Chapter One: Carnival

The day was bright and sunny, with only a few scattered clouds roaming lazily across the brilliant blue sky over Bower Lake. The sweet aroma of newly-sprouted grass and flowers drifted with the breeze coming from the lake. This brought a smile to the travelers crowding the roads leading to the Gypsy Camp at the southern end of the lake.

The gypsies of Bower Lake were hosting the carnival, a seven day festival that celebrated the coming of the spring and the first days of planting in the fields. Caravans of gypsies, convoys of wandering traders, and troupes of entertainers gathered from every corner of Albion to ply their trades and hawk their wares to the travelers that flocked here every year. Fire-breathers, belly dancers, magicians, playwrights, musicians, gamemasters, stall operators, there was no shortage of entertainment for the party-goers. The fireworks show on the final day was one of the festival's most anticipated highlights, and the evening promised to be just as glorious as the day, so the crowds had swelled to nearly double their usual size.

It was a perfect day for a carnival. Well, almost perfect.

Standing at the eastern end of the bridge spanning the gorge west of the camp was a young woman with shoulder-length bronze hair, radiant green eyes, and a look of impatience. Her brow was furrowed, and a slight frown creased her lips as she gazed towards the lake.

Honestly! What's taking him so long? The young woman thought as she impatiently drummed her fingers on her crossed arms.

From her vantage point, she could just make out the outlines of the three rocky spires of Hero Hill, whose craggy mound always made her feel cold. She shifted her feet and glanced back momentarily at the wooden bridge above and behind her, then returned her attention to the road that stretched beyond the horizon towards the city of Bowerstone. There was still no sign of her companion.

She sighed softly.

Even after a year, Lucy still had not succeeded in her quest to break Grant's habitual tardiness. She began to wonder if there was ever a time when Grant wasn't late for anything in his life. Based on her own experiences with him, she had the distinct feeling that was very unlikely.

He probably wasn't even on time for the day he was born. The thought brought a smile to her face. Lucy laughed softly to herself as she brushed a clump of hair behind her ear and gazed towards the lake, savoring the soft breeze and the pleasant aroma of spring.

Oh Blimey! Grant thought to himself as he hurried down the road. I'm late. I'm late! I'M LATE!

Grant Fairfax was the eldest son of the noble Lord Henry Fairfax, patriarch of the Fairfax family and one of Albion's wealthiest, most renowned, and well-respected noble landowners and philanthropists. He was an able-bodied young man of 21 years of age and at the prime of his life. Although he wasn't as tall as his father or his younger brother Donald, Grant was broad of face and shoulder, with skin that had been well-tanned by long hours spent working in the fields owned by his family, as well as touring their other holdings. His hair was brown, mid-length, and fashionably unkempt. His broad face had an open and honest quality to it with inquisitive brown eyes, soft cheek bones, a straight nose, cleft chin, and a wispy beard. Some would call him handsome, but Grant knew that the best looks in the world would be of no use to him if he kept Lucy waiting much longer.

"Bollocks!" He swore to himself, as he broke into a full run.

And today of all days! Lucy's going to kill me!

Today was a special occasion for Grant and Lucy, and they had agreed to meet each other at Bower Lake earlier that morning so they could celebrate it together. Grant would have preferred to escort her directly to the carnival, but he had been obliged to go to Southcliff on his father's behalf. Secretly though, Grant had his own reasons for going there. Months earlier he had commissioned a local stonecutter and jeweler to craft a very special present for Lucy, one that he hoped would mark the occasion perfectly.

The preparations had taken up most of the morning: picking the right outfit to wear, making sure that his hair and beard were properly trimmed and groomed at the stylist, and picking up his special present for Lucy from the jeweler's shop. Everything was set and ready to go when he spotted the sign hanging in the local bookshop window, "Big Sale! 50% Off All Stock! TODAY ONLY!"

Grant Fairfax was the kind of man that some would politely describe as being of a "scholarly" disposition. Still there were others who would put it more bluntly, labeling him as "bookish to a fault". More than anything else, Grant was renowned for his insatiable craving for knowledge. Particularly anything pertaining to the heroes of legend such as William Black, the Archons of the Old Kingdom, Thunder, Whisper, Briar Rose, and especially the Hero of Oakvale. Over the years he had, through a combination of patience, clever bargaining, and dogged persistence, procured a vast collection of books that was said to rival even the libraries that once graced the Guild of Heroes before it was destroyed. And so it was with great delight that Grant emerged from the bookstore two hours later with an excited smile on his face, half a dozen new books in hand including a rare and elusive edition of "The Book of Spells", and the sickening realization that he had missed the carriage to Bower Lake.

And now here he was, running down the road like a frightened villager fleeing from a horde of giant beetles, or a gang of bandits because of his obsession with books.

Grant was glancing down at his pocket watch when he suddenly looked up in time to see that he was heading directly towards a cloaked figure standing on the side of the road. He tried to stop himself, but he lost his footing and slid across the gravel road. He caught a glimpse of the man's shaggy beard and dark eyes just before he bowled directly into him. There was a loud grunt of surprise and pain as Grant tumbled once onto the ground, rolled once, and then immediately shot back up onto his feet. He turned to face the man that he had just collided with and raised his hands in a gesture of apology.

"I'm terribly sorry! But I'm running late!"

He didn't relish the idea of blundering into someone and then running off, especially when he was the guilty party, but his need to not keep Lucy waiting was even more urgent than his need to make amends. Without another word, Grant sprinted away.

"What the?!" The cloaked figure said in disbelief before waving his fist angrily at Grant's back, "Watch where you're going you…"

The rest of his words were engulfed by the growing distance between them. Grant sprinted down the hill with abandon, passing the small pond that marked the turnpike towards the northwestern edge of the lake, and crossed the bridge that spanned the gorge over the waterfalls that fed Bower Lake to the north.

Overcome with sweat, cramping legs and feet, and the aching in his shoulder from the collision, Grant Fairfax collapsed onto his knees. Placing a hand on the bridge's stone bricks for support, he tried to steady his ragged breathing and rapid heartbeat. Just then, a familiar shadow was cast over him. Grant felt his blood run cold as he slowly raised his eyes and gazed into Lucy's very lovely, and very cross face bearing down at him.

Grant swallowed hard and let out a nervous chuckle.

"Hello." he greeted between ragged breaths.

Lucy stood there for a moment, letting the chilly silence hang over them before giving a nod of disapproval.

"You're late."

The words were spoken matter-of-factly, but the menace behind them was unmistakable. It sent a shiver down Grant's spine, and brought a fresh flush of heat to his cheeks. Even when she was angry, Lucy was still the most beautiful woman Grant had ever known.

"I'm sorry." He said feebly.

Lucy heaved her shoulders and sighed in resignation. "What am I going to do with you?"

She offered Grant a hand.

"C'mon now," she encouraged, "Up with you. I can't have you wallowing in the dirt all day."

Grant accepted the offered hand and stood up.

"Blimey," Grant groaned as he brushed the dirt off his knees, "Look at this. I'm a mess."

"Yes you are," Lucy agreed as she brushed the dirt and dust from his coat and straightened his collar, "But it's a look that suits you, farm boy."

"Oh ha, ha, ha," Grant said with what little indignation he could muster. That got a bemused smile and a wry chuckle out of Lucy.

Grant used the moment to drink in the lovely sight that was before him. Lucy's shoulder-length bronze hair was swaying gently in the breeze, and her sharp, lively green eyes were rendered even more vibrant by a light touch of blue eyeshadow. She was as tall as Grant, and her elvish face was framed by soft cheek bones, a perky nose, a sharp chin, and thin lips that were adorned with purple lipstick. The grin that stretched across her beautiful face revealed rows of gleaming white teeth that shined as brightly as the sun.

Whereas Grant was dressed as one of the bourgeoisie with his elegant gray-colored cuffed overcoat, vintage vest/shirt combination, chequered trousers, and buckled loafers; Lucy was dressed more casually with a low-cut long-sleeved white bodice top of the kind that was popular among the lasses of Bowerstone's Old Town district, java-colored riding trousers with laces running up the sides of each leg, and black-colored buckled riding boots with low heels.

Lucy's attire was decidedly more appropriate for a day of riding than for a date, but Grant didn't mind. As unorthodox as her choice of outfit may have been, he appreciated the fact that it was snug in all the right places. It complemented her long and slender legs, slim waist, and the wonderfully enticing curves of her well-endowed figure.

"Still," Lucy said, putting her hands on her hips, "You're not off the hook for being late."

Before Grant could react, Lucy grabbed hold of him by the wrist and pulled him towards the hill leading up towards the Gypsy Camp.

"Lucy!" Granted yelped in surprise. "Wait just a moment."

"I've waited long enough." She said, turning to glance at Grant over her shoulder. "We're going to make up for lost time."

"All right. Lead the way!"

Grant grinned lopsidedly as a feeling of déjà vu came over him. Even after a year, he could still remember the day he met Lucy like it was yesterday.

One Year Earlier

Grant sighed with relief as he strolled down the main street of Southcliff's market square towards the carriage house. At long last he had finally settled all of his father's business affairs. It had taken him over a week to collect all of the rents and loan payments due, to resolve the mostly minor disputes with the tenants occupying the various real estate holdings and rural farmlands owned by his family, and to pay the required annual tithe to the Southcliff municipal government.

Grant loved being back in Southcliff, and the opportunity to enjoy the fresh country air and the peace and quiet of rural life, even if it was only for a short time. Regardless of how much he enjoyed Southcliff, there was business to be done, and he knew his father and brother would expect him to settle matters and return to Bowerstone as quickly as possible. Not surprisingly, this left Grant very little time for more leisurely activities.

He reached the carriage house and asked the clerk when the next carriage to Bowerstone was expected to depart. The clerk answered that, most regrettably, the carriage was running late due to maintenance issues and wouldn't be departing until the late afternoon. Grant thanked the man and took a seat at one of the nearby wooden benches. It was a warm and sunny day with only a few scattered clouds in the sky, so it would be the perfect time for Grant to sit down and enjoy reading one of his precious books. Perhaps he would immerse himself in one of Philipth Morley's classics like "The Tailor's Tragedy", "The Near Tragedy of Oliver and Ethel", or "The Repentant Alchemist". Or perhaps he would dive into the first volume of "The Creatures of Albion".

Oh, the possibilities!

Just as he was reaching into his satchel, a poster on the carriage house's announcement board caught his eye. Stepping closer for a better look, Grant's attention was seized by a scandalous rendition of a slender and rather scantily-clad gypsy girl dancing with a tambourine in her hand. Grant could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he tore his gaze away from the image and onto the poster's headline, which read in a large and elegant script, "CARNIVAL! Seven Days Only at Bower Lake!

Oh … right! The Carnival! Grant mused as a slight smile creased his lips.

The gypsies were hosting their annual carnival at their camp near Bower Lake. Grant had certainly heard of the carnival before, of the seven days and seven nights celebrating the coming of the spring and the first days of planting in the fields. It was a celebration that was renowned throughout all of Albion, and Grant had never been to it before. His parents had judged the festival to be too vulgar and riotous for their tastes, and so they had never permitted their children to attend.

But Grant was an adult now, his mother had passed away years earlier, and his father's declining health had long since confined him to bed. The thought of his father reminded Grant of what he would have to look forward to as soon as he returned to Bowerstone. He would have to resume his duties taking care of his father, which meant that nearly all of his waking hours would be spent attending to his every want and need, making sure that his father followed the physician's proscribed treatments, and continuing to oversee the financial and business matters that his father could not. Although Grant certainly loved and respected his father, he did not cherish the idea of having to return to the tiresome routine of caring for an aged and sickly parent. Especially not one that was as prideful as Lord Henry Fairfax.

And with that thought in mind, Grant came to a decision. He had been working very hard lately on his father's behalf, ensuring that all of his needs whether financial, medical, or personal were continually met, and it had been a very long while since he had had any time for himself. He therefore decided that a little side trip to Bower Lake was just what he needed to counter the pall that had come to characterize his life as of late. His spirits were in need of lifting; and there was no better way to lift one's spirits than to have a little bit of fun.

Yes. Grant reasoned to himself. A little bit of fun is exactly what the doctor ordered.

Besides, Grant was curious to see what the carnival was like for himself. So instead of waiting for the delayed carriage to Bowerstone, Grant decided to take the next carriage leaving for Bower Lake. Ten minutes later, he sat back in his seat and settled himself as comfortably as he could for the long and circuitous route towards Bower Lake.

Grant arrived at his destination only a few hours later, and was delighted to discover that the carnival was everything that he could have wished for and more. He thoroughly enjoyed the sights, sounds, and smells of the carnival. He was overwhelmed by the many bright and colorful banners, merchant stalls, and decorated caravans. As the day wore on, Grant could feel the stress of the past week melting away as he perused the wide variety of wares being peddled, gawked at the spectacle of the gypsy women as they danced and bent their limber bodies in ways that should not have been physically possible, and laughed with delight as the storytellers regaled their audiences with dramatic portrayals of "The Tales of Perilous Spandex".

Most of the stalls had been set up on the hill leading up towards the camp, around the camp's center, and up the eastern hill that looped around towards the gates at the camp's entrance. Shops and entertainers vied for the attention of the many patrons that came to the annual festival, but it was the shooting gallery that stood out most of all to Grant. It had been set up near the waterfalls behind and to the west of the camp. The rules were simple enough: Contestants paid fifty gold pieces for the chance to prove their marksmanship and earn a prize. Each match consisted of three one-minute rounds in which the contestant earned points by shooting the pop-up cardboard targets. Each target hit was worth one point, but headshots were worth three points, and each contestant was required to earn at least fifteen points before they could advance to the next round.

There were a total of five prizes available for those that scored enough points. They included vouchers for free concessions, children's toys, collectible dolls of famous heroes, and cash prizes. The grand prize was the champion's pistol, a powerful flintlock pistol that was banded with gold, inscribed with Old Kingdom runes, and bejeweled with an ancient augment that was purported to increase the wielder's luck. A true collector's piece, if the vendor's claims could be believed.

A small crowd had gathered around the attraction, and the vendor took to shouting insults at random members of the crowd saying, "I bet your shooting's as bad as your body odor!" or "You couldn't hit a castle with a ball of dung!" This was of course little more than an attempt to goad the poor chaps into trying their luck at the shooting range.

Grant watched with some amusement as over half-a-dozen patrons gave in to the vendor's vulgar insults and tried to salvage their wounded pride at the shooting range, only to fail miserably in the attempt. Not a single one was able to score enough points to win even the fifth prize. Some of the competitors walked away with slumped shoulders, others stamped their feet and declared that the shooting range was rigged, and one or two were so furious that they tried confronting the vendor over their losses. The latter forced the guards to intervene and drag the losers away kicking and screaming dire threats of retribution.

After straightening his collar and regaining his composure, the vendor glanced over the crowd in search of more hot-blooded and ill-tempered young men to goad into trying their luck at the shooting range. It was at that moment that Grant stepped forward from the crowd and handed the vendor fifty gold pieces.

"I'd like to have a go at it." He said, rolling up his sleeves.

The vendor gave him an appraising look. "That's the spirit! Although to be perfectly honest, judging from your glazed-over eyes I bet you cannot even shoot straight!"

Grant eyed the man with annoyance as he picked up the rifle and hefted it, checking its weight and balance. He knew perfectly well that the vendor was only trying to make him angry in the hopes of throwing off his concentration, but Grant was confident in his skills with a rifle. He had been on hunts with his father as a young boy many times before, so he knew how to handle a gun and should have no problem showing this insolent vendor how wrong he was.

Three rounds later, it was Grant who was proven wrong.

A small crowd had gathered around him to watch, and after three rounds it seemed as though everyone in the crowd, including the proprietor, were pointing and laughing at him. It was with a heavy heart that Grant laid the weapon onto the counter in defeat.

Nevertheless, Grant was able to shrug off the worst of the crowd's jeering with the knowledge that he hadn't completely embarrassed himself. He had placed a high score in the first round, and an even higher score in the second, but the final round had proven more difficult than he had anticipated. The targets popped up and disappeared with such speed that every time he squeezed the trigger, the target was already gone. Although Grant wasn't able to obtain a score high enough to earn even the fifth place prize, he had at least scored higher than any of the previous contestants.

"Better luck next time." The vendor said with a smirk on his face. "Anyone one else think they're man enough to try their luck at the shooting range?"

"I will!" Said a voice from the crowd.

Everyone turned towards the sound, and were surprised to see a young woman step forward. Her short mane of bronze hair was a tangled mess, and she was dressed in a ragged blouse, trousers, and shoes of the kind often worn by the lower classes that roamed the streets of Bowerstone's poorer districts. The vendor gave her an appraising look from head to toe, and suddenly burst out laughing. The whole crowd seemed to join the vendor's laughter at the sheer audacity of this girl. The young woman, for her part, ignored the crowd and gazed unflinchingly at the vendor with her vibrant green eyes.

"Tell me, little girl," the vendor finally managed after catching his breath. "Have you lost your marbles? Why don't you run home to your knitting needles before you embarrass yourself?"

The young woman, Lucy, reached into her pocket and produced a small purse that was filled with gold, which she promptly slammed onto the counter. A hushed silence came over the crowd, and even the vendor had stopped laughing as they one-and-all realized that she was perfectly serious.

"Try me," she said defiantly.

The vendor eyed her for a long moment before a slimy smile oozed across his face.

"Sure. Why not, Love?" he said, picking up the purse, "What's the harm? After all, I'll bet you don't even know which end of a gun to hold…"

The vendor's words were cut short as Lucy picked up the weapon, loaded it, aimed, fired, and scored her first bulls-eye. The mouths of everyone in the crowd dropped all at once as she scored another bulls-eye. Her movements were swift and precise. Not an ounce of energy was wasted as she expertly aimed, fired, reloaded, aimed, fired, and reloaded again and again. She hit the target with every shot. Most of her shots were bulls-eyes, and with every round fired she blasted her way past the high score.

Grant stood there next to her, his eyes as wide as saucers and his mouth agape like a fish out of water, utterly transfixed by the sight before him. Never before had he seen such skill with firearms. Time seemed to stand still, and Grant lost all sense of himself and his surroundings. The only thing that existed in the world for him was this young woman. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and felt the rush of blood coursing in his veins as he gazed into Lucy's sharp and brilliant green eyes.

The first round came to an end. The crowd let out a collective gasp of astonishment. Lucy had scored over seventy points in the first round, setting a new record. Her vibrant green eyes came to rest on the vendor.

"Well…" she said as she reloaded the weapon and impatiently waited for the next round to begin, "What are you waiting for?"

The vendor crossed his arms and snarled, "For the fifty gold pieces you owe me, that's what!"

Lucy gave him a confused look.

"What are you going on about? I already paid you fifty gold!"

"For the first round," the vendor countered, "Each round you have to pay fifty gold to compete."

Lucy's eyes briefly widened in surprise, then narrowed with a sudden flash of anger.

"Pull the other one! You let all the others play all three rounds for just fifty gold!"

A murmur of ascent arose from the crowd. The vendor ignored it.

"Rules are rules, little girl. If you want to play, you have to pay." The vendor gestured with his free hand, and a pair of guards stepped forward.

Lucy shot the vendor such a look of hatred that it made him take a step back towards the guards. It was obvious to everyone that the vendor was changing the rules because Lucy actually stood a chance of winning, but there was little that anyone could do. It was his stand after all, and he was free to change the rules and conditions of the competition whenever and however he pleased, no matter how dishonest or unethical.

"So unless you have another fifty gold, I suggest you leave before this gets ugly." The vendor growled.

Lucy's gaze never flinched, but her shoulders sagged in defeat. As much as she wanted to continue and win the grand prize, she didn't have the money. The slimy smile was slowly creeping across the vendor's face again when Grant unexpectedly stepped forward and slammed a small, hefty pouch onto the counter which contained another fifty gold pieces. The vendor stared at him with incredulity.

"What the?!"

"Fifty gold pieces," Grant said. "For the lady to continue."

"Now you just wait one rotting minute," the vendor said with a scowl, "I didn't say…"

"What you did say," Grant cut him off, "Was that it was fifty gold pieces for every round."

He stole a quick glance at Lucy before returning his attention to the vendor. "You never specified from whom the gold had to come from."

The vendor glared at him, but looking out of the corner of his eye, he saw the nods of agreement and heard the murmurs of approval coming from the crowd. He turned towards the guards, but they just shrugged. Recognizing how untenable his position was, the vendor begrudgingly accepted Grant's gold.

Lucy was skeptical of Grant's generosity. She was just about to open her mouth to object, saying that she didn't need his money, but then she stopped herself. It had taken her a long time to save up enough gold to travel here, enter the carnival, and pay the fee to compete in the shooting range. She might never have this kind of opportunity again. And besides, her desire to win the grand prize was just too great. She closed her mouth, nodded her approval to her newfound sponsor, and returned her attention to the competition.

"I'm ready whenever you are." She said.

The crowd lapsed back into stunned silence as Lucy put on an even more impressive performance than she had in the previous round. The vendor meanwhile crossed his arms and seethed, silently cursing every bulls-eye she hit. Even before the round was over, Grant reached into his pocket and set another fifty gold pieces onto the counter.

"For the next round." He boasted confidently.

The vendor glared balefully at Grant but took the gold nonetheless. The second round came to an end, and Lucy broke another record with a score of eighty-one points.

"All right, little girl," the vendor said acidly, "Final round. Let's see if you can handle this."

Lucy brushed a clump of hair behind her ear, raised the weapon, aimed, and fired. The bullet hit the bulls-eye dead-on in the exact center. She quickly reloaded the gun, aimed, and fired again. The vendor and Grant turned simultaneously and saw that the shot had gone cleanly through the target in the exact center.

Another bulls-eye! Incredible! Grant was left speechless. The vendor on the other hand, shifted on his feet, clenched his teeth, and growled softly at the young woman. The targets continued to pop up and disappear with increasing speed and frequency, but it made no difference to Lucy. She continued to hit target after target, shot after shot, and bulls-eye after bulls-eye with a poise and grace that was seldom seen in a sharpshooter. For his part, Grant couldn't tear his eyes away from it all. He knew in the back of his mind that this girl's performance made him and the other competitors look like nothing more than pathetic neophytes, but Grant didn't care. The young woman, whomever she was, was a true crackshot.

Only ten seconds remained!

More targets popped up and fell as Lucy hit them. She quickly reloaded her weapon. Only three targets remained. Lucy took aim and squeezed the trigger. The first target fell, followed closely by the second.

Five seconds left!

Again she reloaded the weapon, but this time she turned away from the shooting range.

Four seconds!

Time seemed to slow as the young woman turned towards Grant.

Three seconds!

Grant's heart skipped a beat, his mouth went dry, his knees felt weak, and his breathing stopped as he and Lucy locked gazes with one another. Without breaking eye contact, she rested the barrel of the rifle across her shoulder, aimed without looking, fired, and struck the final target.

"Bulls-eye." She said.

And with that final flourish, the round ended.

The crowd let out a collective gasp of astonishment. Everyone stood there completely awed by what they had just witnessed. Lucy had broken every record at the shooting range! The crowd erupted into a thunderous smattering of applause, high-pitched whistles, and shouts of congratulations. Lucy turned, gave the crowd an elegant curtsey, and raised the rifle high above her in victory. The crowd's cheers continued to escalate, prompting the guards to intervene before the crowd could press in and smother her with congratulations.

The only one not celebrating was the vendor, who continued to seethe at the unexpected turn in his fortune. Lucy set the rifle back down on the counter, looked towards Grant, and gave him a quick wink in thanks.

"All right," she said cheerfully to the vendor, "If you would be so kind."

"Fine!" the vendor growled. "Here's your prize."

Lucy stretched out her hand, palm open, ready and eager to feel the grip of the champion's pistol in her hand. What she got instead was a pair of vouchers for free concessions from one of the food vendors outside the main entrance to the camp. She and Grant stared at the prize in disbelief.

"What in the bloody hell is this?!" She demanded, holding the vouchers up for the vendor to see.

"It's your prize."

"No it isn't!" she shot back. "You saw my score, I earned more than enough points for the grand prize!"

The vendor's face hardened as he crossed his arms and glared at her. "No, you earned enough points to earn the fifth prize, a voucher for free concessions."

"Now wait just a minute," Grant said interjecting, "The sign clearly states that..."

"The sign," the vendor said, cutting him off, "Says that there are five prizes. That's the fifth prize. If you want to win the grand prize, you need to beat the high score five times in a row!"

The vendor turned towards Lucy. A slimy smile spread across his face as he said, "Which means that if you want to win the grand prize, you have to win four more times in a row. And it's going to cost you fifty gold pieces for each and every round."

He turned to face Grant. "So unless you've got another six hundred gold pieces to spare, I suggest you take your prize and shove off before I call the guards!"

Grant would have loved nothing more than to sponsor Lucy until she claimed the grand prize; that, or send the lying bugger of a merchant flying through the air with a hard punch to the jaw. But he didn't have the funds or the complete disregard for the law necessary to do either.

Lucy looked as if she would leap across the counter and strangle the man with her bare hands. The vendor saw this and signaled for the guards. One look from them was all that was needed to render the girl's rage impotent. She glanced from one guard to the other, and shot the vendor one last hateful look before she turned and stormed off.

"And good riddance to you!" The vendor shouted after her in smug triumph.

Grant shot the vendor a disgusted look, then turned on his heel and went after her.

"Excuse me!" he called out. Lucy made no attempt to slow down.

Grant picked up his pace. "Please! Wait a moment!"

Lucy rounded a corner into the camp's center, and effortlessly weaved her way through the crowd towards the gate. Grant continued chasing after her, but was forced to shove carnival-goers out of the way as he tried, much like a fish swimming upstream, to blaze a path through the dense mass of humanity. He offered apologies where he could, but he was determined not to let this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity pass him by. So propriety be damned, he would not let this young woman get away without first learning her name. With a final shove, Grant emerged from the crowd and caught a glimpse of Lucy's short bronze hair just as she was passing through the gate.

"My Lady!" Grant called out between ragged breaths. "Please wait! My Lady!"

The girl finally stopped. Moments later he caught up to her at the western end of the bridge. Grant leaned against the stones for support, with his head bowed, and his body slumped forward as he tried to catch his breath.

"Please… if I could just… just…" he said between ragged breaths.

"I'm no lady."

Grant looked up in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said, 'I'm no lady', so there's no need to be calling me one," she answered in an annoyed tone, "And another thing: I appreciate what you did for me back there, and I am sorry that you lost all that gold, but I never asked you for your help. So if you're here to harass me about paying you back, you can forget it. I can't pay you back; at least, not at the moment. But if you just give me some time…"

"Wait, wait, wait," Grant said, gesturing with his hands for her to slow down, "I'm sorry, but I don't understand. What do you mean, 'pay me back'?"

Lucy cocked an eyebrow at him. "The gold you lost at the shooting range. I can't pay you back for it."

"Oh? That?" Grant waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "What does that matter?"

Lucy stared at him. "You just lost one hundred and fifty gold pieces because of me, and all there is to show for it are a couple of worthless vouchers for concessions that are just as likely to give you a bad case of the runs."

Grant couldn't help but snort in laughter at the comment.

"I'm serious," Lucy said in an exasperated tone, "Losing that much gold is no laughing matter."

"Forgive me," Grant apologized, "You're right, of course. Under normal circumstances losing that much gold wouldn't be a laughing matter. But don't worry about it, Miss. I don't care about the gold. Truth be told, I could have lost a hundred times that amount and it still would have been worth it."

Lucy couldn't believe what she was hearing. He doesn't care?! Is he being serious? This guy had just lost what many would consider to be a small fortune, and here he was brushing it off as casually as Lucy might have brushed off the dirt on her shoes. Lucy gave the stranger a more appraising look.

He was of a height with her, and his attire was similar to what someone would have worn to religious gatherings or other such important events. His broad face was pleasing enough to look upon with its soft cheek bones, straight nose, cleft chin, and slightly unkempt brown hair. There was a sense of warmth, honesty, and kindness in his brown eyes. Despite being slightly awkward, his manners were both earnest and polite, and they gave him a kind of down-to-earth charm that wasn't exactly unpleasant.

In the end, she judged Grant to be a decent sort of bloke. Polite and kind, and handsome in his own way, but nowhere close to the kind of dark, tall, handsome, and mysterious man that most women her age dreamed of meeting and marrying one day. But all of that changed with Grant's next words.

"You were brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! I've never seen anyone display such skill before! And the way you handled yourself with that gun? It was as if heroes had come back to Albion. Like Briar Rose herself had emerged from the past and was standing right before me! You were a true bonafide crackshot!"

Lucy blinked in surprise. "Briar Rose? What do you know about her?"

"Well…" Grant said with an eager smile on his face. He proceeded to divulge everything he knew on the subject of Briar Rose and, as it turned out much to Lucy's great joy and surprise, it was quite a lot.

Briar Rose was a hero of skill and a contemporary of the "Chicken Chaser", the Hero of Oakvale. Briar Rose came from a noble background, but after her mother was killed in an accident, her father blamed her for the accident and subsequently cast her out. Left to fend for herself, Briar Rose eventually joined the Heroes' Guild and would later become one of the guild's most celebrated heroes, renowned throughout Albion as much for her scholastic achievements as her marksmanship.

Aside from being one of Albion's most vivacious, skilled, and intelligent heroes, Briar Rose also played a significant role in helping the Hero of Oakvale to forever put an end to the terrifying fiend, Jack of Blades, when he emerged as a fire-breathing dragon in the Northern Wastes. She would later be counted among the first heroes to adopt and master firearms, which had just crossed over the Blade Mountains to the east from the distant land of Samarkand.

"Unfortunately, we still don't know what ultimately became of Briar Rose," Grant explained as he neared the end of his recitation, "Some scholars and historians have speculated that she was killed when the Guild was destroyed four hundred years ago. Still, others claim that she died of natural causes just before the Guild's destruction and that if she had been around, she might have been able to help the Guildmaster to settle the many grievances between the Guild and the town of Oakvale."

"And what do you think happened to her?" Lucy asked.

Grant mulled it over for a moment. "Personally, I believe that she returned to the Northern Wastes after Jack of Blades was destroyed. It's probably just the hopeless romantic in me, but I'd like to think that she spent her final years in retirement, studying the ancient ruins and tomes that were said to exist in and around the village of Snowspire. Of course there's no evidence to support my theory, but at least it's a better fate for a hero as remarkable as Briar Rose."

"Yes," she agreed, "I suppose it is."

What Grant didn't know was that Lucy was already quite familiar with Briar Rose. She was, in point of fact, Lucy's favorite hero. Lucy was thrilled to finally meet someone who was not only as familiar with Briar Rose as she was, but also recognized how remarkable of a woman and heroine she was. Briar Rose was someone that Lucy venerated as a role model; an ideal that she tried to emulate in every aspect of her life. Well … not every aspect. Unlike her hero, who was content with finding solace in her vast collection of books, tomes, scrolls, manuscripts, and notes; Lucy had no intention of ending her life completely alone.

"Anyway," Grant said, changing the subject, "I hope you don't mind my asking this, but where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"My brother taught me all the basics of how to handle a gun," Lucy explained, "He's a guard in Old Town, and he wanted to make sure that I would be able to defend myself when he wasn't around. As for the rest, I just sort of picked it up on my own."

"Just like that? All on your own?"

"All on my own." She confirmed.

"Amazing," Grant said in astonishment, "You truly are the most amazing person I've ever met."

The corners of Lucy's lips curled upwards into a slight smile.

"All right, Mister Whoever-You-Are," she said, taking a step closer to Grant, "So what is it that you want?"

"Want?" Grant asked, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

"Yes," she said, "First, and without being asked to, you paid for me to compete in the shooting range. Next, you start chasing after me when I had had enough of that bloody trader's tosh, knocking over a number of people in the process. Then when I say that I can't pay back the gold you lost on my behalf, you simply shrug it off and tell me that it doesn't matter. Next you tell me that I remind you of Briar Rose, and then you go on to say that I'm the most amazing person you've ever met. It's all very sweet, but I still don't know who you are, or what you want with me."

"Oh… sorry." Grant apologized. He ran his hand through his hair and let out a nervous chuckle. "It's just… well… I wanted to know what your name is."

She considered that for a moment. "Lucy."

Grant blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Lucy," she repeated, "My name is, Lucy."

"Lucy…" Grant said her name softly, almost reverently as he stared at her in awe and wonder. Lucy shifted her feet impatiently and cleared her throat loudly. Realizing all at once that he was staring at her like a lovesick puppy, Grant shook his head and blinked hard to clear his thoughts.

"Oh! Where have my manners gone off to?" he said, as he quickly straightened his posture and offered her a courteous bow, "Allow me to introduce myself: My name is Grant; Grant Fairfax. And it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Lucy."

Lucy locked eyes with Grant and stepped closer in a slow and graceful manner, like a cat prowling in the night.

"So, now you know my name," Lucy said in a low, husky voice, "So tell me; is that all you wanted?"

No … that wasn't all Grant wanted. He wanted to know everything about her. Who was she? Where did she come from? What were her hopes and dreams for the future? What were her deepest fears and most dreaded nightmares? What did she love? What did she hate? What did she want? In short, he wanted to know everything about her. He wanted to be with her more than any other person on the face of the Earth.

Grant opened his mouth, but then quickly shut it again as he suddenly realized what he was thinking. He couldn't say such things to a woman who, as beautiful and amazing as she was, was still a complete stranger to him. It would make him look like a complete fool. Worse yet, she might mistake him for a pervert.

She was standing close to him now, close enough for him to smell the heady aroma of her perfume. Grant could feel himself being intoxicated by the scent and his close proximity to Lucy.

"Well…" He hesitated for a moment, "No."

Suddenly he could feel his entire face turning beet red. He quickly glanced downward at his feet, hoping against reason that Lucy would not notice his embarrassment. After what seemed to be a very long moment for him, Grant finally managed to collect himself and summon the courage to look up and was astonished to see a twinkle in Lucy's vibrant green eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Come on!" Lucy said as she suddenly grabbed Grant by the wrist and led him back towards the carnival.

"Woah!" He said, forgetting all thoughts of humiliation and embarrassment, "Where are we going?"

"We," she said pointedly, glancing back at him and flashing him a crooked smile, "Are going back and putting these vouchers to good use. And then you're going to buy me a drink and tell me more about yourself, and everything you know about heroes."

Grant grinned lopsidedly.

Present Day

It had truly been a perfect day for a carnival. The weather had promised to be sunny with mostly clear skies, and it had not failed to deliver upon that promise. The slight breeze coming from the lake brought welcome relief to the scores of travelers enduring the heat of the hot spring sun overhead.

Like so many carnival-goers, Grant and Lucy were not disappointed with the festivities. The couple quickly made up for lost time by savoring the culinary delights sizzling over open fires and steaming cauldrons, and the vast assortment of beverages both ordinary and exotic. They were awed by the spectacular shows of the fire-breathers, the hysterical antics of the jugglers and entertainers, the soothing melodies of the lute players, the thrills and chills of the storytellers as they dramatically recounted the tales of the fictional hero Perilous Spandex, and the dancing of the gypsy women as they bent their scantily-clad bodies in ways that should not have been physically possible.

Between the heat of the day and the greasy nature of the food and beverages they consumed, Grant thanked the Lords of Light that neither he nor Lucy had been struck by a bad case of the runs. In fact, as Grant suddenly recalled, the Lords of Light had been kind to the both of them on this same day over a year ago. Neither of them had become sick from the concessions they received for free, nor from the drinks they consumed, or the butterflies that Grant felt fluttering in his stomach. To this day he still could not believe his luck at not only meeting a woman as amazing and attractive as Lucy was, but that she also shared his passion for heroes, the Old Kingdom, and the many legends that surrounded them.

Leaning against the tree that crowned the hill overlooking the camp below with his arms wrapped tenderly around Lucy's waist, Grant could not imagine his life without her. As the sun continued its slow descent towards the horizon, its brilliant rays painted the sky and low-hanging clouds in warm hues of red, orange, and yellow light. The gentle breeze wafting through the air carried the aroma of wild flowers, fresh grass, and a hint of Lucy's perfume. Best of all was the warmth of Lucy's hands on his as they waited for the sun to disappear and the fireworks display to commence.

He pulled her closer and planted a soft, tender kiss on her cheek.

"Mmmm," Lucy sighed pleasantly, "That's nice."

Lucy turned her head to the side.

"But don't think that's going to get you off the hook," She teased, "You were still late."

"I know," he said, "But this time I have a good reason."

Lucy shifted in Grant's arms and gave him a skeptical look. "It had better be a good one. After all, this is our one year anniversary."

Grant gave her a knowing smile.

"Oh, believe me, it's a good one." He released his grip around Lucy's waist and reached for the satchel he was carrying over his shoulder. Reaching inside, he produced a large wooden box with a lock and handed it to Lucy.

"What's this?" She asked.

"A very special present," Grant said, "To mark a very special day, with a very special lady."

Lucy cocked an eyebrow and shot him with a look of mock-annoyance. "I've told you before, Grant…"

"'I'm no lady,' yes I know," He finished for her, "You've said it a hundred times before. But to me, you'll always be my Lady."

She rolled her eyes at the corny line, but no matter how annoying she found it whenever he called her a lady, she would never take it away from him. It was one of those little things about Grant that endeared him so much to her. Returning her attention to the present in her hand, she noticed that it was quite heavy, and the top of the lid was emblazoned with the golden-crowned tower sigil of the Fairfax family. Whatever was inside, it must be of immense value. Lucy placed the box onto the log parapet that surrounded them on the hill. She tried to open it, but the box was locked.

"Here," Grant said as he produced a small key from one of the pockets inside his coat, "You'll need this."

Lucy took the key, inserted it into the lock, and gave it a twist. There was an audible click as the lock disengaged. Lucy quickly undid the metallic clasp, opened the lid, and sucked in her breath as she gazed upon the present inside. It was a necklace fashioned from solid gold and adorned with a pendant that was encrusted with a single large green gemstone. It was an emerald of the finest quality, Lucy's favorite gemstone.

"It's beautiful." She said softly as she gingerly picked the necklace up and held it aloft for the both of them to see.

"I'll bet it would be even more beautiful on you." Grant said as he carefully clasped the elegant piece of jewelry around her neck. She turned to face him, and from the look in his eyes she could tell that he was right. The necklace looked even more beautiful on her.

"It's wonderful, Grant." She said, as she stepped forward and thanked him with a quick kiss. As their lips broke away, Lucy looked at Grant curiously. "But isn't a box this big and heavy a little much for a necklace?"

"For just a necklace, yes," Grant agreed, "But then, there's more inside than just a necklace."

Lucy looked at him in surprise and confusion. Seeing the next question plainly on her face, Grant answered, "Lift up the panel inside and you'll see."

What else could there possibly be? Lucy wondered as she looped the tips of her fingers underneath the sides of the felt panel and carefully lifted it away, revealing her other present.

The look on Lucy's face when she first saw the necklace was nothing compared to the wide-eyed expression of complete shock and utter delight that erupted on her lovely face. She screamed and squealed like a little girl as she gazed down upon the best present that she had ever been given in her entire life. Inside the box was a master-crafted six-shot turret pistol with gold engravings across its multiple barrels and trigger guard, a handle carved from a single piece of ivory, and an elegant inscription that read, "To the best Crackshot in all of Albion. You are the champion of my heart."

Lucy hopped on her feet like a small child jumping on a bed. She covered her mouth with both hands in an attempt to silence the happy screams that even now erupted from deep within her. Unable to contain her excitement any longer, Lucy turned and threw herself at Grant, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight embrace and planting many kisses on his lips before he could react.

When the kisses finally stopped, Grant looked into Lucy's eyes and asked, "Am I forgiven now?"

"Yes!" She said laughing, "Yes! Yes! A thousand times, yes! You're forgiven!"

She released her embrace around his neck, grabbed him by the hand, and pulled him towards the box and the magnificent weapon contained inside. She hefted the pistol in her hand and was surprised and impressed by its weight and balance. She spun the weapon expertly between her long fingers with the trigger guard, rotated the multiple barrels with a single swipe of her palm, cocked the hammer a few times, and aimed it at imaginary targets just over the horizon.

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

"There's a leather holster for it inside the box too." Grant pointed out.

Lucy had been so excited with the pistol that she hadn't noticed the baldric-style leather holster at the bottom of the box. There was also a small belt-mounted leather pouch which contained the weapon's ammunition, and a small repair kit for maintaining and cleaning the weapon. Lucy wasted little time threading the holster around her body and securing it in place with a heavy metal buckle. She then attached the ammunition pouch to her new harness, adjusted it so that it was in a position that was both comfortable and easy to reach, and then holstered her new sidearm. The weight of the gun on her hip was both comforting and satisfying.

Happy beyond her wildest expectations, Lucy wrapped her arms around Grant and gazed lovingly into his warm brown eyes. "Thank you, Grant. This is the best present ever."

She leaned in and gave him a long kiss.

By this time the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the stars and moon had begun to twinkle in the sky overhead. The crowds of carnival-goers had begun to cluster around the handful of clearings in the trees, and out in the fields beyond the camp, eagerly waiting with barely-contained anticipation for the fireworks to commence. Standing at the log parapet with Lucy's arms wrapped around him, Grant had lost all sense of time and place, not realizing that the fireworks were just about to start when he gently pushed her back to allow some space between them. Lucy recognized the serious expression on his face and frowned.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Wrong? No," he said in mild surprise, "No. There's nothing wrong. Nothing at all."

"Then what are you looking at me like that for?" Lucy asked, cocking her head to the side, "Don't deny it. I've seen that look before, Grant Fairfax. That look on your face means you've got something serious to say to me, and most likely it's something that you know I'm not going to like."

Not this time. Grant thought to himself.

Grant couldn't have been more pleased by Lucy's reaction to the necklace and the pistol he had bought for her to mark their anniversary, but they weren't the only presents he had for her. Hidden inside his coat was a little black box that contained an engagement ring. After all, what better place in the world could there be for Grant to ask Lucy to be his wife than the place where fate had brought them together?

"You're right; at least about me having something serious to say. But you've got it all wrong, my Lady. This isn't something that you're not going to like. At least, I don't think so."

A skeptical look came over her face. "Yeah? Then what is it?"

Grant reached inside his coat pocket. He was just about to pull the box out when suddenly, the first of the fireworks lit up the sky, and a thunderous BOOM rattled across the camp. Lucy turned and was awed by the kaleidoscope of colors spreading across the nighttime sky. Startled by the flash of light and the noise, Grant dropped the small box containing the engagement ring. The light from the fireworks had disappeared, plunging the area around Grant in total darkness. Fortunately, Lucy's attention was firmly fixed towards the sky, so she didn't see the box.

Blimey! Grant cursed himself for his clumsiness. Of all the times! Where is the bloody thing?!

"Wow!" Lucy said, raising her gaze upwards. The sky erupted into a fountain of colors, sparks, whistles, hisses, and overpowering BANGS and BOOMS! A cold sweat peppered Grant's forehead as he waited anxiously for the flashes of light to illuminate the ground. He had to find the ring and find it quickly while Lucy was distracted.

FLASH! KABOOM!

Another firework went off, bathing the area with red and green light. Grant searched the ground around his feet. There was no sign of the box. The light vanished.

FLASH! KABOOM! FLASH! BOOM!

The area was again illuminated by the light of the fireworks as they exploded high overhead. Grant expanded his search to the ground were Lucy was standing. Again, there was no sign of the box. Grant sighed quietly with relief. At least there was no chance that Lucy would accidentally step on the box or trip over it.

FLASH! BANG! BANG! BOOM!

Several fireworks went off all at once, bathing the area with a blinding white light that was a godsend for Grant. It illuminated the entire top of the hill. Looking to his left, he spotted a dark shape near the tree that might be the box. Suddenly, the area was again plunged into darkness.

"C'mon Grant!" Lucy called out, "You're missing it!"

Grant groped in the darkness until he felt something. He wrapped his fingers around the object and lifted it off the ground. He instantly recognized that it wasn't the ring box. It was too heavy and jagged. A rock most likely. Grant tossed it aside and continued to probe in the dark with his free hand.

FLASH!

There it was! The ring box was lying on its side in a soft patch of dirt near the roots of the tree. Grant reached out, grabbed the box, and was horrified to discover that it was covered in dirt, twigs, and mud.

What am I going to do now? Grant despaired as he tried to wipe the worst of the grime and filth from the box.

"Grant! You're going to miss it!"

"I'll be right there." Grant called back. Left with no other choice, he brushed off the remnants of filth that he could, quietly stuffed the ring box back into his coat pocket, and stood next to Lucy. Moments later the fireworks reached their crescendo. A deafening bang thundered across the water and washed over the crowds. The fireworks ended with a brilliant flourish of light and color.

"That was wonderful," Lucy said as she stretched her arms, and rolled her head to work out the kinks in her neck.

"Yeah," Grant said as he gazed wistfully at Lucy, "It really is wonderful."

Lucy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and gave him a crooked smile, recognizing that Grant wasn't talking about the fireworks.

"So," she said, putting her hands on her hips and turning to face him. "What did you want to say?"

"I'm sorry?" Grant asked nervously.

"Before the fireworks started, you said that you had something to say to me. What was it?"

Grant said nothing.

"Well c'mon, Grant." she said with growing impatience, "What was it?"

A long moment passed before Grant spoke.

"I… I seem to have forgotten what it was I wanted to say."

"Don't worry, Grant," Lucy said, offering encouragement as she wrapped her arms around Grant's right arm, "Whatever it was, I'm sure it'll come back to you. Especially if it was important."

You have no idea.

"Yeah. I'm sure it will." He said aloud.