Chapter 171: Someone Is Already Selling Fake Versions of My Rifle

Raven discovered that keeping a weapon secret after firing it in front of twenty people was considerably harder than building one.

The first sign appeared two days after leaving Kharad.

It wasn’t a Church agent.

It wasn’t a noble either.

It was a merchant selling imitations.

Raven stopped in front of the stall without saying anything.

Valeria stopped beside him.

Roland needed several seconds to understand why they had both suddenly stopped walking. Then he looked at what was lying on the table.

"No."

Raven kept staring.

"Yes."

The town was called Arven Crossing. It wasn’t large enough to receive much attention on the major maps, but it occupied a useful intersection between two eastern Asterian trade routes. It had a small Mercenary House office, three inns, a market far larger than its permanent population justified, and enough blacksmiths to attract caravans in need of repairs.

That was why they had stopped.

Raven needed steel.

Again.

He also needed oil, conductive materials, several tools Hadrik hadn’t had available, and something resembling a hand-operated lathe that a merchant in Kharad had claimed artificers used to produce small components.

He had not expected to find this.

The object on the merchant’s table was perhaps seventy centimeters long.

Black-painted wood formed most of the body. An iron tube had been attached to the front, a string mechanism was concealed underneath, and two fragments of bone had been glued to the sides. For reasons Raven could not begin to understand, someone had tied an animal jaw near the grip.

A handwritten sign stood beside it.

[THUNDER BEAST GUN]

[THE WEAPON THAT KILLED THE SKY WYVERN]

Roland raised a hand to his mouth.

Raven looked at him.

"No."

"I’m not doing anything."

"You’re about to laugh."

"I’m trying not to."

Valeria was making no such effort.

"Thunder Beast Gun."

Raven kept staring at the fake weapon.

"No."

"I like it."

"No."

The merchant noticed their interest and appeared immediately.

"Excellent taste, my friends. Those arrived this morning."

Raven looked at him.

"From where?"

"Kharad."

"No."

The man hesitated.

"Well. The design did."

"Also no."

Valeria crossed her arms, clearly far too interested in seeing how long the conversation would continue.

The merchant picked up one of the weapons.

"Based on the authentic weapon used by the foreign mercenary who killed a Skygrave Wyvern with a single shot."

Raven examined the concealed string.

"That’s a crossbow."

"Inspired by revolutionary technology."

"It’s a crossbow."

"An improved crossbow."

"It has a jaw glued to it."

The merchant proudly indicated the bone.

"Beast core."

Raven looked at him.

Then at the bone.

Then back at the man.

"That came from a goat."

The merchant’s smile disappeared for a fraction of a second.

Valeria laughed.

Roland finally lost the battle with himself.

"How do you know it came from a goat?"

"Because I’ve seen goats."

"That shouldn’t be this funny."

The merchant slowly returned the weapon to the table.

"Perhaps this particular model is ceremonial."

Raven started walking.

"Let’s go."

Valeria didn’t move.

Raven turned.

She was holding one of the imitations.

"No."

"I didn’t even ask."

"Put it down."

"I was checking the balance."

"It’s a crossbow with goat parts."

"That doesn’t mean it has bad balance."

Roland leaned closer to Raven.

"Buy it for her."

"No."

"We could display it next to the real rifle."

"No."

"Decoration."

"No."

Valeria finally returned the object to the table.

"You’re destroying the culture you inspired."

"If that’s the culture I inspired, I’d rather destroy it early."

The merchant watched them leave with obvious confusion.

He hadn’t recognized Raven.

At least that part was still working.

Raven had changed his appearance slightly since Kharad. Nothing dramatic. A different coat, while the Mk.I case had been wrapped in ordinary cloth and secured with the rest of their luggage.

Valeria had suggested hiding his hair.

Raven had refused.

He wasn’t going to disguise himself every time he entered a town.

Even so, the rumor had traveled faster than they had.

That was the real problem.

The second version appeared before lunch.

Raven was comparing two grades of steel when he overheard a blacksmith arguing with a customer.

"I’m telling you, it was demonic magic."

"It wasn’t magic," the customer replied.

Raven stopped examining the metal bar.

Valeria, who had been studying a display of small jewelry at the neighboring stall, heard it too.

"How do you know?"

"My brother-in-law knows a man who was at South Relay."

Raven closed his eyes for a moment.

Several meters behind him, Roland was already smiling.

The customer continued.

"The foreigner raised some black thing. No runes, no enchantment. It made a sound like thunder, and the Wyvern dropped dead."

The blacksmith shook his head.

"That’s artificery."

"I just told you there were no runes."

"Then demonic."

"Why is everything you don’t understand demonic?"

"Because that usually works."

Raven picked up the steel again.

FORGE responded.

[Projectile Material Compatibility: 92%.]

Acceptable.

He ignored the conversation.

Valeria did not.

She approached them slowly.

"Excuse me."

Both men turned.

Valeria smiled with the same elegant expression she used whenever she intended to obtain information without paying for it.

"Are you talking about the mercenary from Kharad?"

"Yes, my lady," the blacksmith replied.

"I heard something similar. What did he look like?"

The customer seemed delighted to have a new audience.

"Tall. Black hair. Some silver in it, they say. Scars. Carries a weapon made from monster corpses."

Raven continued inspecting the steel.

Valeria asked, "Entire corpses?"

"Parts."

"How unpleasant."

"I also heard he eats monsters."

Raven lowered the bar.

Roland coughed to disguise another laugh.

Valeria carefully avoided looking at Raven.

"He eats monsters?"

"Yes."

"Raw?"

The question was deliberate.

Raven knew it.

The man considered it seriously.

"I didn’t hear that."

"Perhaps cooked, then."

"Could be."

Raven intervened.

"Are you buying anything?"

Valeria turned toward him with perfect innocence.

"I was only talking."

The blacksmith looked at Raven.

Then at Valeria.

Then at their clothes.

"You two traveling together?"

"Yes," Valeria said.

"Not relevant," Raven said at the same time.

The customer pointed toward him.

"You’re a foreigner too."

"There are several."

"Where from?"

Raven kept his expression neutral.

"Far away."

Valeria covered her mouth.

Too late.

The customer studied him more carefully.

Raven saw the exact moment the man began comparing height, hair, accent, and the description he had just given.

He didn’t allow him to finish.

Raven paid for the steel.

"Let’s go."

Valeria followed.

So did Roland.

They had walked almost twenty meters before Valeria spoke.

"Raw."

Raven kept walking.

"No."

"We could have confirmed an important detail."

"I’m not helping people improve rumors about me."

"Technically, you do eat monsters."

"That doesn’t mean they need to know how."

Roland walked behind them.

"I’d say the ’eats monsters’ part is already surprisingly close to the truth."

Raven looked at him.

"They also know you use a bow. Would you like me to start describing your habits?"

"My habits are less interesting."

"Debatable."

Valeria was still smiling.

"Betrothed foreigner."

Raven stopped.

"What?"

She pointed behind them.

"The jewelry merchant just told someone I’m the foreign mercenary’s noble fiancée."

Raven looked back.

He couldn’t hear the conversation from there.

He didn’t need to.

"Dunvar."

"Probably."

"That rumor should have died there."

"Good rumors survive."

"It isn’t good."

"For me, it is."

Raven resumed walking.

Valeria caught up beside him.

"Aren’t you going to deny it?"

"To whom?"

"To me."

"You know you aren’t."

"That wasn’t very passionate."

"I wasn’t trying to be."

"Naturally."

Roland burst out laughing.

Raven began reconsidering the advantages of traveling with other people.

The third version was worse.

They found it written down.

A sheet had been nailed to a notice board outside a tavern.

[THE BLACK THUNDER MERCENARY]

[FOREIGN BEAST-SMITH]

[MURDERED A SKYGRAVE WYVERN WITH ONE SHOT]

Someone had drawn what looked like a cannon with teeth underneath.

Raven tore the sheet down.

Valeria immediately took it from him.

"No."

"Give it back."

"I’m keeping it."

"Why?"

"Because one day you’re going to pretend none of this happened."

"I’m not going to pretend that."

"Then there’s no problem."

She folded the paper and put it away.

Raven stared at her.

"I don’t understand why you enjoy this."

"Because you spent weeks trying to keep anyone from seeing the rifle, and one public shot was enough for half the region to start building a legend around you."

"That is exactly the opposite of enjoyable."

"For you."

Roland pointed toward the drawing.

"They forgot the organs."

"Don’t help."

"I’m only saying the artist didn’t have good information."

Raven looked at the notice board.

Other papers surrounded the rumor.

Contracts.

Land sales.

Caravan schedules.

A bounty for bandits.

And among all of it, his rumor now occupied physical space.

That was new.

And dangerous.

Not because people knew he could kill a Wyvern.

That part could almost be useful.

A reputation might prevent smaller conflicts before they started.

The problem was what came next.

Who built the weapon?

What materials did it require?

How did it work?

Could he make another one?

Could he sell it?

Could he teach someone else to build one?

Could someone simply take it from him?

Raven knew how those questions ended once enough money or political power stood behind them.

Valeria’s smile faded slightly.

"You’re thinking too much."

"I’m thinking enough."

"Not every rumor is going to become a threat."

"No."

"But some will."

Raven looked at her.

"Yes."

She understood.

Dunvar had begun with rumors.

Keller Ridge with documents.

Transfer Station Four with business dealings nobody was supposed to examine too closely.

New technology wasn’t merely a weapon.

It was value.

And anything valuable attracted people.

Valeria lowered her voice.

"They can’t copy it just by looking at it."

"Not yet."

"FORGE is still yours."

"The principle isn’t."

Valeria frowned.

Raven continued walking as he explained.

"They don’t need to reproduce the Mk.I exactly. If someone realizes biological functions can be externalized, they start looking for other methods. Worse ones. Inefficient ones. Dangerous ones. But eventually someone may produce something useful."

"They would first need to understand how you preserve the functions."

"Yes."

"And they don’t."

"For now."

Valeria watched him for a moment.

"So do you regret using it?"

Raven didn’t need long to answer.

"No."

The Wyvern would have continued blocking South Relay. More people could have been injured, the contract might have failed, and more importantly, the rifle needed actual combat data.

A weapon that was never used was only an expensive project.

"But I would have preferred fewer witnesses."

Valeria smiled faintly.

"That sounds more like you."