Selling (Somewhat) Magic Goods in Arknights

[Paracsus]

Omake: Unremembered Armories

Arno didn't talk about his father much, mostly because it rarely came up.

His father had run a YouTube channel when Arno was growing up. It focused on old firearms—mostly designs that had fallen out of common use. The videos weren't flashy. They were long, detailed, and often filmed at a shooting bench or worktable. Most of them involved careful explanations of how a weapon worked, why it was designed the way it was, and what made it different from modern firearms.

The channel was called Unremembered Armories.

Arno had spent a lot of time at the range as a kid. Not shooting at first—watching, listening, passing tools, and learning how to pay attention. His father was strict about safety and procedure. Arno learned early how to clear a firearm, how to identify worn parts, and how to tell when something wasn't functioning correctly just by how it felt.

By the time he was older, he could field-strip and maintain several older designs without needing instructions. It wasn't something he showed off. It was just something he knew how to do.

Those memories were why the crate inside the cart caught his attention immediately.

It was a wooden case, reinforced with metal brackets and closed with two latches. It wasn't near the food or medical supplies. It looked deliberate.

Niko noticed it too.

"Why is that box here?" she asked. "It doesn't look like supplies."

Arno crouched and opened the latches.

Inside was a Remington Model 8.

The rifle was clean and well maintained. The wood stock had been oiled recently, and the metal showed no rust. It was laid out properly in fitted padding. Beneath it were cleaning tools, spare parts, and several boxes of ammunition. There were also containers of powder, primers, brass casings, and bullet molds, along with printed instructions for ammunition reloading.

Arno stared at it for a moment.

"…That's his," he said quietly.

Niko leaned closer, ears flattened. "Why is there a gun in the cart."

"It's old," Arno said. "Early 20th century."

"That doesn't make it less scary."

He lifted the rifle carefully and checked the chamber. Empty. He set it back down just as carefully.

"My dad used to shoot this one a lot," Arno said. "He liked how it worked."

Niko folded her arms. "Do you need it?"

"Hopefully not."

"Good."

Arno closed the case and sat down on the bench beside it. He hadn't thought about those range days in years. The long explanations. The patience. The way his father trusted him to handle things properly once he was ready.

He picked up the paper that came with the box and read it.

NOTICE OF DELIVERY

Spoiler

Item: Remington Model 8
Category: Firearm (Antique / Semi-Automatic)
Status: Owner-Restricted — Non-Commercial

This item has been returned to a verified handler with prior training and documented familiarity.

Included Materials:

• Cleaning and maintenance tools
• Replacement parts (limited, will be provided when current ones are used and/or destroyed. NEVER BEFORE.)
• Boxed ammunition
• Ammunition creation tools
• Ammunition ingredients and instructions on how to make them

Usage Parameters:

• Not for sale
• Not for display
• Not for public demonstration
• Use restricted to self-defense

Safety Addendum:
These items are inaccessible to non-designated personnel.
Additional safeguards have been applied.
Instructions will only be legible to the designated personnel.
Information regarding these items will be sealed and protected frm any form of scrying, mind-reading, or any other form of hostile intelligence gathering.

Note:
Assistant has been informed that this item is not for customers and not a toy.

This arrangement is non-negotiable.

---

As Arno was reading and re-reading the paper, Niko watched him for a moment.

"…You're allowed to keep it?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Okay," she said. "Just don't point it at me. Mama says those are dangerous."

"Fair."

The cart didn't react to the case at all. No warnings. No changes.

Arno leaned back and exhaled.

He hadn't expected to see that rifle again. But he understood now about why it was here.

Some things didn't disappear just because you left them behind.

And this one, at least, came with instructions.

---

AN: Yes, this is canon. Yes, I did that name on purpose. My muse slapped me upside the head with this little nugget.