“It isn’t the newest model for boar hunting, but it’s the most reliable I’ve found.” The Earl spoke with confidence as he walked around the table. “Based on some of the firearms found from before the pre-catastrophe, the design has been improved over the centuries.”

Rick, with his hands on his back, leaned down to look at the two rifles that lay on the table. The shape was immediately familiar to him, which sounded alarms all over. It was eerily similar to a Remington hunting rifle, the same kind of rifle his uncles used in the farm.

The design was somewhat different though, the barrel was shorter and slightly wider, the metal a light blue and carved with ornately placed symbols of some sort. The wood of the stock was similarly decorated, though the thumb-sized symbols were part of some kind of artistic design, almost hidden in the intricacies of countless other lines.

“I’ve found that Gelly and Smith are the more reliable makers.” The Earl continued, speaking excitedly. “Their queue is of two years, but the quality is worth the wait.”

“I… see.” Rick swallowed, trying to parse through what he was seeing. Somehow he felt Tomas would be exploding with questions right about now. But he wasn’t Tomas, and he had to play things carefully. “What kind of bullet does it use?”

The Earl perked up. “Are you familiar with firearms?”

The image that flashed through Rick’s mind was not of his younger self shooting down cans on the farm, but of a man with armor boring a hole through Monica’s gut. The smile was forced as he pushed the memories away as best he could. “I’ve handled a few when I was younger.”

“I would certainly be interested in knowing more about the kind of firearms your world uses.” The Earl was all smiles, reaching down to one of a small metal magazine and showing its content to Rick.

They were bullets, but they did not have… anything, they had no cartridge, only and exclusively the bullet itself. They were the size of his pinkie finger, made out of a dark blue metal of some sort.

“Murisium silver alloy ten millimeters, maximum penetration. Each magazine has eight bullets. They will go straight through the boar. Perfect to avoid ruining the meat.” A nod . “It is also a mark of skill to bring down the boar in a single shot.” With a little squeeze, he pulled out one of the bullets, showing it off. “So long as you don’t shoot them at something reinforced with elemental energy, they won’t deform, perfect for reusing them.”

Rick made sure to keep his hands behind his back, eying the bullet piece of metal warily. “Shoot them… how? What makes the bullet move? Magic?”

“Oh!” The Earl perked up, putting it back into the magazine. “Do bullets in your world come in a cartridge? Some of the more modern designs have those, but I’ve found them cumbersome. This model uses fire-disks.”

“I can’t say I’m familiar with the term.”

“These are fire-disks. Each container holds a hundred and twelve disks.”

The Earl snatched a metal tube that’d been laying next to the rifles. Tilting it forward, he revealed red disks within the tube, each the size of an oreo. With his thumb, he pushed one out. The disk was paper thin but appearing as sturdy as cardboard.

“These are fire-disks. These were made to be non-reactive without a murisium alloy present. Very safe.” He snapped the disk in two. A plume of smoke and sparks followed, reducing the disk to nothing. “You just need to put the disk into the slot once the round is chambered, and pull the trigger. The magic in the disk transfers to the bullet with explosive results.”

Rick nodded, holding back on the commentary. As far as he could tell, the weapon appeared to be designed for over-penetration, which wasn’t exactly something you’d seek when hunting. Ideally, you’d want all the bullet’s momentum to be transferred to the target. This looked like something that would make hunting harder, not easier. To say nothing of the risk of hitting anything or anyone behind the intended target.

“What about safety?”

“That is what these are for.” He pointed at two medallions. “They have enchantments that will prevent potential accidents. A mere bullet would not be able to harm anything other than, perhaps, an extremity.”

“I… I guess I can see the sense, but I was asking more about the rules on how to safely handle the weapon.” Rick’s smile was tight. “Where I come from, we have some rules already, and I wouldn’t want to assume they’re the same ones here.”

His words snapped the Earl into a more serious expression.

“Right, discipline and respect are important.” A tight nod and he patted the stock of the rifles. “Never aim at anything you don’t intend to shoot, always be watchful of the things that are behind the target, don’t put your finger on the trigger until you are ready to shoot, and never ever handle the bullets while there are fire-disks outside of their container.”

Rick nodded, watching the plump man return to giddiness, picking up the rifle and aiming it at the wall on the opposite side of the courtyard.

“This would be the proper procedure.” He put the magazine into the gun, and the bolt moved on its own, moving forward into position. The Earl took a fire-disk from the container and slotted it from above the chamber into the small gap in front of the bolt.

Pressing the stock against his shoulder, he took aim. The symbols on the rifle lit up, and he pulled the trigger. The bullet had shot out of the barrel, leaving a streak of light in its wake like a tracer round. There was no immediate bang or recoil. The projectile had escaped the muzzle with a soft ‘thunk’ and was instantly followed by the bang. The wall he’d been aiming at burst a tiny chunk of rock.

With a click, the rifle’s bolt pulled itself back before slotting itself back into place, chambering the next round with a click. It had been as if some small engine within the gun had made the parts move, but Rick suspected it was magic.

“If you aim down the sights without a fire-disk loaded, the rifle will point out the location of previously shot bullets. And it can help you pull them out of tricky locations. You try.”

Rick moved slowly, picking up the other rifle and keeping the muzzle pointed at the opposite wall. The weight was familiar in his hands, but there was nothing comforting about it. The wood tingled against his palms as if the whole weapon was electrified. It was the magic, no doubt. He ignored it as he pressed the stock against his shoulder and leaned to look down sight.

The tingling spread to his face, and suddenly he could see a glowing spot on the wall slightly to the right of where he was aiming at. In the crater, the Earl’s shot had left. Slowly he lowered the barrel to the ground, reached for the tube with fire-disks and slotted one into the weapon before raising the rifle again.

This time the glowing spot was not there, instead a red dot painted on the wall, following the trail of the barrel. “Aim assist?”

“That is one of the enchantments, yes.” The Earl nodded.

“And if I decide not to shoot?”

“Just take the disk out and break it. Once it’s out of the cylinder, it’s best not to put it back since it could contaminate the rest.”

With a nod, he moved his finger to the trigger and squeezed.

It was not like he remembered what shooting a rifle had been like. The push-back had not come like a kick, but it was more akin to a slow shove. The bang came a moment later, and the bullet burst into the wall right next to the Earl’s own shot.

“How do you find it?”

“Peculiar.” Rick commented, carefully returning the rifle back to the table. “I’ve never fired a weapon like this.”

The Earl’s chest puffed with pride. “I believe you will enjoy the hunt, then. Everything is ready, so we can get started right away. Barely even has any recoil as well.”

With a nod, Rick glanced over to the side. Monica had been sitting munching on a pile of boar meat, watching him and the Earl with narrowed eyes. Deneva remained between Monica and the Earl, with Dia calmly reading from a book next to the feline.

Rick could only nod. After the training exercises, Monica had been a bit less pushy on sticking around him all the time. Even if she was certainly far more insistent on dragging him back into the room. He hoped her good behavior would keep up.