Disclaimer: I do not own Fable III or any of the Characters or Stories. I DO own my own creations and stories. So do not steal. If you do, you will spontaneously combust and I will laugh at the ashes of your remains.

I really need to put that in my Profile so I don't have to keep spelling it out.

Hello everyone, it's DuskStarDragon again and I'm here with a one shot story. I just needed to take a break from my other stories and do something a little bit more fun. I wasn't planning on doing anything for Fable III, but this story just popped into my head. Depending on if I like doing this or how well people respond to it, I might just do a collection of these.

This is a story about the young Prince (whom I call Alastair) with his dog, Rook and his days in Brightwall before he became its Hero. He's just trying to earn some money so he can buy the appropriate items for his Mercenary disguise. Of course since he's never earned a gold coin in his life, he's finding it rather difficult…

Leave a review if you wish. I'll thank you in my current Fable II story, In the Shadow of the Mask, when I update.


Attack of the Perfect Pies

"I'm sorry but I don't be needing your kind of help," the shopkeeper shooed him out the door.

"I was… I just wanted to…," Alastair tried to explain as he was forced out the door.

"I understand that you're looking to earn some money," the shopkeeper stopped at the door, "But you would be better off begging."

SLAM… he nearly slammed the door in his face.

He stood there for a moment, not really knowing what to do. He didn't think that he did that bad of a job. Sure he knocked over a few manikins and put the wrong shirts with the wrong pants. And sure he marked down the wrong price on most of the items. And he did spill ink all over the most expensive outfit in the shop.

"I suppose I should be lucky that he didn't charge me for it," he turned to his dog.

The dog stood up and lazily stretched with a big yawn.

"Not interested in my problems I see," he sighed, "Not they're your problems anyway. What do you say Rook?" he stretched himself; "You want to head up the Academy and get some rest for the night?"

He playful bow and gave a sharp bark.

"I'll take that as a yes," he laughed to himself, "You know," they both started to walk up the cobble stone street to the Academy, "You're going to have starting putting something into these conversations. I just can't keep doing all the talking. People might think that I'm talking to myself."

He did notice a few people staring at him as he talked to his dog. It really didn't matter. He stood out anyway. His clothes were a tad too regal, as Walter had put it. The Dweller outfit that he bought for his meeting with Sabine was okay, but impractical for the streets of Brightwall.

"Though… I think I would stand out more than I already do," he spoke to his dog like he knew what he was thinking.

Rook only cocked his head in confusion at his words.

"Oh well," he shrugged his shoulders.

The rest of their walk was uneventful. People politely nodded their heads and greeted the pair with a "good evening" or "nice night". A few beggars sat on the side of the street asking for alms. The young Prince turned his eyes away from them. It wasn't that they were repulsive or horrid, but he couldn't give them anything. It's not that he didn't have money. He managed to save a little from the assortment of odd jobs that he'd done around town, but he needed the money. He needed every gold piece he could save. It was for the good of all if he could fulfill his quest as soon as possible. Right?

"Ah, good evening young Prince and furry friend," Samuel greeted the pair as the Prince pushed the heavy oak doors closed.

"You can call me Alastair," he smiled as he came up to the librarian's desk, "It would probably be for the better," he hinted that he didn't want his brother's soldiers to find out where he was.

"Oh yes… terribly sorry your highness… I mean Alastair," Samuel corrected himself, "I pray that your job at Frou Frou Frocks went well?"

"If you mean that I'm not welcomed back, then yes," Alastair could only smile at his complete failure to earn money.

"I see," Samuel understood, "I suppose you will want to wake early again and try your luck elsewhere in town?"

The Prince sighed, "What else can I do? I need the money, but I've been to just about every shop in town and been kicked out of each one. I don't know what else to do," he looked up at the aging librarian.

"Well…," he thought for a moment, "I might have something for you… but I have to check with someone first. If you can wait until the morning, I will see what I can do for you."

"Thank you so much Samuel," Alastair grabbed his hand and shook it, "It means a lot to me. I don't know how I can repay you for all the kindness you've given me and Rook."

"Well," Samuel wasn't sure what to say, "I only pray that you will be able to restore Brightwall Academy to its former glory… the way your Mother had intended it to be…"

"I will," Alastair let go of his hand, "You will see the day when this Academy will have people learning once."

This made the old Librarian smile, "I certainly will enjoy that day. As for now, you best get some rest, you and your furry companion. I will inform you of what I have found in the morning after you wake."

"Thank you," he thanked him again, "I don't know if I'll be able to sleep."

"Do try," Samuel came around the desk, "I will see you in the morning. Goodnight your Highness."

"Goodnight Samuel," Alastair bid him farewell.

The Prince could barely sleep that night in the former dormitories. He was lucky that Samuel was letting him stay at the Academy. He could have stayed at the Sanctuary, but he always had strange dreams whenever he slept there. Strange visions of a past that was not his danced about his head when he lay his head there to rest. At least at the Academy, he had a roof over his head and he didn't have to pay. He didn't realize it, but soon he fell asleep.

The next morning…

"She can be a little harsh," Samuel warned Alastair as they walked down the cobble stone street, "So it's best to turn the other cheek. Oh," something else came to mind, "Call her Mama Rita… she rather hates being called ma'am or madam."

"I'll make sure to be as polite as possible," Alastair assured him.

"Oh good," Samuel nodded his head, "Her stall is just down this way."

It wasn't too far from the Academy where they were going. It was a set the circle where several stalls were set up. The furniture and clothing shops were also located there. The vendors were already calling out about their goods and their low prices. They each tried to get Samuel and the Prince to buy something, but they just politely said they weren't interested.

"Ah," Samuel stopped in front of an empty stall, "She should be here any moment."

"What exactly does Mama Rita sell?" Alastair asked.

"Well… she makes pies and sells them to passersby and the local pub," Samuel explained, "I hope that you don't mind working as a pastry chef young Prince."

He was about to correct him, but Samuel had found him a job, so he let it side.

"Oh Samuel!" a woman's voice came from behind them, "Is this the little roller that you promised me?"

Alastair turned around to find a rather large woman carrying several baskets overflowing with all sorts of fruits, eggs, milk and flour. Her cheeks were redder than any apple that he had ever seen. The smile on her faced went from ear to ear. Her makeup was a tad to overdone, but who was he to say if it was. She dressed in a similar fashion that most of the women in Brightwall did, save for the fact that her dress seemed to show more of her curves and she certainly had many of those.

"He is a little cutie pie," she set down her things on the wooden stall, "Let me take a good look at you," she smiled as circled him, "Oh his is a cute one," she came back around him, "Good strong arms too," she picked one of his arms and released it, "And a face as sweet as a cherub. I like he'll do just fine."

"He's a hard worker," Samuel promised her, "He will try his hardest."

"I know he'll do fine," she smiled, "Now young man what is your name?"

"Alastair and this is Rook," he gave her a small bow.

Her cheeks turned a brighter shade of red, "Oh now, you don't have to be acting so polite. I'm just a humble pie maker. Tell me, do you have any experience making pies?"

"Well," he thought back to when he and his mother would sneak into the kitchen late at night and make all sorts of delicious things, "I did it when I was little."

"Oh good," she smiled, "You never forget how to make a good pie. Now come along," she shooed him behind the counter, "We have a long day ahead of us. Don't worry Samuel; I'll take care of both of them."

"Please do," Samuel nodded his head, "I'll come by later to see how things are doing."

"Goodbye Samuel," Rita waved.

"Thank you Samuel," the Prince waved as well.

Samuel walked back up to the Academy to do whatever it was that he did there.

"Alright my little cutie pie," she started to unpack her baskets, "I'm going to be making the fillings and you'll be making crusts. I've already made some dough, you just have to rolled them out and place them in the pans and once I've filled them, you put the top crust on. Then once we have enough, I'll take them to be baked."

"Sounds easy enough," Alastair nodded his head.

"Oh it's a little bit more difficult than you think," her voice chimed.

As she pulled out several round bundles, she started to explain all the problems that could occur while rolling out dough. He never knew that rolling dough could be so complicated.

"Did you get all that?" she asked as she handed him a rolling pin.

"Um… yeah," he answered in an unsure tone.

"Good," she started to peel some green apples, "Well go on and start rolling so we can get this pies going."

He reached over, grabbed a chuck of dough and threw it on the lightly floured counter. Now a little worried, he carefully started to roll it flat. He rolled and rolled until it was just right. Mama Rita looked over and complimented his natural rolling abilities. He blushed, but continued to roll. People would stop by and look at the pies being made, but they weren't buying. She was getting a little down, until Rook decided to entertain the people with his antics and tricks. More and more people gathered and started to buy pies. By noon all the pies were bought up and the stall had to be close for awhile.

"What a good day," Mama Rita wiped her brow, "And might I say that you made the most lovely of pies. I've never seen such wonderful dough work. You should really think about doing this for a living."

"Ah… well," Alastair scratched his head, "I really…"

"I know, I know," she smiled, "Young men like you want to go off into the world," she sighed, "I'll be back in just a little bit. I'm going to go and check on the pies in the over back home. Can you stay here and watch the stall? I won't be long."

"Alright," he wiped his own brow, "You won't mind if I sit, do you?"

She smiled, "Go on my dear. You deserve a little rest. I'll bring back something to eat for the both of you."

"Thank you Mama Rita," he sat down on the ground next to the stand.

She gave one more smile and was off down the street to check on her pies. Rook laid down next to him and gave a big yawn.

"Now don't be… Yawn… be doing that," Alastair couldn't help but yawn.

He leaned his head up against the wooden stall and closed his eyes. Surely there would be no harm in doing that. The world started to flicker in and out as he closed his eyes. The calls of the vendors faded and everything drew quickly.

"AAAAGGGGG!" someone screamed awoke the sleeping Hero.

He quickly shot up from his slumber. Looking around, he tried to find the source of the screaming. His dog was already up and the fur on his back stood straight on end. The vendors were gone from their stalls and all the doors were closed.

"RUN!" the beggar from the other day ran down the street.

"What? What is going on? Who is attacking?" Alastair looked to see who was chasing him.

"PIES! The pies are coming!" he continued to run.

"Pies," he looked down to Rook.

He didn't seem to play much mind to him. The dog just stood there growling and barking at where the beggar ran from.

"AAAAGGGGG!" another scream came up from the Academy.

"Come on boy!" he drew his sword, "Let's go check it out!"

They ran up the street towards the commotion.

A woman with red stains on her dress ran up to him, "Please good sir! They are attacking my husband!"

"Who is?" he asked.

"The… the…," she stuttered.

"Who?" he asked one more time.

"Them!" she pointed up at an object flying towards them.

It was round and about the size of a platter.

"Is… is that a…," Alastair cocked his head in disbelief.

"A PIE!" the woman ran off.

The flying bakery good noticed the frantic woman escape and changed its direction.

"No you don't!" he jumped in its path.

He could now see in detail the creature he was about to fight. Its main body seemed to be made up of the pie tin, while the face was the crust. Two slits formed the eyes and another was its nose. A crack in the crust formed its mouth and the rigid cut made it look like it had sharp teeth that could tear through any flesh. It opened its mouth and Alastair could see that it was full of cherry filling.

"HAHAHAHA!" it laughed manically as it approached him.

He swung his sword, but it hover just out of reach. It continued to laugh as he repeatedly missed. He gritted his teeth as he gripped his sword tighter. He swung one more time and made contact. Right down the middle his sword cut through both pie and tin. It hung for a moment in the air, and then suddenly turned on its side. Two halves started to laugh at him now. He had only doubled his trouble. The pie halves now flew about his head. They rammed into him, covering him in their devious, but delicious filling. Rook tried his best to grab the pie halves, but they were just out of reach. Alastair was growing tired of this hit and run tactic.

Summoning the fire within himself, he felt the heat built up in his gauntlet. Waiting for them to move into position, Alastair held onto the fire.

"There!" they moved into the right place.

The energy released from his body and shot forth from his hands. The fire surrounded him in a massive flame. The smoke and fire cleared. The pie halves laid at his feet; charred and no longer laughing.

"That… that was strange," he looked to Rook.

Rook only sniffed the burned pies and started to lap up the untouched filling.

"Really?" Alastair shook his head.

"AAAGGGG!" several more screams were coming from the town square.

Alastair gritted his teeth, "Save you appetite boy. I think there's going to be more pie than you can handle."

He gave one bark and started to run towards the screams. Alastair was right on his tail. Several people ran passed him as he made his way to the square. Some were covered in blood and filling, while others were just in horror to what they were witnessing. He finally came over the bridge to the square. He couldn't believe his eyes.

Pies… twenty or so, were flying around the square attacking the citizens of Brightwall. People lay on the ground, large gaping wound torn into their bodies. Their red blood was flowing out and draining into small creek that ran through town. It was a horror scene that only the most twisted of imaginations could make up. The pies noticed the Hero's entrance. They flew towards him. Their mouths opened, blood and filling dripping out, they wanted fresh flesh.

He brought up his sword, but thought for a moment. No, the sword only made it worse. It was fire that seemed to work the best. He once again summoned the fire with in and held it until they drew close. Five of them came close enough; he released his spell. They burned to a cinder and flew to the ground. The other pies, seeing their flaky comrades toasted; held their position.

"What a naughty little boy you are," a familiar voice rang through the air.

Turning around, he came face to face with Mama Rita. She had a sour look on her face. Her eyes seemed to glow red. She also seemed much rounder than before.

"Now why would you go and destroy such perfectly good pies?" she asked as she took a step back.

"They're killing people!" Alistair yelled at her.

"My children are hungry," a smile came to her face, "Don't my children deserve to eat? They will be oh so delicious after they've eaten a little more. Don't you want people enjoy the fruits of your labor? You did make all of them after all."

"You're insane," Alastair shook his head.

"No," she grew bigger and bigger, "I'm just a humble pie maker."

BOOM! She exploded. Her clothes rained down onto the Hero and his dog. He covered his eyes, but quickly opened them. There floated before him the biggest pie he had ever seen. It was about as big as a water wheel. And just like the little pies, it had two slits for eyes and a cracked mouth.

"I'm boysenberry filled just so you know," the pie sounded like Mama Rita, "Come my children!" she called, "Eat this Hero and claim his Will as your own."

What was left of the monster pies flew at him; their mouths dripping with filling in anticipation of their delightful meal. He stood his ground and summoned his spell. They noticed the burning intensity that glowed from his gauntlet. Stopping in midair, they waited for him to release his spell.

"Ha ha ha," the large pie laughed, "You think that will work again. My children are smarter than that."

"Well so am I," he threw a fireball at one of the pies.

It wailed for a moment before it fell to the ground; forever silent. The others looked at burning pie to the Hero and back to their fallen brother. They flew into a rage and started to buzz all around him. He threw fireball after fireball; taking one down at a time. The last one fell in a burning heap.

"Now," he turned to the big pie, "It's your turn to burn."

"We'll see about that," the big pie laughed.

She flew about the town square much quickly than the smaller ones. Alastair tried to hit with fireball after fireball, but she was able to dodge them with ease. She continued to laugh at his futile attempts.

"Not such a great Hero after all," she mocked.

He gritted his teeth. There had to be some way to defeat the nightmarish confectionary delight.

"She's too quick," he commented out loud, "Can't hit out here… maybe I can…," a crazy idea came to him, "Come on! You want me? Come and get me!" he taunted her.

"If you insist," she opened her mouth wide and flew towards him.

He was going to have to time this just right. He had to build up as much Will as he could stand. She was almost there. Her mouth dripping with red goo, she opened her mouth as wide as she could.

CHOMP! GULP! The Hero was gone in one bite.

"HA HA HA HA HA," she laughed in victory, "I feel his Will coursing through me. I shall now become… Huh? What is this pain? Why do I burn inside? AAAAGGGGG!" she screamed.

BOOM! She exploded into thousands of burning ashes.

He stood there for a moment, covered in boysenberry filling. Looking around, he saw that he was victorious.

The doors opened and people began to fill the streets. They could see that the demonic pies had been defeated. They looked to Alastair and let out a great cheer.

"HOORAY!" they exclaimed, "The pies are dead!"

"I guess we did good, eh boy?" he looked to Rook.

Rook started to lick off the red filling that now covered his body.

"Taste good?" he laughed.

"Good job," someone patted him on the back.

It was Walter and there was a big grin on his face.

"Not exactly the kind of enemy I was expecting to fight when I became a Hero," Alastair smiled.

"There are all sorts of enemies little brother," a voice came through the crowd.

"Logan," Alastair out his sword, "What are you doing here?"

Logan bowed lowly to him, "I am here to give thanks to the Hero that rid Albion of its greatest threat, The Great Pie Queen. She has terrorized the land for centuries and destroyed countless villages and towns. I tried to kill her, but she always slipped away," he took the crown from his head, "In recognition of your bravery and your ability to kill such a dangerous creature, I turn Albion over to you," he place it upon Alastair's head, "Tat tat little brother. There's a key to the castle underneath the welcome mat," he walked over to Walter, "Let's go and have an adventure!" he offered his arm.

"Let's," Walter accepted it.

They went arm in arm and skipped out of the square and straight of Brightwall. Alastair just stared at the two as they merrily went on their way.

"What the…?" he managed to get out.

"Congratulations Hero," a voice echoed through the air.

"Theresa?" he looked around.

"You are now famous enough to be called the Pie Slayer for your victory over the Great Pie Queen," her voice faded.

"What?" the world was not making sense.

"Cutie pie? You okay honey?" someone was shaking him gently.

"HUH?" he shot up.

"You fell asleep," Mama Rita round smiling face was over him.

"AGG!" he slipped on the cobble stone as he tried to get away from her as quick as he could.

"Now what was that all about?" Mama Rita threw her hand on her hip in confusion.

Rook only looked up at her with the same confused look.

"Is everything alright?" Samuel asked as Alastair ran passed him.

"He's alright," Mama Rita came up to him, "I think he had a nightmare or something while he was waiting for me. I lose a lot of good rollers like that."

"Really?" Samuel was surprised.

"Oh yes," she nodded her head, "Not everyone can handle the duties of rolling out dough. It is a very serious and taxing duty."

"It must be," Samuel agreed as he watched Alastair run into the Academy.

"Here," Mama Rita reached around, "Give this to him for all his trouble. It's his pay for the day and a boysenberry pie that he helped me make earlier. You two can share it later."

"Oh thank you," Samuel took the pie and sack of gold, "I'll make sure he gets it."

"You do that," she smiled, "Please tell him that he's welcomed to come back and help me anytime. He makes the most perfect pies," her smile went from ear to ear.

The End!