Gilded Truth

Chapter Seven

"These are really fine parts for a gun, a custom made for a dealer in the Underground." Wyona gasps in fascination as she dismantles the gun I was able to retrieve when Ivo and I paid a visit to the Underground. I cock my eyebrow as I look at the parts spread in front of me. Like Wyona, it amazes me how this gun is created with great craftsmanship. Ivo picks the magazine and tosses it lightly, weighing the magazine and loading it with the bullets Wyona removed from it.

Wyona is our armory expert. She came from a family of a fallen general so she surely has knowledge about arms and has probably seen more guns and blades than I have ever seen. She can even identify a blade blindfolded.

"The magazine is light, the bullets are not typical bullets found in an ordinary pistol or handgun. This is also custom made just by looking at the body of the bullet." Wyona adjusts her glasses, picking up one of the bullets. Her fingertips graze the bullet's body lightly. Ivo and I exchange meaningful gazes. We watch Wyona do her work as she studies the firearm in front of her. "Are you sure that this is from the Underground?"

I nod, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Is there something with the gun?" Ivo asks.

Wyona shakes her head. She sets the bullet down beside the magazine and looks at us with bright eyes. Seems like she knows the origin of the gun. "This gun is fascinating on its own. The craftsmanship is just exquisite and probably the best that I have seen these recent years. However, as I was studying this, I discovered that it is actually scraps from high-caliber guns, but the magazine is the interesting part of it. It's light as if it was made specifically for a woman. The gun itself, too, is also lightweight just like the tranquilizer gun I crafted for Effe."

Subconsciously, my hand reaches for the grip of my gun.

"But the bullet is a silent killer, its head is as if created to resemble a dagger that once it pierces through your skin and muscles, there will be no turning back but to meet Grim Reaper in no time." It is amazing how Wyona could figure this out just by looking or even studying a single gun. I never knew that this gun was more complex than it looks. I only plan on dismantling it and selling its part in the Underground for money knowing that this will be of a huge price.

"There's a reason why I asked if you are sure this is from the Underground because I saw this type of bullet once." Wyona bites her lip and picks up another bullet.

"Can you trace down who the owner of this gun is or even the magazine itself?" Ivo inquires, just like me, Wyona's analysis of the components of the gun piqued his interest. If this gun is created for a woman, then they must be a socialite who needs their arms for self-defense.

"I'm familiar with the bullet because I once saw it in the naval forces, it was such a fascinating bullet that one could not forget it."

I can feel my blood turning cold when I hear Wyona's answer to Ivo's question. I have a hunch on who owns this magazine. My hands turn into fists, I bite the insides of my lip as I try to control the surge of hatred growing within me. "It's Adira, right?" Wyona falls silent and nods in silent agreement. Then this must mean that the gun is originally for Hilda Adira. My fascination with the gun turns into disgust. At that moment, I want to snatch the components of the gun and burn it down. I want it gone in our camp, it was as if I brought an artifact of that dreadful social climber.

"But the biggest question is, how did it reach the Underground?" Wyona asks in a hushed voice. Ivo and I fall silent, I look down at the table where the gun is spread out.

"It doesn't matter, it's in our hands now. Do whatever you want with that gun. Dispatch it, burn it, break it, or sell it. Do whatever you like." I turn my heel and leave Wyona's room. My heavy boots echo at every step of the long hallway. My hands in fists till my knuckles turn white. It's better if Wyona would get a hold of that gun because if she gives it back to me, I will surely get rid of Adira's trace in our camp by finding a polluted stream and throwing that gun out in the waters.

"Effe, wait up!" Ivo's voice reverberates in the long hallway, his footsteps heavy as he jogs after me.

"I need to spar. I'll be at the training area." I want to be alone is what I want to say. I think Ivo has already understood what I really want. He is not clueless of my hatred towards the Adiras, nor ignorant of how much damage they did to me. I hurriedly walk down the hallway and find myself outside the building. Droplets of sweat trickle down my forehead and cheeks as I gather my hair sticking on my nape to tuck it up till it forms a ponytail as I walk towards the training area.

Several comrades are sparring with their partners or friends, some are sitting by the patch of dry grass as they quench their thirst and dry their sweat away. Some are playing games to entertain themselves from an intensive spar under the harsh sunlight. I decide to go to the makeshift shooting range made of tents that are put together. The targets are hand-painted wood and are worn out because of the holes in them. I immediately take a handgun from the table and feed its magazine. I point towards the target, my finger itching to pull the trigger and so I do what my instinct tells me to do. Gunshot echoes around the place and suddenly, the buzz of my comrades comes to a halt. With their gaze and attention on me, I pull the trigger once more and the bullet hit the target right in the middle.

I hear a silent whistle beside me. My head whips toward the direction of its owner. My eyes widen when I see Rohan comfortably walking toward me with his left arm still in a sling. He's wearing tattered jeans and a loose, white tunic. The bandages on his neck down to his shoulder are already removed. I can fully marvel at his intricate neck tattoo as I stand at a distance from him. His lips form a small smirk as his gaze focuses on the target. "That was sharp," he comments. He walks toward me, and though he's still limping, it's not hindering his ability to walk gracefully.

"Why are you out here?" My eyebrows knit together as I watch him stride comfortably. He shouldn't be walking around considering that he is still recovering.

"I don't want to be cooped inside that hall. Besides, some suggested that I should be walking around this time. I just did what they suggested I do." He shrugs as the training grounds are the right place for him to walk around.

I just pinch the bridge of my nose and put the gun on the table in front of me. "I'll escort you back, you shouldn't be in this place. What if you were accidentally injured by them?" I gesture to the people around us. I look around and I wonder how he is able to stealthily come beside me nor without people trying to stop him in his tracks.

"Are you worried about me, Miss Collymore?" A playful smile is plastered on Rohan's lips.

My arms are crossed in front of my chest, as I survey his being. "I'm more worried about the resources we have to spend if you were to have another broken bone."

A chortle escapes Rohan's throat, throwing his head back as he laughs. My eyebrow shoots up as I wait for him to meet my gaze. "You have exceptional humor, Effe."

I shrug my shoulders and reach for the gun again, aiming at the dummy in front of me. "If you find me entertaining, then suit yourself, just don't come running to the hall asking for your bones to be mended." Before I can even pull the trigger of my gun, a gunshot resounds beside me. My eyes fly in Rohan's direction who's casually holding a gun. His form is exceptional and even with his other arm dislocated, he can aim as accurately as a sniper. He again pulls the trigger and a bullet comes straight to the target with great accuracy. I watch him with awe as he casually plays with a gun as if its bullets are just pellets. When he is satisfied, he turns to me with a smile on his face.

"Can I stroll here often?" he asks me as he sets the gun down. I do the same.

"Suit yourself." I turn and walk away. I guess the only place I could find peace at this moment is my room.

"Thank you for granting my request, mi lady."

I groan, everyone around us is watching us. "Shut up, Rohan!" The only reply I get is a chuckle as I walk away from him.

I remember the way he looked while holding a gun. His form earlier was not of an amateur but of someone who could have experience in holding a firearm, but what struck me the most were his eyes. The way he looked at the target with dead eyes, it was as if even if those were real people, he would not show mercy once he was put in a situation where he had to pull the trigger on them. A tingling sense of fear streams down my body, I glance in his direction. I saw him studying the gun on the table. I bit the insides of my cheeks. He is full of surprises that it is suspicious. His identity alone is suspicious.