Musashi shouldered his rifle as the Dracula stared at him, paralyzed with disbelief at the Gun Knight's stunning proclamation. The fugitive shook his head and began to laugh, giving a slow clap in a calculated display of sheer incredulity.
"Ah, very good, Gun Knight. Bravo," he jeered, turning towards the brave Musashi and spreading his arms wide. "You've discovered my secret. I have mastery over time itself. Now that you know, surely I have no chance of victory. Please, have mercy on my poor soul!"
Musashi nodded, the depths of his eyes reflecting the sagacity of his innermost thoughts. "It's good to admit these things," he replied casually. "If you surrender now, I can put in a good word for you."
The Dracula vanished and Musashi leapt out of the way, as a cart appeared above him and plummeted to the street. The cart shattered on the sidewalk, sending splinters and fried sandwiches scattering about the flagstones. The Dracula, standing atop the fallen cart, spread his arms wide in a pose that seemed almost to say 'well? what is it?'.
"You sound so sure of yourself! BUT HOW CAN YOU DEFEAT ONE WITH SUCH A POWER? HOW CAN YOU FIGHT AGAINST TIME ITSELF?!"
Musashi casually shot the Dracula in the head, causing the figure to crumple atop the cart, groaning.
He shrugged as he loaded another bullet into his Nugget. "It's not too difficult," he informed the regenerating corpse. "Even if you stop time, you still have to move, after all. It's actually simpler to deal with than if you actually could teleport. Observe:"
The Gun Knight elegantly drew a small silk sack from out of his Ammo Pouch, and undid a drawstring. He reached into the bag and came out with a fistful of gritty, powdery dust. He threw it in a wide horizontal arc, scattering it into the air around the Dracula.
"I can process the battlefield in an instant. Even should you stop time, you'll leave a trail through the dust, which I can use to track you. You may have extra time to move, but with my brilliant skills of deduction, that will shrink to zero in no time flat."
The Dracula sneered at him. "So arrogant. So sure of your own victory, even in the face of the unstoppable. I suppose you imagine yourself some kind of HERO, don't you?"
The heroic Musashi preened, carefully adjusting his hair. "Well... your words, not mine." He advanced towards the Dracula, continuing to throw handfuls of dust into the air.
The Dracula hissed. "Your plan is useless! USELESS!" The diabolical fiend vanished once more, but brave Musashi was ready, and spun back, dodging two thrown knives and blocking a third with the butt of his rifle. He whirled about, halting as he turned to face the Dracula, who had moved behind him to the far side of the Plaza. Undeterred, the Gun Knight strode valiantly towards the fugitive, throwing dust all the while.
"A hero..." the Dracula spat. "Some hero you are. You've come to take my life, and for what crime? No crime beyond existing! Your precious empire calls me a MONSTER based on what I am? Tell me, Gun Knight, who is more monster, between you and I?" He snarled at Musashi, razor-sharp fangs flashing from beneath his twisted visage and glowing eyes.
"You, definitely." Musashi answered candidly. He gave a condescending shrug. "Goodness, you keep asking these simple-to-answer questions. A child could look at the two of us and know the answer." His gaze become suddenly serious, and he pointed accusingly at the Dracula. "But your ugliness is far more than skin-deep. I do have your dossier memorized, you know. All of your crimes, laid bare. Shall I recite it?"
He ran towards the Dracula and leapt up into a flying kick. The fugitive disappeared, and Musashi found himself hurtling towards danger: a thrown-together spear wall loomed before him, jagged wooden poles jammed into a pile of brick. However, the Gun Knight was expecting such trickery and slammed his rifle onto the ground to pivot around it, spinning with his back leg and destroying the makeshift palisade with a single mighty kick.
He landed gracefully amongst the splinters, and turned to face the Dracula once more.
"Diego Padavona. Unlicensed Dracula. Your most recent crime: the killing of four members of the Breadhollow City Watch."
"Ha!" the Dracula crowed, "four soldiers, out for blood. Four that I killed in self-defense, no less! They wanted to slaughter me for what I am! To cage me and imprison me!"
"Being a Dracula isn't a crime, you know. All you need do is register with the Empire. You understand why we can't let somebody with power like yours simply run around with no oversight."
The Dracula gave a dry chuckle. "I think you'll find that prisons of paper are far more effective than ones of iron. I refuse a chain of any make. Yet, when I wouldn't comply and enslave myself to your precious Empire, they decided it would be fit to end me. So I ended them instead."
He drew a set of knives from the depths of his coat and turned to face Musashi. "And that brings us to here. Strange how history repeats itself, isn't it?"
The Dracula disappeared, and Musashi's eyes watched the dust as it stirred. A trail: a disturbance in the ebb and flow, leading towards him. His peerless vision let him easily deduce the Dracula's path. But this pattern of disturbance meant that the Dracula had moved... all around him?
Musashi began to turn, as knives appeared in all directions around him, shooting in with deadly intent. He whirled into action, catching two from the air and jerking around to deflect another pair. He lifted his leg and leaned to one side, but even his admirable speed and indefatigable tenacity was not enough for the cowardly ploy of the Dracula. Musashi dodged one more knife, but the remaining five caught him, some bouncing off his breastplate while others stabbed into his stomach. Musashi bravely winced, clutching at his sides.
Diego laughed, but Musashi ignored the pain, gritting his teeth and pulling the knives out of his side before tossing them to the ground. Even with the supernatural strength of a Dracula behind the throw, the knives had not grevously wounded Musashi, whose skin was strengthened by the augmentations applied to every Gun Knight. Nevertheless, the pain was substantial. Yet our hero continued in spite of it.
"I think you'll find," he groaned out, "that I'm not so easy to kill."
The Dracula glared at the Gun Knight, frustration apparent on his monstrous face. Musashi drew himself up, and threw another handful of dust, as if in defiance.
"Besides," he continued, "that flimsy, self-serving excuse aside, killing the guards isn't your only crime."
"So desperate to have the last word," the fugitive laughed. He walked over to a knifesmith's cart and began rooting around in it, gathering up more blades. "Go ahead, then. Tell me what crimes I've committed, in the eyes of the Empire."
Musashi cleared his throat, and began counting off his fingers.
"Going back from the dead watchmen... you robbed the manor of a one Mr. Lucre."
"What a crime!" the Dracula retorted, laughing deeply. "Phil T. Lucre was a robber-baron. He may have called himself an 'honest merchant', but he was devious, deceptive, and unscrupulous in his dealings. His greed corrupted everything his grubby little hands could get a hold on. You say I stole from him? I say he stole from everybody else, growing rich in decadence, harvesting the fruits of everybody else's labor while he worked not at all! Is it a crime to rob a parasite? I say that my actions were in the interest of the greater good.
Musashi nodded, unimpressed by the Dracula's rant. He continued. "You committed tax fraud?"
Diego scoffed. "Second verse, same as the first, Gun Knight."
"You drained the Life from a schoolteacher?"
The Dracula slammed the knife he was holding into a cutting board, splitting it in half. "She deserved what she got! She was no paragon of virtue, no matter how much she led people to believe. She was a lecherous slattern, and cruel besides."
"And the child you killed?"
The Dracula stumbled a bit. "T-that kid was a dick. You don't know."
Musashi shook his head, taking a wide stance as he stared incredulously at the felon.
"Is that all? Are these the only crimes that have been laid before me?" The Dracula taunted, disaffected as he grabbed another knife from under the counter.
"Well..." Musashi considered. "Were you planning on paying for those knives?"
"FUCK YOU!" the Dracula roared. He snapped his hand out, throwing a knife at the Gun Knight. Musashi easily deflected it, and watched as the Dracula hurled a double-fistful of knives. However, their trajectory carried them harmlessly into the air above Musashi. He wondered briefly if rage had clouded the Dracula's aim, before the criminal disappeared and was suddenly in front of him, crouching low.
Musashi whipped his arms up, but not before the Dracula caught him in the stomach with a vicious uppercut that would have killed a lesser man in an instant. Even against the Great Musashi, the unnatural strength of the blow was enough to knock the wind from him as it hurtled him skywards, into the path of the oncoming blades.
The knives struck the Gun Knight. Most of them clattered off of the breastplate, but several found purchase, digging into his lower torso. The Gun Knight shielded his face with his arms, earning him a few glancing cuts. Borne by the force of the uppercut, the Gun Knight soared through the air, before crashing back to earth. He rolled, causing his knife-wounds to tear open further, and slid to a stop near a cart laden with cabbages.
Powder stirred through the air as Musashi lay securely on the ground, tactically planning his next move. He may have been giving the covert appearance of being disabled with pain, but in truth he was ready to spring up at a moment's notice. He pulled out one of the knives embedded in his hip, and grimaced, before tossing it aside. The Dracula was pacing slowly towards him, staying a good distance back, overcome as he surely was by Musashi's puissant aura.
The Gun Knight grabbed onto the edge of the cart, and started to pull himself up. He glanced over at the Dracula, who was now picking up speed in his advance, only to suddenly disappear once more. Musashi fell, suddenly, as the cart which was supporting his weight was instantly shifted over several feet. He turned as he fell, and saw the Dracula behind him, rearing back his leg to deliver a mighty kick.
Defiant, Musashi slammed his rifle down into the ground, halting his descent. The Dracula followed through with his kick, but when the blow passed through the space Musashi's head should have fallen, the Dracula met no resistance, and threw himself off balance. He wobbled, trying to recompose himself. Musashi seized the opportunity, and threw a handful of dust directly into the Dracula's face.
The Dracula reeled, putting himself even further off balance, which Musashi capitalized on with a spinning sweep kick. Diego fell, slamming his head into the flagstones of the plaza. Musashi used the momentum of his kick to spin to his feet, and continued the motion, swinging his rifle in a wide arc to bring it down on the Dracula's head.
The fugitive rolled to one side, avoiding the blow and threw two more blades towards Musashi's head. The Gun Knight arched backwards, narrowly dodging the knives as one cut a deep slash across his cheek. He flipped to his feet and turned, scanning the shifting dust clouds. The Dracula had fled to the left, and was crouched atop a nearby barrel, staring pensively at the Gun Knight.
Musashi felt at his cheek, panic entering him for the first time. The deep stab wounds on his torso were of no concern for the time being, but his face was another thing entirely. To mar his visage was a strike against the notion of beauty itself. He could not in good faith allow such a travesty to stand.
Musashi reached into one of his belt pouches, and grabbed the Potion of Life that Rathus had given him earlier. He glanced up at the Dracula, hesitating. What if the Dracula stopped time in order to grab the potion out of his hand? It was hard to defend against that sort of thing when you're incapable of movement. The Dracula could disarm him at any time, or stab him while he was helpless, or... Musashi frowned, but his thoughts were interrupted by the Dracula letting out a long 'aahhhh' as if he had either found something of interest or drank a cool, refreshing carbonated beverage. As the soda cart looked untouched, Musashi guessed that it was the former.
"That vial there... it's one of those Potions of Life, isn't it?" The Dracula asked, pointing out to Musashi. The Gun Knight closed his hand protectively around the vial, which elicited a laugh from the foul creature. "Impressive, isn't it? The Empire distills Life itself and hands it out to its soldiers. The ability to heal almost any wound. The elixir to turn back time itself."
"Time itself?" Musashi asked, furrowing his brow. "It's a healing potion, yes? There is no time travel involved."
Diego waved him off. "It does more than just heal, you fool. It is Life itself. Drinking from that vial will restore your youth." He cocked his head to one side. "It's such a shame they give you so little. I can't imagine that much Life would give you more than a month or two."
Musashi looked down at the vial, but said nothing.
"Of course, a month or two is an eternity with a job like yours, isn't it?" the Dracula laughed. "I, on the other hand, prefer to sample it from the source. You get much better returns." He smiled wickedly, baring his fangs as if to demonstrate.
Musashi was unmoved, and popped the vial open, quickly drinking it before tossing the container aside.
" 'Straight from the source', as if stealing Life from people is the same as sipping from a bottle. I suppose all of your victims have also secretly been criminals as well, yes? You'd make an inspiring Chuuni, if you entertain that level of delusion."
The fugitive shrugged. "If I have to get my hands dirty for eternal youth, I will. Any price is worth paying." He stood suddenly on the barrel, and tore off his shirt, revealing a ripped physique with such bespoke aesthetics that it would bring a tear to the eye of any bodybuilder.
"Behold! This is what my sins have wrought! Did you know that I was SIXTY before I turned? I could feel my body deteriorating a little more each day. I knew my end was coming. But I reached out, Gun Knight, and I REJECTED it! Look at me now."
He spread his arms wide, grinning with wild abandon as he continued to monologue. "I'm stronger than I EVER was in my prime! I'm young once more, and my youth and my power will continue until the last castle crumbles to dust, and beyond. The world will w- hang on a second." He paused his monologue, looking away as if to collect his thoughts while he held out a single hand, beseeching Musashi to stop.
"Why are you taking your clothes off?" the Dracula demanded.
Musashi looked up innocently at the Dracula, caught in the middle of unstrapping his breastplate. He paused for only a moment, before continuing to take the armor off.
"Are we not... I thought we were going to do a, you know, a pose-off sort of thing. We both whip out our biceps and see whose is bigger, yes?"
"What."
Musashi tore off his shirt and flexed as well, showing off his own impressive musculature in a Side Chest pose.
Rathus paused in his storytelling, glancing towards the station. For a moment there, it had sounded as if a train was coming in. Was he mistaken? There was no activity in the station itself. He leaned forward to peer at the rail bridge that lanced out over the lake, but there was no train visible for the entire length. Odd. He thought he'd heard a train whistle in the distance. Unless...
He glanced over at Ruth, who was bright red and moving her pen in a blinding flurry. He leaned a little closer and realized that the whistling sound was coming from her barely-opened mouth, originating as a high-pitched squeal somewhere in the back of her throat.
He wondered for a moment if he should stop and give her time to cool off, but one intense glance from the princess blasted him with enough raw killing intent that he involuntarily jerked back in his seat. He cleared his throat, and continued where he left off, momentarily shaken.
"So," Musashi asked, moving to a front double bicep pose, both arms curled over his head, "Are we doing this thing, or what?"
"What? No, that's... ugh..." The Dracula replied, staring down at the Gun Knight in pure jealousy, which an untrained eye might have mistaken for contempt. "You can't even let me have my monologue, can you?"
Musashi slowly lowered his arms and shook his head. He looked a bit taken aback as he stood in nothing but his belts, boots, and boxer shorts.
"Ah, my mistake. Please, continue. You were saying something about castles."
The Dracula gave Musashi a scathing glare, before he cleared his throat and continued. He stood atop the barrel, amidst the spiraling dust that Musashi continued to throw about, and pontificated down at the Gun Knight.
"You may call me a monster, but I wonder what choice you would make, if given the opportunity I was. Things start to seem less important once you feel the sting of time. I imagine you feel it more keenly than anybody else. Isn't that right, Gun Knight?"
Musashi was completely unaffected by the monster's taunts, and threw another handful of dust into the air. "I have no fear of the end. I shall earn immortality with my deeds. Bards will be singing my travels, poets will weep my name, for eons to come. Who will remember your name, in a hundred years?"
The Dracula laughed once, shaking his head. "I will. And I think you'll find that much more significant than living on in memory alone. In fifty years, when you are gone and dust, I will still be. In a hundred, when the poets screech out your name, I will laugh as I remember the young fool who once stood against me. In his underwear. In the middle of the street."
Musashi flexed once more, flashing the Dracula a Side Triceps pose, extending his arms down behind his back and clasping them, before twisting at the waist towards the fugitive.
"Yes, it's a look few can pull off, isn't it?" Musashi replied, smiling.
The Dracula sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "You think this is a game. Or perhaps even a joke." He pointed down at Musashi, who stared at him, his hurt expression showing plainly that he had not been joking in the slightest.
"You should not take me so lightly. The power of a Dracula is undeniable. Eternal life. Incredible strength and speed. I have the power to control the minds of the weak-willed. I can change shape. I can transform into seven bats, eight-and-a-half on a good day. You can bounce a coin off my abs. And of course," he grinned, "the power to stop time!"
Musashi yawned, and began to walk slowly towards the Dracula. "You know, you're not going to impress me by lying."
The Dracula snarled, and disappeared. Musashi began to turn, and the Dracula, who had predictably appeared behind him, swept his legs out from beneath him with a low kick. As the Gun Knight started to fall, and his legs lifted from the ground, the Dracula seized him by one knee, and swung him in a wide overhand arc to slam him face-first into the ground. Musashi struggled to recover his breath as the Dracula lifted and spun on the spot, hurling him headlong into the cabbage cart, which collapsed in a pile of timber and coleslaw.
"Did that feel like a lie to you, Gun Knight?" Diego growled. Musashi extricated himself from the wreckage of the cart, picking splinters from his hair, and wiping sourkraut from his shoulder.
"I should clarify," he explained calmly, "I don't doubt your strength. That much is apparent. I likewise have no reason to doubt your other abilities, save one."
"It's true," the Dracula interjected, "The Sharks would bounce coins off my six-pack as part of a drinking game. You can ask them."
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
"No, not that one. I'm saying you're not able to stop time."
The fugitive gaped at the Gun Knight, looking quite foolish. "You must not have been paying attention to the fight," he insisted.
"On the contrary," Musashi replied, rubbing his chin sagely, "I've been paying very close attention. You're very fond of throwing those knives about, aren't you?"
The Dracula glanced down at the knife, then back to the Gun Knight, clearly perplexed by the apparent non-sequitor. Musashi tossed a handful of dust off to the side, and elaborated.
"It seemed curious to me. Why, if you can stop time, do you not simply stab me in the throat and be done with it? I can't move when time is stopped so I am, of course, utterly helpless. It would be trivial."
The Gun Knight began to flank around the Dracula, walking a wide circle. He lifted the sack of powder he carried, letting it slowly spill out onto the ground, leaving a trail behind him as he walked.
"At first, I imagined that you were being sporting. I commended your sense of honor and fair play. But then you started setting up traps, and cruder attacks. Boiling oil, ambushes, things nobody with a shred of honor would do in a duel. It was apparent that you don't hold any special motivation towards truth, or dignity, or beauty."
Musashi pinched his brow, a display which mirrored the depth of his boundless deduction. The Dracula had yet to respond, in either word or action, and simply watched the Gun Knight carefully, trying and failing to disguise his anticipation from Musashi's keen eye.
"My next thought was that you perhaps simply hadn't thought of attacking me directly. But that seemed unlikely as well. If you had the foresight to go to all the trouble of setting up a spear trap, or to lift and throw an entire cart at me, why wouldn't you think of just stabbing me? Another insufficient explanation. Which means, of course, that the only explanation is that you CAN'T attack me directly when time is stopped."
He turned and grinned at the Dracula.
"Now why should that be the case, hmm?"
Diego growled and lunged for Musashi. The Gun Knight braced, winding up his rifle. He swung at the Dracula, who promptly disappeared, but Musashi continued the swing, spinning around to strike behind him. The Dracula, having predictably moved directly behind Musashi once more, was blindsided by the heroic Gun Knight's insight, and received a mighty blow across the side of the head. He went sprawling back, clutching at his face.
"You can leave traps with no issues. You can throw knives such that they might hit me when time resumes. You can even reposition yourself to ambush me. But you can't attack me directly during stopped time. I also can't help but notice that you move much further when you do something simple like throwing a knife, compared to when you take the time to set up an elaborate ambush. You're limited in how long you can remain in stopped time, as well."
Musashi swung his rifle down at the Dracula, who blocked it with his arm. The Dracula countered, swiping with a drawn knife, and Musashi stepped back, spinning the rifle like a baton to knock aside the blow with the barrel.
"It also takes you a few moments between stopping time. Something of a cooldown, you might say. In fact, that recharge time seems to be getting a bit longer each time you use it."
The Dracula did not respond with words, but drew another knife and lunged for the Gun Knight. Musashi nimbly backflipped out of the way, landing on top of a barrel a few feet away. He hopped and shoved the barrel with his foot, sending it rolling dangerously towards the Dracula. The monster barely paid it any mind, swinging with one arm to rend it in half in a single blow. Salted fish spilled out onto the street, and the fugitive stepped over it, towards the Gun Knight.
"It's certainly peculiar, as far as Dracula abilities go. But it does remind me of something else. Something I read quite recently, in fact. There's a Star Magic spell called quite simply, 'Time Stop.' Kind of bland, is it not? Were it me, I would have given it a more poetic name, like 'The World Held Still' or 'The March of Time Postponed'. But I digress. It has the same qualities as your own supposed ability. It's very powerful, to be sure, but limited in that you cannot directly interact with or harm somebody else while in stopped time. But you're not a Dessite, and I haven't seen you cast any spells."
Diego growled and disappeared from view. Musashi ducked two thrown knives, and whirled around, ready to block the Dracula. The Dracula feinted with a kick, and before Musashi could respond, whirled around to strike Musashi from an unprotected angle, punting him up into a lightpost. The metal bent from the impact, the light at the top shaking. Musashi slid down the length of the pole, using one hand to slow his descent long enough to get his feet under him.
The brave warrior coughed once, wiping a bit of blood from his mouth, and continued, undeterred.
"That reminds me of something I noticed when I was investigating your dossier. That merchant you robbed. He gave us a list of the things you had stolen, but the report noted that he was acting cagey. Almost as if there was something he wasn't telling us. The investigators suspected he might have been complicit, perhaps, but thinking about it now, it's possible there was something stolen that he didn't want us to know he had in the first place."
Musashi pointed at the Dracula.
"An Artifact capable of casting Time Stop is extremely rare, and extremely powerful. That class of Artifact has to be registered with the Empire, and you need special approval to own or use one. That's what you stole from the Merchant. That's what you've been using this entire time. Your power to stop time is no special ability of your own. It's just a trinket. Quite literally stolen power."
Diego's face contorted in fury, and he vanished once more. A cloud of knives appeared around Musashi, who merely smiled, as he had expected this outcome. The handsome Gun Knight stepped against the pole and hauled himself up, out of harms way. He swung and landed atop the lightpost, staring down at the foul beast while striking a daring pose.
"I tire of these games, Gun Knight! I've heard enough of your 'observations' and ''theories'. I've had enough of your self-righteous attitude," the Dracula coughed, choking on a cloud of the dust which by this point filled the entire plaza. "AND I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS FUCKING DUST!"
Musashi, in response, upended the sack, pouring the last bit of dust directly on top of the Dracula. The Dracula began to sputter in outrage.
The Gun Knight grinned. "Well, you won't have to worry about it much longer. The fight will be over soon." He pointed languidly down at the Dracula. "An Artifact as powerful as that drains Mana like nothing else. As a matter of fact, by my calculations, you probably only have enough Mana left for a single cast."
The Dracula's eyes went wide with fear, and he reached into his jacket, pulling out an intricate golden stopwatch. A deep groove encircled the face of the watch, and a line of glowing silver light filled the groove, starting from the 12 o'clock position, and spiraling counterclockwise up to the 7 o'clock position. It was still a little under half-full. The Dracula shot a triumphant look up to the lamppost, only to find that the Gun Knight was missing from his perch.
"Fool." Musashi laughed, lunging past him to seize the pocket watch.
"NO!" Diego called out. As Musashi yanked on the chain of the watch, the colors around the pair suddenly distorted and inverted briefly, before returning to normal, although with a somewhat saturated hue. Musashi glanced around. The clouds of dust had frozen in their movement. A bird high above was frozen in flight. The Dracula had dragged him into stopped time with him.
Musashi glanced at the watch's face. The hour, minute, and second-hand were all frozen in position. However, a fourth hand, a short gold hand, was spinning freely, moving much faster than the second hand. It looked ready to make a full circuit in perhaps half a minute. Musashi had neither the time nor the curiosity to determine the exact duration.
The Gun Knight yanked on the chain. The watch slipped from the Dracula's fingers for a moment, but he quickly reached out to catch hold of it. Musashi winced. He'd hoped the effect might end for the Dracula as soon as he let go, but it looked like it was not to be. However, that was —in a way— good news.
The Gun Knight lifted the rifle and aimed it point-blank at the Dracula's face. He pulled the trigger, and the rifle fired. The Dracula winced back in anticipation. The pair glanced down to see the bullet hanging in midair, frozen in a cloud of fire as soon as it left the gun's barrel.
"Idiot," the Dracula taunted. "You just finished going on about how the spell works, and you think it'd let you shoot a gun?"
"It was well-worth the effort," Musashi grinned. He let go of the watch, and began sprinting away. The Dracula watched, perplexed, as Musashi leapt onto a cart, then up onto the top of a building.
The Dracula carefully stepped out of the way of the shot, shaking his head at the Gun Knight.
"I haven't been able to understand a damn thing about this fight," he groaned. "You strip down to your underwear. You go on about how my powers work as if you're assured victory, even though you have no counter. And you keep throwing dust everywhere. If you wanted to piss me off you're doing a fine job, but you should know by now that you can't take me down. Have you finally decided to flee?"
Musashi grinned a smile down at the Dracula. "Not exactly. I just wanted to get out of the blast radius."
"What?"
"Did you think I was truly trying to hit you with that shot?" Musashi asked, gesturing to the bullet hanging in the air. "Did you never stop to ask yourself, 'Why is this Gun Knight filling the plaza with some mysterious powder?' Did you never pause to consider exactly why a Gun Knight might have a bag of powder, or what that powder might be?"
The Dracula paused, scrunching up his nose as his mind worked. He looked down at his hand, covered in the powder, and rubbed it between two fingers. Course, gritty. He sniffed it. A faint tang to it, along with a hint of... rotten eggs? His pulse might have quickened, if Draculas still have working hearts, I'm not sure. He whipped his head up to stare at the Gun Knight in horror.
"And," Musashi continued, smiling triumphantly as he stood atop the building, his arms crossed over his chest, "did you not wonder why I had not fired my gun in such a long time, where I had no such compunctions prior?"
The Dracula glanced over at the bullet. At the billowing flames surrounding it, the muzzle flash frozen in midair.
"This is... gunpowder." He stared at his golden watch, as the golden hand swung past the 11 mark.
Musashi shot a finger-gun to the fugitive. "Kaboom."
Time resumed, and the Dracula had time only to take a single step before the world around him erupted into fire, as the delayed blast from the rifle triggered a runaway dust explosion.
Musashi made sure to turn his back, so that the explosion framed his silhouette perfectly. He posed dramatically as the smoke billowed up behind him, hoping that somewhere an artist was watching and capturing his majesty. 'Ah, wait,' he realized, his triumphant smile flickering for a moment, 'my clothes were down there.'
He moved to the edge of the building, watching as the inferno that had consumed the plaza slowly abated. The remainder of the stalls in the center were gently burning. Thankfully the buildings on the edge were only slightly seared, even if most of the windows had been blown inwards. The Gun Knight glanced to where the Dracula had been, to find a smoking, charred lump of flesh, that was slowly knitting back together.
He leapt down into the plaza, and walked to the fallen creature. The golden stopwatch sat nearby, immaculate, and unaffected by the conflagration. The lump of flesh extended a short, stubby protuberence towards the Artifact. Musashi stepped on the limb, and calmly picked up the watch. The Dracula stared up at the Gun Knight with one malformed eye.
"H-how," a gutteral voice gasped, a wet, choking noise. "How could you defeat me?"
The Gun Knight smiled triumphantly down at the fugitive, placing his hands on his hips.
"Don't you know who I am?" He asked.
"I'm the one and only Musashi. I'm a god-damned Hero."
The sky lit up behind Musashi, as several streets away, Kugelblitz fired her Specialty into the air. the Dracula stared with one trembling eye, taking in the majesty of the hero before him, before it was all too much, and he collapsed into unconsciousness, his body slowly repairing itself.
"Mission accomplished."
Rathus pushed his cup to the side of the table and finished off the last bite of the sandwich he had ordered, a simple roast beef and Gruyere sandwich with a truffle aioli. Ruth was silent, but the rapid markings of her pen drowned out all other sounds as it raced across the page.
"Amazing," she whispered. She finished writing one last word, lifting her pen from the page with a wide flourish, and letting it slip from her fingers. Rathus glanced at the pen as it clattered and bounced across the table, the tip smoking slightly.
"That was... truly remarkable, Rathus. I cannot thank you enough for sharing this tale. It has a little bit of everything! Action, adventure, romance..."
"I don't think it had any of that," Rathus replied bluntly.
"You need to learn to read subtext, dear Rathus." Ruth chirped. "I shall take your story, and from its bones, I will craft the greatest tale I've written to date!"
Rathus sighed. "I'd prefer if you could keep the story with as few bones as possible, if ya follow my drift."
Ruth giggled into her tea, and waved him off. "Oh, Rathus! Don't be vulgar." She took a sip of her tea, and quietly murmured. "That's my job."
"Excuse me?"
"Don't worry about it," she replied, blasé. The Gun Knight sighed harder, and finished off his coffee. He set the cup down with a clatter, and spread his hands, making an obvious appeal to the princess.
"Look, I know that you've got your, ah, whole style, but would you mind at least trying to keep things accurate? I think it stands pretty well on its own, without any sort of... extra plots, or embellishments and th'like."
Ruth gave him a smile, warm and sympathetic. It was, Rathus noted, the same sort of look that a store clerk might give you when you arrive 5 minutes after closing, and the doors are locked. You know they have the keys, and you just need to run in and out real quick, you're sorry you arrived late. But they just stand there sweeping and giving you that look. A look full of sympathy for your plight, but a wholehearted refusal to change anything about the situation. A look of inevitability, of futility.
"Rathus," she said quietly, "it's not a matter of 'want' or 'choice'. I can no more cage the lion of artistry in my heart than I could stop the rising tide with a bucket."
"Yeah," Rathus sighed, resigned to his fate, "I kind of figured you'd say something like that."
"But rest assured, Rathus," she continued, "your good name will remain intact. It wouldn't do for me to smear you when you've so kindly shared the tale. In fact, you may find yourself with some of Musashi's own fame! Wouldn't that be an experience?"
Rathus pondered whether the life of a celebrity was something he wanted. The context of his fame would also be something to consider. Ruth sorted out her journal, and continued on.
"I'll have to give this a few revisions, then I can contact a publisher. There's quite a few printers about who will produce work for members of the Guild."
"Guild?" Rathus arched an eyebrow. "Which Guild are you referrin' to?"
Ruth reached into the front of her dress and pulled out a small, laminated membership card. She handed it to the Gun Knight. In neat calligraphy, it declared the bearer to be 'Rose Accel', a neophyte member of The Guild of the Guns and the Roses.
"The Guild of the Guns and the Roses?" he read. He searched his memory, but surprisingly came up completely blank. "I can't say I've heard of it before. What sort of Guild is it?"
Ruth sniffed haughtily, and turned away from the Gun Knight, furtively stowing the card back from wherever she had pulled it. "It's a group of aspiring young authors, bound together with a common passion, and a singular shared vision."
She took a sip from her tea, while Rathus scratched his cheek.
"Writing smut about Musashi?" he ventured.
The princess sprayed tea across the table. Her well-trained Noble reflexes kicked in, and her handkerchief blurred up to interrupt the flow, pressing firmly against her mouth. She dabbed at her face as she gave the Gun Knight a reproaching glare, her cheeks turning crimson.
"No!" she protested, "It's hardly so simple, or so trite, Rathus! There is some smut, yes, but many more legitimate stories!" She calmed herself, looking around to see if anybody had noticed her outburst. Thankfully, the crowds had mostly cleared out by this point. "And it's not just about Musashi, either. He is a popular subject, of course, but we write about all manner of things. Stories about Gun Knights, about Adventurers, or Nobility, or some combination of the above. Of course, there are also historical fiction, and some completely original works, to boot."
Rathus nodded, processing this information. Something she had said stood out to him. "Hold on a second, Gun Knights? So it ain't just Musashi, but a whole bunch of Gun Knights?"
Ruth nodded sagely. "They're powerful, ostensibly heroic, and a not-insignificant amount are attractive. It's a popular subject."
Rathus wiped his mouth with a napkin. "So you're saying there might already be, ah, stories written about me?"
The princess laughed. "That's rather presumptuous of you, isn't it?" She tapped a fingernail on her journal. "Pending work aside, I can't say that I've heard of any."
Rathus looked away, simultaneously relieved yet somehow disappointed, like somebody who had gotten last place in an unexpected 'Worst Costume' contest at a convention.
"Then again," Ruth continued, "I don't admit to knowing every single work that's been written. The assassin knew of you, though, so you must have SOME sort of reputation. To imagine that the Duskstrider herself would know your name... "
" 'The Duskstrider herself'?" He frowned, remembering the Chuuni assassin who had ambushed them in the woods ten chapters ago. "Is she actually famous? I had kind of assumed she was just buyin' her own bullshit, sort of thing."
Ruth stared into the distance, misty-eyed. "Well, I'll admit I'd never heard of her prior, but with a name like 'The Duskstrider', she MUST be famous, yes?"
"Ah," Rathus said dryly, "Of course."
"I suppose I'll have to ask Slash about it. Her knowledge of the fine arts is unrivaled. I'm sure she'd know if there are any stories written about you."
"I'd appreciate that," Rathus said. "I don't know if I particularly care to read them for my own enjoyment, but it'd be good to know the sorta things people are saying about me. If your friend's able to make a list, I might look into it."
"Oh my goodness!' Ruth protested, "I would never presume to call Queen Slash a friend! She's the Guild president! I may be a princess, but in the world of writing, parentage and social status is irrelevant! I'm only a neophyte member; I don't even have an official badge! There's rules to these sort of things, Rathus! I wouldn't dare to ask her directly. I'd have to put in an official request for her time."
Ruth leaned back into his chair. "Well, only if it wouldn't be any trouble. Keep it up, though. I expect you'll move up in the rankings in no time. You've clearly got a passion for, ah, the arts."
A waiter stopped by, taking their plates, and refilling each of their cups with their drink of choice. Rathus tossed him a silver Lods coin, and tipped his hat. The Gun Knight blew on his coffee, and took a sip.
"Queen Slash is an interestin' name for a writer. I assume it's a handle, right? Like 'Rose Accel' might be a handle?"
Ruth blushed. "Y-yes, Guild members all have their own handles. It helps to keep equality between members and uh, is a reflection of ones own personal identity, as well."
"Makes sense. She an adventurer or something?"
The princess fidgeted, looking away from his politely curious gaze.
"Uh, n-no. 'Slash' is a term used in writing. It doesn't have to do with adventuring, or fighting in general."
Rathus nodded, oblivious to her discomfort. "What's it mean, as a term?"
Ruth cleared her throat and looked around nervously. Then she told him. The Gun Knight stared off in the distance and took a drink of his coffee.
"Ah," he remarked. "Of course."
A silence hung between the pair, interrupted only by the gentle waves of the lake, and the beginning chorus of crickets as the summer afternoon slowly gave way to evening.
"So," Ruth asked, opening the journal. She looked up Rathus, fixing him with a hungry stare."What happens next?"
The Gun Knight shrugged. "That's about it, more or less. We rounded up the rest of the gangers, and gave them to the city watch. Met up with Musashi, who had taken the Dracula into custody. Vyaz had been looking for them, but considerin' they booked it damn near halfway across the city, he only found them once the explosion went off. I could run you through it all if y'want, but it's mostly busywork."
Ruth shook her head. "No, it's best to end things on a high note. Nobody wants to read a story about people making small-talk or dealing with bureaucracy, after all." She tapped the pen on the page. "I'll figure out a good denouement and write it in, don't you worry."
Rathus ignored the sinking feeling in his gut as the princess jotted a few things into her journal. After a few moments, she closed it and set it aside, turning her attention to her tea. She lifted the cup, cradling it in both hands as she absorbed the moment. She looked over to the train station, which was now devoid of people. Even the most desperate train-goers had thrown in the towel by this point.
"It's eerie," she said quietly, "to see a place normally flush with people so empty. I don't quite know how to describe it."
"Kenopsia," Rathus replied, absentmindedly. Ruth looked at him in puzzlement.
"Hmm?"
"It's a term for that feeling. Just somethin' I picked up somewhere." He took a drink from his coffee, and looked back to the train station as well.
"So... train station's gonna be out of commission for a couple of weeks, sounds like. Guess that means we'd be best served headed back by wagon," he suggested.
Ruth let out a disgusted gasp.
"Rathus, I must wholeheartedly refuse to ever travel by wagon again, unless I've no other choice. It's a singularly unpleasant way to travel. It's bumpy, it's slow, and the wood managed to give me splinters even through the cushions. It is wholly lacking in adventurous spirit, and devoid of any romantic notions. If I MUST travel by road, I'd prefer it be on the back of a noble steed, my hair blowing in the summer breeze."
Rathus jerked his thumb in the direction of their hotel room. "If that's your speed, then you'll probably be wanting to travel a lot lighter. Any steed, noble or not, is gonna struggle with all those bags you're carting along."
Ruth crossed her arms. "I'm not leaving my luggage, Rathus. We can wait until the trains are back up."
Rathus rolled his eyes. "We can rent a coach then, if you want to foot the bill. You can travel in comfort and style, and we can take all your luggage along. It'll still be faster than the train, anyhow."
"Look," she said, pushing her tea to the side, "you and I both know that the train station in Denning is down. If expediency were our only goal, that would still mean we would need to ride to the next station beyond Denning, whatever that would be. Do you know how long that would take on an overland journey?"
Rathus closed his eyes, recalling a map of the area, and doing some quick math.
"Well, if we're traveling by coach, that'd be... about six days, if we keep a brisk pace. Maybe up to eight or nine if we go slower.
"Right," the princess replied, "So the train station may have already been fixed by the time we get there, making the whole journey pointless."
"Or the train station might not be fixed for another eight days, or more," Rathus replied. "You shouldn't always trust an optimistic repair estimate when it comes to time. I know it seems counter-intuitive, but the roads are likely the fastest route"
"Perhaps," Ruth shrugged. "If speed were the only consideration, then that might be a gamble worth taking. However, the two methods of travel are not equivalent, not in the ways that matter." She gave him a coy smirk, indicating an invisible option with one hand. "On the one hand, six to nine days of travel, but travel on the open road. Making camp. Sleeping in shifts. Eating trail rations. All the while, having to worry about skulking assassins or ravening beasts in the dark."
Rathus crossed his arms. "I'm a Gun Knight. I ain't really bothered by that sort of stuff."
"Indeed," Ruth capitulated, "but I am extremely bothered by those things. And you must travel with me, and be party to my complaints."
The Gun Knight was unimpressed. "Are you trying to threaten me with whining, pri- Rose?"
"Not at all. I've merely accepted that if that is the future to be, then my incessant complaints are also an inevitability. I'm a surly Noble child, after all. It's like as not in my nature to complain about such things."
Rathus stared at her, his expression hard.
"Or," Ruth continued, shifting her hands over to a second option. "We wait in town. Yes, perhaps, if things go poorly, we may be delayed by a few days or up to a week, as you said, but the chance remains that it we may arrive faster than if we had gone by road. What's more, we will wait in luxury. A comfortable Inn, good food, and a lot more security. I'll foot the bill for amenities, of course."
Rathus worked his jaw, his steadfast facade slipping as he considered it.
"Plus, you can go visit that brothel. I'm sure they'd be happy to see you, and I'm sure traveling has built up certain—"
"I ain't interested in that." Rathus replied suddenly, cutting her off. His expression hardened, and and the princess quickly changed tack.
"W-well, there's likely a great many things you could do. If we travel by road, we'd be spending the entire day doing nothing but riding. But if we wait for the train, you have any number of things to do. You can do more exercising. You can assist the citizens of the empire with any variety of odd jobs, I'm sure. Hunting monsters, or tracking down brigands, things like that."
Rathus considered it. There had been a few meaningful requests among the list he'd received from the guard post. Still, there was another problem with waiting.
"Y'know, there's a pretty good chance this town'll be attacked by Rebels in the next few days. Staying would put you in harm's way. Better to steer clear of that mess altogether.
Ruth gave him a disappointed glare. "You're a Knight of the Empire, are you not? 'Steer clear'? Isn't defending the people of the Empire your entire purpose?"
Rathus sighed. "Of course it is. But right now my main purpose is getting you home safely. Besides, there's plenty of Imperial soldiers here, and competent Adventurers as well. We met one earlier, remember?"
"And you're content entrusting Adventurers with the defense of the city?" Ruth asked dubiously.
"Good point. I take it back," Rathus admitted, "Still, there are the soldiers. And Miss Seiryoku did mention seeing another Gun Knight in town."
"She did, didn't she?" Ruth mused, "I wonder if it's anybody you know."
Rathus shrugged. "Could be. I know a lot of Gun Knights, but there's more that I've never met. There's a good number of us, y'know."
The princess leaned forward, eyes glowing. "Do you think... it might be Musashi?" she asked, her voice a hush.
Rathus chuckled. "I suppose it's possible. Unlikely, though. You'd think she would've mentioned him by name, were that the case. He's 'The Great Musashi' after all, right? Seems more important than just 'A Gun Knight'."
Ruth gave an emphatic grunt of agreement, and the Gun Knight sipped his coffee. He stared into the distance, beyond Ruth, his expression shifting. "Of course," he continued, a little louder, "if it WERE Musashi, that'd settle th'argument. We'd definitely have to stay in town."
"Hmm?" Ruth blinked at the Gun Knight's proclamation. Her expression shifted, taking on an almost cat-like intensity, her pupils widening a bit as she cocked her head.
"Hmmmmm?"
Rathus said nothing, sipping his coffee in silence.
"We would HAVE TO stay?" She said, trying to keep her voice calm. "What does that mean? A need to see Musashi? Is there... something I should know?"
"Well," Rathus replied, "More a need to ensure the town's safety. Musashi's good on the assault, but if he were in charge of defending the town, I'd be more worried than if he weren't there t'begin with."
Ruth's face fell, and she began to scowl at the Gun Knight.
"Now hold on just a moment! You've just finished telling a tale of Musashi's valor, and you're already back to badmouthing him? You can't just—"
"No, no," Musashi interrupted her, "he's right. I wouldn't trust me to defend a city on my own either."
"Hmm?" Ruth asked. She turned around to face the man who had walked up on the table. Musashi stood there, carrying a travel-sack, his long black hair tied back in a ponytail. He smirked at the princess as her eyes widened, and shot her a single wink.
"Oh, hello. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance in person," Ruth said calmly, before she slowly slid from her seat and collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.
Musashi looked unsurprised, smiling down at the princess's catatonic form with the vaguely interested expression of one to whom this reaction was an amusing, if relatively common event.
Rathus glanced around the table to make sure Ruth hadn't hit her head on the way down, then tipped his hat, giving a lazy salute to his friend and comrade.
"Long time no see."