the golden pistol
between fable II & III
Reaver, Sparrow


"Oy Reaver!" Sparrow slowed his gait as the pirate came into view, leaning against the overly extravagant table and pouring himself a glass of wine.

"Ah Sparrow, back from your tiresome business in Oakvale already?" He didn't look up from the burgundy liquid splashing against the sparkling crystal of the glass.

"I was visiting Hammer-ah, Hannah."

"Oh I know, is that not what I just said?" Reaver finally looked up, a rather innocent look on his face. "Drink?" He held out the now-full glass, Sparrow only then noticing the second one sitting innocuously next to his hip.

He took it, if only so he wouldn't have to have a pointless fight over hospitality and whatever else for Reaver's entertainment, as well as his need to dodge the subject.

"So what's this I hear about you hiring half the blacksmiths of Albion?"

"Well, I'm not as oblivious as some might think. I've noticed the rising poverty level of Albion's common man, and thought I'd do my part to help."

Sparrow snorted into his drink, just barely avoiding death by wine inhalation. "Right, and I just built an orphanage with my bare hands out of litter."

Reaver gave him an appraising look, a smirk working its way onto his face. "Well then, a toast to us fine gentlemen striving to make Albion a better place for all." He raised his glass.

"And here's to the man who does it by commissioning a solid gold pistol from half the forges of the land." Sparrow clinked his glass against Reaver's, noting with pleasure the look of mild surprise on the pirates suddenly oddly still form.

"I find myself rather curious as to who told you that."

Sparrow waved it off as inconsequential, if only to spare Reaver a bullet. "Doesn't matter. But really, a solid gold pistol? What in the name of Skorm's crusty dentures are you going to do with something so gaudy? Ego-stroking's out, since doing that with a firearm is rather dangerous, so that leaves…what, exactly?"

"Because I am the best shot in all of Albion, and as such, I should have a proper symbol of my status, don't you agree?"

"Isn't the manor filled with trophies and the ship inlaid with gold filament and crafted from the extinct trees of rare-whatever symbolic enough?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Right. Shall I go fetch you your baby seal slippers and dodo-down house coat to go with it? If you like I can pick up a dragon scale holster from the corner market, have it encrusted with that rare jade from east Samarkand and rubbed in the tears of children so it doesn't hinder your-"

"Sparrow dear, do shut up." Reaver snatched the bottle of wine off the table, brushing past a half amused, half exasperated Sparrow. "I have servants for that." He flashed the gypsy a wink over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall outside the kitchen.

Sparrow shook his head and downed the rest of his drink.

-2 months later-

"What do you mean it can't be done?" Reaver glared up at the filthy man standing next to his table. He was covered in soot and wreaked of sulfur. Obviously he hadn't thought to bathe before coming to seek audience with the man paying his wages.

"We've tried ev'ry thang sir, bu' nothan works. It can 'ne be made an' functan prop'ly."

"Are you certain?"

"Aye."

"And the other men on my payroll, are they in accordance?"

"They wha?"

"Do they agree with you, on this?"

"Aye."

Reaver didn't even bother to voice any further displeasure, letting the crack of the dragonstomper .48 do it for him. "Fetch the rest of them. Immediately."

-2 hours later-

"Did you have to set it on fire? I'm pretty sure the barmaids would have been able to get at least most of the blood off of the floor-"

"Yes, Sparrow, I did."

The hero returned to watching the crumbling of the wood beneath the hunger of the flames set upon it. "I liked that bar…"

"As did I."

"I hope you realize this means I get to set fire to something in Bloodstone. Tis only fair, after all."

"How, exactly, is that fair?"

"This is Westcliff."

"And?"

"I told you, Westcliff is mine. Therefore, you've gone and burnt down my bar, therefore, I get to burn down yours. An eye for an eye."

"I wasn't aware that applied to buildings"

"It applies to everything. Oh, and I'll have your blacksmith as well. Just cause he was smart enough to come up with an excuse out of it and mine wasn't doesn't mean he's not involved."

Reaver waved him off. "Do what you will with him, I don't care. It's not as if he's of any use to me."

Sparrow patted him lightly on the shoulder. "You're ridiculous scheme will work out next time around. Well, maybe."

The pirate chuckled. "Perhaps. Although I fear that for your sake, you should hope not."

"Why? Reaver, what are you planning?"

"Oh, you'll see."