The moment the explosives, flintlocks, shortswords, daggers, and other weapons touched Maltz's skin, his flesh-and-blood body rippled like water.
Every weapon sank into Maltz's body.
Immediately-
A feeling of fullness welled up.
But,
He was still hungry!
Maltz felt he could eat an entire Little Emperor Cannon!
The Old Chief immediately turned to Wiggins.
"Got any more?
Cannons or something would be even better!"
With Arthur connecting them, the Old Chief stood on no ceremony with Wiggins.
"Of course!
On Rat Street, these things-
Come in whatever quantities you want!"
Wiggins replied with a smile, then turned and went downstairs.
Likewise, precisely because Arthur was there, Rat Street's Golden Fingers felt no fear.
In fact, the others besides Wiggins wore different expressions, but none of them were afraid either. There was only surprise, resignation, and contemplation.
The surprised one was Scott. The newspaper's editor-in-chief was simply curious about the Old Chief's transformation.
The resigned one was Haywood. The former unscrupulous landlord increasingly felt like a farmer.
No, he was worse off than a farmer.
At least a farmer only had to face venomous snakes at worst.
But him?
He had to face monsters!
Real, actual monsters!
Flintlocks?
Why do they feel no better than fire pokers?!
Haywood screamed inwardly.
The contemplative one was Cook. With a measure of family heritage behind him, the Dort District Chief wondered whether he ought to ask his father for some special training.
Otherwise, if he always ended up this helpless when something unexpected happened...
It would be unbearable.
He remembered his father saying he had a little "talent" when he was young.
Apparently, not much, but it should be enough, right?
Standing there, the Old Chief took in everyone's expressions and immediately smiled. As he accepted the explosives and flintlocks Wiggins brought back and