Sighting down the revolver, Stewart fired the gun. As he'd experienced with Elanor's shooting, it had a different sound from gunpowder pistols, but the result when the bullet hit the stone wall at the end of the long tunnel sent a chill down his spine. "These change everything." The echo of the explosive round was still fading as he spoke. "Is there anything else I need to know about them?"

"Save the empty casings if you can." Tinpot held out two bags to Stewart. "After some tests, we're not going to make the adamantine ones anymore. The explosive ones are more effective and have less chance of harming others behind the target. The gold-only bullets stop in the first target, too."

Remembering Elanor shooting all the bodyguards of Jace's with single shots to the head, and each leaving a deep hole in the stonework behind them, Stewart could appreciate that. "I have fired with each hand in the past, so I think it would be best to load each gun with different loads."

"That bit's up to you. These pistols are much the same as her first model was, but I did add a little device that will make reloading faster. Open the gun." Waiting for Stewart to follow the instruction, Tinpot pointed to a little sliding actuator that slid down under the barrel. "If you push that back toward you, it will push all the rounds out at once."

With the barrel hanging out to the side, Stewart cupped his hand behind it and pushed down on the rod. "I watched Elanor unload hers on the train. This should make things much faster. Thank you."

"Glad I had made a few of these. We were going to give them to the barons of Northridge, but I can always make more for them if you need them in the meantime."

Making a soft sound of throat clearing, Travis interrupted the two. "You wanted to be on your way as soon as possible?" The little jump from Stewart made Travis wince, particularly when Hilda adapted to hearing him faster. The nod, though, encouraged him to continue. "Pen and Ripper are equipped and ready. So are Harrow and Elanor."

"I don't doubt I'll be shooting these by the time this is over. I needed to know how they feel." Reloading the cylinder, Stewart replaced the spent one with a fresh explosive round. "So long as she can get me to the station at Far Reach, we—"

"Pen said she can take you the whole way. She might not be able to get you into the city, but she can drop you off outside." Thanks to Ludmiller's demanding they not let lizards into the firing range and Tinpot's height and focus on the second revolver he was holding, Travis didn't get to see Stewart's face.

"She can out-fly a train?" The moment Stewart asked, he realized the error of that thought. Ripper, after all, had kept pace with the train all the way to Hearthhome. "Right. Dragon. If she thinks she can, I will welcome the assistance."

"I only wish I could send more with you, but Pen can't even lift Fife, let alone fly with her."

With Tinpot leading him back up, Stewart had some time to think to himself about what he was going to do. It was unprecedented, but he would not allow someone to usurp the kingdom, as he now believed they were trying. His hands drifted to the pair of holsters, stroking the handles of the most amazing guns he'd ever seen. When he got to the surface, he passed what seemed like dozens of people buying food from the dungeon.

Watching the new king walking through the dungeon entrance, Penelope rolled her shoulders one more time to test the harness. "This will hold them?" she asked Howard.

"If anything will. I would still advise that everyone hold on as tight as they can. Try not to lose our new king." There was only so many times Baron Howard Tailor could check over the straps he'd rushed to make. The saddles were the easy part, but making sure they and their riders wouldn't come off had involved a little guess work, but mostly years of experience. "Your Majesty," he said, bowing as the King approached.

"I'm not fully confirmed until I sit on the throne." A part of Stewart hoped to return home and find his father sitting there still, but he felt the kingdom itself mourn his father's death. "But your loyalty is appreciated, as is your skill." Appreciated, he thought, and worthy of reward. "Lady Penelope, you are prepared?"

It was one thing to be called a lady by a young noble and quite another to have a prince or king say it. Fighting to not betray her slightly dizzy emotional state, Penelope bowed her head. "I am ready to fly whenever you are to ride."

Unsure what the correct etiquette was for climbing on a lady's back in public, Stewart nonetheless did his best to climb up her offered leg and onto the lower part of her neck. His new coat, a duster similar to Elanor's, hung over his shoulders and down his back into two parted flaps around his rear. Settling into the saddle, he found the extra belt and straps there. "I am to fasten this?"

Howard cleared his throat, watching as Harrow climbed up to the second saddle. "Please, Sir, I would appreciate it if you did. That belt should keep you from falling off even if you lose your grip."

"I believe," Stewart said, "that we'll both follow the instructions of the more experienced. Ah. Are you ready, Lady Elanor?"

----------------------------------------

[Several Minutes Earlier]

Elanor slumped to the floor in Travis' heart room. She'd just explained everything she'd done, and now felt drained of all but the horror of her actions. "I killed a lot of people." As she said it, she inspected the new revolver—one of two she now had—in her hand. "They tried to kill the Earl, Stewart, and Harrow."

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"And you too," Travis said.

Nodding, Elanor looked down at her hands to watch the ejector's smooth motion. "It still feels wrong, but the worst was the conspirators that Far Reach found. I killed them, aiming the city's wrath and giving it form—but I don't feel bad for those ones."

"Only the people you looked in the eye?"

Remembering her cousin—former cousin—Elanor shook her head. "I don't think—" She halted that sentence and moved on with her thoughts. "The old Baron and his brother; they deserved what they got. They instigated and managed all this. The guards they used, the man they sent to kill the Earl wasn't even as old as I am. He had no talisman. I killed him, and he will never live again."

Travis wasn't a counselor, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he'd been through his own personal hell growing up as a dungeon. "When you came to me and asked to work for me, if I'd given you a gun and a bullet and told you to kill Stewart, would you have?"

"What?" Shaking her head and staring at the huge crystal, Elanor felt horror at the idea. "I would never have done that!"

"But that guy did. Those guards too. They knew who Stewart was. They still attempted to follow an order they shouldn't have. Maybe there was a reason that seemed good to them to make that choice, but they would have ruined the lives of so many if they'd succeeded. You saved that many people by ensuring they didn't."

Silent for a moment, her thoughts running around that statement and picking it apart, Elanor sighed. "I don't think I'll ever be okay with it."

"Good," Travis said, glad to see her head jerk up. "I know I don't want to have a remorseless killer working for me. I doubt Stewart does, either. Your compassion for Far Reach is why it chose you to be its hero." She was shaking her head. "Did I say something wrong?"

The worry in Travis' voice made Elanor smile at last. "No. Well, sort of. It wasn't just Far Reach that gave me strength and asked me for help—the whole kingdom did. It's alive, Travis, like cities are alive."

It was news Travis hadn't picked up from her explanation of events, and it shocked him. Shifting his focus, he reached out to Northridge. "Northridge, is there a— Is the whole kingdom its own person too? Like cities."

"I didn't know about it until the Inquisitor called for help. Dungeon Travis, every city in the kingdom came together to help her!" Northridge remembered the event fondly, perhaps most of all because Elanor was someone from his people. She'd renounced her family, so he claimed her. That was how it worked so far as Northridge was concerned. "There was something odd, though. It was like some cities weren’t as loud as others."

"Maybe," Travis said, "they are too far away to respond easily?"

"Surely, that must be the answer. Which city would not support our new voice—our new protector?!" Northridge wanted to shunt so much power the young woman's way that she glowed, but he had his own avatar. There was also a feeling that any power invested into her should be done so by cities needing her help or by the kingdom itself. But still, he wanted to cheat.

"Northridge, if she ever needs help through the kingdom link, can you include me?" Travis asked.

"I do not know if the kingdom would accept the might of a dungeon, or even if I could send your strength, but I will try."

Travis thanked the city and focused back on Elanor, having spent not much more than a moment conversing with Northridge. "I asked Northridge about it, he said I might be able to lend my strength next time you call on the kingdom's power. If I can, I'll try to pull Brogdar into it too. Though I haven't had the best experience with at least one of his priests. Brayden and Brogdar themselves are every bit as genuine as I could want. You saw the new temple I built for you and Felna?"

The heavy purring in her head threatened to deafen Elanor. She closed her eyes and visualized a powerful catkin warrior priestess hugging her. The purring grew stronger still. "I promise to bring your heat and love to those who most deserve it."

Travis had to admit to liking how Sandwalker felt in his head. Warm and insistent, just like a big cat, he was surprised to find how normal it felt despite her being a god and he a dungeon. Brogdar, on the other hand, felt more like a friend that always had your back no matter what. Despite the differences between their powers he liked the idea of both. "You sure know how to leave a statement open to interpretation."

Standing up, Elanor nodded. "It's always good to leave one's options open. Thank you, Mr. Travis."

"Elanor?"

"Yes?"

"You can call me Trav if you'd like. I don't think any— Ugh, what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Impropriety?" Elanor suggested.

"Yeah. Since we're the only ones who can hear this now, and since it's not like I'm a noble or commoner, you can call me that if you want."

Walking over to Travis' crystal, Elanor narrowed her eyes and searched its seemingly infinite facets for something that looked right. When she found it, she prodded the vaguely nose-shaped structure. "I will call you as befits the master of his own house, and lord of all he surveys."

"Did—" Travis couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice, even as he wanted to feel indignant. "Did you boop me?"

"Miss Fife told me to do it if you ever become too exasperating for words. She said it should put you in your place." It was, she realized, probably more intimate than calling him by a familiar name, but at the same time it was in a place that no one that she didn't trust would see. "What do you think, Mr. Travis, of Stewart?"

"You like-like him, don't you?" Travis relied on the magic that let him talk to anyone to help translate his modern phrasing. Elanor nodded. "Does he like you back?" Another nod. "Then go for it. He seems like a great guy, even if he's dealing with a lot right now. You'd make an awesome queen."

Eyes widening, Elanor shook her head. "I wouldn't be queen, though I would be queen-consort." Even saying that made her whole world explode—despite the loud purring. "But he… And I… He stands for something worth fighting for, and he has the same connection I do to the kingdom. He can feel it as well!"

"Okay, so you want to know what I think about him?" Travis waited for Elanor's blushing nod to continue. "He cares about the kingdom as a whole, about his family, about you, and seems willing to put his own life on the line for all of it. He's having a bit of trouble getting used to me talking to him, but it's something new for him, I guess. Follow your heart, Elanor."

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