By the time we left the guild and arrived back at the inn, Myrril-san had regained her composure.
She had been a little quiet on the way, but I guess she gradually got her mind in order. At the same time, there were times when her eyes swam as if she was working out tactics and arrangements, and her footsteps looked as if she was simulating a move, and I knew that in Nojaloli-san’s mind, steps toward revenge were steadily and surely being built up.
When we entered the room on the second floor, I called Myrril-san and offered her the secret weapon I had taken out of storage.
“Keep this with you, just in case. If you don’t have to use it, that’s all the better.”
“…Fumu. I don’t really understand, but whatever Yoshua gave me, I will treasure it for the rest of my life.”
I appreciate that, but it’s not quite like that.
What I handed her was a holster with a belt to be worn under the chest. There were two identical holsters, one for me and one for her. Although it was unattractive as a matching holster, it was a very good one.
“Oh?”
Myrril-san’s eyes sparkled as she pulled the gun out of the holster. Naturally, she was used to handling guns, her index finger resting on the trigger guard and the muzzle pointing toward the floor.
“I’ve never seen a gun like this before, have I? What is this silver color? I know you don’t make weapons out of silver, but I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“Uh… it’s some kind of special steel that’s resistant to rust.”
It’s silver because it’s made of stainless steel, but I don’t know much about the industry, so it’s hard to explain.
I gave her a Sturm, Ruger Super Redhawk. It is a short-barreled “Alaskan” model for polar regions. Specifically, it was an emergency pistol for dealing with large bears, which would be ineffective against even a half-round of small arms ammunition.
I showed her how to operate the gun and the swing out of the cylindrical magazine.
“It’s an Alaskan. It’s a revolver, which is simpler, sturdier, less prone to malfunction, and can use more powerful rounds than an automatic-loading pistol like a copy of the M1911.”
“It is a good thing, isn’t it? Is that a spell written all over the barrel?”
“No, it says, ‘Please read the manual.’ And the name and address of the manufacturer.”
“Why would they put that on the barrel of a gun…? I don’t know if it’s kind or unfriendly.”
Oh, yeah. I thought so too. By the way, it was used, so there was no manual. That’s no good!
Nodding my head, I confirmed the basic operation and structure of the gun and looked at the cartridge I had handed over to her with a wistful glance.
Whether it was her dwarven blood or her experience as an engineer, Myrril seemed to have a rough understanding of the advantages, virtues, and problems of the revolver with just that.
“…I see what you mean. I wondered why I didn’t get one before, but it seems Yoshua made the right decision. I like the design concept of the “robust and solid,” but it is not suitable for use in Casemaian.”
“Well, yes. It is not suitable for war, at least.”
It has a low ammunition capacity and is a bit difficult to reload. The construction of the gun also allows for the leakage of projectile gas through a gap in the rear of the barrel. Even though the ammunition is powerful, the range is not as long as that of a rifle. The Alaskan has a short 2.5-inch barrel, which makes it even shorter.
“Is it one of those things where the better you make it, the more expensive it is?”
“That may be the biggest problem. If you want to get a large number of guns at a low cost for the army, you can’t choose a revolver.”
This is not an accurate expression since there is a difference in the number of firearms distributed between those that are released by the military and those for the general market, but it is difficult to explain to Myrril, so I omitted that part.
“Then, try loading the ammunition in this box. Let’s go outside the city walls and do some test firing in a secluded place. I only bought three hundred rounds of that ammunition because it’s a little expensive, but it’s for emergencies, so it’s okay, right?”
Myrril-san, who was packing the cylinders, looks at the box of 454 Casull, and from her own carry bag, she takes a 45 ACP box. The letters are unreadable to her, but as symbols, she can probably recognize the similarity.
Comparing the ammunition itself, she seemed convinced.
“You know, Yoshua. I was wondering about it for a while now, but as I thought this bullet…”
“You recognize it? It’s the king of .45s. It’s about five times more powerful than a regular .45.”
“Oh?”
Myrril-san, who was as much a believer in the .45 caliber as any American, heard this, and her eyes lit up.
How much do you love the forty-five caliber?
In fact, the .454 Casull ammunition, which is based on the “45 Long Colt,” a long-selling ammunition from the days of black powder ammunition, just like Nojaloli-san’s favorite 45. ACP.
The 45 ACP has been compacted for automatic pistols, while the 454 Casull has been extended to increase the amount of charge. It has five times the energy of the 45ACP and even exceeds the 7.62×39 bullet used in AKM assault rifles.
Naturally, the recoil is also more severe, but the one who has to worry about that is me, the “demon king who only talks,” not Myrril-san, the stout-armed dwarf.
“Umm, this is wonderful. This is really wonderful…!”
Myrril hugged me and rubbed her head against me. She looked up and stared at me with moist eyes.
“Yoshua, I thank you from the bottom of my heart! With this, I don’t think I’ll ever lose again, no matter who I’m up against!”
…That’s fine, though.
When I bought this, it was just an insurance policy in case of emergencies.
Myrril-san, your eyes have already turned into heart marks. I’m glad she’s happy, but for some reason, I feel like I made a very poor choice.