Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 425 - 284: Hunter and Prey (6)

Chapter 425: Chapter 284: Hunter and Prey (6)

Standing atop that small hill, the sharpshooter instructor from the military, Henry François, had to squint to see the scene of that unlucky fellow being shot. This was only because he possessed the short Sequence ’Eagle Eye’ that enhanced his vision.

"I can’t see anything there." His assistant shook his head, and the young trainee Heinz Tolvard lifted the monocular after speaking, "That Malin made us lose five hundred, it’s really killer. If it weren’t for the fact that this place is indeed the starting point of ballistics, and the Tower Master had passed the lie detection, I would never believe a word he says."

"Heinz, have you ever considered that maybe it’s Malin who is lying?" Henry said with a smile.

"No, I’m quite friendly with the chief political commissar of the Seventeenth Infantry Division, he’s a relative of mine. The last time he came back for a family visit, he mentioned Sir Malin Gaiate’s battle achievements. He said he is a standard sharpshooter who could hit the target of a coin hundreds of yards away with his initial shot followed by a hundred hits."

"I’ve also heard this story; it sounds like a great way for a commissar to concoct to inspire the frontline soldiers," the middle-aged man from the François family said with a sigh, "To be honest, I don’t like this Southerner’s child."

"Don’t be like that, Instructor Henry, I am also a Southerner."

"You’re different; you are human, whereas he is half-blood."

Their conversation halted as they saw a group of people approaching nearby.

"Our old rivals have arrived." The duo from the Western royal army academy saw these people walking towards them after passing the Patrol Team’s check, all the while wearing unpleasant smiles. As an instructor, Henry extended his hand towards the middle-aged man who approached the top of the hill, "Welcome, Matthias, my fellow colleague."

"The same to you, Henry. I’m also pleased to see you here," the middle-aged man said with a forced smile, glancing over the scene before looking southward, "Five hundred seventy-nine yards, a daunting number. Have you tried replicating the shot?"

"Not yet, but considering the firearm Malin used was his custom-made one, we are purchasing a similar model rifle from his workshop."

As they were speaking, they saw a dwarf riding his goat approaching, "Who ordered the rifle from Malin’s workshop?"

"That would be us, old friends from the mountains," Henry waved his hand.

The dwarf rode his goat up to Henry, noticing the medal on his chest from the dwarven army, "It’s the human friends from the Western Wasteland! Come on, let’s check the receipt!"

After they matched the receipts, the dwarf casually pulled the rifle out of its bag and handed it to Henry. Then he turned his head to the middle-aged man, "Matthias, my old friend, what brings you here?"

"I came to see the genius who just set a new record for shooting distance. Ever since the breach-loading rifled firearms were made, firearms are no longer the game Gentlemen who fancy a deadly encounter within thirty meters in the Middle Ages liked to play," the middle-aged man said with a smile as he extended his hand, and the dwarf pulled out another rifle, "Just right, there are two spare rifles today."

Then, as if remembering something, he looked at the two, "Ah, right, do you guys need scopes?"

"We’re more used to the equipment we’ve prepared ourselves."

Hitting a rare consensus, Henry and Matthias took out their own scopes and attached them to the rifles. They then worked the bolts, pulled out standard heavy bullets from their pockets.

They closed the bolts together, raised the rifles together, and aimed at that spot together.

"... My scope seems a bit small, my old friend. Do you know how many times magnification Malin usually uses?"

"Not sure, he has several types of scopes, wide-angle flat lenses, which he calls ’red dots,’ and two-times and four-times magnification scopes. But he also made himself an eight-times telescopic scope, those are produced in very limited quantities, and usually, they’re sold to our Dwarven Mountain Patrol."

"Do you have one with you?" Once again, both rivals asked in unison.

"The Great Craftsman said you’d regret using your own sights," the Dwarf said with a smile as he took out two small boxes, "You should know, but no worries, there are manuals inside."

"Yes, let us have them."

Henry François from the Western Royal Army Academy and his Eastern counterpart, Matthias from the Sydney Defense Military Academy, quickly learned to use the new sights, and after a few test shots, they easily hit their target—a tree trunk on the riverbank.

"A very perfect firearm. Can we place orders?" For the third time, the two instructors thought alike.

But this time, the Dwarf disappointed them, "Sorry, our orders are booked until next year. We have a large number of Elves and Dwarves orders, and even His Majesty the King is placing orders for these fine pieces."

"Are there any available for individual sale?"

"Yes, generally, we keep the best-performing firearm each day. If you want one, you’ll need to find Mr. Malin, because these guns are mostly collected on his rack, and sometimes he might use them too."

Having said that, the Dwarf left on his goat.

The two instructors left behind furrowed their brows.

Then they simultaneously turned their heads towards their assistants.

"Contact Mr. Malin for me; I need to purchase one of these custom high-precision firearms."

Once again, the two old adversaries reached a consensus.

............

Malin received the Church bank draft sent by the Tower Master the next day, and he also got some intelligence—the prize pool of over two hundred thousand had shocked him, to be frank. But upon learning it involved military sharpshooter instructors, noble hunting clubs, and the Church’s Punisher Fellowships, who had all heard of this epoch-making hunt, the sharpshooter instructors were amazed at the distance of the hunt, the gentlemen from the hunting clubs were astounded by the perfect craftsmanship of the firearm, and the representatives from the Punisher Fellowship were effusive about its precision. Requests to order guns poured in like snowflakes, and the workshop’s Dwarves had no choice but to initiate the third phase of recruitment early. The Great Craftsmen all agreed they had never had such joyful times—making money and creating such perfect firearms had never been so closely connected.

Malin felt the same way, especially when His Majesty once again inquired how much his business had made, and as his butler answered for Malin, the astonishment on this middle-aged man’s face was so... genuine.

"You’re becoming wealthier than me, the King."

"Your Majesty, I think you must be joking. You have the most lovely daughter in the world," Malin thought this old man was really confused—he just couldn’t imagine how important his daughter was in the eyes of this young man before him.

"But she already belongs to you," His Majesty the King was very dissatisfied with this.

Dissatisfied? What can I do about it? When you’re out in the world, you always have to pay your dues eventually.