Seeing it folded like this also explained the strange cutouts on the furniture - those on the back were there solely to accommodate the lower tube, and the one on the front grip was for the trigger guard. With a flick of her arm, the gunsmith caused the weapon’s front end to spring upward, seamlessly locking into place with a resounding CLACK.

“Based on documentation for its mass-production counterpart, the Collier-Burgess Type-nineteen “Tyrant Muncher” shotgun. Some of the parts were done with the mass-production tooling, but most of this beauty is a tool room custom, thus necessitating a serial number outside the production run - zero-zero-zero-zero. A good portion of the internals are made from the material I removed from the barrel, and the operating handle here is made from a chunk of the original wooden furniture. Slide-action…” the gunsmith began, pulling back the handle next to the trigger, the entire metal sleeve it was attached to sliding back along the bottom of the stock as the top of the gun slid open backwards, cocking the hammer with the motion.

She continued by propping the gun up against its own box, reaching for the sheet metal box and opening it, retrieving from within four of the many shells it contained. They were thick and squat, by her estimate around seven and one third of a centimeter long and two centimeters wide. Collier proceeded to pick out one of the long tubes, showing that they were actually only partially enclosed, with an open side running the length of the tube into which Collier snapped each of the four shells before grabbing three more and filling the tube the rest of the way. Then, she picked up the immaculate piece of gunsmithing, shouldering it and pressing the front end of the tube into an opening on the gun’s underside. With a long push of her thumb through the tube, she loaded all seven shells in one motion before rapidly working the slide-action to make each shell eject in sequence, rattling off yet more of her spiel: “Seven shots in the tube plus one in the chamber, and you can load the shells with damn-near anything as long as it’s not something stupid like broken glass or caltrops.”

“This lovely brass cover here is part of the Fulgur-infused shell you gave me, the rest is on the inside as a chamber lining. It won’t have a particularly pronounced passive effect since the fulguric enchantment was D-plus, maybe C-minus rated, which I’d say is pretty good as far as incidental enchantments go - your best bet will be to use the gun as a casting focus, the more aether you run through it and the longer you use it the stronger both the weapon spirit and the fulguric enchantment will grow… But I don’t need to tell you that, so here’s the last part.”

Setting the gun back into its box, Collier innocuously walked out from behind the counter, only to reach into a heretofore concealed holster and whip out a slightly smaller version of the same gun that lacked the detailing. She laughed to herself as she briefly pointed it at Zef before she folded it in half and put it back in that strange, wide holster.

“Not only does it fold, but folded and holstered it comes out as quickly as any handgun and it’s compact enough to conceal the holster under a regular coat or even under a dress!” proclaimed the gunsmith, beaming with satisfaction in - as far as Zef knew - her own work. The old woman then scanned Zef up and down, her joyous smile turning to a mischievous grin at the sight of the gunslinger’s outfit - a black sundress with a corset overtop, perfectly suitable for the weather.

Collier didn’t seem to be nearly as much of a fan of such clothing, however, poking at Zefaris, “Well, if the dress is a more substantial one than that half-transparent sheet of nothing you’re so fond of strutting around in.”

Zef let out a resigned sigh-chuckle, “Alright, I get it. Just to confirm, what was your quote again?”

“Well, I’ll be selling the mass-production model for a base price of around eight-hundred and thirty gelt, and being a custom, I should charge you at least two thousand for this beaut…” said the gunsmith, eyeing the gun before sighing, clearly not having intended to actually charge that much to begin with. “...But I won’t. Converting her actually wasn’t nearly as much work as making a full custom, doubly since I already had most of the parts from other tool room prototypes - parts that would go unused otherwise. Plus, I added all the flourishes and fixin’s of my own volition. I’ll need six hundred to cover the materials and expertise for properly handling the conversion without damaging the gun soul - and a hell of a soul it is, let me tell you that.”

“Really, you just conveniently happened to have parts perfectly fitted for my gun?” Zef asked indignantly, retrieving a sackful of gelt as she did so.

Returning behind the counter, Collier retorted, “Is it so hard to believe I used the single most common and readily available Ikesian infantry weapon as a testbed for the design? Why, I have enough leftover parts to make four more of these.”

“Why not make a limited run of customs, then?” the gunwoman asked, only receiving a wink as her answer before Collier closed the box, stopping herself and walking off into the back without a work. A moment later she was back with a holster just like the one on her belt, adding it with a murmur, “...That’s another twenty gelt. It’s hand-stitched.”

“You know, you really don’t need to give me special treatment like this,” Zef said, counting out heavy two-hundred gelt coins onto the counter. “How much did you ask for Pentacle? Two-hundred? I bet that price barely covered one twentieth of its real value.”

“I’d rather someone who knows how to make the most of a nice gun get their hands on it than someone who can afford to pay for it - but you of all people should know that.”