“I can't wait until I'm back in the palace, where I can eat some proper food, ” Ruth complained morosely. She was seated, curled up on the edge of the cart, watching as Rathus cooked over the fire. The two had pulled off the road for a bit to break for lunch. The Gun Knight was currently squatting by a fire pit, and cutting shallots into a cast-iron skillet in which a pat of butter was melting.

“We'll be there soon," he said, “It was nice of the village to pack us some supplies.” He reached into the wicker basket next to him and pulled out a few slabs of meat, wrapped in butcher paper. Using his fingernail, he cracked the wax seal, which melted and hissed as the Mandate keeping the package cold was violated. He unwrapped the steaks and dropped them into the rippling-hot pan.

“I'm glad I was able to restock on rosemary. My travel rations were running low.” He reached over and stirred the copper pot next to the skillet, which contained a wild mushroom pilaf. He sliced a few pieces off one of the freshly-plucked sourdough loaves the village had given them, and set them in the skillet to fry.

Ruth sighed. “Well, it's part of the adventure, right?” She asked, somewhat wearily. She looked over the canvas bag next to her, and reached out, pulling the green-covered journal from it. She flipped through, to the last line she had written. “Speaking of adventure, what happened after you, Grimm, and Musashi went to see the contact?”

Rathus glanced up at her, flipping the steaks with a pair of novelty tongs in the shape of a gun. “Hm? Ah, right. So, we had arrived at Woodrow's place. Basically an underground fighting ring.”

Ruth nodded. "So, what happened next?" She clicked her pen while Rathus prodded at the skillet. After a time, he opened his mouth, and began to speak.

Agatha Grimm led the pair of young Gun Knights past the crowd gathered around the cage. Musashi stood on tiptoes as he passed, trying to see around the crowd at the fight currently underway. A mighty bellow erupted from the cage, and one of the fighters was thrown bodily up against the cage, near the roof. The fence rattled as he slammed into it, and he pinwheeled as he fell back to the floor, dropping the plumber's wrench he held in his panic. The crowd erupted, some cheering, others cringing with pain either felt in sympathy, or felt in the betting cards they had clutched in their hands.

"Come along now," Captain Grimm said, waving her hands to recapture the attention of the two Imperial Knights. She led them over to a man seated at a table. The man was wearing a deep red shirt, loosely laced and hanging open about his chest. His arms were spread across the back of his chair, wiry, but full of strength, like a steel cable under tension. They were the sunburnt sort of tan that comes from a hard day's work, and on each one rested a young woman. Rathus blinked in surprise as he realized that both of the women had animal ears. The man laughed and gestured towards the table with his nose. The woman on his right, a short redhead with dog-like ears, reached down and picked up a rocks glass from the table, full of a deep red liquor. She inserted a plastic straw into it, the sort with a series of loops along its course, and lifted it to the man's lips. The man smiled as he leaned forwards. He began to take a sip of his drink, but stopped abruptly once he locked eyes with Grimm.

Woodrow shrugged his shoulders, extricating himself from his companions as they stood up. He reached up and looked at Agatha over his sunglasses, and shot her a broad smile that made Rathus instantly uncomfortable. It felt at once like the man was about to try to sell him a horse of questionable quality.

"Aggie!" the man said, his voice sickly-sweet and uncomfortably friendly. He spread his arms wide, as if to embrace her. "To what the fuck do I owe the pleasure?"

"We're looking for somebody," Agatha said. "An unregistered Dracula came into town recently. We need some information."

Woodrow sighed as his company decided to leave him to his business, and departed. He reached for them, longingly. "Don't take too long, Woodie!" one of them teased, a white-haired woman with rabbit ears. Musashi and Rathus watched them as they departed, before Rathus turned back to the man at the table.

The informant shrugged, his face going dour. He stirred his drink with the crazy straw. The ice clinked quietly against the glass. "Aggie. Baby. Look. I already gave you guys my report just last week, didn't I? Everything I know is in there. I don't know if you want me to repeat myself or what, but I'll have you know that I put a lot of sweat and blood into those reports. You're wounding me here. If you're gonna come into my place and tell me that I'm holding something back from the Empire, then I —"

Grimm tossed a small sack onto the table. It rang with the sound of filthy lucre as it landed, interrupting Woodrow's impassioned speech. He stared down at it silently for a moment, before taking his sunglasses off. He swept the bag of coins from the table as he stood, and gestured to Captain Grimm with a jerk of his head, towards the back of the building.

"We can talk in my office," He said amiably. His voice carried none of the saccharine greasiness it had held prior, and he spoke instead in a business-like, mellow tone. "Your boys can wait out here. I'll have Fredo get them some drinks. What do you boys want?"

Musashi opened his mouth to say something, tearing his eyes away from the two Walpurgis women who had been sitting with Woodrow prior. "Drinks won't be necessary," Agatha replied curtly. "But thank you." Woodrow looked over to the Gun Knights for confirmation, pointing at them casually. Musashi closed his mouth and looked sympathetically at the man, giving him a resigned shrug. Rathus cautiously gave him a nod back, not really sure how to respond.

"Suit yourself," he replied. "Let's see what I can gather up for you, Ag- Captain Grimm."

Grimm followed behind him as he led the way to his office. She turned briefly to stare down the two Gun Knights.

"Remember, stay out of trouble," She warned.

"Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on Rathus, Captain," Musashi assured her, giving a thumbs up. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"He's not the one I'm worried about. Remember, try not to damage our reputation." She held two fingers up to her eyes, then pointed them at the pair, which was probably meant to indicate that she would use her eye lasers to murder them if they did not comply.

Rathus gave her a quick salute as she entered the office behind Woodrow. He stood at attention and scanned the room, rigid as a board. Musashi was considerably more relaxed, as he stared from one person to the other.

"So," Musashi said, after a time, "do you think those were actually Walpurgis, or do you think it was just a Glamour?"

Rathus turned to look at him, caught off guard. "Huh?" He asked. "You mean, the women who were with our contact?"

Musashi nodded. "Apparently it's pretty popular right now, to Glamour yourself up with animal ears and such."

Rathus shrugged. "I don't know if I could tell the difference between a Walpurg and somebody with a Glamour."

"It gets a lot easier if you get to know them better," Musashi said, grinning.

Rathus nodded. "Yeah, I guess you could just ask them."

Musashi stared at Rathus for a second, blinking. "Well... yes, I guess that works too."

The pair stood in silence for a bit. Rathus shifted, wondering whether it'd be alright for him to sit down. Then again, the stone floor was making a particular sticky sucking noise as he lifted his boots from it, and he wasn't sure whether he'd be able to find a seat that wasn't also coated in some unidentifiable sticky film. Even the air felt a little greasy. He was simultaneously reminded of the training gyms in his old Monastery, and the kitchen of the Gun Knight training camp, with its massive pots and fryers enough to feed an army. The heavy scent of sweat, blood, grease, alcohol and vomit filled him with a deep, nostalgic sort of revulsion. The sort of feeling one gets when they see the face of somebody they love to complain about. The pair sat in silence for a moment, before Musashi matter-of-factly handed Rathus an open beer bottle that he had somehow procured in the last few moments.

"Hold this for me, would you? I'm going to see where the signups for the cage match are." He flipped his coat out with a flourish and sauntered towards the ring.

Rathus stammered a bit as he followed after him. He set the beer down carefully on a table. There were no coasters, so he put it on the head of passed-out bargoer.

"Hang on a second!" he called out to his brother-in-arms. "Captain Grimm said not to get into trouble."

Musashi continued walking, but glanced back at him, curiously. "I'm not going to get into trouble. If you recall, Captain Grimm gave us explicit instructions to 'ensure the reputation of the Imperial Knights', yes?" The Gun Knight gestured around him, to the hulking sailors and workers gathered at the tables ringside. "These people are the salt of the earth. There's nothing that will earn their respect faster than a good fight."

Rathus cocked an eyebrow at his friend, as the younger Gun Knight sighted a man who looked like he was in charge of the fights: a tall, muscular man with a shaved head and a tattoo of a boat with breasts on his back.

"Hang on a second, Musashi," Rathus called after him, his crisp military demeanor slipping as he fretted. "Don't think I can't see that grin on your face! You can talk about 'earning respect' all you want, but I can tell you just want to get into a tussle. Ain't you being too self-indulgent?"

Musashi slowed in his walk slightly, cocking his head to the side in thought, before he picked his pace back up.

"... They respect self-indulgence too," he replied simply. Rathus followed after him, trying to talk him down as Musashi spoke to the ringleader. The man laughed and clapped Musashi on the back, before opening the cage door and ushering him in. Rathus moved to the door, but the brawny man closed it before he could reach. The Gun Knight banged on the cyclone fencing that separated the ring from the rest of the room.

"MUSASHI!" he shouted. "This is a BAD idea!" He watched as Musashi paced the room a bit, before grabbing a long wooden staff from a rack of weapons being carted into the center of the ring by the white-haired woman the pair had seen prior. She twitched her long ears at the crowd as they cheered, giving them a wide smile as Musashi gave the staff an experimental whirl.

The woman took a few steps away from the cart, and, as if to answer Musashi's earlier question, dropped into a crouch. Her lower legs rippled and shifted, a wave of white fur sprouting from her knees and traveling down, transforming her lower legs into a human-sized pair of rabbit hindquarters. She snapped upright, leaping into the air, as the fur rippled away to reveal her human legs once more. As Rathus watched, mouth agape, she rocketed towards the ceiling of the cage, nearly scraping her ears on the top. She reached out and grabbed hold of a short rope, attached to a pulley at the top of the ring, and hung there. She waved to the crowd and posed, drinking in their drunken cheers.

Rathus shook his head in surprise. He couldn't think of any Glamour that would let you jump 15 feet in the air, so that about narrowed it down. He'd never seen an actual Walpurg before, so he did his best not to stare; for that, and a number of other reasons.

With a grin, the Walpurg reached out and grabbed the object that sat at the end of the rope, a long metal rod with a ball on one end, and brought it up to her mouth.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" she shouted into the microphone. Her voice echoed across the room, magically amplified. "We have a new challenger!" Amidst the roaring of the crowd, she descended back into the ring, lowered by a pair of men who fed more rope into the pulley. She landed and gestured to Musashi, who gave a practiced wave to the crowd.

"For the first time in our humble establishment's history, an Imperial Gun Knight is here to take on any comers in the ring~!" Her announcement was met with a chorus of mixed shouts. Most of the crowd booed or hissed, but a few cheered; although it wasn't clear whether they did so out of genuine support, or whether they were simply a few mugs into things and just happy to be there.

The woman settled the crowd with a gentle ushering of her hand. "Now, I know a lot of you don't care much for the Empire, or its knights, but wait until you hear this! He's calling to fight four people at once! So, if you've got a bone to pick with the Empire, here's your chance to get a couple hits in against one of their finest, pyon~!"

The crowd erupted into a cheer at that, and before long, a spirited discussion had formed about who would get first crack at this interloper. "So, who will face our challenger?" She paused, and held the microphone away from her face as he leaned down to Musashi. "Er, what'd you say your name was, kid?"

Musashi held his hand out, and the announcer smirked before she handed him the mic. He stared down the crowd and grinned a smile as he issued his challenge. As he spoke, the selected four challengers entered the ring. A massive man wearing a welding mask, chains wrapped from hand to elbow. An orcish woman holding a sledgehammer. A lanky, rat-like man with a large sack full of what looked like bricks. Finally, a bearded man in sailor garb, holding nothing but a bottle half-full of whiskey. Musashi nodded to them, appraising them, before he turned to address the crowd.

"Send me your best fighters, so that you can watch them fall before me. I am Musashi. Remember the name."

Ruth let out a quiet exhalation of breath. "Wow..." she whispered. "That's a great line. I have to remember that." She squealed and hugged the journal to her chest, taking care to avoid smearing the ink. Rathus pushed around the pilaf on his plate, soaking up some of the steak's spilled juices before he took a bite. Ruth had already finished her plate, surprising Rathus with her ambidextrous ability to continue writing even while taking a bite and (somehow) even while cutting her steak.

"He was so amazing, even back then," she cooed. "You're beyond lucky to have known him, Rathus." She looked to the Gun Knight with genuine envy. He simply shrugged back at her. She flipped through her journal, double-checking the last few pages she had written.

"So," the Princess said at last, "what happened next?"

Rathus looked at her, and chewed his steak methodically. He seemed to belabor the chewing a bit, savoring it as if he was lost in thought. Eventually, he finished his bite, and spoke.

"Well," he replied, "next... they beat the everloving shit out of him."

Musashi spun the staff as the announcer left the ring with the weapon cart, and the microphone lifted back out of reach. He gave a cocky smirk to his opponents as he entered a low crouch. The bell rang out, and the four charged at Musashi. He spun back, flipping on the staff, as the Orcish woman met him first, slamming the sledgehammer hard into the ground where he had previously stood. The Gun Knight ducked under a wild horizontal swing from her, and jabbed out, catching her in the throat while she was off balance. She choked and grabbed at her throat in alarm, reeling back.

Musashi leaned to his left, narrowly evading a hurled brick. The massive man lunged for him, punching with one chain-laden haymaker. The sledgehammerer regained her composure, rubbing at her throat, while the sailor circled around to get behind the Gun Knight. Musashi ducked under the haymaker, and as the man followed up with a two-handed slam, the Knight slammed the staff on the ground to boost himself, sliding between the massive man's legs.

As he cleared the gap, the Gun Knight turned the staff sideways and yanked it hard, catching both of the man's shins at once. Musashi stood up with a surge of movement, jerking the staff and sending his opponent reeling forwards into the ground. He spun the staff, deflecting another thrown brick, as the Orc woman swung the sledgehammer at him in a controlled upward swing. He ducked out of its way, and she turned the swing into a hook, reaching out and catching his staff with the head of her hammer. Musashi clucked his tongue in disappointment, but released the staff with one hand to slide it out of the hammer's grip. He spun as he pulled it, and delivered a chop to the side of his opponent's face. She jerked and growled, before sticking her leg out in his path.

Musashi stumbled for a moment, but turned it into a forwards roll, which he sprang from to deliver a mighty uppercut to the Sailor, who went sprawling back and slammed into cage with a rattle. The sailor slumped down the side, dazed.

Musashi spun the staff and held it behind his back with one hand as he thumbed his nose with the other.

"One down," he taunted, "three to go."

The man in the welding mask bellowed at him, and started swirling his arms in small circling loops. He threw a wild swing at Musashi, and as Rathus watched, the chain began to unloop slightly from the man's fist. At first, it was an extra length of chain about the width of a fist, but as Musashi dodged and weaved the man's furious blows, the chain became more and more unwound, until the already massive man's reach was extended by a good 3 feet. Musashi dodged a diagonal two-handed swing by the man, leaping into the air and twisting to squeeze into the gap between the two chains. As he landed, a brick hit him in the side of the head, knocking him slightly off balance. He reached up to his cheek in surprise, before the masked man lashed him once, twice, across the chest with the chains.

Musashi dropped and rolled backwards out of the man's reach, retreating into the corner of the cage. He looked no worse for wear, showing no sign of injury save for an irritated glare of injured pride. He glanced behind himself at the cyclone fence, then back at the chained man, who lowered his head and charged the Gun Knight. Musashi kicked off of the sides of the wall, springing up and above the man as he slammed into the corner. Musashi dropped behind him, landing in a crouch. The Gun Knight quickly grabbed the chains that were dangling on the ground and hauled them up between the man's legs. He twisted the chains around his staff with a quick spin, and as the man struggled clumsily to turn, Musashi slammed the staff through one wall of fencing, and then the other, pinning his opponent in the corner.

The man struggled with his impromptu bindings, caught up in his own chains. Musashi smiled at the Orc woman and held up two fingers. He walked back towards the center of the ring, working the crowd as he stepped to his opponent. He dodged a few of swings of the sledgehammer and the crowd began to cheer, before he suddenly spun and caught something from the air. The Sailor had regained his feet, and had hurled the whiskey bottle.

Musashi grinned and winked at the man, before pulling out the cork with his teeth and spitting it at him. The Gun Knight took a drink of the liquor, quickly lowering the bottle as the sledgehammerer charged him. He dodged to one side, looking for where the cork had run to, which unfortunately brought him right into the path of his last opponent. Musashi whirled around as he tried to dodge the man's attack, but his opponent swung his sack of bricks in a mighty overhand swing, hitting Musashi like... well, you get the picture.

The Gun Knight sprawled onto the ground, grunting breathlessly in pain as the wind was knocked out of him. He lay there for no more than a moment before he pushed himself up and rose to his feet, staggering slightly. As he pulled himself upright, he looked up just in time to see the Orc woman swing her sledgehammer down at him in a vicious strike. The blow caught him square in the top of the head, slamming him into the ground so forcefully that the fence around the ring shook with the impact. The Gun Knight lay still on the ground. The Orc woman readied her weapon, waiting for him to rise again.

As the Gun Knight lay still, the crowd started muttering to themselves, and some started heading for the door, not inclined to stick around for when reinforcements showed up. The Orc woman looked down at Musashi, cringing nervously. She gestured meaninglessly to the tattooed man, unsure of what to do, or what the penalty for accidentally killing an Imperial Knight might be. As the chained man extricated himself and walked up, Musashi stirred, before suddenly springing to his hands and knees. With a mighty shout, he tackled the woman, driving her to the ground as he mounted her and started punching her in the face, over and over. Blood trickled down his face from his hairline as he continued his assault.

The sailor rushed over and swung at Musashi's face, catching him and knocking him off balance. Musashi leaned backwards and rolled to his feet. He lunged for the sailor, grabbing the larger man by the shoulders and wrestling with him. The chain-man whipped at his back with the chains, and Musashi roared with anger, bodily lifting the sailor and tossing him aside. The Gun Knight turned to go after the masked man, who swung low, tangling up Musashi's legs. As the Gun Knight wheeled his arms to keep balance, the massive man hauled back and spun on his heels, lifting Musashi into the air and hurling him into the wall. He slid down the cyclone fencing, groaning with pain. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

Musashi tried to right himself, but was caught in the face by one brick, then a second. He gripped the fencing and had just managed to pull himself to his feet when the sailor slammed into him from behind. Musashi turned and held up his arms, blocking the first two of the Sailor's frenzied punches, but taking one to the gut, and one across his left cheek. The sailor reared back and delivered a crushing headbutt to Musashi, which had the reverse effect, only causing the Gun Knight to jerk back in surprise, but making the sailor himself stagger and clutch his head. Musashi chuckled briefly, before the lanky man slammed him with the sack of bricks once more, pounding him into the ground.

The Gun Knight sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain as he tried to rise. The lanky man turned and upended the bag on top of him, half-burying him in a heavy pile of bricks. As Musashi struggled to free himself, his opponents wasted no time in executing the oldest, most perfected, and most puissant combat strategy known to humanity. Namely, they grouped up around him and started kicking him while he was down. The sledgehammerer rose, her face bruised and puffy, and joined in with the others in the kicking.

After a minute or two of this, the ringleader finally rang the bell, signaling the end of the match. Musashi dragged himself to his feet, bruised and disheveled, while the crowd hooted and laughed. The Gun Knight flushed as he limped to the exit, and made his way over to Rathus, sitting at the small table the older Knight had found.

"You alright?" Rathus asked, eyeing Musashi's battered face. The younger Gun Knight scoffed and tried his best to act nonchalant, although it mostly came across as bitter.

"This? No, I'm fine. A healing potion will clear it up." Musashi reached into his belt and pulled out a small crystal phial, which was filled with an ounce or two of a red liquid. He removed the crystal stopper and tilted the tiny container into his mouth. Sure enough, his wounds began to repair themselves. "I'm glad that they didn't break any bones, at least," he mused, spitting blood onto the floor. He leaned back and glared at the ring as the announcer returned, waving to the crowd

"If that had been a gunfight, that would have gone down way differently," he declared. Rathus nodded slowly, but said nothing.

"Ooh, that was embarrassing~" the Walpurgis announcer cried into the microphone, making a show of shaking her arms in sympathetic shame. "Guess the little guy bit off more than he could chew! Chalk one up for the home team."

Musashi watched her bitterly, and as she continued her spiel, he spoke to Rathus, without taking his eyes from the ring.

"You have to go next, Rathus," he said. "We can't let them make a mockery of the Imperial Knights."

Rathus had his doubts as to where the responsibility for the fight lay, but he didn't think that was the sort of thing his friend needed to hear right now. He shook his head. "If you can't beat them, I don't see what good I'd be. I mean, we joined at the same time, and you graduated training three years ahead of me, I-"

Musashi waved him away. "In an all-or-nothing fight, it'd be no contest, sure," he said dismissively. "But you trained in that martial art, right? At a monastery and everything. I don't know if you kept it up after I left, but when I was in training with you, at least, you were always the best at hand-to-hand combat. I know how to hold my own if I have to, but with your fancy moves, you can probably wipe the floor with anybody here."

Rathus opened and closed his mouth a few times, grappling with something in his head before he spoke.

"Puroreso is a noble art, it's not meant to be used to get into bar-room fights. It's the art of using your own strength against your opponent, it isn't right to..." Rathus trailed off, looking at his battered brother-in-arms, and back at the office door. He looked at the crowd, the jeering faces, and the rolling eyes as people leaned in to make comments to their friends. His Master had warned him against glory-seeking, but it wasn't his own glory he was hoping to preserve, here. He sighed. "Alright. I think... I think I'll give them a show."

Musashi grinned at him as Rathus rose, and folded his coat over the back of his chair. "Watch my things," he instructed Musashi, as he took off his belt and set it carefully on the table. Musashi saluted him as he headed towards the tattooed man from before.

"May the Emperor's Will guide you, Rathus!" He shouted over the din.

Rathus walked up to the man, and tapped him on the shoulder. The ringleader turned and gave him a dubious look. "I want a turn in the ring, too," Rathus said. The ringleader chuckled at him as he wiped blood from the staff Musashi had been using with a dirty rag.

"Yeah?" he asked. "You gonna get kicked around by 4 people at once, too?" He laughed at his own joke as Rathus looked over the crowd. The Gun Knight said nothing, silently listening as his eyes flickered from person to person. He screwed up his expression as he worked through the arithmetic in his head. When no answer from the Gun Knight was forthcoming, the ringleader shrugged and grabbed the clipboard with the fight roster on it. Finally, Rathus nodded, and spoke up.

"Eight people," he said matter-of-factly.

The ringleader stopped and turned to him. He laughed, although his face indicated that he didn't think it was very funny. He walked up to Rathus, stepping until his chest was practically touching the Gun Knight's. He stared Rathus in the eyes. "You trying to joke around, buddy?"

Rathus shook his head. "No joke. I'll even bet on my victory to prove I'm serious."

The man rolled his eyes, until the Knight held up a gold coin, which glinted in the flickering lights of the bar. The man stared at the golden Dosh coin Rathus held in his hand and gulped. He looked doubtfully at the Gun Knight. "Eight people?" Rathus only gave him a single, assured nod in response.

The tattooed man considered it, then sighed, and gave a shrug. "Fine. Your funeral. Go ahead and pick out your weapon. We'll even let you pick one of the deluxe ones." He jerked a thumb to a rack of high quality clubs, hammers, whips, and even a pickaxe. Rathus scrutinized them for a bit, lifting each in turn and examining their weight and composition. He rejected each in turn, before he turned and walked about the bar. He sighted what he was after, and walked over to a man who was seated near the ring. Rathus explained something to the man, who stared at him until Rathus repeated himself. Perplexed, the man stood up, laughing, as Rathus collected his weapon and walked into the ring.

Rathus returned to the ring, doing his best to ignore the piteous look from the ringleader as he held the door open. The Walpurgis announcer eyed him with a contemptious smirk, as the four fighters from last time entered the ring after him, along with four new ones. The announcer leaned over to whisper to him.

"You Gun Knights are all really eager to get yourselves hurt, aren't you? What's your name?"

Rathus gave her a knowing smirk, and brought his weapon to bear.

"My name," he said, lifting his folding metal chair into a combat position, "is Rathus McGaff."