The ride over to Central Park was uneventful, apart from more maddening traffic. The day was beginning to slip by, and I was starting to feel it. Still, I had a goal, and an objective. I simply bought some coffee from a nearby street vendor and continued on my way.

The coffee was expensive, but pretty good, and at the moment I was still rich. I hang out in this city long enough at this rate, and I won’t be rich for long. I thought darkly. The sooner I get on that ship and travel some more, the happier I think I’ll be.

Still, for a place to visit, this city was certainly something.

We reached the park, which was a huge affair all its own, and began slowly riding through it, looking at the picturesque parkland in the heart of this growing city. Though today, it had largely been taken over by people with self made booths of various sizes and qualities, showing off their strange contraptions. I paid for a pair of tickets, ensuring Halona had one as well, and then we slowly milled around, looking at various booths and stalls, but keeping an eye out for our Minotaur Harbor Master.

There was a sign over the main entrance to the tent city that read: The Exhibition of Crafted Marvels & Tools.

Halona still drew stares, but with all the various Beastkin, the occasional squat and powerfully built Dwarf, and other oddities and novelties milling about the crowd, it was far less. The booths were in fact what was holding most everyone’s attention, as various would-be inventors, builders and designers of many gadgets showed off their creations. Rich men in suits, and rich women in the finest dresses milled around with regular people and their families, all as children ran around laughing and yelling like it was a county fair of some kind.

I had to admit, it certainly looked like fun.

“Let us look around at these booths filled with tiny wonders.” Halona said, smiling as she looked around, taller than most, and so able to see more.

“Yes,” I chuckled, enjoying myself as I rode atop Butterball. “Let’s.”

I wasn’t the only one on horseback, but those riding horses were few. For awhile, even as we kept an eye out for our elusive Harbor Master, we also enjoyed the many inventions and little wonders at the stalls. There were many devices, all that did things, some good, some decent, some bizarre, all with their creators claiming they would make life better in some way.

Some had weapons, some had tools, devices that performed functions, some had gear or clothing.

“This place is wild.” I remarked, laughing as we plodded slowly along.

“A fair of all the little dreams of the world.” Halona said, laughing with me in delight. “Oh, and I think I see our wayward bull-man. And a crowd as well, but I’m not sure I like that crowd.”

She pointed to a nearby rapidly growing cluster of people who were all jockeying around for a look. That, combined with the shouting, the angry kind, told me this was a growing bit of drama that everyone else was keen to watch.

And in the middle of the crowd was a Minotaur who stood two feet taller than anyone else around him, wearing a very dark red embroidered vest, and a round little bowler hat perched between his horns.

“Looks like it.” I sighed, getting that annoying feeling like I was about to be pulled into somebody else’s drama. Again. Maybe I’m just imagining things? I snorted to myself. Even I didn’t believe that thought.

Still, I wanted a ticket to go on that marvelous airship to far off Albion, across the sea, over the ocean and through the skies.

“Well, let’s go see what all the fuss is about.” I sighed, turning Butterball to begin slowly plodding over to the side of crowd, near one of the booths where the shouting was taking place.

“Are you actively looking for more trouble, Master Ranger?” Halona asked, laughing. “Because you seem to be very good at troubling trouble.”

“Complete coincidence, I assure you my dear.” I chuckled at her turn of phrase as we got close enough to crowd and booths to hear the shouting, and see the slowly brewing drama.

“Hop off you Galway bitch!” A red faced, short, fat, and very angry man all but bellowed into someone else’s face.

“Well, that’s charming.” I muttered darkly, finally getting close enough that I was actually by the booth of the fairly short person getting yelled at.

“Go pound some mud you third rate dock rat!” The short person snapped back, with a noticeable feminine voice and Galwaian accent.

I blinked and smiled at the moxie of the little woman standing tall, so to speak, in the face of open rage and bluster.

“Just because my booth’s better than yours or your entire guilds!” She continued, undaunted. “You think you can win by bullying me off? I’ll beat you all day, everyday!”

“No woman should be a coppersmith!” He continued to rage back at her. “It takes a dedication and strength that you don’t have! To many flights of fancy get in the way of proper work! And your shoddy work will never impress anyone!”

I stared, a little surprised by what I was seeing. The short woman in question was dressed not only in mens clothes, but with the leathers and belt of tools for coppersmith. The clothing emphasized her petite frame, and gave me the impression she was more wiry than curvy. Her skin was almost as pale as porcelain, and she had the famous fiery red hair of a Galway from Hibernia.

I idly wondered if her eyes was a furious blue, or a fierce green. I was pulled out of my musings when I noticed someone trying to sneak into the back of the booth I was next to. I frowned as I watched them from my vantage point try and slip under the cloth of the back of the booth.

They were very clumsy about it, and were having to carefully pull up a few stakes so they could wiggle under the flap. I glanced back at the argument with narrowed eyes, and noticed that the fat man had two other men standing behind him, both glaring at the small woman. Everyone’s attention is here, where the drama is. I realized, glancing back around carefully at the bumbling fool slowly working his way into the back of the booth.

“You’ll never win anything!” Fat man snapped back, his behavior becoming both very smug, and fake to my eyes as the same time. “No one would back you! No one would buy from some woman who can’t even make the most basic of coppersmith devices! Just close up shop and stop wasting everyone’s time! Find a proper husband cause him grief with your junk creations!”

I looked back again and saw the inept idiot was belly crawling under the flap of the back of the booth, slowly and badly. But he was making progress.

“Don’t you talk to our sister that way!” Another girl, barely taller than my knee ran forward out of the booth, furious. A little boy barely a head taller than her ran out behind her, looking just as angry with a fiddle clutched in his hands that was almost as big as his chest.

“See, you’ve no time to worry about making tools that don’t work and devices that break!” The smug fat man snapped back, laughing cruelly at the little children who ran up to him in defiance. “You’re too busy raising a passel of badly behaved brats!”

“My creations are better than yours, Fat Rat!” The fiery redhead snapped back, not backing down an inch. “I will be in the Exhibition, and everyone will see what I can make! I’ll be recognized as a true Coppersmith! One that ain’t part of any of your guilds!”

“You won’t.” He sneered back darkly. “You don’t have the entry fee for it!”

“My creations here are for sale. I can make up the difference on my own, without you.” She replied coldly. “So step off!”

“Oh aye? Is that right?” He asked her, grinning viciously. “Well, since we have a little audience, why don’t we ask them?”

He turned and gestured to the now, very large crowd of onlookers. As he did I looked over and saw the idiot had just about made it inside the tent. At last. I turned back to the little drama, curious to see how it would all play out.

Or was supposed to play out, at any rate.

I never could stand cheaters.

But I wanted to have some fun to.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed several richly dressed businessmen watching the drama, except for one. He was watching Halona, and seemed to have no interest in the little play being put on for everyone else. I found myself wondering what was going on with the business class of this city and their bizarre interest in Halona, but I figured that was a problem for later.

I turned back to the drama as the fat man was gesturing around to the crowd, seemingly, and condescendingly trying so hard to cajole someone to help out the poor girl, on her behalf.

“Come now, won’t someone offer up some hard earned copper, or even some silver for the girl? She thinks so highly of her creations! Surely one of you will give her a chance.” He called out mockingly. At this point, I had a pretty good idea of what the script would be, and found it both predictable and annoying.

Not to mention insulting, and not just to the girl in question.

“You there girl!” I called out, tired of this insulting little drama. “How much is the entry fee for the full Exhibition?”

Everyone’s eyes turned to me in a wave, and I actually felt a little trepidation at becoming the center of everyone’s attention. However, I stubbornly refused to let it show, and soldiered on, staying focused on the girl. I also tried to ignore Halona’s small, and very smug smile as she watched this new drama begin to unfold.

“Who the hell’re you?” Fat man shouted, looking confused, surprised and now genuinely angry. “This ain’t your business stranger!”

“When I’m talking to you, perhaps I’ll tell you who I am. Till then, shut up!” I snapped back coldly. “I was talking to the redhead who wants to be a coppersmith. So girl, what’s the entry fee, and how much do you need?”

“I will answer that!” One of the well dressed businessmen called out, stepping forward. “I’m one of the Exhibitions officials. Byron Johnson, at your service.”

“Names Jake.” I replied, deliberately leaving off my last name. “I wasn’t talking to you either, but fine. You seem more grown up than the uh, ‘Fat Rat’ there. So, what’s the fee?”

“Ten gold eagles.” He replied calmly, smiling a little at the back and forth going on around him, and at the reaction of the price. “It’s high for a private individual to meet. That’s why most rely on either patrons, belonging to a guild or company of some kind, or on selling their wares at preliminary events like this.”

“And how much more do you need?” I asked the girl, who had now turned to face me properly, her two siblings still clustered protectively around her.

“Eight.” She admitted. I blinked for a moment, looked up at that sky, then looked back at her with a raised eyebrow and a sigh.

While I was now rich, by more luck and salvage than anything, I knew just how much that price really was for normal folk. The fact that she apparently already had two out of ten on hand told me her skill was solid. It also explained the little drama and inept attempt at cheating going on against her too.

“The Exhibition is in three days from tomorrow.” She replied defiantly to me, raising her chin stubbornly. “I can make the money with my creations and sales.”

“I doubt that.” I replied with a calm shrug. “You might’ve gotten close, but not now. Especially with this lot set against you.”

“I can do it!” She snapped back stubbornly. “I’m as good as any man in coppersmithing! Better than any half dozen apprentices here!”

“Ah, so an apprentice.” I nodded, smiling at her sheer moxie. “So, you say you’re good? Even though you’re just starting out?”

“I’m already better than half the local guilds!” She declared proudly. “None will let me compete though. Some say it’s cause I’m a woman. Even though some have women in them already! Others because they already have someone doing what I offer, even though I’m just as good or better! It’s all really because I refuse to join them and give them half my earnings!”

“Steady money without having to do much real work?” I asked rhetorically, chuckling darkly. “And a bunch of groups formed around that idea, dead set against any independent competition? Competition that would make them have to actually work hard? That ruin their little monopolies? No, that can’t possibly be it! Surely it’s just because you’re a brash, stubborn girl who’s absolutely no good at what she’s doing.”

I looked over at the official and little group that had been yelling at her. “It’s not like they’re so worried about how well you might do, or more importantly, how bad you might make them look, that they’ll sabotage you. I mean, that’s not what you do with competition you don’t take seriously, after all.”

“What?” The girl asked, looking confused, and then suddenly suspicious. “What do you mean?”

“Yes, what do you mean?” The official asked, also suddenly looking suspicious, and angry as well. “We take our Exhibitions very seriously. Any who try to sabotage the competition are open to immediate expulsion and heavy fines.”

“Oh my.” I chuckled, ignoring the crowd and focusing on the suddenly nervous looking fat man. “That sounds rough.”

He glared at me, but didn’t actually take the bait. It appeared he had some sense after all. Besides, just outing this little mess was boring. If I was going to be involved in this little drama, I was at least going to get a good show out of it.

“Well, no matter.” I shrugged my shoulders as I pulled out my wallet. “The entry fee was ten gold eagles, if I recall?”

“It is.” The official nodded, his eyes instantly focusing on my bulging coin purse. “Are you willing to sponsor her?”

“Why not?” I laughed back as I hopped down off of Butterball and strolled over from the crowd into the little clearing that had opened up around the little drama. Without saying another I word, I opened my bag of coins, pulled out ten gold eagles, and then deliberately put them in the hand of the very shocked girl. She stared at her hand, now full of gold coins, like she couldn’t believe what had just happened to her.

“Can you make a good showing with what you have on hand?” I asked calmly, ignoring everyone else as I stared at her. “Or do you need more materials and tools to do better?”

“I, uh, I, well, yes?” She mumbled, looking up from her hand to me, almost in a daze.

“She needs new tools and a bunch of parts for her big sled!” The little girl declared, staring up at me in that serious way only young children can ever pull off. “She always complains that her tools are cheap, and that they never sell her any of the good ones!”

“Vivian!” The redhead snapped, suddenly blushing as red as her hair and snatching her sister back in a near panic.

“Well now, we can’t have that.” I chuckled, and pulled out some more coins, and handed them to little Vivian, who took them with an excited look. “You make sure your sister gets the stuff she needs now, alright?”

“Yes sir!” She said, very seriously, almost solemnly, clutching her hands to her chest.

“That’s not necessary sir!” The redhead squeaked, looking thrilled and terrified. “I can succeed as is, and recoup your investment from the prizes and sales in the Exhibition.”

“Perhaps,” I replied, smiling at the beautiful girl, who it turned out, had bright blue eyes. “But a better showing means better results for both of us. That’s why people invest up front on things like paying for better tools and materials. A better end product ensures better returns.”

“Quite so.” Byron Johnson nodded, stepping forward and pulling out some papers. “Though, young miss, you still need to purchase a ticket. And you’ll need to put down your patrons name, so he can receive his part of any rewards you achieve.”

“She won’t achieve nothing!” The so named Mr. Fat Rat snapped, cutting back into the conversation. “Her stuffs junk! And she can’t finish any of her orders! She blows off the real work for her own stupid little project.”

“Is that so?” I asked, looking at the man in disdain.

“That’s not true!” She snapped, whirling to defend herself. “You just dump the work you don’t want to do off on the apprentices! Then you take half their earnings and go have dinner with the rich fat cats, acting like you’re one too!”

“Listen here you little Leppie Harlot!” He snapped, his own ugly face growing redder as well.

“I bet one hundred golden eagles, or their equivalent weight and market value in goods, against whoever the hell you are. I am betting that she will outperform whatever group you are in charge of or officially represent.” I stated loudly, and with the silence that followed, it had the air of finality. I found that everything else aside, including the fun I was secretly having at the moment, I was just plain tired of this man.

So, the sooner I could shut him up and get rid of him, the better.

Fat Rat blinked and stared at me, his jaw hanging open in shock. He wasn’t the only one. The rest of the crowd was watching with near breathless anticipation now. Byron was the exception; his face was alight with sudden, excited avarice.

“And yes, I can afford it. Yes, I even have it on hand. And yes I am happy to bet it all on this girl, whose name I still don’t even know, that she will do better than you and your little group, whoever the hell they are.” I looked at the man and smiled politely. “Of course, you can always walk away. It is a lot of money to risk. However, that would mean admitting to all these fine folk that you actually think there might be a risk of you losing to her.”

Fat Rat blinked, then his eyes quickly darted around at the crowd, and he knew with just that glance that he was trapped. The crowd was excited now, but in a different way, hungry for a show with some real stakes. It was like the crowd that gathered around a high stakes card table: it didn’t matter that they couldn’t win or lose anything on the table, they just wanted watch.

And the higher the stakes the better.

Either he took the bet, and ran the risk, or he walked, and made the girl a success no matter what happened. And that was the best outcome.

I knew men like him, and the company they tended to keep. I’d had to put up with them in the army. Most often they were quartermasters, and when they were like this bastard, they were the bane of any regiment.

No enemy was required.

My father had also gone up against more than a few like them. Fat Rat’s rich friends would torment him forever if he walked away, or if he lost. At best. At worst, he would be destroyed in every way.

Someone might even decide to remove him, and move forward without him in charge, or even alive, just to get rid of the stain on their businesses name.

And he knew it.

“I can match it.” He growled. “I’m gonna enjoy taking your money, stranger.” He held his hand out to shake on it, with the whole crowd acting as witnesses.

“If you were actually talented at anything other than playing backroom straw boss to a bunch of child apprentices, I might actually be worried.” I replied with a chuckle, grabbing his hand and squeezing very hard. I smiled with a lot of teeth when he tried, and failed, to do the same.

“See you in a few days.” I told him, still smiling brightly.

“As you like, stranger.” He replied coldly, stalking off, his men in tow behind him.

“Orna.” A small voice said behind me. I blinked and turned around to see the redhead looking at me, a little embarrassed, and more than a little stunned.

“Pardon?” I asked, not sure what I’d actually heard.

“My name.” She said, smiling at me with bright white teeth. “It’s Orna. Orna Rowan.” She gestured to little girl, and then the young boy, who was still watching everything silently, clutching his fiddle. “This is Vivian Rowan, and Oscar Rowan.”

“A pleasure to meet you all.” I said with a nod, before turning to Byron. “Now then, are you official enough for that bet? And for her ticket?”

“Yes to both.” He chuckled, quickly pulling out a ticket and a document. “Simply fill in the amount and sign here. I am happy to serve as a witness. And Miss Rowan, I’ll need the promised coin for the ticket.”

I quickly read over the document, which was as straightforward as one could get, and filled in the questions about money, the terms, and my name. Orna handed over the gold eagles, and Byron eagerly took them before handing her both a receipt and a ticket for the Exhibition. Without missing a beat, he quickly turned and looked over the gambling document, before nodding in agreement and signing his own name as witness.

“A pleasure doing business with you sir.” He smiled and shook my hand.

“Indeed.” I chuckled, happy to have this little show over with. Perhaps now I could speak to the Harbor Master about a ticket for the damn airship I actually wanted to go on!

Frankly I could care less about the Exhibition, even with the bet. Though I did hope young Miss Rowan had the actual talent to back up her impressive moxie. I suspected that she did.

“Now, if there’s nothing else, perhaps we should all get back to our day.” I chuckled, looking for the Minotaur Harbor Master. Fortunately, he wasn’t hard to lose.

“I bet ten thousand gold eagles, or their equivalent weight in gold bricks, that she’ll lose.” A voice called out suddenly. “Not that she won’t do well, or even decently, but only that the one you bet against will beat her out.”

I blinked and turned my head in shock, as did everyone else, to the owner of the voice.

It was the businessman who’d been ignoring the little drama in favor of staring at Halona. He was stick thin and tall, with an immaculate and clearly tailor made suit. He had a fully grown and carefully cropped facial beard, dark hair, blue eyes, a pale complexion, and the look of a fighter. A scrapper who’d become rich from being successful.

This was clearly a man of money. However, something about him told me he hadn’t inherited it, but had instead earned it. Still, ten thousand gold eagle coins? Over just how well this random girl, an independent apprentice at that, would do or not do in an Exhibition?

The hell does this guy actually want? I wondered, before shrugging and chuckling to cover up my instant concern. “That’s impressive! And she may well be worth it! However, I don’t have that kind of money sir. I’m afraid I can’t take that bet.”

“Oh, do you think I would take gold even if you had it to lose?” He asked, smiling as he took drag off his cigar. I knew I was being played with. After all, I’d literally just done the same exact thing to that Fat Rat bastard barely two minutes ago!

But he had me cold, with the whole crowd eager to see what was going on. Bastard was good at it too. Hell, even I wanted to know what he was actually after!

“So, you’re throwing down ten thousand gold pieces, or its weight in solid gold bars, in exchange for what?” I asked, honestly confused, but very cautious. “Most people bet money in these sorts of things.”

“If I have that much to toss out on a lark, do you think I care about getting more of the same back?” He chuckled, before looking at me with a sharp, toothy smile. “But you do have something that’s rare here. That’s worth that much or even more. Something no one else in this city has. At least those that aren’t already like me.”

With that, he simply turned his head in a showy way towards Halona, and smiled at her.

“You have a female centaur.” He looked back at me, his face alight with excitement, and focus. “And she is what I want. She is worth that much to me, and you have her.”

“And what would you want with me?” Halona asked, cutting into the conversation, and shocking everyone when she spoke up in perfect english. “You are handsome enough, and tall for a human man. But I’m afraid I’m not really interested in any males other then centaurs for that sort of thing.”

“Good!” He laughed, taking her odd statement fully in stride. “Because I have several male centaurs that I would like to introduce you to. Over and over again.”

I stared. This conversation had suddenly taken a very weird turn, that was for sure.

“Oh,” Halona blinked, then smiled wickedly. “You want to breed me with them?”

“I do indeed!” He laughed.

“The hell for?” I muttered, more than a little lost, and disturbed at the frankness of this conversation. The rest of the crowd was utterly silent in a morbidly curious way, all of them unable or unwilling to look away.

“Because centaurs can do something normal horses can’t.” He looked at me with his sharp smile. “Control their bowels! Our city is slowly drowning in horse manure. Every year it gets worse. Last year alone over fifty-six thousand metric tons of the stuff was shipped out to farmers for fertilizer, and it still wasn’t enough! The Times ran a story just last year about our growing Manure Crisis.”

“A Manure Crisis?” I repeated, now totally lost. Who’d ever heard of such a thing?

“There are over one hundred and fifty thousand horses in or around this city everyday! And all that manure has to be cleaned up. But there’s just more crap than workers to scrape it.”

Byron explained next to me, looking surprised, but also intrigued by the new proceedings. “I remember that story. It predicted that if nothing changed, our roads would be buried under nine feet of the stuff in just a few decades. Some roads in this city are already buried up to several feet of manure now.”

“Exactly.” The rich man nodded in agreement. “People are trying everything to get a handle on it. I and few others hit upon our own plan, and have been acquiring centaurs to breed them in order to simply replace the horses with them. They can control their bowels like a human, unlike animals. They can also talk, and tell you when they’re too tired to work, when they need to eat, even be a part of the labor force. Read a map and road signs. In every way for a city, they’re better than horses.”

“But my kind are too rare out here to be practical, yes?” Halona asked, looking intrigued. “So, you have some males, but no other females?”

“Between me and few others working on this plan, we have a couple dozen males, but less than a half of that for females.” He explained eagerly, grinning at her. “You my dear, are far more precious to us than gold. We have gold. But if nothing changes, this city, and most of our fortunes in it, will be buried in a sea of horse manure in a few short years.”

“And my duties?” Halona asked, becoming shrewd. “I’m neither an animal, nor a slave. Do I have right of refusal if I don’t like the male in question?”

“Absolutely!” He agreed, looking thrilled be negotiating. I, and everyone else, were now transfixed by the bizarre, and very frank, negotiation they were having. “You’d be well cared for, with plenty of food, a house, a barn, and a massive pasture to run around in. Plus farmhands and a trained physician to take care of all your needs, and that of your children.”

“Will they be educated?” Halona asked, her eyes very sharp. “We are centaurs. We don’t mind working in a similar fashion to horses, but neither are we dumb beasts or slaves. If they fulfill a certain number of years of work, and wish to leave, will they be able to? Will I?”

“Of course!” The businessman was now very enthusiastic. “Dumb workers aren’t worth the trouble or the expense. Smart ones are worth the effort. Happy workers are productive workers! And if all I wanted was an obedient animal, I’d just breed more horses. It would certainly be faster and cheaper.”

Halona eyed him for a moment. He met her eye with a smile. I blinked, surprised. He means it. I realized, shocked. All of it. Damn. That’s different.

Halona apparently agreed.

“Take the bet, Master Ranger.” She said, turning to me. “It’s a good bet, either way.” Then she turned back to the man in question.

“What if you lose?” She asked, smiling mischievously. “I am happy with my current adventurous life with Master Ranger. Would you be willing to work out a visiting arrangement with me and him, so that we can all get what we want?”

“The terms?” He asked, his own face becoming instantly shrewd, but excited all the same.

“Simple. I visit and breed, then leave and continue with my travels with Master Ranger until my pregnancy is much more advanced.” She explained, gesturing to me. “Then I return and give birth, or give birth on the way and then return, and once the nursing stage is completed, continue my travels. All with frequent visits to my children, as well as fresh breeding cycles. To be repeated as needed. The children remain here with you, to be educated and reared and turned into productive members of the Eagle Union.”

“Accepted!” He crowed, looking at me with a hungry glint in his eye. “And you, Master Ranger?” Then he frowned at that, as if realizing what he had just said. What name he had just spoken.

I could literally see him putting two and two together.

Oh no. I thought darkly. “Accepted, so long as Halona is happy with the arrangement, either way, win or lose.”

I looked over a Byron, avoiding the suddenly analyzing gaze of the businessman. “You got another of those betting sheets, Mr. Johnson?”

“I do.” He blinked, then shook his head and quickly pulled one out. “I’ll witness. You both just fill out the stakes and terms of the bet, and sign your names. Maybe at a table over there.” He pointed to what I now knew was Orna’s booth.

“Certainly!” Orna said, running over to her booth and herding her family over as she did, quickly clearing a table off for us.

We all walked over, with the crowd still watching, and quickly filled out the paperwork. Even Halona walked over and signed her own name on it.

“The names Roland Granes.” He introduced himself. “And yours was Jake? Jake what?”

“I think you can guess.” I replied coldly, annoyed at still being played with. “If that’s all Mr. Granes. I think I need to have a meeting with my newly sponsored would be coppersmith. You can find us at the Brighton Hotel on Broadway street if you need us. It’s been fun.”

“Indeed.” Granes replied, smiling with a big, suddenly very excited smile. “It’s been a pleasure. Until later, Mr. Jake Ranger.”

I glared at him as he just laughed in genuine excitement, shook my hand, and whirled away to leave with a flourish I actually mildly envied. Byron blinked at that, then looked back down at the signatures in shock.

“Jake Ranger?” Oscar suddnely asked, quietly looking at me with a critical eye. “Like the books?”

“An unfortunate coincidence.” I said, annoyed. I turned to look at Orna. “Shall we pack things up for the day? I would like to talk about what you need for this upcoming Exhibition.”

“Oh, uh, yes.” She nodded as she looked around. “I’ll need to get all this put away.”

“Can you see to it?” I asked, looking over her small booth and it’s admittedly interesting wares. Mostly gear designed to be worn by the looks of it. “Or should I go and get someone to help you?”

“I can see to it.” She told me firmly and confidently.

“Good. After that, why don’t you all come to the Brighton Hotel tonight, and I’ll treat all of you to dinner.” I smiled at the sudden excited looks on Vivians and Oscars faces. “We can go over things there, and prepare for the Exhibition in a few days.”

“That would be perfect sir.” She nodded, still looking slightly dazed at how wild her day had just gone. “Thank you.”

“Then I’ll be taking my leave for now.” I told her, suddenly feeling the weight of this long day crash into me. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Rowan.”

“Goodbye sir!” Vivian called out as I quickly mounted Butterball, eager to be gone. I could tell at a glance that some people were suddenly putting my name together with that cursed nickname, and I was eager to be gone.

“Goodbye little one.” I smiled and tipped my hat to her. “Until tonight.”

“Goodbye Horse Lady!” She waved at Halona, who threw her back and laughed delightedly as she waved at Vivian. Then she followed after me, as I rode on Butterball and slowly had him plod his way out of the crowd, and down the path heading out of this park.

I still needed to speak with the Harbor Master, but I could do that tomorrow. Today had taken a strange turn, much of it my own fault, and I needed the rest.

“Well that was fun!” Halona said, walking next to me and Butterball. She just looked at me with a big, toothy grin. “And she was so very pretty too.”

“Oh shut up.” I groaned. I was going to hear about this all the way back to the Hotel, I just knew it!

Halona chuckled evilly as we plodded out of the park and back into the city.