Blessed Knight's Weapon

"So this is a Blessed Knight!?"

"I can't believe my eyes!"

"Finally! Our nation is safe!"

The audience of soldiers stare in awe at my form as I investigate the weapon granted to me by the 'goddess'.

"A 357 Magnum, 6 inch barrel. No complaints on firepower."

The slick metal feels warm to the touch. A silver barrel reflects the sunlight from above and reaches towards the finely crafted frame. My bejeweled palm rests against a rough black grip with my pointer finger rubbing against the trigger guard. This would be your typical, albeit well made, revolver if not for the strange properties of its cylinder.

Similarly to my hand, the pistol is fitted with a gemstone cylinder that seems to emanate strength beyond my comprehension. Pressing the cylinder lock reveals six silver bullets fitted into the crimson slots.

"The pact has been formed!"

Onlookers fall to silence immediately at the king's words. He carries his gaze around the hall before returning to me. I instinctively attempted to conceal my weapon, but the thought alone was all it took for the mysterious revolver to disappear into thin air. All that remains is the warmth against my skin.

"Once again, the House of Aufrey welcomes you. I have always been meaning to invite you and your father to the city, but the opportunity has always eluded us."

The king folds his arms behind his back, scepter disappearing behind his back. His footsteps echo down the hall as he descends towards his supposed champion.

"You have protected our nation's outskirts for many years. For that, I cannot be more grateful."

"But of course, Your Majesty. I do everything for our people."

The old man steps directly in front of me and stands just slightly taller than myself. The wrinkles on his face become visible along with several aged scars. His fierce eyes lock onto mine as one arm reaches towards my shoulder. That large hand grips onto me with sincere strength.

"With the numerous monster and beastfolk attacks, my armies have been stretched thin as of late. Not needing to concern myself with affairs down South has greatly relieved our forces. With your strength here, Melior can find security and tranquility."

"You flatter me with your praise. I simply do what I must."

My body assumes the necessary demeanor to ensure my survival. Not a sound leaves my mouth until the king says his piece. When I speak, I tilt my neck downwards. My surroundings and the king's manner of speech can't place me anywhere other than the Middle Ages at the latest. To upset a monarch during these times would see me executed before sundown. I lost my head once and I don't plan on losing it again so quickly.

Fortunately, I seem to be walking the tightrope without issue.

"Hahaha! If only my son had your humility!"

He motions to one of the knights standing near the throne. It's a young man that barely appears to be in his twenties. His neatly cut brown hair sits above a shell of steel and one hand rests comfortably over his sword. His eyes and lips both exude confidence as he marches into the centre of the hall.

"You've met Duncan before if I recall? I was unable to meet your father's request for an audience, so he was sent in my stead."

"My apologies. The days have been filled with all kinds of matters. I remember the event, but many of its details have been lost from me."

"Worry not! The two of you will have plenty of time to converse in the future."

The young prince has eyes much like his father, including that powerful gaze and demanding presence. He steps forward with an air of authority and extends a hand.

"It has been a while, Sir Clement."

"Likewise."

Unsure of exactly how to address the son of royalty, I select a response that neglects to refer to Duncan by name or title. Fortunately, the prince is much more concerned with the gem he feels between our handshake.

"I would ask if you are well, but you appear to be living a dream. Owning a weapon from the Goddess herself puts you as one of only eight warriors that can stand up to the Titans."

Duncan turns my hand in his and stares at the deep red surface in my palm.

"I didn't quite see your weapon of choice. Could you possibly show me once more?"

A red reflection also appears in the eyes of King Aufrey. All around the room, a single question seems to be floating amongst the onlookers. In this new world where I lack even the most basic understanding, I'm forced to find an explanation to satisfy an army. If this conversation goes poorly, every other individual in this building becomes my enemy.

"Begin simulation…"

Specialised systems deep within my brain activate. Time slows to a stop and my spatial awareness increases to its maximum potential. Detailed engravings along the walls and pillars disappear and leave a blank playground. The faces in front of me become blank slates, their bodies simplified into basic test dummies distinguished by their weapons and armour alone. This blank white world is now a grid with myself as the centre.

"Three exits…"

Two pathways sit along the same wall as the throne, presumably leading further into the castle. Taking this route runs the risk of becoming cornered in an unfamiliar layout or encountering patrols in narrow hallways. Can I handle a group of two to five armed guards? With the element of surprise, I should have no issues. Encountering too many patrols will delay me long enough for the soldiers in this hall to catch up.

The other option is to make a run for the main entrance and escape through a window. I've already determined this route to be possible, but I will likely receive a few wounds along the way.

"Six bullets…"

Each one will have to be used perfectly. Everything begins by first drawing my sword and striking the two enemies standing directly in front. The panic will buy me a few seconds to get a head start towards the front door. If we assume that I can get halfway to the entrance within the surprise window, I can avoid dealing with at least half of the soldiers. Competent ones will pose a threat and attempt to intercept my charge, these will require a bullet. I need only shoot down enough to use as a spring and leap over the defensive wall. Six shots will simply have to do.

"Clement?"

With the next 30 seconds simulated, I have a plan of action should my excuse fall short. It all begins with summoning my weapon and gauging their response.

"My apologies. I'm still getting used to this power."

I pull my hand away from Duncan and focus on my palm. Just as my desire to conceal the weapon was met, so too was my desire to reveal it. With a flash of red, the revolver appears once more. Two sets of eyes focus intently on the metal.

"This really is quite peculiar. I've never seen anything like it."

"I've fought many battles in my time, but this kind of weapon is new to me. What is it?"

Unfortunately, the cursed question arrived. I would have been a fool to assume that guns would already exist in this world. I didn't have much time, but an excuse worked its way into my mind just in time.

"This is a magic dagger."

"A dagger you say?"

My face does not twitch and my gaze is steady. Even as the prince raises an eyebrow at my words, the fabrication is complete. To the surprise of nobody, the king is not convinced.

"But there is no blade?"

"The blade is inside, Your Majesty. This dagger has the special power to strike enemies it points to from afar."

Guns don't exist in this world, but this was once true in my world as well. Impossibility is a moving bar that changes as technology advances. The idea of striking an enemy from tens of metres away was once a dream until the invention of the bow and arrow. The idea of creating such a weapon the size of your hand also seemed like a fantasy. 

Murmurs continue in the background. This may be a world where magic exists, but even humans with an understanding of technology lack the imagination to believe in the impossible.

"This is my magic."

I point my pistol into the air and pull the trigger.

BANG

A red stream of light explodes from the barrel. The beacon strikes through solid stone and wood, blowing even its debris far from the resulting crater. The coming silence marked the end of whatever doubt remained in the room.