Ruth sat quietly in the seat of the wagon, her pen darting across the page as she finished recording her embellishments to the story Rathus was telling her.

"—heart aflutter like a shingle blown into the air by the ex...sexplosion of the man in front of him." The Princess mumbled, breaking off into a quiet giggle.

Rathus frowned and slowly turned to the Princess. "What was that?"

Ruth started, jerking upright. She quickly dropped her blotter onto the page and slammed the journal shut. Clearing her throat, she turned to face the Gun Knight, tucking the journal into her bag.

"I said, 'He watched the shingles blown into the air by the explosion in front of him.'"

Rathus said nothing, for a few moments. The cart followed the course of the road as it wound its way across the low hills. Farming plots skirted it to either side, ripe with produce. Ruth blinked a few times. So engrossed was she in the story (both the true events, and her own 'reimagining') that she hadn't even noticed that they'd left the forest. She stood on the cart and looked behind her, but the treeline was only visible as a small sweep of green on the distant horizon.

Rathus sniffed. "I feel like it might be a good idea for me to re-examine what you just said. Feel like there might be one of those"— he circled in the air with his hand— " 'discrepancies.' "

"There's no need for that, Rathus." Ruth spun back into place and plopped heavily onto the seat of the wagon. Something about what he had said nagged her, however.

"What do you mean by 're-examine'? I thought Gun Knights were able to remember every single detail of their life."

Rathus chuckled. "You're correct in a manner of speaking." He scratched at his cheek, then shrugged. "Actually, I guess you're also correct on a technical level. But the key word is 'Remember'. We don't just automatically notice every single detail every wakin' moment. That'd be enough to drive a man mad, don't you think?"

Ruth considered this, but made no reply. The Gun Knight explained further.

"We can recall anything if we make an effort to remember, down to the most minute detail. So long as we're able to see said detail in the first place, that is. I couldn't tell you what underwear somebody was wearing, or what somebody was doing in the other room. It ain't supernatural in that regard. We gotta enter a sort of... battle trance to use it actively, if we want to see and hear everything perfectly and keep track of it all as it happens. That's not the sort of thing you can keep up around the clock."

Rathus lifted his hand to block out the setting sun as he scanned the horizon. Even so close to town, he was keeping a wary eye out for any potential ambushes. He spotted a farmer working in the nearby field, weeding rows of lantern squash. The man looked up with a sunburnt face, and nodded to the Gun Knight. Rathus carefully nodded back. Seems like the coast was clear.

"Sounds taxing." Ruth gave him a well-practiced look of calculated sympathy. "Well, it would be best to save your efforts, in that case. There's no need to strain yourself for something as trivial as fact-checking erotica."

"What?" Rathus asked.

"What?" Ruth replied.

The Imperial Knight shifted in the saddle. An uncomfortable silence started to build, which Rathus suplexed (proverbially) with a clearing of his throat.

"Which story were you writing, again?"

Ruth shot him through with a beaming expression of pure, princessal innocence. "Why, the story you've been recounting, Ser Rathus. Whatever other story would I be writing?"

The Gun Knight sat and thought for a moment as he constructed his next question.

"So... when you say ero-"

"Wow!" Ruth burst out. Her head spun on a swivel, eyes bulging in a convincing simulacrum of bewilderment. "We left the forest! When did that happen? I didn't even notice."

Rathus stared at her. He closed his eyes for a brief second, and movement fluttered beneath their lids. He opened them once more and replied, "Exactly 32 minutes ago. Now, I just want to make sure that you're being accur-"

"I'm surprised that we made it out of the Bronzewood so quickly!" she interrupted. "I thought it was hundreds of miles deep!"

It was a long moment of silence before Rathus replied. "Yes, but that'd be if you're heading to the south. We just skirted through the edge of the forest, so to speak. Why do I get the feeling you're trying to change the subject?"

The Princess shrugged. "I was just curious about the forest. Oh, but look! We made it!" She pointed ahead, and sure enough, the walls of Pheasantgrove were visible in the distance. Rathus sighed, and redoubled his resolve to check her draft before it went anywhere near a printing press. He had a feeling that the cutting room would look more like a slaughterhouse by the time most of the embellishments were reined in. How many liberties could one take, he wondered, before a character was so different from reality as to be totally unrecognizable, and legally a distinct entity.

Rathus pondered the classic "Original Character of Theseus (Do not Steal)" thought experiment while he and Ruth neared the town. The pair slowed as they approached the tail end of a procession of wagons, riders, and travelers on foot. Several roads were meeting, and a number of merchants, Adventurers, and other travelers were queuing up to enter Pheastangrove proper.

The town dipped its feet into a lake to the south, jutting out with a number of piers and jetties into the placid blue waters. It stretched up and over a small hill, cresting the top with a large fort. The rest of the town splayed out along the hill and arrayed at the hill's foot on all sides. Most notably, however, a tall log wall flanked nearly the entire town itself. Thick logs standing vertically formed a protective barrier, towering at least 12 feet tall and ending in thick spikes. A few bored-looking guards patrolled the wall, standing on a balcony hidden by the spikes at the wall's top.

Over time, it had seemed, Pheasantgrove had grown too large, and had swollen until it burst from the gates, like some sort of municipal version of a pimple that appears on the night before prom. A number of shops and small households were built outside of the walls, arrayed within sight of the guards. A few travelers broke off from the line to visit these locales, but most were waiting on the road leading into the Western gate.

Ruth sat quietly as their wagon queued up behind the others. She vibrated from nervous excitement as she waited. In just a few moments, she would be in town, and she could finally have a proper meal and a bath. Pheasantgrove could not compare to the castle city she had grown up in, but she had stopped briefly here on the way to Baron Durgen's estate, and it was amenable enough. The Princess waited, but as the moments became minutes, and the minutes dragged on, she began to get irritable. After 10 minutes had passed with no significant movement in the line, she turned to Rathus, indignant.

"You should ride up there and tell them to let us skip the line. Royalty shouldn't have to sit and wait behind a bunch of pedlars and farmers. Knights shouldn't either, for that matter.

Rathus reached into his saddlebag and pulled out an apple. While the Princess fumed, he casually drew his knife and started to peel the fruit, feeding the skins to Grue. He gave her a shrug when she finished. "We've been riding for most of the day. I'm sure it won't hurt you to wait a bit longer."

"It's the principle of the matter, Rathus!" she retorted.

The Gun Knight chuckled and gestured towards her with his knife. "'The principle of the matter.' You keep saying that. Is that just some kind of Nobility codeword for when you don't have a good response, but don't want to lose the argument?"

Ruth was stunned into silence. Once her system rebooted, she hunched her shoulders and glared at Rathus. Her face flushed as she pointed an accusing finger at him. "O-of all the gall! You... your impropriety will see you in trouble if you keep this up!"

Rathus shrugged and held out his knife in her direction. She flinched back, until she noticed the wedge of apple sitting on the blade. She cast an unimpressed glance up at the Gun Knight, but took the fruit gingerly from the blade with two fingers.

"Don't think you can appease me with fruit," she cautioned him. She looked the peeled apple slice over, then popped it into her mouth. Rathus waited for her to continue, but when no response was forthcoming, he shook his head and laughed to himself.

"I'll be sure to keep an eye on my impropriety," he replied, "but you're one to talk." He cut a slice of apple and popped it into his own mouth. "Ya haven't even said so much as a thank you the whole time we've traveled. Not even when I saved your life. Either of the times."

Ruth frowned and took a breath to retort, but paused instead, searching her memory. That couldn't possibly be true, could it? Back when he rescued her from the Baron's dungeon, she had... what had she said, again? She tried to remember the time when Nina had attacked, or the time in that 'Mountain Foot' or whatever that village had been called. She glanced up at the Gun Knight, but said nothing. She knew that he had her completely outclassed with his ability to remember, but... even if he was able to remember things perfectly, that didn't guarantee that he was telling the truth, did it? She said nothing, and Rathus shrugged and continued.

"I don't necessarily need any thanks, mind you. Being a Gun Knight is a thankless job, so by definition, well..." He tipped his head down and looked levelly at the Princess. "But you can hardly lecture someone on being proper if ya don't even mind your P's and Q's."

Ruth stammered at him. "Th-that's... Of course I would have thanked you!" Doubt billowed within her, but true to her Noble upbringing, she continued in spite of any possible error on her part. "It would be unthinkable for one such as me t-to neglect such simple polite gestures. You must have simply for—" Rathus arched an eyebrow and gave her a sidelong smirk. "F...forgotten about it," she finished quietly.

"Must be." Rathus chuckled. Ruth colored, embarrassment and shame painting her cheeks crimson. She did her best to scrutinize the Imperial Knight. She knew that it would have been literally impossible for him to forget, but she had gone and said that anyways. Was he simply teasing her? Was he lying? Try as she might, though, she could read no duplicity in his face. What's more, he seemed more amused than offended. The Princess lowered her eyes to the reins in her hand, festering in her thoughts.

Something moved in the corner of her eye, and she looked up to find another piece of apple being proferred to her. Silently, she took the slice of fruit from the blade. The apple was a few days old, and starting to get a bit mealy, but was still a bit sweet. To Ruth's Noble tongue, however, it mostly tasted tart, and a bit bitter. She muttered quietly to the Gun Knight.

"Thank you."

As they waited in line, the procession began to move more quickly. The guards were stopping each traveler, giving them a once-over and asking each a few questions. Once the Gun Knight and his charge drew close enough, they could catch snippets of shouting at the gates, usually on behalf of the traveler. The tone of the yelling carried quite easily —as indignant fury tends to do— but the words themselves were less clear, with the one notable exception being the fact that about one in four words was some variation of the word 'Fuck'. The traveler at the gate was clearly either not having a good day, or was some kind of extremely passionate brothel owner.

Rathus steered a bit closer to Ruth, and leaned in. "By the way, it'd probably be best if you kept th' fact that you're a Princess under wraps while we're in town."

"Huh?"

The Princess, jarred from deep thought, looked up at the Knight. Rathus gave a subtle nod, indicating the guards posted at the gate.

"Take a look at those uniforms. Those two are Imperial Soldiers, not just some town guards. If the Army is conducting searches on people coming into town, it means there's a good chance that there's some nasty business going on."

Ruth raised an eyebrow. "You think the Empire is conducting some sort of scheme here?"

Rathus paused, thrown off his stride for a moment. "What? No, not like that. I think they're looking for somebody. There's probably some of Drover's rebels in town, or some other unsavory sorts. Best to keep a low profile."

The Princess sighed. "I would imagine that a town filled with Imperial Soldiers and a Gun Knight as a personal bodyguard would be the safest place I could possibly be, but very well." She pulled an ivory brush from her bag and began to tidy her hair. "Supposing that I am asked by the guards, do you have some preferred cover story for me?

Rathus shook his head. "We don't need anything complicated. In fact, they shouldn't ask many questions at all. I'm an Imperial Gun Knight, after all, so if I vouch for you, that should be enough for them."

"Of course," Ruth said. Her voice was calm, but she had a wistful look about her. "But, supposing that they do ask..."

Rathus waited for her to go on. The young Princess took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were practically aglow, and the words streamed ceaselessly from her mouth as she spoke.

"How about I'm a beautiful young farm girl, who was working on her parent's farm one day when a cruel and tyrannical prince rode by, and, covetous of my beauty, kidnapped me and wanted to force me to marry him, and then I was kidnapped by somebody else, and had to be rescued once more by my true love, a farm boy who had left to become a pirate, and we ran off and fought some rats and..."

Ruth paused to catch her breath. Rathus sat calmly and listened to her, bewildered and somewhat impressed by her intensity.

"Or..." she trailed off.

"Or?" Rathus asked, once he had determined it was safe to speak.

"Or, maybe I'm your cousin."

"That one sounds good." Rathus turned back to the road. "Simple, and easy enough to believe. I'm just escorting you to the capital to visit family. Makes it mostly true."

He pointed back at her, wagging his finger. "But. You should save the other one for later. Seems like it might make a good story."

It took several more minutes, during which Ruth put in a noble effort to not complain further, but eventually, the last traveler ahead of them spat on the ground and was waved through into the city.

Rathus rode up to the gate, and was approached by one of the soldiers. The man had sharp eyes and a prominent nose. In a more charitable context, his features would be described as 'aquiline'; although haggard as he was, whatever eagle he may have borne resemblance to must have been put into a sack and swung about for at least a few hours. He was likely tall, although it was hard for Rathus to tell, since the man had apparently deflated. His shoulders and arms sagging as he wearily walked over, holding a clipboard in one hand and dragging a spear in the other.

The man shuffled up to Rathus, and shifted the spear to the crook of his elbow, simultaneously leaning on it while freeing his hand. He scratched at his hair, trying fruitlessly to shift the disheveled mess into some more tidy configuration. When his efforts achieved no success, he sighed and grabbed the pencil attached to the clipboard. Without even bothering to look up, he recited his script. His voice rang hollow in the air, the special sort of defeated void of emotion reserved for civil servants and those in the service industry.

"Name and purpose for entering the city?"

"Rathus McGaff, and guest. We're hoping to catch the train into Dennis."

The guard winced, and looked up at Rathus. His eyes widened as he noticed the Gun Knight for the first time, and he did a double-take at the man's uniform, before quickly straightening his posture and throwing out a salute.

"S-Sir! U-unfortunately, sir, the train is, ah... that is to say, I regret to inform you that—"

"Train's fucked," a loud voice interrupted.

Rathus followed the voice to its owner, a stocky, hairy soldier who Rathus at first glance assumed was either a Dwarf, or possibly a bear stuffed into a suit of armor. The soldier swaggered over to join the conversation, shooting the Gun Knight a friendly smile. His eyes darted back and forth from the Gun Knight to his fellow soldier.

"Bunch of Drover's boys did for the station next on the line, yer majesty."

Ruth jerked as if slapped, but the taller soldier shook his head. "Tally, you don't call an Imperial Knight 'your majesty'. You would address them as Ser." He turned to the Gun Knight. "My apologies, Ser McGaff."

Rathus waved off the apologies and quickly replied. "Just call me Rathus."

The taller soldier nodded, and continued. "As you wish, Ser Rathus. But my friend does speak the truth. The station in Denning was the target of an attack, the turnstile, platform, and tracks were all..."

"Pig-fuckers lit it up like a bonfire," the shorter soldier —Tally, evidently— offered. The taller soldier shot him a disapproving look and smacked him firmly atop the head with the clipboard.

"Don't swear in front of a lady. Show some decorum."

Tally recoiled, sweeping his hat off and holding it on his chest as he gave the taller soldier an aggrieved look. "Didn't mean to give the lady no offense, Mark. It weren't me that decided that Rebels fuck pigs. It's in their nature, y'see. Soldiering is lonely work, and they only have pigs to fuck on account of no women will touch their shriveled manhoods." Tally sniffed, wiping away a mock tear. "Tis absolutely tragic, it is."

Tally gave Ruth a short curtsy, bowing his head.

"A thousand pardons, m'lady."

Ruth shook her head. "I-it's no worry. I'm not a Noble, though. You needn't curtsy."

Tally scratched at his neck. "Oh, aye? Are ye a Gun Knight too, then?"

Ruth quickly looked to Rathus, then shook her head. "No, I'm his... his..."

"My cousin," Rathus suggested.

"Yes, his cousin."

Tally nodded, but said nothing.

"I'm a farmgirl," Ruth blurted out, to fill the silence.

Tally frowned a bit at that. He looked to the Gun Knight, scrutinizing him. "Hm. You have yer badge of office, don't you?" he asked. Rathus nodded and reached into his coat, rummaging around in internal pockets.

"I can't help but notice that your cousin has a lot of fancy luggage for a farmgirl."

He indicated the bags in the wagon, decorated as they were with pink leather, chiffon, and speckled with small precious gems.

Rathus said nothing, but pulled out a leather wallet from his coat. Tally scratched at his forehead with the tip of his spear.

"Now, I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the smartest piece of shit in the pile, but—"

"There's an opportunity here to prove otherwise," Rathus said, and flipped the wallet open to show his Badge of Office to the soldier. While he did no more than flip his wrist to open the wallet, his stance carried enough unspoken meaning that it stopped Tally in his tracks.

The stocky soldier cautiously stepped forwards and examined the Badge in depth. After he read it, lips forming the words silently, he stepped back, satisfied. Tally cleared his throat.

"—But, I'm smart enough to know that the bags are none of my damn business."

"Very shrewd." Rathus smiled.

Mark jotted some things down onto his clipboard. "I apologize for my fellow's behavior, Ser Rathus. We've been told to keep an eye out for suspicious characters. Western Command thinks that this town is going to be a Rebel target. We've arrived in advance, but reinforcements are a few days out still. And with the train down, screening people coming in has been..."

He trailed off, his eyes faraway, wavering despite the weight of the heavy bags hanging from them. "Well, a lot of people are unhappy, to say the least. And they're sure to let us know."

Tally reached up and grabbed Mark by the shoulders, shaking him in a congenial way.

"My friend has a tender heart, Ser Gun Knight." He grinned wolfishly at Rathus. "He sits there and takes it. Me, I just tell the travelers to squeeze the rail between their cheeks and push themselves along with their legs if they're in such a hurry."

The hairy soldier laughed, a bellowing guffaw that caused some sussuration from the people still waiting in line.

"Well, best of luck with the lines." Rathus nodded to the pair. "Are we clear to go through?"

Mark gave him a thumbs up, and signaled the guards on the wall.

"You're clear to go, Ser Knight. My apologies again about the train line. Happy Travels!"

The Princess and the Imperial Knight continued on through the gate, into the town proper. Once they had passed, Tally leaned over and whispered to his comrade.

"Say, Mark."

"Yes, Tally?"

"That girl, that was one of King Greer's daughters, wasn't it?"

"Not our business, Tally."

Tally shrugged and nodded. "Aye. I suppose not."

******************

Within the walls of the city, Pheasantgrove hummed with the classic sort of provincial life which inspires in some people the tendency to sing condescending songs about their neighbors. Thankfully, there was no such nuisance today, and instead the air was filled with the sound of barkers shouting their wares. Here were loaves of bread, freshly picked and warmed in the oven. There were the finest selection of freshwater fish from the lake. Here were the finest poffs on this side of the Empire. Rathus didn't know what that last was, but the seller was making a good case for them.

Rathus led the way, while Ruth followed close behind. They had stopped at an Inn and stablery, and had rented some rooms for the time being. Rathus was running low on a few supplies, and had decided a trip to the market was in order. Ruth had come along as well, rationalizing as she had before that the safest place for her to be was near the man with the gun.

Rathus gave the merchant a few iron Emones, tossing the coins to him with one hand while taking the warm poff with the other. He took a bite while Ruth stood askance. He lifted the poff so that she could see it.

"Mystery solved. Looks like it's a piece of fruit wrapped in bacon, and battered with brioche flour." He tilted the poff, and Ruth looked over the snack with mild curiosity. "Want one?"

The Princess shook her head, and the pair continued on. Ruth had been uncharacteristically silent for their trip so far. Rathus had enjoyed the change of pace, but he was a bit concerned at the same time.

Finally, she voiced her thoughts aloud:

"Rathus... I wanted to apologize."

Rathus slowed his pace a bit to draw level with the Princess. "Apologize for what?"

Ruth nervously fiddled with the hem of her sleeves. "For not thanking you properly. You were right when you said that I'd shown you grievous ingratitude. I behaved extremely poorly."

Rathus chuckled at that. "It really ain't that big a deal, yer highness. The fact that you even thought about it already puts you in the upper half of Nobles I've met. They usually don't reserve much gratitude for the working man."

She shook her head. "No, it is a big deal. A ruler must always be graceful and courteous to their peers, and magnanimous to their subjects. By taking your duty for granted, I've failed as a Princess, and brought shame upon myself."

Rathus shifted uncomfortably. "You don't have to go that far. You were a bit rude, but I would hardly say it's anything worth feeling shame over. Remorse, maybe, but—"

Ruth stood resolute. "No, being rude is fine for the peasantry, but I must be held to a higher standard, if I wish to call myself a proper Noble. A Princess is only a few steps removed from the head of the state, after all, I must comport myself as a ruler should, if I want to be deserving of the title of Princess."

The Princess drew herself up. "So, on account of my boorish and childish behavior, please accept my sincere apologies for the trouble I've caused you."

The Gun Knight watched in silence as the Princess drew herself into a deep curtsy towards him. People milled past them in the crowd, a few sparing a second glance as Rathus tensed up, self-conscious of the scene and surprised by the conviction of the Princess's apology. He bowed gently back to her.

"You honor me with your apologies, your highness. I accept them humbly, and hope that you don't dwell on the matter further," he replied. The words sprang crisply from his mouth, with only the merest hint of his usual rural drawl. He stood up straight and saluted her, turning even more heads.

The Princess bowed her head and smiled. "Thank you, Ser Rathus. Nevertheless, even having apologized for my lack of decorum, I must admit that I am in your debt still, for saving my life on more than one occasion."

Rathus chuckled. "No, saving lives is all part of th' job. Ya don't owe me anything for that."

Ruth picked up a roll from a nearby stall, and tossed an iron coin to the merchant.

"Nevertheless," she said, handing the roll out to him. "I bestow upon you a Boon."

Rathus looked from the roll to his poff, then back to the Princess. "Are... you meaning that the roll is the boon, or is this uh, sy—"

"It's symbolic."

"Right, makes sense." The Gun Knight reached out to accept the roll from her. "And what can I ask for, in that case?"

Ruth shrugged. "As means of apology for my ingratitude, name anything within my power, and I shall make it yours."

Rathus grinned a smile at her. "Anything, huh? Well, in that case, how about you let me take a look at that story you're writing and veto anything that might be off-model, so to speak."

Ruth laughed openly, giving him a wide, beaming smile. "Rathus," she chuckled, "I'm not THAT sorry."

The Gun Knight swore under his breath, and turned away. It had been worth a try. He'd have to find another way to protect his good name.

"But, anything else. Name your Boon, and you can have anything from me."

Rathus stood for a moment and thought. He turned back and walked closer to the Princess. "Anything, you say?"

Ruth hesitated and flushed, but gave him a firm nod. "A-Anything."

The Gun Knight scratched at his chin, then gave her a wide smile. "In that case... in that case, I do have one idea."

**************

Rathus stood and put his coat back on, attaching the clasps at the neck, but keeping the rest of the jacket open. He evened out the lapels of the coat, checked his hair in the mirror, then turned to face the Princess where she reclined. She lounged on the chaise, limply resting her cheek on her fist and staring ahead with half-lidded eyes. The candle hanging in a sconce on the wall flickered, and even with the brightening lens in front of it, the room was dimly lit.

The Princess' eyes widened slightly as he turned, and flashed with a moment of desparate hope, before sinking back to their half-lidded state.

"Okay," he said finally, spreading his arms wide. "How does this one look?"

The Princess stared at Rathus, and flicked her eyes up to his head. She exhaled, letting out a burdened sigh as she gave him a halfhearted shrug.

"It looks fine, Rathus. Can we hurry this up, please?"

The Gun Knight turned and looked into the mirror. "I'm not sure." He tilted his head one way, and then the other.

"I think it makes me look too much like a pirate. That's not what I'm aimin' for."

The Princess hung her head in her hands and spoke, muffled by her palms. "Rathus, you've been trying on hats for the past two hours. PLEASE. Just pick one."

The Imperial Knight turned and waved a finger, admonishing her. "You can't rush these things, yer hi— y'know. A man's hat is like an extension of his soul. You promised me a boon, and I ain't gonna waste it on a half-assed haberdash." Ruth gave a disgruntled sigh and flopped back onto the sofa.

The Gun Knight ignored her complaints and continued his evaluation in the mirror. He reached up and tipped his hat askance. The hat in question was a chestnut-brown Tricorne, and true to his evaluation, he did look the part of a pirate. The Hatsmith seemed almost as tired as Ruth as he stood in the corner. He wrung his hands anxiously as Rathus lifted the Tricorne off his head and carefully spun it around, looking at it from other angles.

Rathus slowly turned and set it back on the hook where it had hung previously. Ruth ragdolled onto the couch and made a sound of frustration and disgust. She looked up in despair, her face hanging off the seat of the chair. The Hatsmith winced as Rathus turned to look at him.

"Sorry, but this one isn't quite right either." He looked to the racks of hats he had tried on, then shook his head. "Do ya got any others?"

The Hatsmith began to shake his head, but paused, and hesitated. "W-ell... there... is one more."

With that, the elderly man moved to a set of cubbies, and pulled out a hatbox, made of a fine mahogany, and inlaid with gold.

"There is one hat left, Ser, but I'm afraid it is, well..."

The Hatsmith gestured down to the box. A silver plaque on the top of the box proclaimed its owner to be Duke Windbeige, followed by a long list of titles and land, scrolling down the small plaque in ever-smaller script like some kind of self-important optometrist's eyechart.

Rathus tsked in disappointment, but waved the Hatsmith away. "Ah, well. I appreciate the effort, but if the hat's already made for somebody else, ya don't have t—"

The Hatsmith released the clasps on the lid, which sprang open. A golden glow filled the room, shining on the Gun Knight's face.

"t-ta... show..." His breath caught in his chest. The hat sat inside the box, and Rathus knew at once that his search was over.

"It's one of a kind," the Hatsmith said quietly. "My own original design." He pointed to the wide brim of the hat, flared slightly as it was. "Keeps off the sun, the wind, and the rain. It's been Overlaid with the name of Plastic, to keep it durable and long-lasting, and waterproof."

Rathus hesitantly reached out, his fingers just brushing the fine felt of the hat. He traced the creases on the top, two folds that came to a point in the front, with the top of the hat indented inwards. A dark strip of brown silk had been wrapped around the base of the hat's crown. The Hatsmith continued.

"It's made of the finest Eager Beaver fur. Soft, highly durable, and good at keeping heat in while the wind whips past you, and good at keeping the heat out when the sun beams down. The Duke is fond of riding, you see."

"M-May I?"

Rathus swallowed the lump in his throat. The Hatsmith nodded. The Gun Knight grabbed the hat and lifted it, bringing it to his head. It did not fit like a glove, since gloves are not meant to be worn on the head, and you'd look ridiculous even if you could somehow squeeze into it. It fit like a hat. Ruth looked up, and let out a gasp, pulling herself up to a proper sitting position. The Hatsmith stared in awed pride at his creation, as the Gun Knight turned to inspect his reflection. It was perfection. After two hours of searching, Rathus felt like he understood a little of what Musashi had been talking about, with his 'one true gun' rant. But...

Rathus took the hat off, with a pained expression on his face. "It's beautiful, Mr. Carlsbad. But, sadly, I'm not about to—"

"We'll take it," Ruth said, speaking over him.

Rathus held his palm out to her. "Don't tempt me, I'm not about ta get the good Hatsmith in trouble by snaking somebody else's hat. Specially a Duke's."

The Princess shook her head. "No, I don't care. I know Duke Windbag. He owes fealty to my father. We'll take the hat, Hatsmith. The Duke can, to put it diplomatically, eat it."

Rathus looked at the hat. "What's the style called?"

The Hatsmith smiled. "I named it after myself. The Carlsbad. The first of its kind." Rathus put the wide-brimmed hat back onto his head. He stared down his reflection in the mirror, then whipped his hand down, drawing his revolver and pointing it at his reflection. His reflection smiled at him, mirroring the smile that had spread unwittingly on his own face.

The Hatsmith cleared his throat. "I can say without boasting, Ser, that this is the finest hat I have ever made. If I had the need, and the wherewithal, this would be my hat of choice."

Rathus holstered his weapon and nodded to the Princess.

Ruth stood and walked to the Hatsmith, pulling out her coin-purse. "I'll handle the payment," she said, "and I'll leave a note so that you don't get in trouble with the Duke. How much was the original cost of the commission? I can..."

Rathus stared into the mirror as Ruth and Hatsmith Carlsbad went on about the details, their voices fading into the background noise. He tilted the hat over one eye. It was a very good hat.

***********

Dinner was being served at End of the Line when Rathus and Princess Ruth returned to the Inn. The Innkeeper had grilled up a long chain of sausage, chopped roughly with some onions and mild peppers. Ruth and Rathus sat to eat in a disused corner of the Inn, not quite the shadowy area reserved for mysterious strangers (as neither of them could quite pull off the 'hooded vagrant' look well enough to meet the requirements), but nevertheless out of the way. Their waiter set their plates down: a half of a fresh loaf of sourdough, partially hollowed, with a heap of sausage, pepper, and onion laden into the trough. A soft cheese had also been grated over the top, melting into the pile and mixing with the juices to create a thick sauce. On the side, the waiter laid a bowl of roasted mushrooms, marinated in wine and broth.

Ruth pulled the plate towards her, happy to finally have something more closely resembling actual food. Rathus dug in with enthusiasm, although he seemed to have the same enthusiasm no matter what he was eating. The pair ate quickly, and after they had finished, Ruth pulled out her cleanbox, washing her hands as the oil and other food particles were lifted from her skin and pulled into the mesh sides of the box, commanded as they were by the Law written into the Script which powered the artifact. She dried her hands on a towel, more as a force of habit than anything else.

"So," she began, as Rathus mopped up the last bits of sauce with the crust of the bread. "What happened next in your story? It sounds like it was just getting to the good part.

Rathus popped the last piece of bread into his mouth and gave the Princess a wink. He washed his hands with his own cleanbox, and pushed the plate to the side.

"We're reaching the end, yeah. Should be able to finish the story tonight."

The Princess smiled at that, and pulled out her journal. She clicked her pen and nodded to the Imperial Knight.

"I'm ready when you are."

******************

"I'M READY WHEN YOU ARE!" Grimm shouted. She twisted around the corner of the building to survey the street. Debris littered the byway, shattered hauling carts, spilled stacks of brick and lumber, tumbled and splintered crates. Any dock workers in the area had long since vacated, or else were huddled up for safety in the various warehouses which were pressed tightly against each other, without so much as an alleyway to keep them apart. The Gun Knights had made their way to the commotion, one street over from the riverside docks. Captain Grimm looked and saw Kugelblitz standing amidst the wreckage of an overturned cart, a purple shell of energy surrounding her. Her coat flared out behind her as she blasted beams of light from either hand, laying waste to a crowd of thugs as they frantically sought cover.

Grimm brought up her own weapon and sighted one of the gangers. She had swapped out her shotgun for a gun more suited to the situation. A long autorifle with a matte black finish, the Emperor's Fury -Model 16- (Known colloquially as the Em-16) was an efficient military weapon. Agatha switched to burst-fire mode and downed two of the better-armed gangers. She signaled to Rathus and Musashi, and the trio ran to intercept Kugelblitz.

Grimm lifted her arm as she ran, and a bracer around her wrist began to glow. A round shield of force the size of a dinner plate sprang forth from it, moored to arm as if it were a buckler. Agatha braced herself, and the shield expanded out to form a rough ovoid shield, 6 foot from side to side, and 4 foot top to bottom. She crouched with it and ran, as Musashi and Rathus followed close behind, firing upon the bandits.

Captain Grimm slid behind the pile of bricks that shielded Kugelblitz' lower half, and the two younger knights fell in beside her. With a wave of her hand, the shield folded back into itself and was dismissed.

"Status report!" Grimm demanded. "You didn't pick up the Echo Conch. Where is Vyaz?"

Kugelblitz glared at Captain Grimm, then rolled her eyes in exasperation and nodded towards one of the warehouses further down the street.

"He's been a little busy. Pretty sure the Conch got damaged in the fighting." She lifted one hand and began to recite an incantation, her eyes flaring bright purple. Energy swirled around her hand: magic from another world, strange and ethereal in the eyes of Rathus. The energy coalesced and turned a brilliant red, as Kugelblitz pressed her palm forward, sending a blast of burning light forth into a pile of lumber which had been sheltering two of the Sharks.

"SEARING RAY!" she screamed, her voice resonating with an otherworldly cadence. Rathus watched as the lumber pile erupted into splinters and flames, and a Wilhelm Scream emanated from the conflagration. Something nagged at the back of his head as he surveyed the wreckage of the street.

"C-captain Grimm," he started, "I think we should be careful. It appears that the gangers might have explosive weaponry."

Kugelblitz laughed. "No, kid. This is all me." She coalesced another spell into being, and blasted it into the upper window of one of the warehouses, where two gangers were taking potshots with a crossbow. "FIREBALL!"

Grimm watched the explosion blow a hole in the wall and set the top of the building on fire. She looked at Kugelblitz with the distaste and weariness of somebody who has come home to find their dog has discovered the wonders of 'tearing apart the fucking trash god damn it why are you eating the potato skins, you're a dog you don't even eat potatoes you little shit'. She rubbed the bridge of her noise, sighing.

"I thought I told you two to keep a low profile."

The Star Mage let out a chuckle, rolling it out with a low vibrato that sounded almost like a growl. "I am, Captain. The warehouse is still standing, isn't it?" The Captain could see that in a technical sense, she was correct. A few retorts came to her mind, but she shoved them back for now. She would stow them away to be brought out during debriefing.

"Where is Vyaz?" Musashi asked. "I don't see him around. Did he already head into the—?"

As if in answer, the doors of the far warehouse exploded outwards in a blur of motion. A green shape blasted into the brickwork next to them, scattering bricks and sending up a blast of dust and shrapnel. The green shape stirred from within the resulting crater.

"Ah. Hello there, Musashi."

"Vyaz! I was just talking about you."

"Only bad things, I hope," Vyaz replied calmly. He extricated himself from the pile and stood, dusting himself off.

One of the Sharks took the opportunity to bravely storm out from the warehouse, holding a rusty dock pistol. He held it up and pointed it at Kugeblitz.

"DIE, YOU IMPERIAL BITCH!" he shouted, firing off two shots. The bullets hit the purple shell surrounding the Gun Knights, and flattened themselves before bouncing off.

"Manners, manners," Musashi chided, casually blowing the man's head off with a shot from his Nugget. He worked the bolt, then pointed to the purple shell around the group. "What exactly is this spell? Some sort of Star Magic, yes?"

Kugelblitz grinned and gestured to the shell with an open hand. "Protection from Bullets. Simple for somebody like me. You can thank me later." She spoke another incantation, and let loose a flash of lightning, blowing apart an overturned cart of cabbages that two unlucky gangers were trying to hide behind.

Rathus stared in awe at the spell. "You have magic that can affect bullets? That's amazing!"

Musashi rubbed his chin. "Any chance you could teach me to cast it? I would sell my body for a power like that."

Rathus cleared his throat. "You mean: 'sell my soul', don't you?"

Musashi considered it. "Mmm. No. I don't think so." He moved closer to Kugelblitz and arched his eyebrows. "Looking to make a deal?"

The Star Mage rolled her eyes. "Even if you were offering me something of value—" Musashi clutched his chest in a mock show of pain, wincing at her words— "you need to have Dessite blood in order to use Star Magic."

She looked the young Gun Knight in the eyes. "Was your mother a Dessite?"

Musashi shook his head sadly. "No, I'm afraid not."

"How about your father?"

"Nor him. It seems as if—"

Vyaz leaned heavily on his shoulder, interrupting him. "Now, now. Musashi. We don't know that for certain, do we?" He chuckled to himself, giving his companion a sly grin.

Musashi brushed him off and laughed. "Well, if we take you at your word, then my father is all at once a dog, a Dessite, a wild bull, a drunkard, several sailors, a broom, and most of all, yourself."

He gave Vyaz a heavy look. "If this is all true, you must lead quite a storied life, my friend."

The Orc winked and leaned in, speaking in a loud stage whisper.

"Please, tell no one of my secrets."

Agatha cleared her throat, interrupting the pair's laughter. "Gentlemen, if we can focus, please?"

She turned to Vyaz. "I assume the target was in there?"

Vyaz nodded. "I saw a glimpse of him, peeking out from the crowds. I lost sight of him, however. Things became a bit, how to say... busy."

"He's still in there," Kugelblitz reported. She was staring in the direction of the warehouse, and her eyes were lit up with dark blue light, almost verging on black.

"Detect Undead is registering a hit. He's still in there."

Captain Grimm nodded. "Then we should surround the building to make sure he can't get out. Any chance that you have more intel on his abilities, Obrez? Besides super-strength."

The Orc looked curiously at his captain. "Super-strength?"

"Well, if he threw you out like that, it stands to reason that he's gotta be quite a bit stronger than your average Dracula."

Rathus reloaded his gun, then paused. A new sound caught his attention, standing out from the myriad of explosions and screams that Kugelblitz was gleefully causing. A high rattling sound, like somebody shaking a chain. He peered around the brickwork, looking for its source.

Vyaz's eyes lit up with understanding. "Ah, I see. No, no. I was not thrown out of the warehouse by the Dracula."

Rathus turned slowly, realization dawning on him as he saw Kugelblitz's Book of Mandates vibrating and jumping in place on the chain from which it hung. A Book of Mandates tended to react in that way in the presence of powerful Law. It was useful for determining if somebody was trying to trap you in a Demesne, or to detect hostile action against you, or when you were in the presence of powerful Scripts, the sort used to power the biggest, or most powerful artifacts. Explosions and crashing sounds continued to assail him, but one stood out in particular. He heard it off to his left, but Kugelblitz had not cast a spell in that direction. It sounded almost like...

Agatha crossed her arms. "Come again? If the Dracula didn't throw you out, what did?"

The wall next to the Gun Knights exploded outwards in a blast of masonry and scrap metal. Acting on instinct, the Imperial Knights sprang into action. Agatha fired up her shield and braced herself. Vyaz rolled to the side, while Rathus dove to the other. Kugelblitz, lacking the heightened reflexes of the rest, half-turned, starting to cast a spell. Musashi leapt forward, scooping her up and jumping out of the way.

A massive fist of stone and steel slammed into Agatha's shield, as Vyaz and Rathus rolled to their feet and drew their weapons. Agatha slid backwards with the force of the blow, sliding ten feet before falling off balance. She quickly recovered as she fell backwards, rolling to a kneeling position. The shield on her wrist sputtered, and gave out, letting out a weak noise like the last few drops of coffee percolating into the pot. Musashi landed behind her.

A towering figure tore its way out of the warehouse next to them. This wasn't the warehouse the Sharks had been holding up in. A massive hole in the building's interior wall showed the path the construct had taken, tearing its way ceaselessly from warehouse to warehouse in order to flank the Imperial Knights.

The monster rose to its full height, easily two stories tall. Despite its height, it was squat in proportion, like a clay figure of a man somebody had squashed from head to toe. Scattered stone, bits of marble, loose bricks, and rough-hewn mortarwork checkered its body, along with a few loose bands of scrap metal. It gave the construct a thrown-together quality, but the rebar spikes jutting from its thick knuckles gave no mistake as to its purpose. The neckless head was little more than a rough protrusion, with two beady steel eyes that betrayed no emotion or sympathy. It took a thundering step forward, cratering the street before it as it drew back an arm the size of an oxen.

Vyaz gestured to the giant war machine.

"To answer your question, Captain. That would be him."

The Gun Knight captain grit her teeth as she readied her rifle and stood down the towering stone behemoth.

"A War Golem..."

With a mighty roar, the Golem charged, and the battle began in earnest.