“Here are the Abbot’s quarters,” said Brother Mender, as he knocked on an impressively ornate wooden door. The golden door knocker consisted of a plate in the shape of the entwined double helix spring, while the part on a hinge used to do the actual knocking was in the shape of a gear.

The door opened with the tiniest of squeaks, revealing a thin monk with bushy black eyebrows, a thin nose, and thin lips, dressed in full length robes made of shiny yellow cloth. He immediately gave off the impression that he was looking down on everyone and everything. So supercilious was his manner, that it seemed as though he was examining them with his nostrils, rather than his eyes. His nostrils bypassed Trip and Wukong to point at Brother Mender.

“Yeeess… Brother?”

“Did Brother Gentle Wave not deliver the message? This is Sister Trip, a Sister of the Faith, here to meet the Abbot.”

“How do you know she’s a Sister of the Faith? Just because she says she’s one? As the gatekeeper, are you letting just anybody into the Monastery? Are you a gatekeeper, or an usher? Perhaps you still fail to understand the duties --”

Wukong suddenly shoved the monk, causing him to fly a few feet backwards, before falling flat on his behind to slide another few feet more on the stone floor. Wukong then shoved the half-open door, causing it to slam against the stone wall with a loud BANG, revealing another two occupants in the room, one seated behind a long low table, another standing beside the seated one. Both occupants were dressed in the same shiny yellow full length robes, and were staring at Wukong in shock.

“Hey there Mister Monk Man!” Wukong boomed as he strode forward with his chest puffed out and one hand resting on the metal quarterstaff slotted through the back of his tiger-skin kilt. He gave off the air of a certain type of emperor who, while taking a walk in his own palace, decided to enter the rooms of his servants on a whim.

However, this room definitely did not look like it belonged to any servant. It contained cupboards and bookshelves made of a warm, shiny, dark-brown wood. The kind of wood that gleams so expensively, the smallest speck of dirt would stand out on it like an elephant standing on a plain of ice. The bookshelves were lined with rare books instead of scrolls. Thick, luxurious carpets and cushions were scattered all over the floor, and equally thick curtains were hung over the windows and on the walls. There was a fire cheerfully crackling away in a firepit in the center of the room.

The area between the firepit and the wall opposite the door was dominated by the long, low table of about knee height that one of the monks was sitting behind. Upon closer examination, it consisted of three square tables arranged side by side. Amazingly, they were of equally perfect dimensions, causing them to resemble a single long table, arranged as they were.

“Your man there didn’t give us much of a welcome, but I know that, as the Monk of Monks, you would want to extend every courtesy towards the Great Sage Equaling Heaven and his Mistress, the Ever-Righteous Lady Trip! So I decided to help you out and discipline your man there a little bit for you!”

Upon hearing the ridiculous title that Wukong had invented for her, Trip’s mouth opened the tiniest bit. Then she closed it back, deciding to hold her peace.

“I apologise on behalf of Brother Broad Plans. He does tend to take his duties… very seriously. I am the Abbot, welcome to the Monastery of LGS” said the monk seated behind the table, in a deep sonorous voice.

The Abbot was big, meaty and soft. He looked as though he might have been muscular once in his youth, but it had all gone to fat. He had thick grey eyebrows, a red bulbous nose, fleshy red lips and a florid complexion. Like all the other monks, he was completely bald. If one was being uncharitable, it could be said that he looked like a tomato with two grey goose feather eyebrows.

“Thank you for the… warm welcome, Abbot. May the light of Technology never wane.” said Trip, with a slight twist to her lips.

“May the light of Technology never wane. I see that Brother Mender was not mistaken after all. Speaking of which, Brother Mender, you may return to your duties now.”

Although the Abbot’s tone was mild, his gaze towards Brother Mender was cold, and his words could not be mistaken as anything other than dismissive.

Brother Mender, who had been grinning at Brother Broad Plan’s scrambling to get up and recover from his less than dignified position on the floor, snapped his expression into a controlled poker face upon hearing the Abbot’s dismissal. With a nod towards Trip, he turned and left without a word.

“Please do come in, Sister Trip. I’d like to hear more about which monastery you come from, and more importantly, do you have any technology to share with us?”

As Trip sat at the table, she observed that a dark red velvet cloth was spread in front of the Abbot, and he had been polishing the disassembled pieces of what looked like a large double-barrelled pistol. The entire pistol, especially the handle and barrels, was decorated with ornate gold and silver filigree, making it look more like an ornament than a weapon.

“I come from a Monastery of LGS far in the North-East, but it no longer exists. As for technology, few things have amazed me as much as that double-barrelled pistol. Even back at the monastery, we did not have anything even remotely resembling that piece of work.”

Upon hearing Trip's amazement, the monk standing beside the Abbot straightened and grinned proudly. “That is perfectly alright. Maybe your monastery was researching in another direction. After all, what you see before you is the pinnacle of firearms research and development, the result of many years of focused direction and coordination from our Abbot. Without him, we would have wasted our time focusing on other things. Thanks to our Abbot, through unity of purpose, we developed a double-barreled pistol that not only preserves accuracy, but also loads our unique cartridge… from the BACK! Why, it takes only twelve seconds for most of us to reload it! Imagine that, two shots every twelve seconds!”

“Please pardon Brother Broad Wisdom. He headed the team that developed the double-barrelled pistol, so he is understandably quite… enthusiastic about it.” drawled the Abbot.

“Wow, two shots every twelve seconds is… really good.” nodded Trip.

“Really good? Just “really good”? It’s unprecedented! A front-loading pistol would be, at best, two shots a minute!”

The Abbot gave a sideways glance at Trip through slitted eyes, as he smiled at the monk who seemed on the verge of frothing at the mouth. “Now, now, Brother Broad Wisdom, what have I always said about humility? To be honest, Sister Trip, these pistols of ours are still quite crude. Frankly speaking, we lack both knowledge and inspiration, which is why we are still so far behind what our ancestors could create. Perhaps you know of something, some example of better workmanship that we could use to expand our horizons?”

“No, there’s nothing. The workmanship on that pistol looks very fancy. A custom job for somebody important?”

“Yes, you could say it is for somebody responsible for all our safety. Now, talking about an item of great workmanship, how about that crossbow on your back? It does not look anything like a simple crossbow.”

Trip touched the stock of her crossbow sticking out above and behind her shoulder.

“This? It doesn’t work well, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Oh? But you would know how to use it, since it is your crossbow. Could you show us how it works?”

Before Trip could refuse again, Brother Broad Plans, who was now standing beside the Abbot, sneered and said, “Father, perhaps she is ashamed of it. Let us not force her. After all, it is expected that one who has obviously been spending too much time among uncivilised savages --” he paused as he directed a glare at Wukong “-- would not have the chance to come into contact with anything beyond the most primitive of tools. Why concern ourselves with a mere crossbow when we already have guns?”

“Ha! My Mistress has weapons more advanced than anything you could think of!” shouted Wukong. His arm blurred as he swiped Trip’s revolver right out of her holster, without shifting her duster in the slightest.

Trip made a desperate grab for her revolver, but Wukong’s move was completely unexpected, and sheer shock had delayed her response.

With a light smack, Wukong laid the revolver on the velvet cloth in front of the Abbot. Beside the ornately decorated pieces of the double-barrelled pistol, the plain revolver looked utilitarian, yet deadly.

The Abbot held the revolver in both hands, as he examined the bullets in the cylinder.

“SIX shots!? What an ingenious design!”

“This is my Mistress’ Lightning Pistol of Continuous Smiting! I dare say that it is the most advanced pistol in existence! Never seen anything like it, have you? HAVE YOU? Who’s the uncivilised savage now, huuuuuuh?” gloated Wukong.

“It’s still you!” said Trip, in a tone that was as cold as a glacier and as sharp as a rapier. Her eyes were staring icicles of death at Wukong.

-- Chapter 12, End --