The breakfast consisted of a mashed potato substitute (Or at least that’s how it tasted to Linden.), greens, and soft boiled eggs. Their shells were grey, with greenish spots, similar to a tennis balls in size. Linden would have to remember to ask about birds that laid them.

The atmosphere was quite nice. Smalltalk was exchanged, jokes were told, laughs shared. Once everyone finished their meals and Mel quickly ran off to do “Something”, Mark brought up a more serious matter.

“I need to buy a sidearm, one shot really isn’t enough.”

“You are thinking about it now?” Linden couldn’t believe this guy. “Shouldn’t you have come to that conclusion long ago?”

“Nope. Normally, I’m traveling solo, or with other explorers, and on foot. In a situation like we had this time, I would normally strap myself high up on a tree before the storm hit. That turned out to be impossible on an escort job.”

‘Huh. So not as experienced as he wanted me to believe at first.’ Thought Ed. “So, what kind of sidearm do you want?”

“I dunno, probably a revolver?”

“Do you have a specific model in mind?” Interrupted Ms. Lisa.

“Not really? I’ll find out in store?” Mark turned out to be surprisingly indecisive.

“They’ll rip you off with this mindset.” His mother had decided to educate him. “Do you at least know how to check one for mechanical issues?”

“No.” Admitted her son.

“I know.” Interrupted Linden. “If it’s a revolver, then a simple function check should be a simple matter.”

There was no way he would pass the chance to see this world’s revolvers. He was the kind of guy who would find a way to conceal carry a 7.5 inch Colt Single Action Army, despite it being gigantic.

Because wheel guns were just that awesome. Especially those fueled with holy black.

“It is?” Asked Mark.

“Yeah, I don’t know what models are sold here, but I believe I know the principles well enough.” He did. He really, really did.

“Good then. Ed will go with you, Mark. The owner of the gun shop likes kids, so he won’t rip him off.” Concluded the meeting Ms. Lisa.

Linden gulped. “...Likes… kids?”

“Not in a bad way.” The woman assured him. “Ed here will help you evaluate the guns, and you shouldn’t get scammed, because he is cute. Two birds.”

‘Ha! A beautiful woman tells me that I am cute. Maybe in this life I’ll be able to get myself a girlfriend.’ Was what Linden was thinking. He conveniently ignored the fact that previously he was a bachelor for life not due to his looks, but because he was shy with strangers, and smelled of gunpowder and horses.

(And gun oil of brand that won’t be mentioned here, but We can let you know it doesn’t damage leather or wood, is non toxic, and creates an emulsion with water.)

“Okay. I don’t have anything against it.” Said Mark.

“Then you’re all set.” Decided Ms. Lisa, and turned to Ed. “Come, I have some clothes for you.”

Linden didn’t have to be told twice. Walking around with pajamas would be a bit embarrassing.

What He was presented with, were grey pants with six pockets, overhead shirt in a reddish brown color, and a poncho. He would have to get himself a hat, but that was a thought for later.

Ed thanked Ms. Lisa, and went out of the house, taking only his knife, sling and money with him. It would be stupid to lug around everything.

Mark was already waiting for him.

“So? Where is the gunshop?” Linden felt was the best way to strike up a conversation.

“Follow me.” It clearly didn’t work.

They strolled through town counterclockwise, until they arrived at the north side corner of eastern town leg. There awaited a shop with exterior made of stone, and a sign that spelled

“So I guess it’s here?” Ed wanted to confirm.

“Correct. Let’s go in. Oh, and remember, keep your smile under control, and don’t laugh out loud.” Was Mark’s reply.

“Huh? Why? Is the owner in mourning or something?”

“Have you seen your reflection? You look like you are about to bit on someone’s neck every time you laugh.”

“Your mom said I was cute.” - Oops, that could be taken as a provocation if Linden was any older.

“Yes, except when you are laughing. Keep it tame, we want that discount.”

“Come to think of it, are there no age restrictions when buying weapons?” Edward paused.

“Yeah, you have to be tall enough to put money on the counter.”

“What about midgets?”

“They can bring a stepladder.”

They went inside.

The store was different from guild offices or Mel and Mark’s home, in that most other buildings were tall, but narrow. The stairs were always steep, and oftentimes lacked in handrails and such. Basically, they were safety inspector’s worst nightmare.

But not this one. Źidek’s Guns building was close to modern earths standard. There was a counter, and glass cabinets with various firearms inside. Linden looked at revolvers. Some had brass frames, some were all steel.

A lot looked like those weird, early European revolvers, and there were signs of building new guns in a way that wouldn’t infringe on someone’s patent rights. It was the first time in his life Linden saw this many flimsy looking ramrods at once.

The prices looked horrendous.

“Good morning” Ed and Mark both greeted the clerk.

“Hello!” They got a very enthusiastic reply, that was visibly directed mainly at Linden. “What can I help you with?

“We are looking for a revolver.”

“Oh? Anything more specific?”

“Details were supposed to come after we examine them closely.” Ed did his best adorable smile.

“How about a shot in the dark then?”

“Huh?” “Whaddayamean?” Linden twisted his tongue a little.

“We have a mystery box here. Pay ten bri for a minute with hands inside it. There is a revolver within.” “If you manage to take it down to the last screw, you get it for free.”

“Okay. Can I pay for a minute first, and then for more?” Ed had funds for around fifteen minutes in his pocket. “Oh, and can I get a screwdriver and a nipple wrench?”

“Yes, you can. As for tools, they are already inside, and you get them along with the gun.” “If you win, that is.”

Linden handed first ten bri to the clerk.

Mark objected. “Are you sure? You don’t even know what you’d be getting, even if you somehow manage to take it down blind.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be able to buy anything with my funds anyway. Might as well try my luck.”

Mark raised his brow. “So you like gambling, huh? Stay away from my sister then.”

“I don’t like gambling. I like winning.” Answered Linden. “Can I get the box?” He asked the clerk.

“Yes, there you go.” He got a smile back. “Good luck”

The box was wooden, with two holes for hands. Ed stuck his paws inside, and grabbed the contents. There was a tool with a nipple wrench on one end, and a screwdriver on the other.

And there was a gun.

Edward Linden grabbed the thing. First thing he felt, was comforting texture of wood and metal. The grip was comfortable to hold, the gun was balanced, and felt good in the hand.

He moved his hands forward. The gun lacked a top strap. The octagonal barrel was held in place by a wedge, its ramrod firm, and a hammer just at the right angle for cocking it with a thumb. Any thumb. There was no rear sight, except for a groove in the hammer.

The gun was comfy.

This feeling of comfort transcended hand size, or length of fingers. It reminded Linden of home, and times long past, of his very first gun he got as a kid. He slowly pulled back the hammer.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

This was no otherworldly model.

This was a Colt.

“Times’ up.” He got brought back to reality.

“Just a bit longer.” Answered Ed, and handed fifty bri over.

He pushed the wedge out. The barrel was held firmly in place, not allowing itself to be separated from the rest.

Not a problem. Linden pulled the hammer into half cock position, and grabbed the ramrod, pushing it against the cylinder.

He unscrewed the ramrod and nipples. He moved to the grip and a trigger guard. Six screws got separated.

The screwdriver moved on to defeat the springs, both main, and trigger one. He took out three more screws, along with the hammer, hammer roller, trigger, and a cylinder locking bolt.

It was time for the small stuff, like the screw near the barrel wedge.

He took his hands out of the box.

“You have thirty more seconds.”

He looked at the clerk. “It’s done.”

“Oh?” The man looked inside, and looked at Ed with surprise. “Indeed. Congratulation, how did you do it?”

“I’ve handled one of these before.”

(More like a dozen, but Ed didn’t want to have to explain that)

“Hmm. Well, put it back together and it’s yours.”

“Alright. Oh, we actually came here to get Mark here a revolver, so could we select another?”

“Of course. It’s actually a relief that you also want to buy something, aside from getting a Kielt for tenth the price.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. We already got more than thrice its worth from people who tried their luck without being able to tell a pin from screw.”

All good then.

Linden quickly put the gun back together. It looked like a colt navy 1851, with small differences, like the engravings on the cylinder, which depicted flower motives, instead of a naval battle.

They moved on to other revolvers. After going through half a dozen, they finally selected another gun. It seemed they were called ‘kielts’, instead of colts. Linden ignored the butchery, instead focusing of well timed action, chambers aligned with the barrel, etc.

Mark came up with the idea of getting something almost identical to what Ed got, so that parts and ammo would be interchangeable.

In the end, they exited the shop with two revolvers for the price of 1.1, round ball mould, fffg powder, and more caps. The grease and holsters would be made at home.

Tis’ was a good day, and Ed would definitely twirl his new possession once he was alone.