The Gun Knight and his charge entered the offices of the Astral Well. Mr. Oliver Crumpet, badge-bearing official in charge of running Pheasantgrove's well, busied himself around the room, flitting from place to place and tidying up the messy office.

It was clearly designed with utility in mind, and to Ruth's eye was rather spartan and soulless. The walls were drab stone, and the entire office was sparsely furnished. A wooden desk politely arrested entry into the room, set imposingly before the door. There were a few uncomfortable looking chairs along the wall for visitors to wait in, and behind the desk, a few shelves with assorted tools and oddments.

Rathus didn't recognize most of them, but given that the few he did recognize were all used to aid in the charging of Star Magic Artifacts, he imagined he could divine the purpose of most. There were a few shaped like spigots, or funnels, or tubes decorated with arcane sigils. There was even one that looked like a teapot, which he puzzled over for a moment.

More important details stood out to Rathus's trained mind. Stairs at the far back of the room, leading below-grounds. There was a force-wall in the far-right corner: an impenetrable barrier created and sustained with a specialized Script. Behind its dim blue glow, there was a tall rack of small barrels, each about the size of a loaf of bread. Portable mana batteries. Rathus noted that the rack itself was only about half-full. Mr. Crumpet wasn't lying about the supplies being low.

"Mind the mess," Mr. Crumpet murmured. He sorted out some papers in a frenzy, sorting one stack, seemingly at random, into two piles, then shuffling both piles together and setting it aside. He glanced up and noticed that the uncomfortable chairs had a stack of magazines piled onto them, presumably to make room for a stack of files on the end-table next to them. He gave the pair a nervous smile and shuffled over.

"Ah, one moment." He paused in his hurry to carefully step around a large puddle. "Oh," he noted, "do mind that you don't step in that." He gestured to the oily mess, which had soaked thoroughly into the drab rug, serving only to improve the appearance with some much-needed color.

"Somebody DROPPED one of the Mana batteries, if you can believe it!" He laughed as if the concept of dropping objects was some strange custom found only in foreign parts. "A whole five thousand Thaums of magic, just evaporated into thin air. And of course, you can see what a mess the oil made of my nice rug."

Ruth looked at the rug, doubting whether it could now —or indeed ever— have been considered nice by any appreciable standard. Mr. Crumpet moved the magazines aside, clearing space on the chairs for them to sit down. He set the magazines next to the end-table, and gestured for them to be seated. Rathus gave a quick tip of his hat, and sat down. After a moment's consideration of the sticky-looking chair, Ruth hesitantly lowered herself into the seat, grimacing all the way.

Oliver handed her one of the magazines, surprising her out of her barely-masked disgust. She glanced down at the periodical, momentarily confused. It had a calming watercolor painting of a landscape for a cover, and the title declared it to be "Daylights: For Children." Ruth accepted the magazine, and looked up at the official with a raised eyebrow.

"While I do appreciate the gesture... m'lord," she said, setting the magazine to the side, "I do have to ask: exactly how old do you imagine I me to be?"

Mr. Crumpet gave her a wide, genuine smile. "Oh, about 10? 11? Anyhow..." He turned to Rathus, leaving Ruth apoplectic with shocked outrage. She whipped her head over to Rathus, who gave her a placating gesture with his hand. She wanted to snap at the oaf, but minded the Gun Knight's unspoken suggestion and bit her tongue. There were more important things to deal with than absentminded insults, after all. A proper Noble lady can comport herself, even when slighted by overweight civil servants.

"You were sayin' about the Astral Well in Denning?" Rathus asked.

"Ah, yes!" Oliver replied. He hurried back behind the desk. "Dreadful business, that. You've seen how terrified everybody has become about this. I thought they would tear me limb from limb once I told them we had to ration!" He unclipped his tie and hung it over a hat-rack, before revealing that his suit jacket was also clip-on, removing both halves and hanging them up as well. He turned to the pair.

"Would either of you care for some tea?"

"No thank you," Rathus replied politely. Ruth paused to consider it, but shook her head. The official shrugged, and grabbed one of the devices from the shelf, which Rathus now realized was an actual tea kettle. Mr. Crumpet filled it and, pulling a small glass plate from his drawer, set the tea kettle on top, presumably to boil. He sat down at the desk, groaning softly, then regarded the pair, rapping his fingers on his desk.

"Where to begin... I suppose you know about the train station?" he asked.

"I know the basics. I got the report the guardhouse gave me, but it was a bit sparse on details," Rathus admitted. "If you reckon you know more, I'd appreciate anything you can tell me."

Mr. Crumpet nodded emphatically. "Well, don't you worry on that count. I have all the details you need. The train station, you see, was blown up."

Rathus nodded.

"By members of Drover's Rebellion."

Rathus nodded again, and Mr. Crumpet opened a drawer, pulling out a small tin, along with a glass jar of seedpods. He opened the tin and scooped some tea leaves into a steeping container, before dropping it into the teapot, which had started to steam slightly. Rathus watched him go about the motions patiently, and slowly realized that this marked the end of the official's recounting of events.

"Anything, ah, else?" he ventured. He had known as much (obviously) as he expected that that level of detail was public knowledge at this point. The report had mentioned a bit more than that. Apparently, the explosion had totaled the train platform, much of the station, and also ruined the tracks themselves. "I heard that they had used a Mana bomb, but if you know anything else..."

"Mana is flammable?" Ruth asked, looking to Rathus with sudden interest. "Is it like Naphtha resin then?"

Crumpet laughed in an amiable way, giving Ruth a smile that was at once both friendly and extremely condescending. Ruth clenched her fist as he wagged a finger towards her. "No, darling. Mana isn't flammable on its own. Concentrated raw Mana, though, that has a tendency to match up to any spells cast nearby. If you cast a fire spell and there's a leak, well, soon you'll have a much bigger candle than you can handle. So, don't go casting a fireball in a warehouse full of Mana, haha!"

Rathus glanced at Ruth, who was clenching her teeth through her smile, then back to Crumpet, narrowing his eyes slightly. "So, no other details, I take it. How about the Astral Well?"

Oliver's happy expression slipped from his face like a drunken frat boy trying to breakdance in a kiddy pool full of silicon-based lubricant. He heaved a sigh as he opened his desk once more, and pulled out a small flask. He unscrewed the top and began pouring an amber liquid into the teapot. Rathus politely glanced away at first, but his gaze was drawn back as he realized that Mr. Crumpet was going all-in; emptying the full contents of the flask into the pot.

"I've changed my mind about the tea," Ruth said dryly. "I think I will take a cup after all."

The official glanced at the teapot, frowning slightly. "Ah, unfortunately, this sort of tea is, um, for grown-ups only, darling. If you don't mind waiting, I can brew you another pot."

Ruth crossed her arms as he spoke. Rathus glanced at her, then back at Oliver. "Y'know," he said, "ya don't need to talk to her like a baby. She's near enough to an adult that it'd probably do well to treat her like one."

Mr. Crumpet nodded slowly, somewhat taken aback. His gaze slid over to the teapot, and he raised a doubtful eyebrow to the Gun Knight. Ruth gave him a smile, which faded when Rathus shook his head.

"Nah, that's a probably a bit much. We've got a lot to get done today, and I can smell how strong that is from all the way over here."

Oliver gave a weary laugh and he poured himself a cup of tea-flavored brandy. "Well," he said mournfully, "I'll take every little bit of strength I can take, in these trying times."

Ruth leaned back in the chair, idly flipping through the magazine. One of the pages featured two young men, illustrating the proper and improper ways to order a meal at a restaurant. Ruth was unimpressed, as even the so-called 'gallant' one of the pair was using the wrong fork. Probably an error on the artist's part, no doubt.

She tossed her hair and reproached Rathus, casually. "You know, I am quite capable of handling my liquor, Rathus. I appreciate your concern, but it's rather needless."

"Well, your hi—" Rathus stumbled over his words, glancing up at Mr. Crumpet, who was too distracted with the lid of his candy jar to notice the Gun Knight's slip of the tongue. "T-that is, your health is important, Rose."

The princess rolled her eyes, turning back to the official, who had successfully opened the jar of Choconuts. He pulled a single leathery seedpod from the jar and cracked the stem off, splitting it down the middle. A thick, creamy brown paste filled the seedpod. Ruth stared down at it hungrily. Chocolate. Mr. Crumpet picked up a small teaspoon and dug into the seedpod, pulling out one of the eponymous nuts nestled within the chocolate paste. He popped the candy into his mouth, then took a deep breath.

"So, the Astral Well..." He leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of his 'tea'. "Late last night, another explosion went off, directly in the tower of Denning's Astral Well. They suspected it was accidental at first, but, well... the timing was rather convenient."

Mr. Crumpet dabbed at his forehead with a slik handkerchief. "And, well, the entire tower collapsed. They'll have to clear the debris first, before they can set up another tower. WIth Denning's tower down, that means that our supply line is broken. We're not getting any more Mana from the Capital. They're trying to reroute some of the relays in other cities to point in our direction instead of Denning's, but the efficiency is just dreadful."

"Is Denning's Astral Well more powerful, then?" Ruth asked. Mr. Crumpet shook his head, too focused on the issues to properly address her.

"It's not about power," he replied absently, "All the Mana comes from the Capital anyways. The Head of the Empire is the source of all Mana, ever since Wylos the Conqueror left." He scratched his head, and started over.

"I'm not sure how familiar you are with the Mana network, but distribution is the main purpose of the Astral Wells, after all. The Capital concentrates Mana from the Source, and beams it out to the nearby Wells. Each Well takes a portion, and then reconcentrates and relays the rest further down the line. That way, each town has a continuous supply of Mana, you see. We store Mana in batteries for long-term storage and emergency supply, and the rest is Diffused out to the surrounding area."

"Diffused? That seems rather wasteful," Ruth commented. "Doesn't that mean most of the Mana is just beamed to nothing? It's not as if there is an Artifact or Star Mage in every household."

Oliver adjusted his glasses. "On a resource scale? Of course it is. But supply is never an issue."

There was a brief silence as Ruth glanced over at the dwindling rack of Mana batteries. Mr. Crumpet cleared his throat.

"That is... supply is rarely the issue. But when it is, the Diffusing array is the first thing to be shut off. Like, err, now for instance. More to the point of what I meant, the Head of the Empire is limitless power. It's a boundless font of magical energy! In that sense, resource conservation is hardly an issue. When your supply is limitless, your main issue becomes distribution. Diffusing the mana over an area makes it much more readily available." The official wiped his brow with a handkerchief.

"The closer you get to the Capital, the more ambient Mana there is from Diffusion, and even out here at the edge of the Empire, Star Mages can refill their Mana from the comfort of their own home. Many Artifacts nowadays are self-charging as well. As long as you're in a city, you may never even need to visit the Astral Well."

Mr. Crumpet sniffed. "It cuts back on paperwork for us, which is a shame of course. There's no greater joy in life than a properly filled and submitted requisition form 7-A, as they say."

"They, uh... do say that," Ruth agreed flatly. She glanced over at Rathus, who simply shrugged.

Oliver nodded. "It does make it more convenient for the citizens of the Empire, however, so I suppose it's a fair trade."

"As you said, we're out on the edge of the Empire, out here," Rathus noted. "Last stop for the train. This's th' last major relay for the Mana network too, isn't it?"

The official sighed. "You're correct, of course. The further from the Capital you go, the less Mana there is to go around. Pheasantgrove is as far West as the relay nodes go. There may be a few Wells in the larger cities beyond the Bronzewood, but they receive just enough Mana to supply themselves."

"Truth be told," he continued, "this attack in Denning has me fretting. I'm afraid the worst may yet come to pass in this very city."

Rathus sucked at his teeth, nodding grimly. "Yeah, I reckon there's a pretty target painted on this tower. Drover's got his sights on the lands west of the woods, and if he can take down the tower here too, that'd be a pretty crippling blow to the Empire."

Oliver's hand slipped, dropping his teacup to the table. It hit the table without even the common courtesy of shattering, instead simply bouncing and spilling brandy all over desk and the paperwork strewn about it. The color drained from Mr. Crumpet's face as he gaped at the Gun Knight.

"W-when I said 'the worst', I meant that we'd run out of Mana entirely! D-do you really think they might attack us?! That'd never happen, would it?!"

The Gun Knight gave a polite cough. As he beheld the official's plaintive expression, he was forced to break the obvious truth. "Well. Mr. Crumpet. I'd say it isn't out of the question. They cut off the trains, they cut off the Mana distribution... if they were fixing to take down all of Pheasantgrove, this'd be a good time to do it."

Mr. Crumpet stared down at the spilled tea on his desk, the droplets gently stripping the paint and finish from the wood. He searched the puddle for some response to the idea, before suddenly seizing on a retort.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, raising one finger in defiance. "But the army is on the way! The Rebellion would be fools to try to start something right now, when the might of the Empire is soon to arrive."

The Gun Knight only shrugged. "Maybe. I'm a soldier, not a strategist. I couldn't rightly say what the 'smart' move would be."

Ruth set her magazine down. "Well, I've not yet finished my tutoring on the field of tactics, but I have played a lot of board games. I'd say it's definitely not out of the question. It's a matter of logistics and timing, of course. Pheasantgrove is fairly large, a port town, and with its walls, if the Rebels could sneak in and take control of it, the Imperial troops would have to work that much harder to take the town back. It'd be a sensible move, if they could take the city before the army arrives in force."

Mr. Crumpet chuckled, relaxing a bit. "Tutoring, eh? That's a very smart analysis, young miss, but I wouldn't worry about it."

Ruth narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms defensively as the official brushed her off.

"Now, you did point out a good bit of information: the city does have rather sturdy walls. That's just proof that there's no way the Rebels could take it. There's no getting around a good wall, you know."

"That's not what I said!" Ruth snapped back, "Rebel soldiers don't go around flying pennants and charging walls head-on. They'd sneak into the city, and take it from the inside. You might be vetting the people coming in by roads, but in case you hadn't noticed, there's no gate on the railroad, or on the docks."

The official smirked as if he was amused by her retort, and waved off her suggestions. He seemed more resolved now, as if talking about the idea of an invasion had steeled his convictions about its impossibility.

"It may appear so at first, yes. But things aren't so simple, young miss. The railroad passes out over the lake, you see. If you wanted to get into town via the railroad, you'd have to walk the entire distance of the lake. If somebody was coming by foot, we'd be able to spot them well before they got anywhere near the town. Out in the open like that, they'd be a sitting duck!"

He chuckled and scooped another Choconut out of the seedpod.

"As for the docks, don't you worry. There are plenty of Merrow in the army as well, and you'd be a fool to try to swim past that."

"In any case, Ser McGaff—"

"Just call me Rathus," the Gun Knight interrupted.

Oliver was taken aback, but continued on, pouring himself a replacement cup of tea. "In any case, Ser Rathus, I'm certainly glad that the Empire sent you to back us up. The townsfolk are clearly unhappy with the rationing, as you can see. Having a Gun Knight about the place would make them think twice about starting trouble."

"Ah," Rathus replied. "I mentioned already, but unfortunately I wasn't sent here t' keep guard over the place. I need to get Rose here to Craig. I was just hopin' to catch the train. Do y'have any idea how long it might take until they're running again?"

Mr. Crumpet scrunched up his nose. "Well, the station is a mess right now. For obvious reasons, getting the Astral Well back online is a higher priority. I'd say it'd be at least a week or two before the trains are back up and running."

"A week..." Rathus mused. That was a long time to wait for a train. He could probably make it to Denning by horse before the first train ever arrived.

"But, you mentioned you needed to refill your Artifacts, didn't you?" Mr. Crumpet asked. "The military stipend is, of course, available to you as a Gun Knight. We've reserved 150,000 Thaums for you, should you require it."

Rathus considered it. His Holdster and his Ammo Pouch of Holding were both relatively full. He still needed to refill his Lead Knuckles, and a few other things, but nothing essential. Nothing that couldn't wait until the next town. "That's alright," he said. "You can just contribute my share to th' public fund. Tack on a lil' extra to everybody else's ration, and it might save you some arguments."

"Oh, are you certain?" Mr. Crumpet asked, taken aback. "That's very generous of you!"

Rathus stood up and brushed his coat out, straightening out the folds. "It ain't generous, it's just the right thing t'do. Better it be there for people to use than kept collecting dust in case I decide I want it. Besides, didn't you say there was more coming anyhow?"

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"They were going to send it via the trains, but it doesn't look like that will be fast enough. There should be a shipment coming by caravan within the next few days."

"Well, maybe I'll stop by when that comes in," Rathus suggested. "We have a few other errands to do today, but I should be in town for at least a bit, if things get really out of hand."

Rathus began to head to the door, then paused, looking to the princess. "Ah, right. You had some Artifacts that needed charging too, didn't you?"

Ruth stood up, extricating herself from the chair with the composed grace that befits one of Noble bearing. "Well... I may have had a trinket or two that lacked for Mana. However..."

She glanced over at the rack of batteries, pursing her lips. "It is... as you say. The scant resources available would be better served put forth elsewhere. I do have a responsibility to my— to these people. Please use my stipend for the general fund as well." She waved magnanimously to Mr. Crumpet, putting on haughty airs.

"Er..." The official said, scratching his neck. "I don't believe we have a stipend on file for you. Were you in the military?"

Ruth flushed. "Ah, uhm, that is... rather... I do not need to refill my Artifacts at this time. I will come by later, once supplies have been topped off. Thank you kindly."

"Oh, of course. Well, come back when you do!" Oliver replied. He grabbed one of the stacks of papers, and set to work. His eyes glinted with manic joy as he he began to fill out the form. Ruth shook her head and exited after the Gun Knight.

*****

Ruth and Rathus went about their day. Rathus restocked his ammunition at a Gunsmith's, they dropped off the Gunfruit they had picked at an Alchemist's, Ruth accidentally set fire to a tailor's, and a number of other such uneventful errands. The day ended near the train station, in a small combination bookstore and cafe.

"Rathus, you just don't understand culture, is all. Don't get me wrong; it's fine if you don't. After all, many people are so afflicted," Ruth said, peering at the Gun Knight over a small pile of books she had purchased. Rathus glanced at the titles: Two Birds in the Hand, One Bird in the Bush read one. The Huntsman's Wife's Boyfriend: A Musashi Tale, read another. Rathus arched an eyebrow at the princess as she set down her recently-purchased copy of Reincarnated in Another World as Musashi's Girlfriend.

"I suppose I'll have to take your word for it. I mostly read non-fiction nowadays. Lets me study in my off-time. Although I suppose I did like penny dreadfuls when I was younger. Odd to think that nowadays they're making them about people I know personally."

"Well, soon enough, you may have some made about you!" Ruth said, her eyes lighting up.

Rathus raised an eyebrow. "I feel like that's a threat," he replied.

Ruth laughed and shook her head, dipping a cookie into her tea. "I envy your life. I've had little excitement in mine own. Everybody expects me to simply follow in the steps of my sisters. My father is so dismissive of my aspirations. I tell him that I wish to become a famous adventurer, and he just smiles and says 'Oh, of course, darling. If that's what you want to do.' The same when I told him I was going to become a world-renowned author. Maybe I should become a Gun Knight, honestly." She laid her face against the cover of her book, censoring the scandalous outfit worn by the main character with the side of her cheek.

"I don't think you'd want to live my life, yer highness," Rathus replied. He stirred his coffee, tossing another sugar cube into it. "With all due respect, you don't really know anything about me. Like they say, the grass is always greener. Besides, it sounds like your Father is just being supportive."

"It's not what he said, it's the way he said it, Rathus," she replied back, sighing. "I don't really know how to put it myself. I'm the fifth daughter. At that point, I'm more of an afterthought. Four marriages is enough to secure whatever political aspirations you might have, in a kingdom as small as Dennis. They barely even cared if I followed my lessons. Skipping lessons entirely only lead to a half-hearted lecture, or sometimes no response at all."

She stared at the train platform, which was eerily deserted on account of the lack of incoming traffic. A few people milled nearby, nervously checking the schedule as if they expected it to change back to normal at any moment. Rathus sipped his coffee, saying nothing, but taking in the quiet scenery of the summer afternoon. Ruth perked up and shook herself out of her musings. She swung her bag to her side and reached into it.

"But, that's enough about my sorry life. Let's hear the rest of the story!" She pulled out the journal and pen, looking expectantly at the Gun Knight.

"Fair enough," Rathus replied. "Not much left to do for the day, I s'pose I can finish it now." He cleared his throat. "I gotta say, you've been commendably patient. I figured you'd be begging to hear about Musashi and what he was doin' while this was going down."

Ruth nodded sagely. "It dogged at my very soul, Rathus, but I held my composure, lest I damage the integrity of your narrative."

Rathus doubted how intact his narrative had remained, in her translation to whatever she was writing in the journal. He let that slide, though, and rapped his fingers on the table.

"Well," the Gun Knight said, "your patience is rewarded, because now it's time to talk about Musashi, and what he was doin'."

Ruth let out a quiet squeal of joy and flipped her journal open, as Rathus began where he left off.

******

Several minutes before the War Golem was summarily yote and smote, a brave young Gun Knight was running through the streets of Flush, chasing a rogue Dracula who was attempting to flee justice rather than face up for his heinous crimes. The young man's sable hair was tied back in a ponytail, which bobbed luxuriously as he flawlessly vaulted a crate, landing with the oiled grace of a deadly panther.

Ruth looked up from her journal, jaw agape as she looked at the Gun Knight. Rathus, for his part, merely curled up a bit in his chair, pulling his hat over his eyes.

"Now, this is the right way to do it!" she exclaimed. "And to think you were objecting to the poetic language I was using earlier." She gave him a smug grin, and leaned across the table to punch him playfully in the arm. "Am I rubbing off on you? Has the literature bug sunk its teeth into your neck, hmm?"

Rathus let out a sigh. "First off, it weren't the poetic language itself that I objected to. More the, ah, liberties you were takin' with the narrative at large."

Ruth rolled her eyes, brushing a lock of hair out of her face.

"Secondly," Rathus continued, "this is verbatim, word-for-word, what Musashi wrote in his report. I considered paraphrasing it, but I ain't much of a wordsmith, and I figured you'd like this better anyways."

Ruth's eyes lit up. "Truly? So he is a poet along with being a mighty hero, a cultural icon and a sex god?" She melted onto her chair, clutching her journal to her chest. "You're so lucky to have met him, you know?" she sighed.

Rathus stared at her for a moment. His mind flashed back to the time that Musashi had demonstrated a backflip from the roof of a house into a moving carriage, destroying the carriage utterly and breaking an arm before hauling Rathus away from the scene. "Sure," he said. "Anyways..."

The heroic Gun Knight sprinted round a corner, to spot his quarry pushing his way through the crowd. The Dracula was making his way through the center of a courtyard, shoving people out of his way. While it was a straight line from Musashi to the Dracula, the throng of people spited any possible shot, providing cover to the erstwhile fugitive. There were simply too many people in the way, and a clean shot was impossible. Impossible, that is, for anybody but Musashi.

The Gun Knight slowly inhaled, raising his Nugget up with a spinning flourish. His eyes flickered, memorizing every detail of the plaza, the crowds, tracking and predicting their movement as the Dracula shoved his way through the crowd. He lifted his gun, aiming off to the left, above the heads of the crowd. The sights of the rifle centered on the edge of the sign hanging above a tailor's shop, swinging back and forth in the breeze. He flicked his brilliant eye back to the Dracula, centering the fiend within its green depths. The Gun Knight made the most minute adjustment in his aim, and with perfect timing, fired once.

The shot was like this: A ricochet from the sign, and off at an angle upwards, to impact the weathervane of a nearby building. Ricochet from there, angling over to hit the hanging arm of a light-post, then down to hit the same light-post's pole. Off into the crowd. Between the legs of a bystander, to ricochet off the ground, and veer UP.

The shot took the Dracula in the soft underside of his chin, blasting upwards from the side of the Dracula's head, to embed harmlessly into the side of one of the shops. The fugitive fell like a puppet with its strings cut, the crowd gasping in equal parts horror and admiration as Musashi shouldered his gun with a flourish and posed, before striding valiantly forward into the crowd, smiling brightly.

"There is no need to fear, good citizens. The Knight in shining armor has appeared!" Musashi spread his arms wide to accept the adulation of the shocked crowd. They were stunned into silence; obviously because of how heroic a figure Musashi struck, and his indisputable skill at arms. Yes, they may not have known who the Dracula was, and to a foolish observer, it may have looked like Musashi simply shot a person at random. Musashi, however, did not doubt for a moment that the good townsfolk could sense the shadowed heart of the fallen villain, and their silence could only mean they were overcome with admiration.

"No need to thank me," he said. They shifted and stared at him, mute and gaping, rather than cheering with joy. Nobody had thanked him, or in fact, said anything. Were they taking him too literally? Was something wrong? It was then that Musashi realized that in his heroic battle with the War Golem his shining armor had, in fact, become covered with grit and dust. Thank goodness he had noticed! He quickly pulled out his cleanbox, drawing it closer to his armor. He let the Script do its work, drawing the collected mess from the gleaming surface of his clothes and armor into the center of its Domain, storing it securely into the box.

He glanced down at the fallen Dracula. A child was bravely prodding the body with a stick, contributing as best he could to the efforts of the empire. Musashi's heart swelled with pride, but also caution. The fiend was motionless for now, but the head wound was slowly healing.

"Easy there, boyo," Musashi cautioned, crouching down and shooing the child away from the corpse. Musashi found himself dissatisfied with this unpoetic turn of events. Here he had thought that a one-on-one battle against a Dracula would have been a tale worth telling, instead of a cheap affair settled with a single shot. He was looking forward to a tough fight. It had been a long time since he met a worthy opponent. His last battle against those cheating fiends at the cage match didn't count, obviously.

Musashi shook his head. Oh well. He withdrew his pair of manacles, twirling them as the townsfolk slowly stepped back. He lifted his hand, as the hole in the Dracula's head closed up. Now then, time to—

Suddenly, the Dracula blurred, and Musashi found both of his hands manacled together. The Dracula dragged himself away from the Gun Knight, kicking out with a treacherous blow that caught Musashi in the chest. The Gun Knight was definitely not caught off guard by the actions of the Dracula, but nevertheless reeled backwards with sheer anger at this cowardly move, falling into the crowd. The Dracula stood and let out an inhuman hiss, its face distorting into a grim visage. It bared monstrous fangs, its eyes glowing and features melding into bestial, wrinkled forms.

Somebody let out a cry of terror, and the crowd began to flee, throwing the plaza into pandemonium. The Dracula seized on the opportunity, rushing to a nearby stall selling soup, and grabbing a knife from where it had been embedded in the cutting board. Musashi got to his feet, jangling the manacles on his wrist. He considered breaking free of them, but decided against it. He would want an intact pair of manacles when it came time to take the Dracula in. Besides, it didn't matter if his hands were tied in the first place. He was Musashi, after all.

The Dracula rushed at him, wielding a long, curved knife. The Gun Knight leapt backwards, lifting his legs ahead of him. He held his rifle in between both hands, pointing it towards the ground. As his legs lifted up, he scooped the underside of the Nugget's barrel, bringing it up to aim at the Dracula with the motion of his jump. The Dracula's eyes widened as he pulled the trigger. The rifle jumped as it fired, striking— nothing?

The Dracula had vanished, and the shot continued into the wall of a nearby building. Musashi landed on his upper back, swinging his legs up to roll backwards into a poised crouch. He braced the rifle on one knee, scanning the crowd. Where had he gone? He sent his memory back to determine which direction the beast had fled to. The stalwart hero furrowed his flawless brow. Something was odd. He had not moved in any specific direction. He had simply vanished. Had he gone invisible?

Musashi stood and walked to the spot the Dracula had been, kicking about the ground with his foot. No invisible corpse. Which either meant the Dracula had shrugged off another headshot, or else...

"A teleporter?" Musashi asked himself, with a chuckle. "Well, this will be an interesting fight." He scanned the surroundings. The townsfolk were fleeing the courtyard. There were a few left hiding. A small girl sat near a barrel, crying for her parents. The Dracula, however, was nowhere to be seen. Musashi waited, rifle at the ready, in case the beast was waiting to ambush him. After a few moments passed with no sign of the craven fiend, Musashi lithely withdrew the keys to the manacles, contorting himself in unique and erotic ways to reach into the pouch on the back of his belt.

Ruth made an incoherent noise, slapping her palm over her mouth. Rathus paused, his eyes staring blankly off into the distance. He spared a glance at the princess, who was continuing to write, her face shining a deep crimson. The Gun Knight cleared his throat.

"You good?"

The princess nodded emphatically, and spoke, her voice a strained squeak, but otherwise professional. "i'mgoodthanks. Go ahead and continue."

Musashi freed his wrists from the manacles and took stock of the situation. The plaza had mostly cleared out, with people watching from the relative safety of windows. The little girl was still hiding by a barrel, crying for her mother, in need of a hero to rescue her. Musashi ran his fingers through his perfect hair, sighing forlornly.

"Ah, damn, it looks like the Dracula has gotten away," he said loudly, before whipping and firing upon the little girl. Her reaction speed paled in comparison to the lightning-cat fast-like reflexes of the great Gun Knight, and the knife she had thrown went wide, the sharp blade cutting the string of a hanging gamehen before embedding to the hilt in the wood of a butcher's cart. The girl was knocked back by the force of the shot, tumbling and rolling on the cobblestones. Her body was already shifting back into that of the Dracula.

"You'll have to try a little harder than THAT, my friend," Musashi murmured. "I happen to have a keen eye for details, shall we say." He shook his head, gorgeous ponytail bobbing in the cool breeze. The Dracula dragged itself to its feet, curling its spine up like a wilted flower regaining life once more. Actually, wait, no, that's not appropriate, because he was the furthest thing from the beauty of a flower, and possessing none of its life. How about, 'like the crest of an impending wave.' Hmm. Actually, include both of them. No, instead—

Rathus winced as he paused his recollection. When Ruth gave him a curious look, he shrugged halfheartedly.

"The record then goes on for a bit like that, with Musashi forcing the transcriber to record his inner monologue about what turn of phrase to use," he explained.

"I'm familiar with the struggle," Ruth nodded, "What'd he wind up choosing?"

Rathus took a sip of his tea. "'Like a grisly marionette, lifted aloft by an unseen hand.'"

"Sensible." Ruth wrote it down, and urged the Gun Knight to continue.

"Now then," Musashi said, chambering another round into his Nugget, "are you going to come quietly, or do you plan to make things difficult?"

The Dracula sneered at him, its features contorting viciously. "You have no idea how difficult I can be. Flee while you still can, before I spill your innards to the ground and splash around in them."

Musashi grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that. Just the first part, mind you. I'm rather partial to my organs remaining where they are." With no warning, he lifted the rifle and fired again. This time, the Dracula was ready. He disappeared with a flash, and Musashi turned. His battle trance warned him before his mind had even had time to register the threat, and he ducked to the side, narrowly being scraped by three thrown daggers. The daggers hit the ground behind Musashi, shattering with the force of their hurled impact.

"You're fast!" Musashi laughed, "But not fast enough!" He whirled around and fired on the Dracula as it dove behind a barrel for cover. One of the shots took the creature in the leg, and it let out a hiss of pain. Musashi slowly advanced towards the barrel, judiciously keeping his rifle at full capacity. The Dracula was making no move. Waiting for his wounded leg to heal? Musashi gingerly leapt up onto a stool at a small restauranteur's stall, before leaping towards the barrel, soaring high above it.

The Dracula stared up at him, jerking with surprise, as Musashi fired three shots. The first one hit the fugitive in the chest, but then he disappeared from sight. Musashi rolled in the air, bringing his feet around in front of him. He would land, then figure out where the Dracula had teleported to. He glanced in the direction his leap had carried him, to check for any loose cobblestones or anything that might cause him issues. His brilliant mind reeled with shock, as he beheld a corn dog stall, brimming with vats of boiling oil, below him.

He spread his legs wide, catching the support pillars of the stall, and halting his descent into the bubbling abyss below him. That... had quite certainly not been there before. That was good to know. The Dracula could teleport more than just himself. Musashi smiled again. This fight was going to be more interesting than he had previously suspected.

The Dracula was standing atop a light-post, and launched himself down at the precariously-balanced Gun Knight, bearing a knife in each hand. Thinking quickly, Musashi grabbed the support beam of the stall with one hand, and brought his leg down on the handle of one of the pots. Sizzling-hot oil flung into the air, catching the Dracula as he plunged earthward.

"AIIIEE!" The Dracula howled, the oil steaming as it covered his face and body. He collided with the ground, falling into a heap of limbs as he clawed at his face. Musashi wasted no time, releasing his grip on the stall and falling to deliver a mighty heel-drop on the monster's face. The Dracula growled and reached up, snatching his foot in a vice-like grip, before swinging with inhuman strength. Musashi was snapped out of the air like a whip, and hurled headlong across the cobblestones as the Dracula released him.

The Gun Knight collided heavily with the stone, bouncing twice before he managed to get control of the roll and slide to his feet. He braced himself as he slid, ducking low into a sprinter's crouch. He held his rifle in one hand, holding it beneath him, pointing towards the Dracula. The villain clutched at his ruined face, and from between clawlike fingers, Musashi could see the raw red flesh of his oil burns. The burns slowly began to mend, restoring the Dracula's face from the outside edge towards the center. Musashi fired twice, catching the surprised Dracula in the legs.

He began to run towards his quarry as the Dracula fell. He laughed to himself. "I guess a burn is slower to heal than a bullet wound, hmm? That's good to know."

The Dracula merely hissed in response and withdrew a knife, hurling it at the Gun Knight. Musashi executed a flawless pirouette to dodge the knife, bringing his rifle up to bear against the Dracula, who promptly vanished. Musashi's keen eyes noticed a sudden change as well. The Dracula hadn't merely fled. Despite his dodge, the knife was still flying directly for him. Musashi swung his rifle, deflecting the thrown blade with the stock. As the blade spiraled through the air, he also noticed another change. One of the pots of oil was missing from the corn dog stall.

Acting on pure instinct, the Gun Knight threw himself to the side, as hot oil splashed on the ground where he had been standing. The splash caught his leg, and he grit his teeth in pain as boiling oil soaked into the fabric of his combat denims. The Dracula, hiding near a knifesmith's stall, snatched up a handful of knives, and turned to run. Musashi shook his leg, but the fabric of his jeans were locking the oil tight against his legs, searing his skin. The Dracula was taking the opportunity to make a break for it. Musashi took a breath.

"If you think something like this will slow me down..." The Gun Knight bent down and grabbed the fabric of his pants at the knees, digging his fingers in deep. "THEN YOU ARE FAR TOO NAIVE!" he roared. With one smooth motion, he snapped his arms up and out, tearing his jeans off in one fluid go. He tossed them aside, standing proudly in his heart-pattern boxers. The Dracula, looking over his shoulder, stumbled in surprise, slamming into a rainwater barrel.

Musashi gave a wink to a few of the onlooking civilians who were watching from windows. "It was a nice try," he commended the Dracula, "But you must realize that all you've done is make me remove the pants that were a limiter on my boundless power. Now the true battle begins."

The Dracula spat out a mouthful of water, picking himself up to stare in confusion at the rapidly-advancing Gun Knight. Musashi leapt up, wielding his rifle like a club, and swung down at the Dracula, who promptly vanished. The Gun Knight had expected as much, and didn't follow through on his swing. He had noticed something with his unsurpassed powers of observation. Something that would change the course of this battle.

He turned to face the Dracula, who had fled to the center of the courtyard, dripping water. "You've fully healed," Musashi noted, pointing to the Dracula's face, which was now completely free of any burns.

The Dracula sneered at him. "Of course. I am immortal, child. Know fear, Gun Knight, for you cannot kill me in a way that matters." He lifted his hands, holding a knife by the blade in each one. He twisted his fingers and fanned out the knives, to reveal that each hand actually held five.

"Oh, I wouldn't go quite that far," Musashi said, brushing his nails on his breastplate. "I've no need to kill you in the first place. You're wanted alive, so that you might face your crimes. Still, if I wanted to do you in, I'm sure I could find a way."

Musashi casually loaded a stripper clip into his Nugget, sliding the rounds into the gun, and tucking the empty clip into his pocket. "Besides, I wasn't complimenting you, I was making a simple observation. You see, I've figured out your tricks." He pointed to the ground between the Dracula and himself. The fugitive followed his gesture, and jerked in surprise. Between the pair was a long set of wet footprints, leading from behind Musashi right up to the Dracula.

"Your trick is simple," Musashi said. He shrugged casually, but the rest of his body was tensed. The Dracula shifted from one foot to the other, and then disappeared. Musashi was waiting for the cue, and dove to the side, as ten knives appeared in the air a few feet in front of him. The gleaming blades cut through the air where the young man had been seconds before. The Gun Knight rolled and spun on his knee, firing behind him, at the space he knew the Dracula would have moved. The shot caught the Dracula in the wrist, sending another fistful of knives flying out and clattering onto the ground. Musashi smirked at the fiend's stunned expression. "You aren't a teleporter at all..."

The Dracula stared at him, eyes wide with hatred and fear. Musashi grinned a smile back at him.

"You stop time."