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Earl Garner

As I journey through the untamed frontier, our small group rushing to meet Darkstep, I take my time to experiment. The rhythmic clatter of the wagon wheels against the rugged terrain fills the air, slightly barging in on my thoughts, but I've grown to tune it out. Instead, my mind is consumed by a vision—a vision that has ignited the spark of invention within me. Ever since that vision I had from Icarus' corpse, I haven't been able to stop thinking about that harnessed lightning—electricity. I've had dreams about it. I've had daydreams about it. And finally, just recently, they came together for an idea of my own.

With a magnet clasped tightly in one hand and a length of copper wire in the other, I embark on a daring experiment. Well, 'experiment' is a strong word. I want to create something. The raw potential of electricity, a force of nature waiting to be harnessed, beckons me to unravel its secrets. The hints Icarus left behind, her father's snippet, and my constant restless sleep propel me forward.

The wind whips through my hair as the wagon trudges along the rugged path, my gaze fixed on the sprawling landscape before me. I wish we had a canopy for the wagon, but we were in too much of a hurry. So, instead of the quiet and relaxed inside, nature, untamed and unpredictable, becomes my laboratory—a canvas upon which I shall explore Icarus and her father's findings.

With steady hands and a mind ablaze with fervor, I carefully position the magnet near the copper wire, their fates intertwined by the laws of nature, a twinge of my Sigil pushing me forward, as even lightning is owned by nature. But as with all other things, man takes and conquers. So then, as the wagon jostles and sways, I seize this moment of motion to generate a current—an invisible web of energy that pulses through the wire, capturing the essence of the magnetic field.

A surge of exhilaration courses through my veins as I witness the fruits of my labor—a faint glimmer of light, a flicker of electricity illuminating the surroundings of my finger. I can feel the spark, and it makes me rip my hand back. Yet, I quickly return my fingers to the copper and magnet. Slowly, the vision forms as I test the magnet's limits with the coil of wire more and more.

With each passing mile, my experiment evolves, refined by trial and error, driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge. I observe, I adapt, and I persevere. Primrose, still moderately injured, lays on the other side of the wagon as Elizabeth ushers the vehicle forward. In front of her eyes, I try different wires, magnetic strengths, sizes, and various other things as I try to learn their properties. But so far, Icarus' paper holds true from what I can tell.

For a moment, my mind shifts to Wyatt, a worry in my heart for his safety because of Darkstep's approach to him and the group we left behind. But I push it aside. There is no point in wasting effort worrying. Instead, I should prepare for it. Make a weapon or tool to aid them for when we get there.

We are at most a tenth of the Nahullo's speed, and as such, we won't reach our destination for several more days, even with the trail that Primrose managed to track. Of course, without Darkstep leaving in such a hurry, there would be no signs of her movement. Still, when she moves at a comparable speed to the Steam Train, tracks are left behind that someone like Primrose can catch.

So, instead of worrying, I put my mind to better use. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out that fancy pistol I got damaged from a Hunter. The frame, barrel, and firing mechanism have all been repaired. The whole system of the firearm is precisely waiting for me to gain my fourth Sigil and imbue it with power.

But... I don't have to wait that long to make it extraordinary.

As the sun casts its golden rays over the vast expanse of the frontier, my mind races with possibilities, fueled by a restless spirit urged on by dormant anxiety. A revelation dawns upon me, a vision of combining the forces of Ether and alchemy. Many think alchemy involves Sigils in some way, but that is not entirely true. Sometimes it does, but that's only at the highest and most substantial level done by Shamans or Craftsman. Instead, alchemy only requires knowledge and resources for the majority.

Claymores were the first time Sigils were added to any form of craftsmanship. It was monumental then, and even now, they remain essential. Colts were the second time, a dash of alchemy sprinkled in the craftsmanship of delicate gunpowder. Nevertheless, the first Colt, made by a man long ago in an effort of frantic survival, changed history forever.

At the start, with a low Mark, the Colt is a perfect mix of alchemy and Sigil. But later on, the mix shifts toward the Sigil, the Ether owning more and more power.

But it doesn't have to be that way. The pistols made by Icarus showed me that progress can still be made on our end, the part of human creativity.

And so, with unwavering focus, I embark on the task at hand. First, I disassemble the revolver, its intricate mechanisms bare before my eyes. Next, the copper wire, my power conduit, weaves its way through the gun's barrel, intertwining with the very essence of its design.

But as I finish this step, I curse. The barrel isn't magnetic. Wait! The bullets! Oh!

I restart, taking the wire out as I burrow a hole into one of my magnets, leaving the ingenious rifling of Icarus inside the barrel-to-be, but the creation breaks. Damn. The magnets are too brittle.

Can a magnet even be the barrel of a gun? Is it not too brittle? Hmm... Could I just turn a barrel into a magnet? It's possible... using two other magnets, I can turn iron into a magnet, but wouldn't it be too weak?

Not necessarily. Bert left me parts for a Colt to make eventually, the barrel made with a particular metal conducive to Ether, Crimferor.

I take out the dark red, almost black steel barrel alongside two other magnets and line them up on their respective poles on the makeshift desk. Then, I retrieve my hammer and strike the barrel, sparks flying.

Then, I move the barrel to a piece of iron. Nothing.

Again, I line the pieces up.

I strike again, Elizabeth yelling what the noise is about. I wave her off as I test the steel. Again, nothing.

C'mon! I've done this before!

Again, I strike the steel, even harder this time, as I use Reshuffle on the metal, attempting to force it to do as it should. Two magnets can induce another piece of iron to be magnetic. While this barrel isn't iron, it is attracted by the magnets, so it should contain iron.

Another hit. Another bang. Gradually my arm and mind grow tired, but a spark emerges after almost an hour of striking. Every piece of iron on my table, even other magnets, nearly crushes my hand as they move toward the barrel.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Ow!"

I raise my hand as I suck on a gash along the length of my index finger, and Primrose flings up from the noise, staring at me with derision as I can't help but laugh with glee. I did it! A few more minutes pass as I pry the iron off the magnet. Unfortunately, I need Primrose's strength to help as I'm too weak for some of the magnet's connections.

But once it's all moved around, I restart the creation. This time, using a robust magnetic barrel. I barely even have to try to attach the barrel to the gun, the piece damn near gluing itself on with the attraction of its pole.

Then, I carefully integrate the copper wires, a fusion of innovation and tradition. Sparks of inspiration fly as metal meets metal. But I pause again. It would be even better if I could make the wires move, right? A stable barrel, moving wires, and then plus the moving bullet should make... a lot of electricity. Enough that I should insulate the handle.

Quickly, I add some insulation, using sturdy wood instead of metal for the grip, fastening the handle tightly. Then, I return to the thought at hand.

Hmm... I could have the coil of wire pulled alongside the squeeze of the trigger, like a wind-up toy with a grip of wood. But then, I'd have to reset the wire after every shot.

What about? No... that won't work. How-- not that either. Maybe? No.

Hmm... is that my only option? If that's the case, then I need to make some changes to the weapon. Dissembling it again, I remove the magazine from the handle, the highest innovation of Icarus' guns that allowed them to hold far more than six bullets, reaching nearly fifteen. Then, I put another magnet where the bullets should go, lining it with wire and connecting it to the hammer so the cables are all pulled on the trigger pull. It makes the trigger far harder to draw, requiring two hands or multiple fingers on one hand to fire.

Ideas overwhelm my mind as I continue working with the weapon, even as the sun falls and rises the next day. Elizabeth trades out with Primrose to steer the wagon, but they leave me out of the rotation. Even they can see I'm onto something here.

Early morning the day after the idea came to me, I hold the pistol up in the air, if it could even be called that.

I marvel at my invention, like Icarus' pistols but still completely different. A nightmare red barrel, receiver, and hammer lay atop a handle made of wood with two open ports for heat. The rifling in the barrel is made of copper wires, while the magazine is replaced by another highly attractive magnet. Everything is seamlessly incorporated, from the hammer to the tip of the barrel, to create more electricity. For what? Time to see.

With the pistol now imbued with the power of electricity, a surge of anticipation courses through my veins. I'm unsure if it will work entirely, but... it should. Then, finally, I slide open the top of the gun and glide in my bullet, a homemade and ramshackle thing designed to explode on impact and be pulled by the magnets. This amalgamation of metal and lightning is heavy in my hands, the tiredness creeping in. But I push through, too excited to see the fruits of my labor.

While we move, I call Primrose over to watch me.

"I'm done with it, Primrose. Wanna see it work?"

She contorts her head at me, her face still cut up and bruised, as she nods.

"Sure. Just don't let it explode like the last time you wanted to show me something. That hurt and burned my scarf."

Smiling, I lean over the edge of our wagon as we hurry through a rare forest in Bonedunes on our way to Tornridge. So far, nothing has attacked us on this path; Darkstep's way has been safe and without obstacles.

As I take aim, the weight of potential rests in my hands. Now an embodiment of my ingenuity, the handgun feels alive, pulsating with the latent energy that courses through its core. Then, with a steady hand and a focused mind, I squeeze the trigger, the hammer detonating the gunpowder in the back of the shell as the lightning within is born from the movement.

A crackling bolt of visible lightning dances along the length of the barrel, propelling the bullet forward with unparalleled force. It tears through the air, leaving a trail of brilliance in its wake. The velocity it reaches is such that an explosion detonates within the air, and a tree in the distance falls. But, then, so does the one behind it. And the one behind that. A typical bullet without my changes may go through the first, but it would lose all power and slap limply against the second. Yet under no circumstances would a single bullet fell even one tree, let alone three.

As the echoes of the shot fade into the vast wilderness, the sound reverberating against the trees near-endlessly, I stand in awe of what I have achieved—a fusion of two worlds, an embodiment of progress. The revolver, now a harbinger of a new era, bears witness to the limitless potential that lies within alchemy.

All it needs now is a Sigil. One worthy of its power.

In the hallowed silence that follows, I cannot help but stare at the weapon in my hands, the wire hanging out from the shot. Taking a moment to fix the wire, I pull the metallic cord through the barrel again before sliding another homemade bullet into the chamber.

Moving my wrist, I notice the recoil wasn't too bad. Perhaps a bit more than a regular pistol. Where did it all go? Moving back to my table as the wagon slows, I set the gun down and peer at it, pondering.

That is until a shriek pulls me from my thinking.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, EARL!"

A firm hand yanks me from the desk as Elizabeth shakes me vigorously.

"Are you insane? That was ten times louder than a gun! Everything within ten miles will hear that damn thing! We're sneaking through a fallen Territory! What are you thinking!"

I try to defend myself, but Primrose steps between Elizabeth and me, a swirl of green on her hand. We both look at the woman as she leans over and picks up my gun, her eyes taking in every curve, wire, and point of the weapon.

"What is this, Earl? How do I not sense any Ether or Sigils?"

Waving my hand, I answer. It's obvious.

"That's because it doesn't use Ether. Or a Sigil. That's to come later. I don't have my Craftsman yet."

Primrose stares at me for a moment, her jaw slightly hanging.

"What?"

I reiterate as she didn't seem to hear me.

"I didn't use Ether or a Sigil."

She turns her attention from me to the weapon, then to the fallen trees, a subdued voice coming from her.

"But you will?"

Nodding, I take it back, showing her what I mean. My finger traces the steel of the weapon as I explain how it works.

"Yeah. These wires and these magnets create lightning when the trigger is pulled, the explosion of the ammunition causing the iron in the bullet to charge the barrel with electricity as the electricity then strengthens the magnetic field, pushing the shot forward. Icarus' formula states that lightning current can provide momentum to an object, and that, tied with the gunpowder's propellant, gives the force you see there. I can likely do better with more potent magnets or larger frames holding more magnets, but I'll have to discover materials that can handle that, as Crimferor is really good. The hinge of this whole thing is the Crimferor barrel, receiver, and hammer, as they are so highly magnetic that they could together pull a person if they are holding even just a tiny piece of iron, but I organized the weapon in such a way that it reduces the overall pull on the outside to a manageable level, focusing it all internally. It'll make the weapon slightly unwieldy around other people but great in the wild. Unfortunately, it only has one shot before it has to be reloaded, like the early muskets, so I need to work on some mechanism that will return the wire or replace it. I don't quite know the exact numbers either, but the equation that Icarus gave me details the force exuded by the current, so--"

A hand covers my lips and, with great force, closes them. Primrose shifts her head in front of mine to speak as she pats me on the head like a child.

"I don't understand a word of what you just said, but I'm impressed. For a Colt to have that much power, most require to be a 3rd or 4th Sigil. Meaning you made a single-shot 3rd Mark. Without a Sigil. Good job."

The praise from her feels weird, but I'm not totally against it. A small bundle of warmth builds as she smiles at me that I quickly force down. Not her. Devil, please. Not her.

My attention is quickly pulled from her, a roar in the distance warning us. Primrose curses as she hobbles to the front, yelling at Elizabeth and me.

"Reload that damn thing! We got a Wyrm coming! Your damn noise alerted it! Elizabeth, come with me; you're driving! Fucking hell! I ain't ready for this yet!"

Grinning from ear to ear with my creation recognized, I finish reloading it before moving to the other side of the wagon, searching for the Wyrm living in the Tuina Forest we are traveling through. And after a few minutes, I see it. An enormous slimy thing glides across the grass and around the trees.

Sighing with disgust at the apex predator in this forest, I raise my weapon, and a name comes to mind: Coil.

Again, I pull the trigger, Reshuffling the bullet for accuracy as I struggle to even grasp the projectile with Marionette from its speed that must be multiple times beyond that of sound. The shot slams into the side of the Wyrm, blasting blood and viscera all over the place with a basin-sized wound that goes right through the oak tree-sized varmint.

I reload again as I realize just how long it takes to do so and the fact that I only have one more homemade round. I didn't want to make too many in case they didn't work. Grumbling about laze, I finish preparing Coil and aim it back at the Wyrm, firing again. This time, I hit the creature right in the head, blowing the brain out of its skull.

The Wyrm perishes as the sound of my gun causes another roar. A roar that turns into two, then three, then ten, as the entire forest finally finds us worthy of prey.

Cursing at the coming danger and angry that I didn't think this all through, I dive back to my table as the wagon wobbles over the terrain. Hastily, I put together another bullet with the making of Crimferor and gunpowder. Yet, I have to quickly discard it as I accidentally put too much gunpowder inside.

I have another round a minute later, but my heart stings with pain at my rapidly depleting supply of Crimferor. Bert gave me ten thousand dollars worth, enough to supply a Craftsman for a half-year, and here I am already using a fourth of it. In exchange for not using Sigils, it devours money like nothing else.

But I push on with using the rare steel. Primrose is hurt, so she can't fight without reinjuring herself, and Elizabeth can't do much to these Wyrms. The wolves and bears she can, but not the more giant beasts with powerful Sigils.

Cursing under my breath again, I notice a humanoid figure following the wagon. But, looking closely, I can see that they aren't human, but in fact, a kind of lesser demon akin to the Nain Rouge from long ago. But unlike the Nain Rouge, this lanky demon is focused on hunting instead of luck. The blessings of being in non-human territory. Sighing, I raise my gun and pause my creation of another round. Aiming carefully and using my skills to guarantee a hit, I pull Coil's trigger.

I just wish I waited to fire the gun until I made more ammo.