Sir Gideon looked up disapprovingly at the young knight who barged into the dining room, interrupting his conversation with his guests and senior officers.

“Erasmus?” Gideon said icily, appalled at the man’s dishevelled appearance.

“My Lord!” Erasmus gave a rushed salute. “I’m sorry… but it’s important. There’s a…”

“Oi! Muttonchops! Where’d you run off to!” Erasmus whirled around in horror. Pike was sauntering into the room, hand on his hips. His grey eye drifted arrogantly over the dozen men seated at the long mahogany table. He noted with only a little curiosity that this seemed like an important gathering, for while half the men wore the crests of paladins, the others were outsiders, broad shouldered men that looked like thane warriors.

“What the hell are you doing here?” snapped Erasmus, “Where’s Rollo?”

“Who? Oh, the fellow in all the armour, he…” Pike scratched his chin, “tripped on something. Dented his helmet and knocked himself out cold he did. Poor man.”

“Erasmus,” Gideon called out from the head of the table. “Explain yourself. Who is this man?”

“I know him,” growled the man seated at Gideon’s side, a dark eyed thane with a heavy gold loop dangling from one ear. “He’s the Red Cap. I’ve seen him before.”

“The Red Cap?” a frail old paladin wheezed, shaking a little in fright. “Who the devil is that supposed to be.”

“Gentlemen, please,” Gideon pleaded. “Allow me to handle this.” He rose to his feet nervously, towering over his audience. “Please… stranger, explain yourself.”

Pike eyed this man cautiously. At eight feet in height, Gideon was the tallest man he had ever seen. Despite his stature, he seemed sickly pale against his austere black clothing. He had sunken and darkly rimmed eyes, and long lank hair that looked like wet straw. But what caught Pike’s attention was the man’s nose, or rather, the lack thereof. Held in place by a wire frame, like a pair of glasses, Gideon’s false nose was made of silver, replacing the one he had lost long ago. As a result, his voice was high pitched and nasally, but he spoke slowly and deliberately to mask it.

“You in charge here?” snapped Pike, immediately disliking this meek, corpse-like paladin.

“I… I am the commanding officer of this city’s garrison. Exemplar Gov…”

“Word is,” Pike interrupted, “that you’re offering five hundred thalers… for this.” He raised up the bag in his hand, letting the smell of tar waft over the room. Pike grinned cruelly at his shocked audience, enjoying the performance. He had a flair for the dramatic. “And I’m here to collect.”

Erasmus gulped. “Garth… the Great Bow…”

The seated men stared at Pike, and his bag, in shock and disbelief.

“The Red Ranger!” muttered one voice.

“Dead at last?”

“Impossible!”

During the excitement, Erasmus shuffled over to Gideon’s side, and whispered in the taller man’s ear. Gideon listened thoughtfully, and glanced at the fine sword that Pike was wearing. He nodded, reseated himself, and rapped a spoon loudly against a wineglass, calling for order.

“This is an extraordinary claim,” said Gideon, fighting to be heard, “befitting such an… unorthodox entrance. We must have the… remains, positively identified. Erasmus, you have seen the face of this outlaw, have you not?”

“Aye,” said Erasmus, gripping his own shoulder. “I’ll not forget that face anytime soon.”

“I’ve seen Garth’s face too,” said the roguish thane with the hoop ear-ring. “We crossed blades years back, and I briefly had him in my custody. But he escaped. Had I known then of the evils he would inflict, I wouldn’t have been so careless.”

“Well, Mister Wayland,” said Gideon, “could you be so kind as to join Erasmus, and verify the identity of the remains. In another room, of course. Oh, and Erasmus, please go find something… fresh to wear.”

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Erasmus, remembering his coat was stained with liquor, and now his own blood, hung his head bashfully, and left the dining hall. He was followed shortly by an attendant, who gingerly took the tar lathered bag from Pike’s hands.

“While we wait,” Gideon piped up, “why don’t you pull up a chair, and have something to eat.”

Pike, when he realised it was himself being addressed, smacked his lips at the food on display. “Don’t mind if I do. Most kind of you.”

“Excuse me sir,” another attendent came sidling up, “may I take your pack, and your weapon?”

“Get your own you beggar!” Pike snapped, sending the man scurrying away. Resting his new sword and other belongings in a neat pile beside himself, he plunked down into an empty chair at the far end of the table, and helped himself to breakfast. There were eggs, salted ham, and warm bread with generous helpings of butter. Pike hadn’t eaten so fine a meal in a long time. There were even bowls of strange fruits and nuts at hand, despite the season. The other men tried their best to ignore him, and studied their own plates. Gideon, when Pike wasn’t looking, stared thoughtfully at the stranger’s bronze sword.

“Bloody fine table you city people keep,” said Pike around a mouthful of ham. He plunged his hand into a bowl of odd looking nuts and stuffed them into his mouth, chewing them loudly.

“Oh, these are salty,” he said. “What are they?”

“Those are pistachios, from the land of Provender,” said a bearded man beside him. “You are… ahem… supposed to remove the shells.”

Pike looked at the man blankly for a moment. “No you’re not,” he said, scooping up another handful into his mouth.

It wasn’t long before the man named Wayland returned. He nodded at Gideon and addressed the room. “It’s true,” he said dryly. “The head is the Red Ranger’s.”

“Then he is dead at last,” said Gideon. “This is happy news.”

“I only wish,” said Wayland, “that I could have killed the scum myself.”

“After what he did,” growled another thane, “a quick death was too good for him. We can only pray that the shade of King Gram will be satisfied.”

“Indeed,” said Gideon, “I would have preferred to have the villain been brought in alive, to testify to his crimes. But alas, the so-called Great Bow must not have been so obliging. Is that not so? Mister…?” Gideon gestured towards the stranger with the red cap.

Pike grunted and gulped down some wine. “Pistachio,” he said, with smug grin.

“Mister… Pistachio?” Gideon raised an eyebrow. “That is an… interesting name.”

“Thank you,” said Pike, helping himself to some more wine.

“And, what of the Great Bow’s outlaw band?” asked Gideon. “Could you not have captured any of them?”

Pike shook his head. “I never heard of any reward on their heads.”

“But you do know where they might have gone to?”

“I don’t like to brag,” Pike grinned, “but they’re food for the crows now.”

“They’re all dead?” asked Wayland.

Pike paused for a moment. “The lot of them. But don’t worry, I won’t charge for that.”

Pike couldn’t help but notice that Gideon seemed oddly relieved.

“One man triumphed,” continued Wayland, “where great hosts have failed. That beggars belief.”

“Doesn’t bother me if you don’t believe it,” Pike said, not bothering to look up from his plate. “I just want my reward. One head, one bounty. That’s how it works. Right?”

“Of course,” said Gideon. “The word of Palsgrave must be kept. The reward of five hundred thalers for the capture of the outlaw, Garth, alive or dead, is yours, Mister Pistachio.”

Pike chuckled to himself.

“Naturally,” Gideon went on, “we Knights-Palatine have a reputation for honouring our agreements. Therefore, our standing with all the major banks within the Empyrean is impeccable. If you would accept a letter of credit, I’m sure…”

“A what?” Pike interrupted.

“Well,” stammered Gideon, “finances are tight for us, in this corner of the world. We don’t exactly possess the sum of five hundred thalers, in actual currency. But a letter of credit, signed by me, would certainly…”

“You want to give me a piece of paper? Is that it?” Pike pushed his seat back and swung his legs up onto the table, leaning back into his chair arrogantly. “I didn’t chase your Garth all over the country just for a piece of paper. I’m not leaving this city until I have that money in my hand.”

“Sir, be reasonable,” Gideon pleaded. “We simply don’t have that kind of money readily available.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Pike sneered and glanced around the room, richly furnished with silverware, panelled glass windows, and embroidered tapestries. “Did you pay for all this with paper?”

“I don’t know,” said Gideon dryly. “Much of this was bought by my predecessors.”

“Oh? Did they also buy those fancy rings your wearing?”

Gideon stared back at Pike coldly, then gave a wry grin, and removed a silver ring from his fingers. He tossed the ring, and it bounced off Pike’s forehead, and landed in his lap.

“That is probably worth a little more than five hundred thalers,” said Gideon. Pike held up the ring and admired the green emerald set into it. “Will you accept that as payment?”

Pike grinned.

“It’s not hard cash.” He tossed the ring into the air and caught it deftly. “But it’ll do.”

“I am most glad to hear it,” said Gideon. “And we may consider our business… settled.”

Wayland seemed about to protest, but Gideon placed a hand on his shoulder and gently urged him to remain silent.

Pike slung his pack onto his shoulders and took up his sword. “Well lads, glad we deal out some justice, and all that. Thanks for breakfast.”

Gideon forced a smile. “Of course. We thank you for your service, Mister Pistachio.”

Pike’s hearty laughter rang through the old castle as he turned his back on the dining room, and strode through the empty corridors.

After he had gone, there was silence amongst Sir Gideon’s guests. The other paladins seemed stunned, and shamed into silence. Wayland glowered after the bounty hunter, letting his rage boil up within him. Yet when he turned to face Gideon, his protests died on his lips.

Sir Gideon could scarcely contain his own, mocking laughter.