Silence lingered in the Silver Manor courtyard. White porcelain fragments glittered across the polished stone floor under the morning sun like scattered jewels.
Arceus lowered the pistol slowly. A thin ribbon of smoke drifted lazily from the barrel.
Behind him, the gathered maids burst into enthusiastic applause.
"Young Master Arceus, that was incredible!"
"You hit it perfectly!"
"I knew you could do it!"
Arceus smiled faintly and lowered the weapon. Footsteps echoed behind him as Wester Silver descended the marble staircase at an unhurried pace, his wife walking beside him. Neither spoke at first. They simply studied the strange silver pistol in Arceus's hand.
"So…" Wester finally said, "you've mastered this new artifact you bought."
"I wouldn't say mastered," Arceus replied honestly. "I've only started getting used to it. And this is not exactly an artifact, Father. It's a weapon called a firearm."
His father extended his hand. "Give it..."
