been a fool to ignore.

“Of course,” he bowed. “If that is the judgment of the Imperial Clan, then this lowly one bows to their superior acumen. He regrets his earlier misguided words. Please think of them only as the feeble musings of a misguided hermit desperate to preserve as many noble lives as possible.”

Huang sat back, happy that her message had been received and the formalities observed.

“…These tools, were they what killed Yin and Cui.” The woman finally asked.

“No.”

His answer was instantaneous because it was true.

Yin killed Cui. He killed Yin. His guns, along with Ren and An worked together to kill another cultivator who wasn’t either of the aforementioned women.

“It certainly made getting to them easier though,” he amended. “As effective as they were at clearing out misguided traitorous conscripts, I imagine they would be even better at clearing the field of Instinctive tribesman. Or tainted beasts. Allowing the noble daughter’s of the Empire to do the real work free of distractions.”

Huang seemed to perk up at his words.

“Well, if nothing else, that would make the task of driving back this incursion simpler,” she murmured, before sitting. “What becomes of these ‘rifles’ after this war is over will remain to be seen, but for now I will allow them to be sold within the borders of Ten Huo.”

Jack bowed. “A most wise and beneficent ruling, magistrate.”

“Just so.” She nodded. “For too long the mortals of the Empire have grown fat and soft under the steadfast protection of the sects and Imperial army. It is time for them to finally meaningfully contribute to the war effort, starting with my personal guard.” She pinned Jack with a stare. “How long will it take for you to procure ten thousand rifles?”

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Ten thousand? Christ, the Red Guard was a lot bigger than he’d thought.

…Then again, Ten Huo was an implausibly large city. As in, he was pretty sure some mystical shenanigans needed to be at work for the city to have a populace as large as it did without them all starving to death or dying of disease.

As he recalled, Ren had told him the city’s population numbered something close to a million souls, but that had to be horseshit…

…Right?

Ignorant of his inner musings, Huang seemed to take his hesitation for, well, hesitation.

“I will not expect this rearmament to occur overnight, crafter. In fact, I would give you five years to fill the ranks of my guard.”

Ah, so that was her play. By essentially buying out his production numbers for the immediate future, she’d be able to guarantee that he wouldn’t be arming any of her rivals within the city, nor would he be able to increase the number of his own guard in any meaningful fashion.

Unfortunately for her, as much as he wanted an in with the Magistrate – and the Imperial stamp of approval that came with it - he also wanted to make deals with the other powers in the city. Each had access to resources he desired, and he would be a fool to think he’d be able to acquire all of them with gold.

No, only power would do that, and before the year was out, guns would represent power in Ten Huo.

I also kind of want to delay people making their own guns domestically, he thought. An eventuality that will occur a lot sooner if people can’t access them any other way.

It would still happen, eventually, but he wanted to enjoy his monopoly for as long as he could.

“Six months,” Jack said.

The magistrate sat back, surprised. “Pardon?”

“Six months and I will be able to arm your Red Guard in full, with extra to spare.”

He could actually do it in one, but it paid to be underestimated.

“Impossible,” Huang said, before pausing. “Unless you already have a stockpile of these weapons ready to go?”

He said nothing, which prompted the woman to grin.

“Well played male. Well played indeed.” She sat up, attempting to look magnanimous. “So be it. You have six months to outfit every member of my personal guard with these new rifles. Furthermore, the Imperial Clan will naturally have preferential treatment when it comes to any future purchases of the ‘bolts’ that come with it.”

Jack nodded, before once again reminding himself that the woman across from him, while not technologically ignorant, was not stupid. She’d already foreseen the achilles heel of this new weapon system and was actively working to mitigate it.

At least until she can produce her own ammo, he thought.

Which she’d likely start working on the moment he left the room. Though she’d never be able to outproduce him, it would only be a matter of time until she could meet her own needs.

Probably.

“Of course, though before we get to any of that? Perhaps we should talk price?” He wrung his hands together.

He’d spoken with Ren extensively on this point and he was more than ready to haggle. Because if he was going to sell his biggest advantage in this world, he was not about to do so cheaply.

The Magistrate eyed him, amusement flickering in her golden orbs.

“Yes. Let’s.”

-----------------------------

Jack’s throat hurt, which was a fairly impressive feat, given the gene-mods. It also looked like the sun was starting to set outside. An equally impressive feat given that it had been dawn when he’d first walked in here. He was also still standing, a feat superior to the other two by virtue of the fact that he’d now been awake for something close to thirty six hours.

He was dead on his feet, something the magistrate had definitely noticed early on and something he suspected was likely a large part of the reason she’d chosen to drag out the negotiations for so long. He hadn’t even been able to take a nap during the many ‘breaks’ they’d had, because the woman had made sure he remained in the same room as her while they ate, drank tea or listened to the jingly harp shit that passed for music around these parts.

In short, he’d been dragged all over the palace – and his stomach was threatening to burst because cultivators ate large portions.

If I still had my armor, I could have at least napped while standing in it, he thought, once more lamenting the loss of his metaphorical safety blanket.

The whole charade had him wondering if this sort of test of endurance was a common negotiating trick for cultivators? Given their longevity and superior stamina, he could well imagine that they had a rather loose relationship with time - and more to the point, being able to stay cognizant for longer would be a subtle flex of their power.

And cultivators were all about displays of power.

Which his tormentor had more than adequately displayed by showing that as many spirit coins – and there were many - as he was receiving for his rifles, they were but a drop in the bucket compared to the resources she could pull upon. Something that went some way to explaining why she felt so comfortable replacing the armaments of ten thousand people based on a single example of said weapon system.

If it didn’t work out, she could eat the loss of investment without trouble and easily switch back to the old kit. If it did, well, then she was the proud owner of the single deadliest mortal force in the city.

Win. Win.

The whole exercise also had him wondering if he’d impressed his newest patron by remaining upright this entire time, or disappointed her by being so close to collapse ‘already’? He didn’t know, and at this point he didn’t care. He just wanted to go somewhere, collapse, and let his frazzled brain rest.

Not talk about the details of transporting goods, he thought.

Unfortunately, those details were important – and a large part of the reason he’d started this thing in the first place – so he was holding on in there and determinedly keeping track of his words with the few remaining ounces of willpower he had left.

“Fine,” The Magistrate finally allowed after taking a swig from her golden chalice, displaying all outward signs of total relaxation and enjoyment. “The goods will be marked as Imperial Property and assigned a Red Guard escort. That should keep them from falling into the hands of ‘bandits’.”

Jack nodded, weary but triumphant. “That is most kind, great one.”

The woman nodded, as if she really was being magnanimous and he hadn’t just spent the last two hours quibbling with her over that last tiny detail. Instead, she sat up, placing her wine down. “I must say though, I am impressed.”

“How so, great one.” Jack tried not to yawn.

Something he was sure she noticed, given the way the corners of her mouth ticked up a notch.

“Your self-control is excellent, Jack. Despite being in here with me for hours, you have not let slip a single ounce of ki.”

That got his attention, and he deliberately returned his focus to the conversation as his heart skipped a beat.

“Well, I am a craftsmen. Ki control is amongst the most valuable traits of my profession.” The line was rote. One he’d concocted after subtly probing Ren about what would be expected of a ‘real’ enchanter.

“Oh?” The golden scaled woman smiled. “So you hide your ki as a control exercise?”

He nodded, relieved. “Just so, great one.”

“How fascinating.”

Jack started to nod again, only to frown as he felt something splash against his leg. Looking up, he saw that the magistrate’s attendant had gone utterly still, the cup he’d been pouring into overflowing as his frozen hands held the jug above it. Glancing around, he saw that the guards in the corner of the room were the same.

He wasn’t stupid. Exhausted and frazzled yes, but even in his current rundown state, he could recognize the effects of Killing Intent in action.

Yet he felt nothing. Something he’d long since put down to his extradimensional nature.

Glancing up, he saw that the Magistrate was watching him carefully, her golden eyes regarding him curiously. “Not even a twitch. You truly are a rare beast of a man, Jack Johansen.”

It sounded almost like a compliment. The key word was almost. There was something dangerous in the cultivator’s tone.

“I try,” he said, his throat suddenly dry.

“Show me.”

He froze. “Pardon?”

The woman leaned over, placing a hand upon his arm. It was not a gentle caress. He could feel the strength in her palm as her grip tightened ever so slightly.

“I said, show me.” She repeated her words slowly. “Or you won’t leave this room alive.”

Jack’s blood was pounding in his ears, the sound drowning out the final few tinkles as the attendant's jug finally stopped pouring out onto the table, though the man himself was still frozen in place.

His mind raced as he frantically wondered why this was happening!?

“Ha, surely that’s a little dramatic, my lady.” He croaked. “Why are you so curious?”

Those golden eyes glinted dangerously as the dragon-kin cocked her head. “Why wouldn’t I be, Jack? After all, a strange man appears out of nowhere in my territory. He brings with him a strange bestial companion, not unlike those now terrorizing the lands beyond my walls. He also brings with him peculiar new techniques. Ones never before seen in the Empire.”

“Yet he hides his ki at all times?” The grip on his arm tightened. “I would be a poor Magistrate indeed if I didn’t draw certain obvious comparisons.”

Was… this why she waited so long? Drew out the negotiations? To get him to lower his guard?

“I killed Yin,” he whispered.

Huang’s smile showed more teeth than mirth. “And that earns you the benefit of doubt. Yet she could have been a sacrifice to ingratiate you toward me. You are after all, a handsome man and I an unwed woman. And more women have been killed by the fickle affections of men than have fallen to claw or blade.”

She shrugged. “Still, it is neither here nor there. Why I suspect you is irrelevant. Not when the means to prove your innocence is oh so easily attained.”

She leaned forward, her breath tickling his ear. “Let me feel your ki, Jack. Release your control of it. Show me that it is free of Instinctive taint, and we will move on as if this… unpleasantness never happened.”

Seconds ticked by.

“Well, go on?” She prompted.

Jack couldn’t move - literally couldn’t, with her grip on his arm. It was like he was held in a steel vice. He could summon up his microbots, but they’d achieve less than nothing with the numbers he had on hand.

How the fuck had this happened!? He was going to-

“Ah.”

Ah?

Suddenly the grip on his arm released and the Magistrate slid back into her own seat. As she did, the mortals around the room collapsed, like puppets who’d suddenly had their strings cut.

“It’s a little weaker than I anticipated, I will admit.” What? “Strange too. So rigid. I feel like I’m touching steel. It makes me curious as to what technique you used to get such a peculiar feel to it.”

What?

“Still, I feel no taint.”

What?

“I guess I must apologize for falsely suspecting you.” The city’s ruler pouted at him as if she hadn’t just been threatening to murder him.

Jack resisted the urge to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead.

“Does… does that satisfy you, great one?” he asked finally.

Like a cat, upset that the canary it had been chasing turned out to be little more than a feather in the wind, the Magistrate lounged back in her seat, staring up at the ceiling.

“Yes, of course.” Her tone was almost… pained. “Though it seems I’ve kept you long enough – and made something of a mess here. I’ll have someone in shortly to clean it up, but I suppose I should let you go.”

“My thanks,” Jack said as he stood up, careful not to seem too hasty.

Even if he couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. He only stopped to visually confirm that the attendant was still among the living as he stepped out. The young man was, his chest rising and falling steadily. It seemed the poor lad had just passed out.

Not that Jack dwelled on it for long.

What the fuck just happened? He thought as he stepped around a trio of cultivator women who bustled into the room he’d just left.

He hadn’t demonstrated ki. He didn’t know how! He certainly couldn’t feel it.

Could he?

He ignored the curious and jealous looks from those in the audience hall as he passed them. He also ignored the attendant who walked up to him, walking right past the man as he headed for the door.

He didn’t have time for any of it.

Because he had science to do.

After a long fucking nap.