Disclaimer: I own nothing Fable, not the Princess/Hero/Queen, Albion, or the wonderfully delightful Reaver. It's just for fun, and we do so love fun. =P

Author's Note: Well, I won't go into details, but I will say that I've had a rather rough go of things for the past two months or so. In any case, Many apologies for the lateness of this chapter, and here's hoping I'll be more on the ball from here on out. To Piratically-Insane, I thankee kindly for the continued support; it was awesome to see that at least one person is enjoying my attempt at a story. To Savana Night... I must say I quite disagree. Just knowing what Elliot does after you ensure his survival, and the fact that he acts more like a woman than the Princess does (in my opinion, anyways), boils my blood. I feel that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Anyways! On with the story, at long last!

The struggle lasted all through the night, victory only coming once the sun had began it's ascent. While blowing the Hollow Men up with the mortar she had very quickly come to love was easy enough, it wasn't enough to stop them from breaking down the gates and forcing the defenders into close-contact combat. The ground was drenched in blood by the end, which was particularly horrible, as Hollow Men don't bleed. It seemed like the waves would never end, as the moment you'd strike one down, several more would spring up from the ground, ready to take the first's place. It was pure carnage. And, of course, just when it seemed like the battle was done, one more wave rose, with a former soldier of the living group, a lieutenant no less. Never before had the Princess seen such death, nor had she ever put such a strain on her body. After the last Hollow Man fell, the sun now visible, she literally dropped to the ground and lay there trying to catch her breath. She could feel the dampness of her allies blood in the soil she was on top of, but was too far gone to care. It was then that she was able to take in exactly what had happened, as things had moved so quickly the moment she awoke that there was scarcely time to think. Jammy and several other soldiers had fallen during the battle, though even when they had died there had barely been enough time in between enemies to notice.

Burd was sitting next to her, one paw on her arm in a questioning manner. Flopping her head to the opposite side, the Princess attempted getting a better look at him. From what she could see, there were no major wounds... Or even that many minor wounds. She smiled, using some of the little remaining energy to pat him on the head. He was notoriously quick on his feet, and she was all too happy to see that he had avoided getting brutalized, despite the chaotic battleground. She was too tired to show this with anything more than a slight smile, however. They had won, while sustaining only a small amount of casualties. At least four soldiers had died during the battle, but four soldiers for swarms upon swarms of the undead was a fairly decent outcome. Though if she had a choice, she would have preferred to have been able to save the fallen soldiers, she was still in no position to complain. Things could have been worse.

"Still alive there, Princess?" She heard Walter ask, his tone joking.

"Yes. Barely. I tell you, the past twenty-four hours have been brutal! First bandits and wolves on my way to the monorail station, then hobbes of all shapes and sizes in some hole in the ground, topped of by the legions of the undead we just slaughtered." The Princess laughed, "I could use a drink."

Walter laughed along with her, offering his hand to help her off the ground. Once on her feet, the Princess tried to best of her abilities to wipe some of the grime off of herself. It wasn't working particularly well, to say the least.

"I also need a bath and fresh clothing. How far until Bowerstone?" She was just about ready to run the rest of the way to the city. Never before had she felt so utterly and disgustingly filthy. Blood and mud mixed together on her once nice clothing, and the stench of death and swamp hung around so heavily that she no doubt smelled of the foul combination as well.

"Not too far yet. The path'll take us through the cemetery, then into and past a small settlement, and from there we'll use the sewer access to get into Bowerstone Industrial. I just want to have a quick word with Swift before we toddle off, though." Walter replied, chuckling at the look of distress on her face. The Princess nodded and gestured for him to lead the way. She had been so focused on how caked in filth she was that she had almost completely forgotten that they had came here to gain the support of these disillusioned soldiers. Lucky for her, Walter was on the ball, as always. She quite honestly had no idea what she'd do without him, or Jasper, for that matter. Allies were an important asset in her eyes, and so she followed Walter to gain some more.

With a promise to Major Swift and a round brief farewells, Walter and the Princess had left the Mourningwood Fort. Bowerstone was near; you could tell from the acrid scent the factories exuded. Even up at the castle, given the proper wind direction, you could be bombarded by the dreadful smell of factory smog. The swamp was doing a fair enough job of masking it at first, (not that the swamp smelled much better than the factories), but with every step the smell grew more prominent until they found themselves in a small settlement of 'Eco-Warriors', as they called themselves. The Princess' stomach churned at the thought of living right beside the sewers, with waste spilling out into the settlement itself. Love the environment all you want, there was no way it could be pleasant living in such a place. Still, it was their choice, and the Princess didn't really care in any case, given her inclination towards hurrying for a bath. From what she could gather during her hurried trek through the small cluster of houses the people here were happy enough, so there was no reason to fret about it.

The entire walk from the Mourningwood Fort to the Eco-Warrior settlement, Walter seemed to find great amusement in the Princess' discomfort. Though Walter was a dear friend, it didn't stop her from being bloody angry at him after long. Actually, it was more accurate to say she was immensely annoyed with him. She hadn't quite reached 'angry' yet, but she was getting there. To make matters worse, Walter was also poking fun at the fact that she was 'pouting' as he had put it. The Princess very carefully told him that she wasn't 'pouting', she was 'fuming'. She made very sure that she didn't 'flip out', so to say, as she knew she'd feel like an ass later. She was intelligent enough to realize that she was in a foul mood simply because of exhaustion, hunger, thirst, and just feeling grimy. Walter just found it funny that she was acting like typical royalty and acting finicky because of a little dirt and blood. His career choice was rarely without such, so it was understandable why he'd find it amusing. Still, that didn't make her any less ticked off.

The fetid smell of the Bowerstone Industrial sewers certainly helped to take her mind off of her own state, but it wasn't exactly what one would call an improvement. Several times the stench made her gag, though there was currently nothing in her stomach to regurgitate. If she never had to set foot in the sewers again in this lifetime it would be far too soon. Luckily, they only had to pass through a short section of the sewers before they were greeted with the seemingly perpetual gloom of Bowerstone Industrial.

The Princess had never actually been to Bowerstone Industrial, only ever having experienced it from the distant view of the castle. Never had she actually thought conditions were this bleak. How could Logan turn a blind eye to such suffering? As she looked around in shock, Walter explained a few things about the Industrial quarter. The Princess had heard much of this before, from small snippets of conversations she heard the staff having. The unofficial 'ruler' of Bowerstone was Reaver, a man of ill-repute and ruthless business tactics. It was because of him that young children worked in the factories, and that no one could let their guard down in thanks to Reaver's many thugs. Never before had the Princess seen depression running so rampant through an area. People walked the streets with slouched shoulders, eyes kept downcast. She was even beginning to feel depressed just seeing the conditions these people lived with.

Walter didn't only talk about the condition in the Industrial quarter, he also spoke of the people they were trying to find. He didn't go into much detail, and the Princess didn't prod, because a growing din had caught her attention. Up ahead what looked to be a protest was quickly forming. The Princess inwardly cringed when she thought of the last protest she had seen, and how it ended in death and pain. She, of course, always had the option of choosing not to watch this particular protest, but her morbid curiosity drew her in. She reasoned that if she was to do what Walter was helping her accomplish, she needed to know what was on the people's minds. You could best solve the problems you had witnessed and listened to.

"Reaver is exploiting us!" a man cried as they approached, "We demand better working conditions! We're workers; we're not slaves!" The Princess felt a wave of dread wash over her as she noticed the finely dressed man on the balcony behind the protesting man. Even if she hadn't already known what he looked like, it was impossible not to have known who he was. 'Reaver' She thought as a clang rang out over the crowd, the man in question tapping his cane against the railing. The protester didn't cease his speech, however, either not hearing or ignoring Reaver's attempt to gain their collective attention. Frankly, it seemed the only one not watching to see what Reaver was going to do was the man voicing his discontent.

"Reaver treats us like animals!" Another clang over the man's complaints, which he again didn't react to, "There's only one thing for it; we have to stand up to Reaver!" This time, instead of a 'clang', there was a 'bang'. The protestor fell, wounded by the smoking pistol that had, at some point, found it's way into Reaver's hand. Finally having everyone's attention, Reaver's voice carried out across the gathering, drawling yet filled with venom.

"But lying down is so much easier than standing up." In the crowd, a nearly inaudible whisper had began, the people beginning to form their own very quiet opinions. That is, until Reaver began speaking again. "My dear friends, in order to raise moral, I am offering prizes to the most deserving workers!" How he could sound so happy and yet menacing at the same time was beyond the Princess. He had just shot a man! And yet there he was, the same smile plastered to his face as he gazed down patronizingly at his employees.

"The rules," He continued, "that will govern what I like to call the 'Reaver Team Spirit Award' are these; Firstly, any worker who so much as murmurs another complaint will be shot." His sentence was punctuated with a second shot to the already wounded protestor, "Secondly, any worker who takes more than a three-second break will be shot." He shot the man a third time, "Thirdly, any worker who breaks any other rules I have yet to formulate will, yes, you guessed it, be shot." He fired once more, the protestor finally slumping to the ground.

"You may return to work now! As you know, I'm a generous man, and likely to start handing out prizes right away." The gathered people needed only see Reaver wave his pistol at the lot of them before they began dispersing, though Reaver continued shooing them away until there were none left standing there. The Princess watched as he looked around, as if looking for any stragglers loitering around despite his orders, and she could only wonder how a man becomes so... Devoid of empathy. The entire scene was all too familiar; someone was murdered for speaking their mind, for trying to get some amount of fairness for the working class. What bothered her even more, though, was the fact that Reaver had murdered a man, which was still against the law even in these blood-stained days, and the guards in the vicinity did nothing. Not Logan's Special troops, nor the regular guard lifted a finger to bring to justice the man lying in a puddle of his own blood.

Exhaling deeply, the Princess turned away from the scene, no longer being able to stomach the sight of the poor bastard whom had been gunned down only moments ago. She should have done something. She should have defended the poor sod, but was too distracted by the spectacle to even think of that at the time. She looked to Walter, a grim expression worn.

"There was nothing we could have done. We can't afford to let Logan know we're in the city again yet, and if we had attacked Reaver we would have certainly gotten noticed in a hurry. It's unfortunate, but just think; when you take Logan's throne you can get revenge for the poor sod." Walter patted her on the shoulder, and then proceeded to gesture for her to start walking.

The Princess said nothing for a moment, continuing to be introspective. After she thought about it, she huffed and nodded. "I don't want you to be right, I want to go into that building see how much Reaver likes to get shot repeatedly, but, unfortunately, you are right." She frowned, "This 'Hero' buisness isn't like it was advertised." The Princess chuckled humorlessly. Today was turning out quite horribly. Not only was she still in desperate need of a bath, but now she had also seen someone murdered, which was only making meeting with these people Walter was leading her towards seem all the more dismal a task. She knew that somehow it'd go wrong, and her day would end up even more gloomy.

"How much longer until we're there?" She inquired, glancing woefully at the gray sky. She couldn't tell if the gray sky was a product of the factory smog, or if it simply was bad weather. 'Probably both.' She mused, turning her attention back to the street before her. Why was it that the second she stepped out of the sewers into the Industrial quarter the colour drained from the world? She was slowly becoming convinced that this place induced depression. Or perhaps the massive amount of depression already there due to the fearful wisps of people living here was highly contagious. Again she deduced that it was likely both. With a sigh, she trudged on, walking slightly behind Walter so as to be alone to some small extent. In her gloom, she didn't notice a puddle set directly in her path until it was too late. She glanced down, noting that her boot was now splattered with... Something. It certainly didn't look like mud, that was for certain. Without so much as a shrug, she continued following her heavy-set mentor. 'At least there's one upside to already being caked in filth...' She thought with a bleak chuckle.

As per the Princess' prediction, the day got worse. Upon entering the dingy sewer tunnel that Walter claimed the group they were meeting was located, the smell of Bowerstone's filth was once again overpowering. As much as she tried, she couldn't keep the stench out of her nose, and gagged several times. Walter was talking, but the Princess wasn't listening. Between the horrible feelings she still had about the death she had witnessed, and her concentration on stopping herself from smelling the sewers, she had no attention left for whatever he was saying. Upon later speculation, she guessed that's why what happened next actually happened. In her distraction, the Princess was quite shocked to find that the room they were about to enter, previously empty, was now full of ragged-looking men... And their guns, of course. With such a large number of pistols and rifles aimed at her, depression turned to fury in a seeming display of magic, and in a flash the Princess was armed with her sword in one hand, and her pistol in the other. If she'd been in a proper state of mind, she'd have been horrified at her own sudden bloodlust. In her current state of mind, several thoughts flashed through her mind, the most prominent of which was 'How dare they point their weapons at me?' As she was nearing the point of no return, when she would pull the trigger and fly into motion, Walter spoke.

"We won't move if you won't shoot." Were his words, and the Princess scowled darkly at her companion. In the back of her mind, she realized it was probably for the best if they avoided a fight; afterall, these were the people they had come to meet. Not a very welcoming group, in her mind.

"You'd better tell your friend that." One of the men replied, eyeing the Princess warily. 'Good,' she thought, 'they should be afraid.'. Again, if she'd had any sense about her, she'd have realized how horrible such thoughts were, but she was far beyond caring.

"Just do as he says." Walter said cautiously. Though he was behind her, and couldn't see the furious look on her face, her anger was almost palpable. With an even darker look, the Princess reluctantly put her weapons away, eyes flitting from person to person, watching for someone to make a move. She was in quite the foul mood.

"Now," the apparent leader of the group began, "who are you and what're you doing here?" He never once lowered his weapon, much to the Princess' eternal rage. How dare he keep so many guns trained on them when she had been forced to put hers away... Not that it would take much to bring the gun back out again and put a few bullets in a few skulls. Her hand twitched next to her pistol at the thought. She stayed it, though, mindful of Walter's request. He had yet to steer her wrong yet, so there was no point doubting him now, even if she was bloody pissed off. As the Princess silently seethed, Walter gave the man his name, though he hastily avoided identifying her. Likely because she was related to the murderer she once called 'brother'. He also added that he'd like to meet with some 'Page' character. Of course, the bloody brutes didn't listen to a damn word Walter said, and the man quickly began making accusations of them being spies, and was in the process of telling the rest of them to shoot. The Princess snarled and began drawing her pistol once again, when a woman's voice cut across the tense scene.

"Put your weapons down!"

Suddenly all the guns were gone. Still looking particularly angry, the Princess again returned her pistol to it's holster. As she looked up to search out the source of the voice, a dark-skinned woman, presumably Page, entered from an ajoined room. Clearly, the young Hero had misjudged who held leadership; it was not the ugly brute who had been determined they were spies, but instead this woman, who couldn't have been much older than the Princess herself. This revelation did little to stem her discontent, though. She did, however, start calming down when she wasn't being targetted by so many firearms, but it was still a long way off from being actually calm. Page called for Walter and her to follow, (or rather, she called for Walter, and the Princess tagged along because there was no way she was staying in the same room as the men who had been so keen on putting a bullet in her), and the discussion to enlist the help of the Bowerstone Resistance began.

"How many bloody times do I have to prove myself?" The Princess shouted after they exited the sewers. It was more out of frustration than anger, and Walter could see that plainly. Again she had been saddled with the chore of proving her worth for the throne, and this time she was much less good-humored about the whole affair. Walter just smiled sympathetically at her. "It's not enough that I tromped through caves filled with scores of Hobbes, or that I fought a legion of the undead? 'No,' they say! 'We should make her do all of the chores we were going to do!' It's not bloody fair!" She whined, more ranting to herself than anything. Sighing, Walter patted her on the shoulder.

"Let's go the the tavern then, shall we? Have a nice pint, a bath, and a sleep, and I'm sure you'll be right as rain." Was his suggestion, to which the Princess almost snapped at him for, but as she opened her mouth to speak, she paused, closed her mouth, pondered for a moment, and nodded.

"Right then. Where is the tavern, anyways? I could use a drink." She replied, her foul mood dimishing significantly. Walter always had the best ideas.

"There's one just up ahead." He said, pointing to the building at the top of the stairs. The Princess snorted. Of course these renegades would set up shop right next to a tavern. One couldn't liberate the kingdom from a tyrant without the right amount of alchohol in them, of course. Rolling her eyes, she followed Walter into the rather run-down building, which was already quite alive with patronage. In what was left of her foul mood, the Princess nearly scoffed, thinking that when people had nothing they'd often spend what little gold they had on booze. How could they expect someone to help them when they couldn't help themselves? Shaking her head, the Princess remembered that it didn't matter what the people she was fighting for were like; it was her duty to ensure the betterment of their lives. That was the whole point of all of this. So few had the courage to fight their king and his legions, so it was up to those with strength to save them all. This thought helped to balance out her mood once more, and she almost had a soft smile on her face as she and Walter sat down at the tavern's counter. Ordering a pint each, they sat and sipped their amber drinks in relative silence, albeit a much less tense silecne than had been hovering about before.

It was silently agreed between the two of them that one beer was not nearly enough after all that had transpired, so they ordered another pint each. And another. And another. And one more for good measure... Okay, just one more. The sun dissapeared, leaving a black sky devoid of stars due to the heavy layer of smog hanging above Bowerstone Industrial. The more they drank, the louder Walter and the Princess' conversations got, and when one of the other patrons started singing, they joined in with a handful of others. None of them were particularly in key, but that didn't stop any of them for a second. After a few more songs, everyone eventually got bored and the drunken songs died out. It was some time after this, (and a couple more pints), that the two of them decided it was time to retire for the night. They stumbled upstairs to their respective rooms, and bid each other good night, although it was a fair bit slurred, and any sober person to have heard it wouldn't have recognized what they were saying.

Inside of the small room, it didn't take the Princess long to find the lavatory even as drunk as she was. Swaying the entire way there, she made her way to the even smaller room, stripping down on the way. On course, as she attempted to remove her boot and walk at the same time she only managed to trip herself, landing flat on her face. Groaning, she set back to the task of removing the pesky boot, and with that accomplished, her stockings came next. After she was fully disrobed, she managed to get her way into the tub. The task of scrubbing the grime off of her was made difficult by the amount that had built up, as well as her own intoxication, but after much work she was finally clean. Passably so, in any case. She was too tired and drunk to do a proper job of it, so she drained the bathtub and crawled into the worn bed without redressing. It was only a matter of moments until she fell into a sleep so deep it could rival the dead.

"Mummy, Logan's picking on me again!" A young girl shrieked, pointing at the quickly retreating form of her older brother. It was a regular occurance, as it did with most siblings, but no amount of scolding seemed to be enough to stop the incidents. The Prince and Princess were capable of getting along on occasion, of course, but more often than not they'd be caught in the act of fighting. Their mother did as much as she could to keep them in line, but the castle was large enough that they always managed to find a way to get at each other. It was because of this that the Queen simply sighed and beckoned her daughter over.

"You really mustn't let your brother bother you so much. He's just trying to get a rise out of you." The Queen informed her youngest child with a soft voice and a softer expression. The little girl frowned.

"But mummy, even if I try to ignore him he still bugs me!" She whined, and was about to launch into a rant when her mother held up a hand to silence her.

"My sister and I used to be much the same as you and your brother... The only difference is that when I was even younger than you are now we were on the streets." The Queen said, picking the child up and placing her on her lap, "I knew that my sister loved me, even though she'd occasionally tease me, and I'm sure that your brother loves you." Again, the young girl opened her mouth as if to argue, and was quieted with a look. After a moment of the slightly scolding look, the Queen smiled crookedly, "But when my sister bugged me too much I'd get back at her right quick. Like the time I shoved snow down her shirt while she was sleeping." Both the Queen and the Princess laughed at this. The Princess had heard this story before, as she was quite addicted to hearing her mother's stories. It was one of the few things her and Logan could agree on, actually. The two of them were in total rapture when their mother began telling a story of one of her epic adventures. Thinking of this, with eyes wide with excitement, the Princess looked up at her mother.

"Mum, can you tell me a story?" She asked pleadingly. It was yet another regular occurance, but it was certainly far more tolerable than the incessant bickering between the Princess and Logan.

"Again? I would think you'd have gotten sick of the same old stories after so long!" The Queen replied with a chuckle, "Which one do you want to hear, then? Or rather, which one do you want to hear again?" The Princess tapped a finger on her chin, putting on an overdramatic display of thinking.

"I want to hear how you met the other three Heros!" The young girl decided, a large grin on her face, "That one's even better than your story about Chesty, the evil treasure chest."

"That one again, is it? Alrighty then, let's see... Ah, yes, well as you know it was the blind seeress who told me where to go to find the first Hero, the Hero of Strength, though she didn't really tell me where I was going. I was still fresh out of the Gypsy Camp, without the foggiest clue as to where anything was in the world. She directed me to Oakfield, a small farming community, the main attraction of which was the Temple of Light. Not suprisingly, it was in that very temple that I met Hannah. She didn't seem like much of a Hero when I first met her, what with being part of a passifist order, but she did speak of her vows with a bit of disdain at the time. In any case, I was to escort her through a cave in order to fetch blessed water for one of the temple's ceremonies. Just when we were nearly done, another monk ran into the cave in a terrible panic. He said one of Lucien's men was at the temple, with her father, and before I could even react Hannah was gone. We got there too late, though, and Hannah's father was shot by the soldier. I didn't take her long to break her vows after seeing that..." The Queen's eyes got a distant look to them as she spoke, "The next day, at her father's funeral, she took up the name 'Hammer', as well as her place as the Hero of Strength.

"Next I had to recruit the Hero of Will, which was a far cry more tricky than the first. I discovered that the next Hero was a man named Garth, whom I had seen on the same day I lost my sister all those years ago, but when I went to his tower to speak with him, I learned that Lucien's men had made it there first. They took Garth, and it was up to me to get him back. To do so, I had to join the army that belonged to the man I so desperately wanted to kill, but the only way I could do that was by winning in the arena." She snorted, "The arena was a cakewalk compared to what came next. Obviously, I won, claimed a trophy, and my ticket into the Tattered Spire. It wasn't how I'd imagined it to be... I don't think it was possible to expect what lay within the Spire. Inside those walls, I was forced to do the most terrible things... And I spent ten years completely devoid of compassion for the poor sods who suffered at my hands. I had began to forget what life had been like before I was there, and I had lost all hope of ever leaving, but I never forgot why I was there in the first place. When Garth helped me escaped, it was like a dream. Gripped with the possibility of freedom, I shot down any who stood in my way. Only when the Spire was to my back, however, did I begin to believe that I was actually free of that hell.

"There wasn't much time for rest when I returned, as Hammer had quickly learned the location of our 'Number Three', as she called him. We didn't have much information on him at the time, just that he was wicked with a pistol and quite the celebrity where he was from. And so, in search of the Hero of Skill, I trompped through swamps that radiated evil, and eventually stumbled into a town of sin. Bloodstone, home to cutpurses, whores, pirates, and worse. At the time, I couldn't believe that was the place where I'd find the third Hero, but sure enough, at the top of the town in a rather grandoise house, was the Hero of Skill. He was a Pirate King, if you were to believe a word that came out of his mouth," She glanced down at her daughter and chuckled, "Which I certainly wouldn't. Anyways, the third Hero was as vile as the town he lived in, and before he would help he demanded that I do him a 'favor'. After I did his... little chore for him, he revealed that he'd sold me out to Lucien in exchange for a rather sizable sum of gold. The weasle obviously didn't realize what kind of person Lucien was, as he was informed shortly afterwards that Lucien was waging a battle against Bloodstone, in search of me, as well as him. It wasn't long after we escaped from Reaver's mansion that I was given my chance for revenge... And denied it." The Queen sighed, looking a tad deflated. This was not lost on her daughter, who eyed her with concern.

"But I thought you said you killed Lucien right there in the Spire." The Princess commented, still looking at her mother with an expression of worry.

"No, I said Lucien had been killed in the Spire, not that I had killed him."

"So who did kill him, mummy?"

The Queen looked at the floor for a minute, scowled, and answered.

"Reaver."