[The camera follows the rising sun as it crests over the hill and settles on a humble town. Truck-kun is parked behind the inn and beside Gabriel and Morden’s window. Al, the bluebird, flies out of Truck-kun’s glove box and perches on its cab.]

“Would you look at that… Another glorious morn—hegh!” Al covered its beak in another coughing fit. 

Truck-kun roused. It hadn’t slept that well in too long… Not since the nights spent in Joe’s driveway.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine, Truck-dude. Something about this air doesn’t agree with me… Or maybe it's the people… Could also be the lack of indoor plumbing.”

Truck-kun looked at the quiet town and sighed. “Either way, we won’t be staying here long.”

Just then, Morden hung his head out the window. “Good news! My maester sent a messenger for us.”

Morden, Gabriel, and a newcomer walked out of the inn and around the side of the building. Morden waved as they approached. 

“Here they are. Now, as I said, any message my maester has for me, you can tell our whole group.”

The ragged messenger squinted at Truck-kun, then at all, and then squinted at Truck-kun again. 

“This is a fellow knight?”

Gabriel nodded. “Yes. Truck-kun is a valiant warrior. He helped us escape from the ancient forest and escorted us here.”

“A knight, you say?”

“That’s what I said.”

The messenger relaxed his eyes, then squinted in scrutiny again. “It’s just… You could fit a whole horse in there.”

“Three hundred horses,” Truck-kun rumbled. 

The messenger scoffed and chuckled. “How do you fit so many horses in there?” He elbowed Morden. “Three hundred horses. Hah!”

Morden rubbed his shoulder. “Yes, well… What message did my maester have for us?”

The messenger rubbed the back of his next anxiously. “See, there’s just one problem. The maester put a spell on me. I can’t relay the message unless I’ve been drinking.”

Morden shook his head. “What in the world?? Why would he do that? What did he—did he put a geas on you?”

“Geas. Yep, that’s the one. He, uh, said it would keep me from telling the message to anyone that I wasn’t supposed to. ‘Cause I need to be in town.”

Morden paused in consideration. Meanwhile, Al flitted to Gabriel’s shoulder and whispered something to the knight. Both Gabriel and Al covered their mouths. It sounded to Truck-kun like they were chuckling about something. 

Finally, Morden threw up his hands in defeat. “Let’s hurry up and go to the pub then!”

~

[Truck-kun, Gabriel, Morden, Al, and the messenger congregate in front of the town’s small tavern. The three humans go inside to speak to the barkeep. Only a few other townfolk are seen entering and leaving the tavern.

[A few minutes later, the three men come back outside, bearing mugs of ale in each hand.]

Gabriel smiled. “The tavern might not be big enough for you, my shiny friend, but we brought the tavern to you.”

Truck-kun shifted idly. “I don’t drink. My engine isn’t made for it. But I will keep you company while you do.”

Gabriel frowned, then quickly added, “That’s alright. The company we keep is more important.”

The messenger, Dahvid, toasted to Truck-kun. The innkeeper brought out a small table, and the group set their mugs down. 

[The group chats while they drink. Morden tentatively sips at his ale and listens eagerly to news about the maester’s tower. Dahvid explains that as he drinks, the geas should slowly loosen until he can finally relay the message.

[Eventually, the conversation turns toward Gabriel and Morden’s journey to get herbs from the ancient forest, to meeting Truck-kun and Al, and to their journey to this town. Meanwhile, Al had his own mug and is sitting on the rim, leaning over to drink from it. 

[Dahvid listens to their stories, chiming in to offer his disbelief and anecdotes of his own journey. Noon is soon upon them and the sun begins to crest overhead.]

Morden took a swig from his mug. It had warmed in the sun, but after half a mug, he didn’t mind so much. “So, what news do you have from my—our—maester?”

The messenger took a long draw from his own mug, then smiled wide. “I can’t relay the message unless I’ve been drinking a little more.”

~

[The group continues drinking into the afternoon to loosen the geas on Dahvid’s tongue. As the day draws on, the knight, Gabriel, is the only one still completely in control of his faculties. He doesn’t sway and doesn’t slur. Morden, on the other hand, smiles liberally and sloshes his mug often. Al, meanwhile, has fallen into his mug several times, and even once used it like a birdbath. 

[Truck-kun keeps close watch on its companions, more out of curiosity than worry. 

[The messenger, Dahvid, goes on about working conditions in the tower.]

“You see, your boss—as much as I like him—is like a dragon. He’s just hoarding all the magic for himself. It’s not trickling down like they say, and if something is trickling down, it ain’t magic!” Dahvid wiped his mouth on his sleeve. 

Two young men stumbled out of the tavern. The taller and meaner of the two looked Truck-kun’s group up and down. His shirt and trousers were stained with soot, and the smell of coal and steel lingered on him. 

Truck-kun recognized a man looking for a fight. 

“Look at ‘em. Outsiders.” He spat on the ground. “Drinking our ale.”

Al croaked, “Your broads, too—hiccup!” 

“What was that? Was that your square-looking horse?”

Gabriel set down his drink. “It was our bird. And he is no horse. He is a fellow knight.”

“Knight, hah! Should’ve recognized the shoddy workmanship on his armor. I should know! I’m the best blacksmith’s apprentice in town.”

Truck-kun suspected the man was the only blacksmith apprentice in such a small town, but the warrior knew better than to antagonize a drunk.

The blacksmith’s apprentice stumbled forward and put a hand on Truck-kun’s engine grill. “You’re nothing without me, you know that? Little man under all that armor. Knights aren’t all that tough.”

A small crowd had gathered on the street, looking at the sight outside the tavern with a mix of expressions. Most seemed eager to see a fight.

Morden stepped forward on unsteady legs. “Hey! That’s a friend of a wizard you’re talking to.”

Gabriel grabbed Morden’s shoulder to steady him. “Now there. Truck-kun can take care of himself.”

The blacksmith apprentice snorted and shoved Truck-kun’s front end. It sounded like he put great effort into it, though Truck-kun barely swayed. 

Still, something echoed through Truck-kun’s frame. 

[Cue stylized view of Truck-kun transforming from its normal truck form to its truck warrior form.]

Truck-kun’s frame and wheelbase shifted. Its wheels rearranged beneath it like feet and hips. Its cab rose, and turned into a torse. Its storage box unfolded, sheathing its limbs in armor plates. In a second, Truck-kun towered over its allies and the gathering crowd. 

Truck-kun was even taller than the tavern. 

The blacksmith’s apprentice looked up at its new form and swallowed cautiously. “Knights… Knights aren’t all that tough!”

Al peeked up from the inside of his mug. His feathers were covered in foamy ale. “Kick his ass, Truck-dude. Just maybe don’t hit him hard. He’s not a dire bear!”

“I’ll show you!” The blacksmith’s apprentice hauled back and punched Truck-kun’s metal shin. The clang echoed across the road. Several gasps followed, one of which came from the apprentice. 

The man clutched his hand, stifled a few curses and failed to stifle even more. 

The crowd grew tense. Several people half-heartedly shouted for a fight, but their cheers died out when the apprentice could barely stand up straight. Truck-kun felt the smallest bit of guilt that the man had broken his hand. 

[The crowd parts as an old woman walks through. She hobbles forward with a cane and looks upon the scene with terrible scrutiny.]

She smacked the apprentice in the hamstrings with her cane. “What are you doing drinking and picking fights when you’re supposed to be working? Go on, get!”

As they trudged off, defeated, she turned to Truck-kun. “And you… you, knight… Shame on you for picking on someone so young and dumb. You should know your tenets better. With great enormity comes great restraint… Something like that.”

The town elder continued mumbling to herself as she walked off. The rest of the crowd thankfully followed. 

“Well done—hic—Truck-dude! You didn’t kill that guy!” Al gave an unsteady salute with his wing before diving back into his mug of ale. 

Gabriel, Morden, and the messenger, Dahvid, clinked the mugs together while Truck-kun transformed back. 

“Hey,” Morden said Dahvid. “You still haven’t told us my maester’s message.”

“Oh yeah. He won’t be at his tower. He’s going straight to the final battle. Wants you to bring the herbs straight there.”

Gabriel shook his head. “The final battle. Morden, what does that mean?”

Morden’s eyes were wide with shock. “It can only mean one thing. The final battle is at hand.”

Al’s voice echoed from inside the mug. “With who?!”

“With the evil lich, Gormangach.”

Gabriel and Truck-kun glanced at each other. Gabriel shrugged. “We will help in any way that we can.”

Morden leaned heavy on the table, then suddenly turned to the messenger. “What spell did you say the maester used on you again? The one where we had to get you drunk?”

“I didn’t.”

“it’s just that when a geas or similar spell ends, usually anyone nearby can feel a disturbance in the air, like a cold breeze or… What a second! You aren’t under a spell, are you? You just tricked us into getting you drunk.”

The messenger smiled slyly. “Hey, you guys were going on about horses and knights. Good joke, right?”

Morden was flabbergasted. 

Gabriel chuckled and held out his mug in a toast. “Morden, my young man, in this business, you take the respite that you can.”

~ ~ ~