CHAPTER 23: A DATE?
“The Reincarnation Theory of Savantism is widely regarded as suspect. The idea that a Soul's previous skills aren’t fully washed away during Reincarnation has merit. With it believed most ‘natural talents’ are holdovers from a previous life’s skills. But this does not account for the inheritable nature of Savantism nor its magical intricacies. Currently, the Aether Mutation Theory is considered the most likely explanation.” - Excerpt from Erasmus Wedgwood’s ‘Origin of Magical Talent.’
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Engelbert Schneider sighed and watched as two laborers fitted a piece of glass into his display window. Getting the new pane had cost him a pretty silver, but it would be worth it. A Tailor unable to display his work was no Tailor at all. Turning away from the work, he glanced around his shop. Rioters had smashed his windows, grabbed his show pieces, and made a mess of things. They’d thankfully not found his safe and hadn’t bothered to raid his workshop. The Trollbrained bastards hadn’t known the value of the fabric inside, instead grabbing what looked fancy.
Engelbert had been happy to hide upstairs with his wife Philomena while the looters grabbed what they could. That is, until they grabbed a certain box. His darling daughter Rosa’s wedding dress. This theft pushed Engelbert to act. Fabric, glass, and other clothes could be replaced. The dress Rosa would wear in the Spring could not. It was a labor of love created by Englebert and his Wife over the past year. The perfect gown and a shared masterpiece of the Tailor and his Dressmaker spouse.
Thinking of the dress made Engelbert’s head throb. Reaching up to his bandaged scalp, he remembered the night of the riot. Philomena and him hiding; his foolhardy efforts. The violence of the looters, and his eventual savior. A Tattered Man who’d scared off the two thieves with ease and returned the prized dress. The memory sent a shiver down Englebert’s bending spine. The Tattered Man was obviously a warrior of some kind, with skin more scarred than not. He’d honestly been more frightening than the sap-addled fools who robbed Engelbert.
As the workers started their final efforts to install the new window, Engelbert looked out on the promenade his shop sat on. Woad Way had suffered badly in the riot, few buildings were in as good condition as his. A Tailor, even a high-class one, wasn’t the favored target for looters. Engelbert had talked with a few of his neighbors since the Riot. Hearing how they were and learning of the damages. To his surprise, he wasn’t the only one with a story of the Tattered Man.
Wido Bachmann claimed he saw the Tattered Man grab a fire and literally pull it off a burning building. Little Marie Manz told anyone who’d listen about the scarred giant who’d righted a tipped wagon with one hand. Selina Schwarz said little about the night, only offering thanks to the man who broke her attacker’s arm. While Vincent Menger saw the Tattered Man fight five looters at once, with only a piece of wood, beating all five bloody.
The creak of wooden floors pulled Engelbert’s attention towards the workshop, where a tired-looking Philomenia entered from. Stretching her fingers, she sighed. “I should have the Frisci long hem done by tonight. Did they get the new window in safety?”
Nodding, Englebert waved to the leaving workers. One returned the gesture. Both men looked exhausted, barely noticing him as they left. Anyone capable of holding a hammer or measuring wood was drowning in work. The city coffers had been opened to help fund rebuilding, but the miserly quill-pushers in charge of disturbing funds were unwilling to pay for more than the utter minimum. So Engelberts had been forced to pay for the new window out of his own pocket, at least the city had covered the installation.
Going to his wife, Englebert took her hand and led them back toward the workshop. As they walked, she reached up to his bandage. He winced at her probing touch and she clucked her tongue in annoyance. “Bertie, you are a damn fool sometimes.”
Letting out a chuckle he nodded in agreement. “I’d have to agree, Phi. But I couldn’t just let them take it!”
An exasperated sigh filled with twenty-five years of marriage escaped Philomena and she leaned against him. “I just don’t know what I’d do without you. Don’t ever be so stupid again, Bertie.”
Engelbert was about to offer words of comfort when the shop door creaked and the tinkle of its bell echoed through the store. Frowning, Englebert went towards the main counter muttering. “Did one of the workers forget something?”
The store was technically open, but they’d not had any customers since the Riot. The city had bigger concerns than new clothing at the moment. Englebert grabbed his measuring cord and entered the main storefront, starting his usual refrain. “Welcome to Schneider & Schneider; what can I-”
Englebert dropped his cord in shock and reached for the nearby counter to steady himself. Standing in his shop was a familiar giant. No longer in grubby armor; instead, he wore simple work clothes. Barely visible under his long black cloak and mantle. Next to the Tattered Man was a beautiful young woman in a slightly worn coat and dress of the Mountain style. The woman wore a thick scarf even inside the store and had a nervous air to her.
Lips flapping like a fish, Englebert tried to find his words. “Y-y-you!” it came out almost as a shout.
The woman looked at the Tattered man with worried confusion and hissed. “What did you do to him?”
Holding up his hands, the Tattered man answered. “Nothing! I stopped some looters here on the night of the riot. Maybe he thinks I was one?”
Recovering himself slightly, Englebert stepped forward. “No, I remember you. You got my daughter’s wedding dress back. Thank you for that. I…I just never thought I’d see you again. Broke-Stitches! The whole neighborhood was half-convinced you were a Guardian Seraph, not a real person.”
The Tattered Man’s companion shot him a look both amused and surprised. Even with her mouth hidden in the scarf, Engelbert could see her cheeks rise in a smile. “I mean… he’s not far off,”
Engelbert noticing her accent as she spoke. He didn’t recognize the whispery inflection but guessed it was from the far south.
Just then, Philomena entered the store proper. “Bertie? Do we have customers? Oh!”
She blinked up at the Tattered Man and remarked. “My aren’t you a big one.”
Stepping over to his wife, Engelbert whispered. “That’s him, that’s the Tattered Man!”
Philomena looked at their towering guest and smiled. “So, I have you to thank for keeping my foolish husband alive and returning my daughter’s wedding dress? Wonderful! What brings you to our humble establishment.”
Stepping forward and holding out a hand, the Tattered man introduced himself. “I am Cole of Atredia” gesturing to the woman, he added. “This is my companion, Natalie. She needs a new dress. I remembered this store from the Riot and figured we’d visit.”
Needing no further provocation, Philomena bustled over to Natalie. Eyeing the young woman with professional intensity. “What sort of dress will you be needing, deary?”
Glancing at her companion as if asking permission, Natalie said. “I… I don’t entirely know. We’ve been invited to the Solstice Ball, and I have no clue what’s expected for that.”
That got Philomena to pause. “The Ball? Truly? I don’t know if we have time to make something.” going over to the counter where Engelbert stood, she thought for a second and then raised a single finger in triumph. “A-ha! I might have just the thing.” going back to Natalie, Philomena said. “Let’s get that coat and scarf off, and I can make some measurements.”
To Englebert's surprise, Natalie shied away from Philomena and gave her companion a pleading look. The Tattered man, or Cole, as he called himself cleared his throat loudly. “One of the reasons we came here was discretion.” Glancing to Engelbert, who was struck by the man’s cold blue eyes, he said. “You owe me no debt for helping you that night. But if you are willing to help me, I’d appreciate it.”
Confused and a little worried, Englebert looked at his wife and then nodded. “As long as it doesn’t put me and mine in danger, anything.”
Accepting that, Cole reached under his cloak and pulled out a battered hourglass medallion. It started to glow slightly, a cold blue light that cast new shadows across the Tailor shop. Letting the light dim, Cole said. “I am a Paladin of Master Time. Natalie is a Vampire.”
On his cue, the young woman slipped off her scarf and gave the Schneiders an awkward smile. A smile that revealed long, sharp fangs. Philomena stepped back in fright, and Engelbert felt his eyes widen in shock. Wincing at their reaction, the Vampire stopped smiling. Cole found her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before looking at the Schneiders.
“She’s of no danger to you. The Tenth Temple itself vouches for her. But you can understand why discretion is important.”
Philomena and Englebert exchanged worried glances. Cole let out a sigh and turned to leave. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Have a good day, and please don’t tell anyone about us.”
Before he could stop himself, Englebert said. “Wait! Are you going to the ball as well?”
Frowning, an expression that creased his many scars, Cole said. “Yes, why?”
Gesturing at the cloaked giant, Englebert said. “Well, do you have dress clothes?”
Blinking at the question, Cole took a moment to say. “I thought I’d get some new armor.”
Natalie let out an exasperated sigh. “Love! You can’t wear a suit of armor to a noble gala!”
A little nonplussed by her reaction, the Paladin added. “Nice armor, polished and maintained.”
That was enough; Englebert shook his head in resignation. “Paladin or not, you will not be going to the most prestigious event of the year in common steel and leather!”
Cole looked a little insulted by that. “The smith I patronize is rather skilled.”
Rubbing her face, Natalie apologized for her partner. “Forgive him, he spends most of his time hunting Monsters in the wilderness. I’ve had to save him from starting a bar fight by simply sitting down to eat.”
Englebert and Philomena shared looks. A Paladin and a Vampire were certainly their most…exotic customers, but that wouldn’t stop them from ensuring they got the best clothes they could. Striding forward, Philomena reached the Vampire. Before she could second-guess herself, she helped Natalie out of her coat and gave her an appraising once over.
“Hmm, I’ll have to alter it for your curves, but I do have a lovely red and white gown that I can have ready by then.” peering into Natalie’s eyes, she added. “I thought your kind had red eyes?”
Blinking slowly, Natalie grew a few shades paler, and when her eyes opened, they were a bright crimson. Philomena took a half step back but found her courage. “Yes, I have just the thing to match that!”
Englebert came over to Cole and pulled the cloak off the large man. Looking at the black garment’s stitching, Englebert let out an appreciative whistle. “Someone very talented made this.”
Cole nodded as Englebert set the cloak down and got busy measuring him. “A string Savant made it for me.”
Philomena led Natalie into another room to get her measurements, while Englebert scurried around the Paladin. “Oh, a rare talent indeed. Not one I possess. But maybe in the next life. They say Savantism is the echo of a previous life’s skills after all.”
Once he had the measurements needed, Englebert went over to a drawer and pulled out a collection of fabric and color samples. Holding them up, he compared them to Cole’s skin and eyes. “Blue and black, to contrast with the Lady's red and white.”
The Paladin nodded and glanced in the direction of his partner. “That sounds good. I do have a request, though.”
“Hm?” asked Englebert, curious to what demands the not very fashion-conscious man would make.
“Pockets, I’d like it to have a fair number of pockets. Preferably subtle ones.”
Frowning at that but grateful Cole wasn’t requesting something ridiculous like metal plates sewn into his doublet. Engelbert nodded and voiced the question bothering him since the Tattered Man’s identity was revealed. “If you don’t mind me asking. Why did you save me? Surely a Paladin on the night of a riot had more important things to do than help a foolish old man?”
Cole looked at him with a confused expression. Like the question was ridiculous. “Because I could. Whatever other reason would I need?”
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Cole and Natalie left Schneider & Schneider with receipts for their clothes. Natalie gazed down at the estimated cost and nearly tripped over an uneven cobblestone. Inhuman reflexes saved her from tumbling to the ground. Cursing and adjusting her scarf, she took Cole’s offered hand.
Slipping the receipt into her coat pocket, Natalie shook her head in shock. “I don’t know what surprises me more. How much they will charge, or the fact I can pay easily!”
Smiling at her, Cole remarked. “That's why we stopped at Andvari Bank first. Your mother’s gift should be kept somewhere safer than your pack.”
Nodding, Natalie thought of the great sunken building and its Dwarven owners. The Andvari were a Dwarven Clan who’d lost their home to a Dragon and found a place on the surface as Bankers. Their honor, diligence, and paranoia earned them an excellent reputation as coin-keepers. Still, it had been a little uncomfortable to leave the box of jewels and coins in another's hands. Natalie only agreed to it upon hearing Cole kept an account there. She’d actually wanted to store her coin with his, but he’d objected. Some mix of chivalry and practicality at work.
So instead of carrying a box of gems and gold, Natalie had a small purse of silver. A fraction of a single stone’s value. Glancing back towards the Tailor shop and then around the city, Natalie asked. “Are you sure it’s okay for you to be doing this with me?”
Cole nodded. “I talked with Cat-Eyes. We’re taking turns carrying the coin and acting as bait. I’ll do it this evening, so for now, I’m free.”
That brought another worry to Natalie. “What if the killer takes the bait? Will she be okay?”
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“Mina will be with her, and two other Guards are trailing them. Right now, the goal is to see if anyone is watching the coin.” pausing, he looked at Natalie and scratched his cheek in a way he only did when nervous. “But this evening, I’ll need someone to watch my back during my shift. Would you be willing?”
Smiling at that, Natalie said. “Of course! A lovely day out with my Boyfriend and then an evening of waiting for a Ritual Killer to strike. That honestly sounds like a perfect Date for us.”
An amused grunt escaped Cole. “You make a good point. What would you like to do next?”
Pausing to consider the question, Natalie thought to the Fiddle Player and the pile of stinking scrap that Cole called armor. “Well, I suppose you should get new armor, even if you aren’t going to be wearing it to the Ball. Let’s head to the Weinstadt market and go from there.”
Accepting that, Cole took Natalie’s hand, and they wandered the streets of Vindabon, heading for their destination. Free to enjoy the city again, Natalie let her eyes wander. A more subdued air permeated the City compared to when she arrived. But even a Riot couldn’t rob the City of Music and Dreams of all its Magic. (Literal and Metaphorical)
Natalie saw a barrel-laden wagon pass by, the sweet smell of spiced wine trailing in its wake. While a quartet of Sisters of the Season-song Convent walked by in perfect lockstep. Their thin clothes and red faces evidence of their Winter worship. Something that caught the eye of nearby Bargefolk on shore leave. Their catcalls and whistles died as a cold gust of wind battered them.
They reached the Weinstadt marketplace soon after, and Cole looked to see if Emma of Stonebone was at her stall. He found the Smith haggling with an annoyed-looking Mercenary. The Mercenary in question slammed down a pouch of coin and spat. “Fine!” and grabbed a package Emma had set before him.
As the Mercenary stormed off, Emma called after him. “When that extra layer saves your ass, I expect you back here thanking my benevolent self!”
Looking at her returning customer, Emma smiled. “Ah! The Restbringer, I was wondering when you’d be back.”
Glancing at Natalie, Emma asked: “And who might you be? Another Restbringer looking for new kit?”
Smiling under her scarf, Natalie shook her head in the negative. “His Girlfriend, here to peruse the market while you find something to protect him.”
Emma’s smile flickered for a moment. “Ah, shame.” looking at Cole, she said. “Well, I assume you ruined the last set of armor I sold you?”
Nodding in confirmation, Cole said. “Just the jack and pants. The leather got messed up in a skirmish.”
Frowning, Emma asked. “You certain it can’t be patched? I’d be happy to do that for you.”
Shaking his head, Cole wrinkled his nose at the smell-memory. “Probably, but some choice…substances were baked onto the material. I could get it off the Gauntlets and replace bits of the bandolier, but I think the Jacks fit for scrap.”
Nodding at that and not even questioning what “choice substances” meant, Emma asked, “Well how’d my armor perform? Any issues?”
Thinking about his encounters in the Warrens, and the Demon’s scything claws, Cole said. “It held up well. Protected me from a few nasty hits. I just put it through more than what’s reasonable.”
Emma scoffed at that. “What do you consider unreasonable then? If my armor broke after a little hard use, then that’s a problem. I can’t have a suit bearing my mark giving out so easily.”
Cole almost smiled at that. He admired her conviction; if he was going to be buying equipment from her, then he might as well be honest. “The armor held up against the Cultists easy enough,” he said, getting a raised eyebrow from Emma. “But the Demon’s blades made short work of it.”
Emma let out an amused snort. Clearly assuming Cole was joking. Looking to see Cole’s deadpan expression and Natalie’s amused posture, she blinked and asked. “Wait, you’re serious?”
Cole nodded and glanced at Natalie. “With the Ball coming up, I don’t think trying to be subtle is practical anymore.” she nodded in agreement, and Cole scratched his cheek awkwardly. “I’m a Restbringer, true, but Paladin is a more accurate title.”
Emma wiped non-existent sweat from her forehead and swore. “Singing Souls of Steel! You’re the one who ended the Riot?”
Nodding again, Cole said, “Technically, I just helped Sister Sun do it, but yes.”
Letting out a low whistle, Emma looked back at her stock of gear. “I don’t know if I have anything… Paladin-worthy but I can see.”
Looking back at Cole, eyes flicking over him with newfound respect, Emma pointed a finger to his waist. “That Axe of yours, would you mind if I looked at it.”
Natalie resisted rolling her eyes. She’d been a little annoyed when Cole insisted on taking his weapon with them. Unbuckling his Axe, Cole handed it to Emma with a questioning expression. She took it, tested its balance, and whistled. “Never seen an axe with a metal haft before. But I suppose a Paladin’s weapon would never be normal. What’s its name?”
Cole blinked and asked. “Name?”
Emma looked almost affronted by that. “Slag and Soot, man! This isn’t a normal woodchopper! You’re a Paladin straight out of the fables, and this is your weapon. It needs a name!”
A bemused Natalie said. “The good smith has a point, Love. All the best stories have named weapons.”
A look of actual annoyance flickered across Cole’s face. “It’s my weapon. It doesn’t need a name.”
Ignoring this, Natalie asked Emma, “What about Ensepulcher?”
Shaking her head, Emma answered, “Not bad, but too fancy for an Axe. What about Dirge?”
“Too grim,” Natalie answered. “Finality?”
“Respite?”
“ Oh! Reminder!”
Cole looked at the two women and grimaced. “It’s my weapon.”
Natalie gave him an almost patronizing smile beneath her scarf. “Cole, you had your Halberd for over a decade and never bothered to name it. You’ve surrendered that right via negligence.”
Emma frowned. “Halberd? No offense Miss but you don’t seem to not a lick about weaponry.”
Grumbling, Cole grabbed the axe and cut a finger on it. Emma made a noise of alarm that turned into a gasp when the axe transformed into its full length. Taking the Halberd from Cole and testing it, Emma whistled. “I owe you an apology, Miss. That’s a fancy enchantment. Blood-activated transformation? A bit crude but still impressive.”
Holding out a hand of introduction, Natalie said. “I’m Natalie, by the way.”
Absently shaking her hand while examining the Halberd, Emma muttered. “It's good steel. Bit phallic, but I guess that’s to be expected from most weapons.”
Cole let out an uncharacteristic squawk. “It’s what?!”
Natalie snorted in amusement, and Emma just shrugged. “Y’know, like a penis. It grows with blood flow and has a hard metal shaft.” seeing Cole’s mortified expression, she added, “Oh, relax, most weapons are. Do you know how many idiots come in wanting the biggest, hardest greatsword I can sell when a decent short blade would serve them infinitely better.”
Natalie was beside herself with laughter, trying not to double over in mirth. Emma worked hard to keep a straight face and Cole wore a slight scowl. Seeing this, Emma sighed. “Okay, back to the topic at hand.” and shook the Halberd slightly. “What about Last Rites?”
An appreciative noise came from Natalie. “That is good!” turning to her suffering partner, she asked. “What do you think about Last Rites?”
Taking the Halberd back from Emma, Cole looked at it. Thinking of how it's blade sang when he fought. The mournful tune of steel cutting the air. A final hymn for those he put to rest. “Requiem. Its name is Requiem.” Cole whispered.
Emma and Natalie exchanged looks while Cole shrunk Requiem and returned it to his belt. “So, is there a reason you wanted to see my weapon?”
Emma shrugged. “A Smith’s curiosity. I wanted to see what sort of weapon can kill a Demon.”
Cole considered explaining how Requiem had only been part of what destroyed Gaol-Gru-Mapa but figured that wasn’t what Emma was interested in. The Smith, for her part, rolled a shoulder and said. “I’ve been experimenting with a different style of Plate Jack, and it might just be perfect for you. It's a change to some of the Ciryonian techniques. It’ll let me easily repair and swap out elements of the suit.”
As Emma and Cole started to discuss the details of his new armor, Natalie explored the market square. It wasn’t quite lunchtime, and the food stalls were busy prepping for the next rush. Their cooking filled the air with all sorts of wonderful smells. Exotic and delicious foods Natalie fully intended to force Cole to try for her.
Close to Emma’s pavilion, Natalie found a market section set aside for martial equipment. The mixed threats of the World ensured there was always a need for weapons and armor. Looking over a row of unstrung bows, Natalie saw stacks of arrows with different tips. One small stack caught her eyes, the shining arrowheads dipped in silver. Thinking back to the riot, Natalie winced. She’d need to visit the Werefolk before they left the area. See how Tiar the Werehawk and all the rest fared.
Past the sharp steel and sturdy mail were merchants selling tools for all manner of trades. Natalie eyed a set of carving tools. They were set out in a lovely leather case and caught the faint winter sunlight on their edges. Thinking of her simple carving knife, Natalie wondered what she could do with better tools. Another more practical, if morbid thought mused on how well they’d carve bone.
“You see anything you like, Miss?” came a scratchy voice, and Natalie nearly jumped in fright. She’d been so absorbed in examining the tool’s she hadn’t noticed their seller approach. Short and bearded, the Toolmaker puffed on a pipe while giving Natalie an inquisitive look.
Taking a moment to consider, she asked, “How much for that set in the leather pouch?”
Glancing at her selection, the Toolmaker answered. “Good eye, that’s a Rossford set. Quality stuff. I can let it go for ten clean silver pieces.”
Natalie’s eyes widened, the price wasn’t outrageous, but it wasn’t cheap either. She was about to thank the merchant for his time when a familiar warm hand met the small of her back. “We’ll take it.” intoned Cole, having finished with the Blacksmith.
Looking up at him, a little annoyed she’d been surprised twice in such a short time, Natalie started to object. But Cole was already exchanging coins with the Toolmaker. Taking the Rossford set, he put it into the small pack he’d brought for their purchases.
Stepping away from the Toolmaker’s stall, Natalie said. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Cole shrugged and smiled. “I know, I wanted to. What’s next?”
“We’ll finish the market, then decide from there,” Natalie answered before adding. “Stuff work out with the Smith?”
Cole nodded. “Yes, she’ll have this new suit finished after the Solstice. Hopefully, I won’t need it till then.”
Whistling (something she’d been forced to relearn thanks to her new teeth), Natalie said. “She’s going to work quickly. I hope this isn’t her way of seducing you.”
Blinking in confusion, Cole spluttered. “What?”
Rolling her eyes and playfully shoving a shoulder into Cole, Natalie said. “When you said I was your Girlfriend, she was disappointed. Bet she was hoping for more than a ‘repeat customer.”
A dumbstruck Cole tried to find his words, and Natalie elaborated. “I’ll admit your scars are off-putting at first. But you really are quite handsome. A tough gal like Emma probably just sees them as badges of honor.”
Squeezing one of Cole’s hands, Natalie half-jokingly said. “So, do I have to worry about the comly blacksmith stealing you away for ‘private fittings?’ Or whatever they call it in Smithing circles.”
A little stunned and forced to reassess Emma’s treatment of him, Cole answered. “No, you and Isabelle are plenty.”
Smiling, Natalie remarked. “She was cute, in that ‘I could kick your ass kinda way, but I’ve no real desire to share you with anyone else.”
Giving Natalie a strange look, Cole shook his head. “Noted.”
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They perused a few more stalls, and Natalie cajoled Cole into trying a number of delicacies. After that, they left the Market Square and headed towards the Eighth District, Strausburg, better known as the Theatre District. While the great Opera companies wouldn’t be performing till the evening, there would always be a few street plays running in the district. Something Natalie was excited to see after hearing so much about them.
As they walked, Cole caught sight of a Man selling small black bottles from a cart. Even over the din of the City streets, Cole could hear the hawker’s pitch. “Wolfsbane! Wolfsbane Extract! Get your Wolfsbane here!”
Wincing, Cole shook his head in worry. The Riot’s effects were still being felt. Last he’d heard the Temple’s casualty numbers were in the low hundreds. Before that disastrous night, Vindabon hadn’t had a legitimate reason to fear the Werefolk. Only their own prejudice and paranoia. After the Clans defended themselves… vigorously, that changed. Life and limb had been lost in the Riot. Alongside pride and respect. Three months ago, selling Wolfsbane on a street corner in Vindabon would have been considered incredibly crude and almost offensive to the city's cosmopolitan values. Now, the hawker was making good coin.
Natalie saw his worried expression and squeezed his arm reassuringly. “You’ll catch the killer, and this craziness will end.”
Glancing back at the Wolfsbane seller, Cole muttered. “I hope so, but something tells me the damage is already done.”
With that grim thought, the couple arrived in Strausburg. A great stone obelisk marking the district's entrance. Sitting in the middle of the promenade, the pillar was garishly covered in a motley selection of colors. Approaching it, Natalie realized its sides were plastered in advertisements for plays and shows. Posters warred with paint in a contest for the public’s attention.
Rose-colored sheets proclaiming tawdry romances dueled green pictograms of laughing Fools. Elsewhere a feud between three rival troupes was depicted in graffiti. As colors and symbols fought for space on the two-story obelisk. To Natalie’s intense amusement, she noticed the conflict wasn’t restricted to the easily reachable sections of the pillar. Writing space was contested from the cobblestones to the peak. Only ending where the grinning/frowning Mask of Uncle Trickster stuck out of the top like a weathervane.
Smiling at the strange sight, Natalie turned to the waiting Cole. “I read about these! Fool Pillars. The City installed them at every road into the Eighth District. Something about limiting the Acting Troupes advertisements. Before the Pillars, there wasn’t a single clean wall in Strausburg.”
Making an appreciative noise, Cole nodded. “Interesting, I’ve wondered about them.”
Taking his hand and heading deeper into the district, Natalie remarked. “It’s surreal to me you’ve been visiting this city for years and never attended a show.”
Cole shrugged. “Never had anyone to go with. Besides, I never stayed in the city long. Just checking in with the Temple usually and resupplying.”
“Well, that changes today,” said Natalie. As she followed the sound of laughter and shouts. It didn’t take the couple long to find the noise's origin. A small stage tucked off the main street was hosting a show eagerly watched by a sizable crowd. Above the stage was a huge banner with the words “Wyrmfart: Tale of a Dragonslayer” painted on it.
Eyebrows raised at the… curious title, Natalie got closer to watch. Cole’s presence helped them get deeper into the crowd. Upon the stage was a strange sight. A huge Dragon puppet of painted fabric and wood took up nearly half the stage. The body looked to be a recycled wagon while its head, wings, and tail were animated by strings only visible to Natalie’s inhuman eyes.
Facing the Dragon was a man in soot-blackened armor holding up a comically small dagger as if it were a broadside. Cowering behind him were half a dozen actors wearing sackcloth and manacles. The ‘Knight’ waved his dagger in the Dragon’s direction and proclaimed. “Foul Wyrm! Your slaves are free! Your doom is at hand!”
The Knight's voice was impossibly high-pitched. Distorted to match a Squirrel’s chattering, not a warrior's roar. Natalie let out a snort at the contradiction. The Dragon retorted, its voice a deep echoing thing that boomed as its puppet-head flailed in the air. “Foolish Snack! Your pig-poker cannot pierce my scales! My fires will cook you alive!”
In that same squeaking voice, the Knight answered. “HA! I faced your burning maw and survived! If my blade is a pig-poker, then you are simply a scaly swine!”
A jet of fire shot out of the Dragon’s mouth and into the air. “Crunchy Human! You faced my lesser flame. Now boil and burst under my true power!”
The Dragon puppet whirled about, so its tail was facing the Knight. Cole let out a groan as he realized what was about to happen. The Dragon’s tail went up, and a geyser of flame erupted from its rear. Laughter and whoops escaped the crowd as the Knight squealed in horror. Just as the ball of fire was about to reach him, a new figure leaped out from behind the curtain. An old witch or at least someone dressed as one stood between Knight and fire. She held up her hands and stopped the blaze. The flames distorted around her and the shielded Knight.
As the Dragons' flatulence ended, the Knight let out a squeaking battle cry and charged the Wyrm. Pig-poking dagger met the Dragons rear, and a fierce howl escaped the beast. It spun on the Knight, puppet-jaws open and ready to spew more flame. Charging forward, the Knight gripped the Dragon’s head and pulled a rope from somewhere. Wrapping the rope around the Dragon's mouth, he proclaimed. “Plugged like a kettle you are! Now we’ll see if you squeal like one too!”
The Dragon started to thrash, a high-pitched whistle escaping it. The whistle reached a fever pitch as the Knight held on to the Dragon’s head. A large boom echoed out from the stage as the Dragon exploded. Its body popping open in a shower of red ribbons and glitter. Smoke billowed out from its ruptured wagon-body and covered the stage.
When it faded, the Knight was standing tall. His burnt armor transformed into a set of shining scales. The audience whooped and cheered, including Natalie.
As the noise subsided, the Witch barreled into the Knight. Latching to his side and proclaiming. “Oh, mighty Dragonslayer! I came to your aid, and our compact must be sealed! Let us be bound as Husband and Wife!”
The Knight slowly turned his helmet to the wrinkled hag and, after a second, shrugged. Taking the Witch, he whirled her into a kiss. A puff of pink smoke issued from them, and the crowd laughed. Soon the smoke cleared, and a line of three-score people covered the stage. The members of the troupe. They bowed as one, as the audience clapped.
Cole looked at Natalie, enjoying her glee. They’d caught only the tail end, but she’d still enjoyed the show. Glancing at the smoking puppet-dragon, a frown creased Cole’s face. If Iron-Teeth was right, he’d soon be tangling with a Dragonblood killer. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Cole squeezed Natalie’s hand. That struggle could wait for the evening.