Rathus McGaff, Imperial Gun Knight, blew a smoke ring into the air, watching it drift to meet the rest of the now-fading haze of smoke hanging near the ceiling. He shifted on the marble bench, leaning forward to tap the ash from his cigarette into a nearby ashtray.

“It's not like it didn't work. It definitely did the job.”

“Very completely, sir,” The butler agreed. He offered the Knight a cold glass of scotch from the tray he held. Rathus noticed it, and spared a surprised glance at the butler before taking it.

“Oh, thank you kindly.” Rathus took a sip and glanced at the gun sitting next to him. It was a long rifle with a silver finish. The Gun That Kills Dragons had a swept-forward profile, and a long barrel, with a prominent square muzzle brake on the end. Rathus tapped the bolt of the gun absentmindedly.

“I think that I still need to test it on an actual dragon, you know?” He gestured towards the end of the throne room in which they sat, towards the charred crater where an ostentatious throne had once sat. The smoke had mostly faded by this point, but a few wisps still curled off from the rubble.

Rathus lifted his gun, the Black Arrow, a bolt-action gun built to order by the famous House of Bard. He slid the tip into his Holdster, and gently pushed down, watching the extra-dimensional space expand to accept the rifle's full size. He stared into the cup of scotch.

“Finding a dragon is the hard part, though. Been looking for too long.” Rathus furrowed his brow and looked up. “Say, shouldn't you be more angry about me offing the Baron like that?” He asked the butler.

The butler, a sharply-dressed man in his mid-forties, simply smiled. “Far less than you would expect, Sir. Truthfully, I imagine there will be a lot of tidying to do until his cousin arrives in the estate to take over, but the recently departed Baron... how to put this delicately? He reaped what he sowed.”

Rathus nodded, but didn't say anything in response.

“My only surprise is that the Emperor-Regent took so long to send somebody to deal with him. When the old Baron passed 8 months ago, it was no time at all for his fool of a son to start bringing ruin to his lands. Hiring all of those unsavory sorts to do his bidding, squandering the family wealth... it brought a tear to my eye, Sir.”

“Have you been with the family for a long time?” Rathus asked. “I don't think I caught your name, come to that.”

The butler started, “Ah, my apologies. I am Jeeves Cozen, the head butler of the Durgen estate.” The butler gave him a curt bow. “I've been the head butler here for years.”

Rathus stood and stretched.

“You said something about a cousin taking over? They the grudge-holding type?”

Jeeves shook his head. “I am sad to say that there was no love lost for the young Baron in the family. Not since he tore down the ancestral cemetery to build his Super Carnival.” Jeeves brushed some dust from his lapels.

Rathus nodded. “That's good. Think they'll be able to set things right?”

Jeeves weighed his hand, wavering it back and forth. “With regards to the new Baron-to-be, I imagine he shall do his best, but things will be rough for a time. There's the matter of dealing with all those “taxmen” the young Baron sent around. We will need to cancel the appointment with the Master Namer he had scheduled to Name his skateboard. Of course, there's no way to recover the money he sent to Drover; we will simply have to accept that loss. And then there is the matter of his singing pastry chefs, we will need to-”

Rathus stood, interrupting the butler. “Drover, you said? Was Baron Durgen a member of the Rebellion?”

Jeeves paused in his list to think for a moment. “He was not a member himself, no. But... he did give them a modest amount of funding. I had assumed that was the reason you came.”

Rathus laughed casually. “Well, I'd certainly heard rumors, but had to see for myself. The gun thing was just extra, not my main reason for coming.” he lied.

Jeeves sighed, “Yes, there were plenty of rumors to go around. The young Baron was never known for keeping good company. Or for being subtle, for that matter. Why, when the Princess found out about his payments, he had her-” Jeeves stopped short, jerking as if he had been struck. The tray slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

“The Princess!”

***

One hurried walk later found the butler leading Rathus through the darkness of the castle's dungeon. The damp walls were carved of rough-hewn stone, black and spotted with lichens. ("Imported stone," Jeeves explained, "Technically, the only authentic Dungeons are those housed in Dungary, but by importing Dungonese stone, we can at least make a good imitation.")

They tread carefully in the dark, past several imitation torches and a hanging skeleton, chained to the wall with shackles (“It's fake – made of papier-mache. Very important to the ambiance of the room.”) and eventually came to a large set of doors. The large bronze doors were locked and barred with a thick wooden timber. A sign hung on each door, reading vertically “Don't Let Her Out” and “Princess Is To Remain Inside At All Times”

Rathus turned to the butler, brow furrowed. “Don't Princess?” he asked.

The butler shook his head slowly. “Not the correct reading, but nevertheless correct in spirit.” He moved to the door and took the signs down.

“When the young Baron came into power, King Greer of the nearby Kingdom of Dennis pledged to him his 5th daughter's hand in marriage. Princess Ruth is inside this chamber.”

Rathus looked pointedly at a skull, which was tucked expertly into a corner of the hallway, and sprinkled delicately with ichor. “The Baron's got an interesting concept of what constitutes a honeymoon suite,” he commented. “Then again, I suppose we've all got our own tastes.”

Jeeves cleared his throat aggressively. “The young Baron and the princess are not married, yet." He paused. “They are betrothed. Well. Were betrothed.” He looked intently at the Gun Knight, who merely shrugged nonchalantly.

“While they were betrothed to be married, Princess Ruth is not yet of age. She was merely sent to summer here, to familiarize herself with the lands and its people. Her father insisted, he claimed it would be good to 'get out of the castle' and 'broaden her horizons.'"

Rathus looked at Jeeves as the butler lifted the bar clear from the door. He had a suspicion, which grew in his stomach like a watermelon seed. He could feel where the conversation was headed, and didn't care much for it.

“I don't suppose the King knew about this...” he gestured to the door, waving his hand, “...arrangement? I imagine somebody will need to inform him?”

Jeeves gave the knight a wry smile. “Perhaps he had an inkling. Princess Ruth wrote a letter to him weekly. Most of the time it was her complaining about the 'bumpkins' in the villages nearby, or the food. Two months ago, she found out the Baron was sending money to the Rebellion, and he locked her away to keep it a secret. That put a swift stop to her letters, of course.”

Jeeves put the key in the door, and cocked his head slightly as he considered it.

“The Baron did his best to forge some more letters to keep King Greer from becoming suspicious. He did a rather doubtful job of it, but it would seem it was enough to fool his majesty.”

“Well, I imagine the Princess will have plenty more to complain about now,” Rathus said.

Jeeves gave him a strange look. “You might be surprised.”

Before Rathus could ask him for clarification, he pushed the door open. Rathus was instantly assaulted by a catastrophe of pink and paisley. He shielded his eyes from the bubblegum affront to interior design that awaited him in the room beyond the door. The Princess stood in the center of the room, between the flamingo and lace-laden canopy bed, and the pile of stuffed animals that sat with the grim resignation of their fate.

She turned to face the door with a gasp, raising the back of her hand to her forehead as she executed a clearly practiced swoon.

“Have you come to my rescue?” she sang. “Has my knight in shining armor defeated the Wicked Baron and come to sweep me away into the sunset?”

Rathus looked silently at the Princess, before turning to Jeeves. The butler chuckled. “Truth be told, her mood improved significantly once the Baron locked her up. She is quite taken with the notion of a fairy-tale rescue.”

Princess Ruth glided towards the pair, her dress undulating around her, flowing like gossamer or perhaps some sort of orange jellyfish made of satin.

“Did you put an end to the Wicked Baron's evil deeds?” She asked Rathus, “Did you come to free me from my prison?”

Rathus took off his hat and gave her a curt bow. “I, uh, certainly ended the Baron, Your Highness. Pretty definitively. I am Rathus McGaff. Imperial Gun Knight.”

“Ha!” Ruth laughed, glaring triumphantly at Jeeves, “I told you it'd be a Knight!” She held her hand out defiantly, and the butler sighed, before fishing out a silver Lods coin and surrendering it to her. The triumph disappeared from her face as she once more adopted a look of peaceful serenity. She clasped her hands together and looked to Rathus.

“You've no doubt come to whisk me away from here, and I'll ride off into the sunset in your arms.”

Rathus held up his hands. “I haven't agreed to anything, here.”

The Princess scrutinized him, reaching up to tilt his face one direction, then the other.

“A pity. You're not handsome at all, though. I can make it work, but you're really disappointing me, you know.”

Rathus pulled out her grip, more flabbergasted than hurt. “Hey, I'd say I'm at least a little handsome,” he said defensively.

Ruth turned and walked from him, sighing. She folded her arms and gestured with her palm to a poster hanging on the wall. A young man with flowing dark hair, dazzling green eyes, and sharp features winked out at her from it. A large heart was drawn around the head in marker. “I suppose it would be too much to hope for Musashi himself to come rescue me, but I was at least hoping it wouldn't be some old guy with a beard,” she sighed.

Rathus instinctively felt at his chin, scratching his stubble. Sure, maybe he had forgotten to shave this morning, but that was hardly cause to throw this gnarly shade at him. “I'm only 28!” he protested.

The Princess looked over her shoulder and stared up at him piteously. She sadly shook her head.

“28. If you were a dog, you would be dead.” She gave him an intense look as she emphasized the last word, letting it hang in the air between them. Rathus simply stared at her. At last, she broke the silence with a sigh.

“But, I'm charitable, and you DID rescue me.” She pointed to the corner of a room, where several bags had been stacked. “There's most of my luggage. I have a few more things to pack. Let me know once you've got that loaded up, and we can leave this ghastly place and ride into the sunset.” She turned and busied herself with gathering up some effects from a rhinestone-laden vanity.

Rathus crossed his arms. “With all due respect, Your Highness, I never said I'd take you anywhere. I came here to settle some business with the Baron. Truth be told, I didn't even know you were down here.”

She continued to pack, glancing up at him through the mirror. “You never said so directly, but I know that your Knightly vows would compel you to help a fair maiden in need. Isn't that right?”

Rathus regarded her coldly. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and when he spoke, did so in a reproachful monotone.

“It's mighty uncharitable to use a Knight's code against him.” He informed her.

She powdered her face with one of the jars before sealing it up and putting it into her bag. She rolled her eyes as she spoke, then gave his reflection an impish look. “As uncharitable as leaving a helpless Princess in the grip of these inhospitable conditions?”

A knock at the door caused the trio to turn their attention to a maid carrying a tray, laden with a variety of fruits and cheeses, and a whole roast game hen.

“Lunch is served, m'lady,” The maid announced, bowing her head.

Princess Ruth waved her hand dismissively. “Thank you, Veribel. Please put it in a doggy bag. I'll be heading out soon.” She shot Rathus a challenging look, daring him to disagree.

Rathus sighed heavily. He had little intention of whisking her away anywhere. Escort jobs were his least favorite, especially ones with surly Noble kids. Nevertheless, his duty as an Imperial Knight included assisting the Imperial Sovereign nobility, of which a Princess surely qualified. His hands were tied, especially if she were to formally invoke his Vow.

“Fine,” Rathus said, finally. “But we won't be riding off into the sunset.”

“Ha,” The Princess laughed. “Well, of course not. It's only just after noon.”

“That's a point too,” Rathus replied. “But more importantly, Dennis lies to the east of here. As you were quick to point out, my Vows compel me to see you safely home.”

The Princess dropped the bottle of lotion she held, and whirled to face him.

“Home?! No, no, no, I don't want to go home! Who would ever willingly go back to that boring place? The whole point of being rescued is that I'm meant to go on a whirlwind adventure!” Ruth cried.

Rathus shrugged and shook his head. “Never been much for whirlwinds. But like you said, I can't just leave you here when you're begging to be rescued.” Ruth scowled at him, then whipped back away from him, holding her nose high.

“On second thought, I've changed my mind. I'll stay here and wait for another, more handsome knight to properly rescue me. You can go now.” She waved him away, grabbing an ivory hairbrush and teasing at her hair aggressively.

Rathus grinned a smile as he bowed once more. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

The Gun Knight turned to leave amid Jeeves' protesting stammers, and made it about halfway down the hall before finding the way blocked by a worried manservant.

“Ah, Sir Knight... Mr. Cozen... there's some trouble upstairs. The peasants, they're revolting.”

Rathus clucked his tongue at the manservant. “Hey, don't be cruel. Soap is expensive.”

The manservant looked at him, perplexed, but Jeeves merely sighed, long and heavy.

“I was expecting something like this to happen eventually,” he admitted. “It was only a matter of time before the Baron's taxes drove the people to take action.” His thoughts were interrupted by a heavy thud, and the shaking of dust from the roof above them.

“I bet he wasn't expecting this when he gave his money to Drover.” Rathus chuckled. He stared up at the ceiling, his face grim. “Probably should have thought harder about the implications before he asked for a revolution.”

“I don't suppose you could handle it?” Jeeves asked hopefully, smiling up at Rathus. The Gun Knight gave him a stern look of reproach. “I'm not about to go shooting a bunch of villagers, if that's what you're asking. I can go tell them that I killed the Baron, if that's what you want.”

“We already told them,” the manservant interjected. “They demanded to see a body, they wouldn't believe us.” Rathus sucked air through his teeth.

“Yeah, that's a bit of a pickle. I guess you could show them the crater.”

Jeeves shook his head. “They would probably still have their doubts. I am afraid the simplest solution would just be to give their money back and hope that that's enough.”

Rathus arched an eyebrow at him. “You ain't encountered many angry mobs, have you?”

The ground shook once more, and was accompanied by a loud BANG from overhead. “They've breached the door.” The manservant moaned, trembling slightly. Jeeves grabbed Rathus by the shoulder, and started leading him back to the Princess's chambers.

“You'll need to get out of here. I can handle things here. Even if you may not think it, I know a thing or two about managing people. Can I beg of you to take the Princess safely back to her father? I can show you to a hidden passage that exits well away from the castle grounds.”

A crashing came from above them, and Rathus glanced at the ceiling before nodding to the butler. “I'll get her home safe,” He promised. Jeeves smiled at him, relieved. The two marched back into the room.

“Time to go, Your Highness,” Rathus announced, and moved to fetch her bags.

“No! I said I'm staying!” Ruth shouted, running over to take her bags from him. He held them out of her reach. “Put down my things at once, you... you oaf!” She jumped for the bags as he shifted them, backing up as she advanced.

“The way I see it, you got two choices,” Rathus mused, “You can either stay here, and try to explain to the angry mob up there that you have nothing to do with the Baron.” At his words, the Princess paled and looked to Jeeves for confirmation. The butler nodded grimly.

“Or,” he continued, raising his voice a bit for emphasis, “Or, you can come with me, and we can make a spirited escape from the rampaging mob through a hidden tunnel, and from there travel in secret while we avoid the people who will surely be scouring the countryside to take your head as we make our way to your home.”

The Princess scrutinized him while he flashed her his 3rd most winning smile. She looked skeptically at him, then to Jeeves. She sat back in front of the vanity, arriving at a decision.

“I already told you, I don't want to go back to my home. Father told me to see the world, so I plan to go on a fine adventure. I'll wait here for my real savior.

“Besides, I don't have anything to do with the Baron or his foolish taxes,” she explained haughtily, tossing her hair. “I will simply tell the peasants that, and if they don't like it, they'll just have to live with it.”

Rathus sighed deeply, rubbing at his brow with his forefingers. He had been hoping this wouldn't be so difficult, especially since he never wanted to escort her in the first place. As she continued to ignore him, he bit the bullet, and played his trump card.

“I can introduce you to Musashi.”

Rathus reeled from a sudden blur of motion, to find the Princess standing in the doorway, bags in hand, beckoning for him to come.

“Why didn't you just start with that?! Don't just stand there, we need to get moving!” she shouted to him. “Every minute you delay is a minute between me and Musashi!”

Rathus sighed and headed for the door. Jeeves drew close, and began to explain the way out to the pair.

“Now listen carefully, this will see you out of the castle. First, you must venture through the Room of the moving pipes. Turn left from there, and through a spiral staircase, until you enter the Maze of spinning walls. You can either go down the rope ladder there, into the Organ Room, where you must play the correct melody. Otherwise, you can find the right spinning wall, which will take you to the Shrine of the Silver Monkey. You'll need to put the pieces of the fetish back together, but if you do it correctly, the secret passage will open, and you'll be home free. Do you understand all of that?”

“Got it.” Rathus nodded. Ruth stared at the two of them as if they had each sprouted a second head.

Finally, it was time for Rathus and the Princess to leave. The Gun Knight rested his hand on the butler's shoulder. “Good luck.” With that, he turned and headed swiftly down the tunnel with the Princess in tow.

Jeeves shouted back to him. “And to you, Sir McGaff.”

The Imperial Knight waved back to him without turning. “Just call me Rathus!”

Jeeves smiled as the pair disappeared from sight.

“Good luck, Rathus. You'll need as much as you can get.” He turned at that, and headed back for the ground level, slowly unbuttoning his coat as he went.

As the day went on, and the sun began to set, the Castle Durgen slowly burned, and a makeshift flag clearly modeled after the flag of the Rebellion flew on its parapets. Rathus watched from the distance as the Princess fussed with attaching her bags to his horse.

“Don't know why you didn't let me do that,” He commented, “It's my horse.”

“I have some very expensive things in here! If you broke them accidentally, you'd have to live like a pauper for who knows how long. I couldn't let such misfortune befall you, so I selflessly tied them on myself.”

Rathus turned to look at her handiwork. “Surprised you managed to get it all. I didn't expect you to know anything about horses.”

Princess Ruth scowled at him. “I've had many teachers, you know. I'm an expert at horseback riding, among many things.”

Rathus shrugged. “Didn't mean any offense, Your Highness. You just fooled me back there what with saying you were a 'helpless maiden' and all that.”

The Princess hauled herself up onto the horse, and shot him a dirty look. Rathus regarded the mount with some trepidation.

“Say... with all that luggage, I don't reckon that Grue is going to be able to carry us both.”

The Princess smiled at him, a warm and friendly smile that didn't reach her eyes.

“I 'reckon' you're right.” she cooed. She clucked her tongue and started the horse at a slow walk.

Rathus watched the horse move along the path. He sighed and shouldered his pack. “Walking it is, then.”

The two headed down the road that would lead eventually to the Kingdom of Dennis, riding (and walking, as it were) away from the sunset.

The only sound was the quiet noise of footfalls, and a few words, barely spoken, perhaps merely thought.

"Fuck escort quests."