The hearing of Archibald Caine
``The candidate is a Harengon, or rabbit folk known a bit more derogatorily, but he seems not to mind the term so much. Around 160 cm tall, covered in greyish-white fur, yellow eyes. Shall we invite him in?''
``What can you tell us about yourself, Mister...Archibald Caine?''
``Oh, gee...where to start? I guess with the basics, right? My name is Archibald Salazar Caine, my friends call me Archie; I was born and raised in the Oakburrow - that's a small hamlet to the north of the Black mountain. An uneventful little hurdling of Herengons, but it was peaceful. In my adolescence, I went off to study wizardry in the University of theoretical and applied occultism Merilinus Trigrandis. I finished my studies with a bachelor's in practical warcraft and now I continue to be part of the academic sphere. I have joined the Black Powder Guild, a faculty of the university, where I work mostly as a field operative. We often get government sponsorships for our new experiments.''
``I see...and, in layman's terms, what would you call yourself? Your...personal area...of expertise?''
``Gun Wizard''.
``Odd, but appropriate, I presume. What drew you to follow this line of...work and study? You have to admit, it's rather unorthodox for a...Harengon...wouldn't you agree?''
Archibald smiled.
#
An appreciator of the arts most curious
By midday, Archibald and Hanil had split-off their party and went on roaming and exploring. They walked, passing people from all walks of life, their ears full of the chitter-chatter of the big city - taverns, smitheys, street performers and market stalls, market stalls as far as the eye could see. Wares from all corners of the world and while Hanil looked completely mesmerized by the colours and sounds and smells, Archibald seemed to know exactly where he was going and what he was looking for. And there it was.
He picked up and booklet, the material rough and inelegant, the contents filled with wood carvings and text, depicting sequential frames and dialogue. Hanil observed, first with curiosity, but as Archibald continued to read his book, not putting it down nor buying it right away, Hanil annoyed a bit.
``What are you reading there, friend?'' the elf asked.
``Mmm...a work of art...and illuminated tale''.
``I've heard of those, seen some of them too. But this one appears different''.
The drawing were cruder and the sequence seemed to be going left to right.
``You are correct. This one comes from the Orient. It's called an emaki''.
Archibald continued reading, flipping the pages.
``You seem really into it. Why?''
``It's an interesting book. I'm a bit of a connoisseur of the Oriental arts - theater plays, illuminated tales, drawings, sculptures. They have an amazingly rich culture there.''
``Mmm...we have culture here as well, you know that, right?''
``Yes, but everything they do, they do with such elegance and grace. They put in care and beauty in every task and every little thing. To them drinking tea is as sacred as going to temple. They believe that when entering a battle field, you should just aim to survive, you should aim to die beautifully. They are majestic people, something an uncultured yojin like yourself may not fully appreciate''.
And with that, Archibald flipped to the next page with depicted a naked female Herengon enwrapped in tentacles, penetrating her every orifice and he quickly closed the book.
#
Dead eye
``He's getting away!''
Archibald turned around. The orc was faster than expected - some enchantments might be at play.
From his flowing scarf he produced a musket.
The orc was gaining ground.
``Extend!''
Blueish light burst out of the musket in all directions intertwined with octarine, for those with the eyes to see.
The orc seemed better armored than the rest of his gang. At this range it might be a problem.
``Contract!''
Blackish mist spilled out of the musket, once more octarine dripping from the edges, appearing as fluctuations in the air.
The wizard's vision was getting a bit blurred. He might need a second try.
``Recall!''
Orange and octarine enveloped the weapon.
There was a loud bang and the bullet flew, a hawk to its prey. The range it covered was preternaturally more than a weapon of that caliber would allow. The bullet grazed its target by the calf and flew onward. After a hundred or so meters, the curvature of its trajectory shifted, turning back and penetrating the orc through the layers of leather and fur, through the heart and exiting from his back.
Instantly dead.
The corpse fell and rolled down hill.
Archibald blew the smoke away from the barrel. A smirk creeped up.
#
A demonstration in smoke
``Ghost Gun Gore!''
Six pistols flew out of from underneath the scarf positioning themselves around the Sun army combatant, who, although unaware of what exactly was happening and more than a little nervous, tightened the grip around the hilt of his sword, ready to deflect.
``Ignite!''
A snap of the fingers and the combatant dropped dead, shot six times from six different directions. He never stood a chance.
By this time Archibald was starting to get tired, but there were twelve more soldiers of the Sun army.
``Things are looking grim'' Keith said, breathing heavily.
The Sund army was getting ready to rush the adventurers. It was time.
Archibald breathed in deeply and exhaled with a controlled flow.
``Split Second Carnage''.
There was a snap. Twelve guns firing at once and he stood at the other side of the battle field, his legs barely holding him up.
Time had stopped and he had run through the field, throwing pistols at his opponents until he had reached the other side.
``Ravage'' he had whispered and snapped his fingers.
Some of the guns missed, most of them had maimed, a few even killed. Regardless, he had given his team quite an advantage here.
With the last of his strength, he gave a thumbs up before collapsing on the ground.
#
On vocational paths
``Can you explain to me something?''
Archibald did not raise his eyes from the fire, cooking his sausage with a thin smile.
``How can rabbit, who are usually...you know...a bit more sheltered, get into the fields of magic and...well...become proficient enough to actually be a threat? And even so, I think I might have heard about pistols and black powder a few years ago. Now, everyone has them. And there are wizards dedicated to using them. How does that work?''
Archibald raised his eye.
``You know, Lambros, when I was a young little hoppling, a wizard would often visit Oakheaven. That's the hamlet I grew up in. His name was Alabastor or Alaheem, or Alrael or something along those lines, I can't really remember, it was a long time ago. But this wizard would visit our hamlet and would be a guest to old uncle Hillburrow. They were companions of some sort in their olden days. Some believe they might have been adventurers, I personally suspect that they might have run some business deals. But all the children loved the wizard. He would give them toys, do tricks for them, bring chocolate and other confections. He was a blast. But one day, when he was visiting, there came another wizard. Dark robbed, face unseen. Alabastor saw him standing at a hill and went quiet. Both of them went to a clearing alone, but, against Alabastor's wishes, I followed him, light-footed. Both men of magic were just standing there, their robes bellowing in the wind. The air filled with static. The dark wizard motioned to move, but Alabastor was quicker, swinging his arm. A blue white came out. The dark wizard's head fell off, cleanly sliced.''
Archibald turned his dinner around.
``That's when I knew I wanted to do magic. And one day there was great battle a few kilometers away from my hamlet. I went with other friends to see the aftermath. As far as the eye could see, there were bodies. Corpses - splattered, gutted, beheaded, violated. Crows feasting on the almost dead. And on that day, I knew what I wanted to use magic for.''
He took a bite off his sausage.
``You see...this world, at its essence, is about conflict. We battle, we fight, we see who is superior. We become better. We can talk all we want about virtues and friendship, but these things are not absolute. We have stronger convictions, which, at one point or another, we could only uphold with violence. And my convictions are violence. I enjoy violence. I enjoy it quite a lot. And I'm sure you do as well. Otherwise, we wouldn't be on this mission. You can argue that you are here for a higher cause, but there isn't a much high cause than proving you are better through carnage. The real difference between us, Lambros, is that you use violence to get money. I accept money to be violent.''
He threw away his stick, some sausage still on it and took out one of his hidden guns.
``And this here...this is the future of violence. You've heard about guns and they are starting to slither their way into the hands of the many. Imagine - wizards, doing complicated hand signs, memorizing incantations and throwing a ball of fire, exploding and burning people to a crisp. This here, this is the great equalizer. Just point and pull the trigger. Sometimes it doesn't shoot. Most of the times, you miss. But it's getting better. These here, these are already obsolete, compared to what the boys at RnD have in store. Sadly, it's not field ready yet, some I'm stuck with flints. But soon enough...``
#
The final confrontation
At the top of the Sun tower Archibald stood face to face with Sol, his army of the Sun facing off the militia gathered during the past few months. Gun blasts. So many blasts. Oh, how they played, like an overture to Archibald's ears.
``A final war, you say. One last war to end all wars. A war that would engulf the entire known world, so horrendous that people will cease fighting. And crown you their emperor.''
The wizard chuckled.
``You know, it almost sound good. An entire world at war. We could only dream. But it can be only a dream. We can expect everyone to get up at arms. But the problem that really grinds is the final part. A final war. Now that is something I don't believe in. Nor would I wish to believe in. And I think it's time to finish this delusion.''
Archibald turned towards Sol, arms spread. He began to levitate, flying up a good 10 meters.
``Bullet hale: Black Powder Heaven''.
Firearms started lifting from the battle field, pulled away from the grips of soldiers or lifted up from the dirt and mud. All were disarmed. And up above Archibald hovered, surrounded by pistols and muskets, loaded, fired or humid.
He pointed at Sol. The weapons adjusted their aim
``Butcher''.
He snapped his fingers. Even Sol's heavenly plate could not protect him from this much fire power. By the time all the weapons had finished firing, there was nothing left of Sol, except for a red spot, some pieces of his armor and small pile of meat.
Archibald landed.
He smiled before he fainted.
#
Dossier
Fairly young, something akin to twenty-five in human years. Extremely easy to work with. Spells revolve around flintlock pistols, but with the new repeater technology on the horizon, he will surely upgrade. Proven to be violent against enemy forces, at times exhibit an unnecessary level of cruelty. Keeps his weapon supply in a scarf that bends space.
Magic used is mostly custom, so there might not be much information on it. Spell list includes, but it is not limited to:
-Extend - extends the firing range of the weapon;
-Contract - increases the penetrative ability of the bullet;
-Recall - changes trajectory of the bullet;
-Refill - summons back all used weaponry and refills it;
Advanced spells - these include a trigger word:
-Ghost Gun Gore - Ignite - summons six of his pistols which fire at once on one target;
-Split Second Carnage - Ravage - a time stop spell, which lets the user position firearms at enemies;
-Riffle Halo: Angelic Carress - Obliterate - summons ten muskets which surround the user, firing at one target
-Bullet Hale: Black Powder Heaven - Butcher - summons all firearms in a give area and fires them at a specific zone, aiming is minimal, but still possible to an extent; (NB this was the spell used to kill Reinfor Augustus, also known as Sol the Sun King; the heavenly armor used by Augustus was powerful enough to keep him alive for some time, but ultimately it was impossible to withstand such a barrage);
Two other spells are known, which aren't used offensively, but rather as summonable material:
-Eradication: Ignis Dei - summons a cannon, covered in pulsing green runes, meaning still unknown;
-Hecatomb: Necropolis Maker - summons a large barrel, most like around eighty kilograms filled with black powder;
It is unknown if these items are kept in his scarf.
Archibald Salazar Caine has been part of more than ten successful missions, endorsed by nobility and secret organizations working for the crown.
He is more than a suitable candidate for this mission.
![[Commission] Monsieur Louis Bernard's unlucky day](https://sf.ib.metapix.net/images80/overlays/writing.png "[Commission] Monsieur Louis Bernard's unlucky day"){kind=small}
