ProwlerPercy and PipoRabbit: Yes, she was hallucinating about Flowey! I see no reason for a phantom's drunken trip to not feature a talking flower. The thought just occurred to me.

Longer chapter for your entertainment for I, the great Gaming Knight of the mighty Order of Dying College Students, have a lot of papers to do. May my trusty pen write valiant words, my worthy laptop type courageous essays, and my strong bag protect requirements. May my brain remain functional in the deepest of nights, my eyes remain steadfast in their reading journeys, my back endure the pain of sitting up. Also, may I survive through paperwork watching Axis Powers Hetalia and fangirling over France, because he's just that cute.

H is for Hetalia…?

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H is for handsome.

"…have you seen him? He's handsome!" Mary Sweets gushed to a confused Shovel Knight. The cerulean warrior could only stare at her, almost about to butt in her personal sphere. Shield Knight gawked at the lady, her hurt arm forgotten. She looked back at her time as the Enchantress, and there was no way in hell Specter Knight appeared handsome. To be fair, he had neverremoved his helmet nor even put his hood down. She pinched her chin briefly. Maybe the spook had a nice-looking face under that mask. That's so bad, she thought, he could or might have been his time's Propeller Knight… the problem with many handsome people is that they're often aloof…

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H is for human.

"Sire, I believe excavation here is getting more and more unsettling." An old anthropologist murmured. Mole Knight nodded his head.

"Yes, it appears everything is going worse." Mole Knight crossed his arms, looking down at the horrifying sight unearthed just under the terrible mural. The archaeologist could count at least sixteen hands in the bone pile, all detached from the arms. The arms were also ripped off the shoulder joints, the radius and ulna of some crushed. There were eight skulls were smashed and eight spinal columns broken. The pelvises and legs were left mostly alone. Some femurs were crushed. All of the victims were still clad in various armors and clothing, the fabrics still stained deep red, almost black. Many types of weapons were thrown atop their mutilated remains; sabers, spears, blunt and spiked maces, axes, and quarterstaffs. A clay tablet that had been there was removed by Mole Knight himself.

"It's jarring. I myself have seen excavations of Neanderthal mass graves. The casualties were over twenty people, many of them children." The old anthropologist pushed up his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is an act of war, right?"

"The entire sociology department thinks so. Do you think these people were alive when they got mutilated?"

"The femurs are broken." He glanced at the knight, brow raised. "Do you know how painful it is to have a blunt force crush your femur?"

Mole Knight grimaced, and then turned to the experts inspecting the clay tablets. "And the clay tablet?"

"So far we have translated the first portion." One of them replied. "It most likely says 'eight knights punished'..."

The old man removed his glasses and wiped the lenses with his shirt's hem. "Eight knights, and we're looking at the Enchantress here," he gestured to the ominous drawing on the wall, the bloody demon looming over the Lost City, "aren't we?"

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H is for hand.

"Father!" The blond-haired child called out, sweetly standing before her father. He was large and scary, his short beard and eyes shrouded in the shadows of his helmet enough to terrify his opponents. He put his large snow shovel down on a corner by the main door and picked his daughter up, throwing her up in the air and catching her. A small smile appeared on his face as his daughter giggled in the air.

"What is it, my child?" He sweetly embraced his young daughter and let her sit comfortably on his arm. She grinned up at him.

"Hand!" She thrust out her small hand to him and pointed to his large hand. He put his palm against hers, and she laughed. Her entire hand was just as large as his thumb. "I have little hands!"

"Tiny hands." He said. She smiled, and then jumped off him. He winced and squeezed his eyes shut as his fearless daughter jumped off a height more than twice hers. She sprinted to his standing snow shovel, and held on its shaft. She pulled, and ended up with her butt on the floor.

The Stalwart Shoveler crouched and picked her back up, walking out of the house. "That shovel is too big for you. Let me give you something I think is better for you."

"Can I be a knight like you?" She asked.

"Of course, my daughter." He smiled wider and walked to a shed behind the house.

"Can I use a shovel like you?"

"If you want."

"What's the French word for water?"

He paused, his mouth opening a bit. "I don't know."

"You know everything, right?"

"Not everything. I don't know French for water."

"If I grow up to be a knight, what should I do?"

"Fight bad men. That's what all knights should do."

"Can I throw snowballs at them too?"

"Maybe. You can."

"How big should my snowballs be?"

"As big as you want."

"How do you make the biggest snowballs?"

"I'll teach you when you grow up."

"What are you going to give me, Father?"

He put his daughter down and opened the shed's door. He motioned for her to stay, and then entered. She pouted. A few moments later, he emerged with a small toy shield, made of wood, painted red, and very dusty. He blew the dust off and knelt before his daughter.

"Try it on. It fits your hand."

She gasped and beamed, putting her entire arm out in front of her. He slid the strap of the toy to her wrist.

"Wave it around."

She waved it around and started to giggle. "My friends would be so jealous of me!"

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H is for hat.

"Fortunately, no. He only does zhat to zhe ladies. "Albrecht nonchalantly told Shovel Knight. The latter shrugged.

"Don't you have suspicions?"

"None of us do, Herr Shovel. He has always been zhat vay since we first met. Anyvay, ve should be looking for hats to use for ze celebration party tomorrow-"

"What are you two talking about?" A middle-aged man, dressed in a black longcoat with a brown collar, walked over to the two. He brandished his cane around and bowed to them flamboyantly. "I heard the word 'hat'."

"Mister Hat." Shovel Knight faced the haberdasher and extended his hand. "We meet again."

"Shovel Knight!" Mister Hat shook his hand, somehow tearing his eyes away from his shiny blue horned helmet. "It's good to see you on this wonderful day!" The hat man looked at Albrecht and gaped at his shimmering gold and blue helmet.

"Good day. My name is Albrecht. My superior, Propeller Knight, wishes to meet you on zhis day." Albrecht held out his right hand and shook Hat's. "He vill come soon, maybe vizhin ze hour."

"I heard about Propeller Knight." Mister Hat ripped his gaze away from Albrecht's majesticblue and gold hat. "I heard he has quite the taste in fashion!"

"He vants to see your products. He has heard about your collection, and is curious."

"Magnificent!" Mister Hat exclaimed. "Someone else is interested in hats!"

"Not only ze hats, but also your luxurious items."

The haberdasher made a dismissive gesture. "Everyone comes here for the luxury jewelry and clothes, but if anyone comes for the hats, I will be glad!" He danced around and went to the vast collection of fine hats at the back of the store and sang. "Hats! My greatest passion in the world! Hats!"

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H is for helmet.

"You're lucky he didn't attack you for that helmet, Albrecht." Shovel Knight said. "He loves hats, and 'hat', in his mind, is an umbrella term for any headgear."

"I can see."

The two looked outside as a soft noise zoomed by the shop's windows. They followed a green and gold flying man and watched him land gracefully in front of the shop entrance.

The Hoverhaft sighed, shook his head, and flew to his superior. "Sire, we have interacted vizh Mister Hat. He is inside the shop."

Propeller Knight grinned, his teeth glinting. "Well, well, let us get inside and see!"

The Frenchman happily walked into the fancy shop. Upon entering, he was greeted with the loveliest of dresses, the most fancy of garb, the most elegant of jewels, the shiniest of shoes, the most beautiful of swords, and the finest of hats. He turned to Shovel Knight, who was standing idly by the shoe section, and laughed merrily.

"Shovel Knight, you have great taste in fashion!" He praised as he went by the first hat aisle and admired an orange feathered hat. He stroked the feather, enjoying its soft texture.

"I zhink he stumbled upon zhis by accident." Albrecht muttered.

"Yes, in fact, I did." Shovel Knight said as a matter of fact. "A fancy shop in the Armor Outpost is one of the last things I would expect. I also did not expect a hat-obsessed man before."

"Did someone say 'hat'?" Mister Hat called out from the back of the shop and glided to the entrance. Attracted by the power of the h-word, he emerged from his hat paradise. "Hat customer? Hat?"

"You must be Mister Hat." Propeller Knight smiled, taking the lovely orange hat and examining it. "You have a very fine collection. I like all of these hats. Where did you get these? Exotic!"

"Of course!" He boasted, closing his eyes and spinning to face Propeller Knight and bow. "I am not called Mister Ha-"

The salesman opened his eyes, and immediately, he felt Cupid's arrow hit his heart.

Propeller Knight, to him, was bathed in sparkles, especially the orange hat, which gained an ethereal glow. Mister Hat let out a delighted groan.

"Dear gods, must zhis happen right now?" Albrecht bemoaned. "I should haff expected ze hat man to swoon…"

Shovel Knight tapped the furious German's shoulder lightly. "No. That's not it. Watch this to the end."

The Hoverhaft growled and looked awkwardly at the two. Propeller Knight's smile started to falter when he noticed Mister Hat inching closer to him and raising his hands up to the level of his face.

"Albrecht…?" Propeller Knight stepped to the side, his hand reaching into his pouch for his dagger. He carefully placed the orange hat back on its rack, watching Mister Hat stalk him.

"Shovel Knight says I should vatch. I'm sure nozhing bad vill happen since he is here."

"Merde."

"Propeller Knight!" Mister Hat exclaimed. "I cannot remove mine eyes from you!"

"Mes dieux."

"You…" Mister Hat's mouth opened as he stared more and more at Propeller Knight, "have a magnificent helmet, so lovely! So lovely!"

Shovel Knight snickered as Albrecht grimaced.

"Quoi?" Propeller Knight gawked, flinching when Mister Hat grabbed one of the helmet's handles and made the propeller blades spin slowly. His eyes darted from the hand delightfully squeezing the handle to the face of the foppish hat dandy, and then his brows furrowed.

"Your elegant hat! A true masterpiece of modern engineering! You can fly with this! I must have it!"

"But I cannot be Propeller Knight without my Heli-Helmet. It's also a helmet, which is different from hats."

Mister Hat let go of the handles, flashed a malicious smile, and reached for the hidden longsword under his coat. "Yes, about that problem… heh heh!"

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H is for hood.

Upon seeing Phantom Striker stand outside of the fancy shop like he had lived in it for all his life and exude a grinning type of aura, Plague Knight knew there was something very, verywrong happening inside the establishment.

"Mona, I think it's best for you to stay with the minions out here." Plague Knight muttered. "Reize, love potion matters later."

"Okay!" The warrior-in-training saluted.

"Well… okay then." Mona fondly patted the masked alchemist's head before heading to the cluster of minions happily walking around. Plague Knight watched her until she and Reize had joined a sizeable group composed of five Plague Minions and a hulking Baz, and then bomb bursted to the fancy shop's entrance. When he landed by the blood knight, he heard a desperate voice cry out.

"Hilf mir!"A Hoverhaft screeched. Plague Knight peeked inside and found Propeller Knight flying around frantically as Mister Hat hungrily followed. Shovel Knight was panting, his hands on his knees as he tried to follow the three. The Hoverhaft was deflecting the cups and saucers launched at his captain with his halberd, and the said captain flew out of the fancy shop as a last escape attempt.

"Woah." The scientist ducked as Propeller Knight zoomed past him, closely followed by the hysterical German. Mister Hat chased after them, still throwing his teacups at them. Plague Knight straightened his posture and glanced over at Phantom Striker, who was only watching.

"Heh heh… you're not going to help, are you?"

Phantom Striker shook his head. The little alchemist groaned.

"We have to… get Mister Hat's… attention… away from the helmet…" Shovel Knight panted, running out of the building and almost collapsed by the doorway. "I haven't… felt this exhausted… in a long time…"

"Attention? Hee hee! I know just the right way!" Plague Knight fixed his hood. "I know how to deal with this. Baz! Reize! Heh heh, help me out!"

"Yes sir teacher!" Baz replied, running out of the group.

"I'm coming too!" Reize said, following. "What are we gonna do- oh boy, Hat."

"Haaaaat!" Baz hollered.

"He can't hear you." Phantom Striker muttered.

"Hey, old man!" Plague Knight taunted. "You do hoods? I need a blast-proof purple velvet hood with white doves sewn on it by tomorrow night! Remember! HOODS! Tomorrow night, before the grand ball!"

Mister Hat whipped his head around and stopped chasing the two flying men at the sound of 'hoods'. He gripped his sword tighter and gritted his teeth. "Hoods. Hoods! No flair! No majesty!"

"You two know what to do, hee hee." Plague Knight giggled. "Oh, this is so much fun."

"Hoods! Hoods are a waste of fine cloth!" Mister Hat dashed to Plague Knight's direction, only for Reize to lunge himself at him. The boy warrior tackled the old man, but his weight wasn't enough to pin him down. Baz ran up to them and cannonballed on top of the two. Mister Hat, buried under the combined weight of Baz and Reize, could only raise his twitching hands up to the heretic hood lover in anger.

"Have at you!" Mister Hat exclaimed.

"I can't breathe…" Reize choked out.

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H is for hair.

"I dunno, Plaguey, I find it hard to resist his dashing, windswept look."

"Petit!" Propeller Knight cheerfully said, taking Plague Knight by surprise. He almost forgot that the Frenchman was dressed in a suit and bow tie for once and that he was in his first date. "You have been sipping that drink for a long time and you have not moved! The date cannot flow properly with you staring off into the oblivion!"

"Yeah, Plaguey," Mona piped up, "you're frozen there. Something wrong?"

"N-nothing… I just remembered when you said flyboy was dashing and windswept, hee."

Mona cackled. "Oh, Plaguey, you remember the most peculiar of memories!"

"If I may intrude," their French waiter sauntered towards the table, gracefully balancing the platter on his hand, "what is the concern?"

"He remembers when I called you dashing and windswept! Look how flustered he is. So cute!"

Plague Knight turned magenta under his mask. "W-what! You're ruining this date!"

Propeller Knight put down the platter politely on the table, unhooked his helmet from the straps on his neck, and let his flowing brown hair resplendently fly in the wind. He flashed a toothy grin and enjoyed the wind blowing at his face, arms akimbo.

"See? Windswept." Mona teased.

Plague Knight pouted.

"I can see you pouting there…"

The little alchemist abruptly hopped off his chair and ran up to Propeller Knight's left side. "I'm not about to lose to you, Frenchie."

"Lesson one, my pupil!" Propeller Knight gleefully lectured, "always face the direction where the wind blows!"

Plague Knight undid the ties fixing his hood to his chin hastily. "Who doesn't know that rule?"

As Plague Knight let his hood down to let his long black hair out, Propeller Knight raised a brow and faced his left to look concernedly at the tiny bird person. Coincidentally, the wind followed the Frenchman's face and blew relative to him. As a result, Plague Knight's long hair flew to the right, several locks sweeping across his face. He squawked and hurriedly combed his hair away from his beak. Propeller Knight's other brow raised, and he looked to their back, to the giggling Mona. The wind followed him yet again, and Plague Knight's hair went towards his mask.

"Stop using your wind powers!" The tiny bird-faced alchemist screeched.

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H is for hangover.

/somewhere in the Stranded Ship/

"Hm." Polar Knight wondered aloud as he stared into the white snowy landscape and the lights that danced in the sky. He felt nothing, not even an axe cleaving through his head. "How is everyone doing…? What was that liquid made of?"

/campfire/

"Yacht gods, Shield Knight, I have a headache!" Shovel Knight complained loudly.

"Do you remember anything before the Remnant of Fate?" The tall girl raised her head. "Do you remember the nine-man fistfight on the dinner table? Maybe someone from the Order hit your head too hard while you lot were drunk as nuts."

The blue knight gasped. "Fistfight? No! Ow… my head, dammit."

/Pridemoor throne room/

King Knight, stripped of crown and fief, scrubbed slowly on a single spot on the floor. He knew everyone else was laughing at him as he cleaned. His fingers were shaky, and his sight was unfocused.

A pike was stabbed powerfully into his brain. He almost writhed in his spot.

"Argh!"

He threw the cleaning cloth to the floor and raised his fist in the air. "Curse you, Shovel Knight! Curse this headache as well! I can't scrub the floor with this miserable pain!"

/Clockwork Tower, quiet room/

Mole Knight and Tinker Knight lay face down on their respective couches, both of them snoring. A Cogslotter diligently maintained an odd device standing between the two couches. He pushed a finger on a red button, and two bags of ice rolled out of their respective conveyor belts. They slowly went from their output slot and then rested nicely on the heads of the two sleeping knights. Both sighed in chorus, and they went deeper to sleep. Tinker Knight curled up into a very tight ball and smiled in his sleep.

"Hey." A gear wizzem materialized beside the Cogslotter. "What's up?"

"Here, pushing buttons."

"Gee." The wizard turned to the passed out knights. "The Order of No Alcohol Tolerance."

"I know. Boss came here completely nuts, did you know?" He shrugged. "Well, both of them nuts as that crazy alchemist."

The wizzem lifted his hat up, revealing dumbfounded eyes.

"Last night was the night I learned Mole Knight has a beautiful voice and boss has no singing talent." He chuckled. "Drunken songs. Always the best. The lyrics were along the lines of 'now we are here, in this high tower, where things slice you apart, and missiles fire you'. No kidding. Missiles fire you. They lived in an inverted world, I suppose."

"Hammered badly." He waved his hand. "Good luck. Get the buckets ready."

/in an unknown place in a graveyard/

"Hnngg…" The phantom girl rubbed her eyes and yawned. Her entire body spasmed and ached, her throat felt dry, and her skin was not pale, but blue. She couldn't help but moan and bury herself in blankets and pillows. "Owww… I can't think…"

"How does it feel like, servant?" Specter Knight dryly asked. His arms were crossed, and his weapon leaned against the wall. He floated closer to the bed and glanced down at the curled up soul underneath the pillow mountain without grimacing. "Describe your discomfort."

"I feel like being killed again, master… but everything felt wonderful last night." The assistant groaned, peeking up at him. "What happened?"

The apparition made a growling noise and looked away. "First, you said it tasted like blood."

"It did…"

"Second, it took effect almost immediately after you consumed all of it." He dropped his shoulders and uncrossed his arms. "Do I have to tell you what exactly happened last night?"

She cowered under the pillows and curled up in a tighter ball, fearing his next sentence.

"Oh gods…" She squeezed her eyes shut. "I apologize, sir… I didn't mean for that to happen…"

He turned around, lifted his visor up and placed his palm back on his head, shaking his head. "You then saw butterflies fluttering about here, married a pillow, and communed with talking flowers."

"Talking flowers?" She raised a brow.

"You had a very loud and senseless conversation with an imaginary talking flower, and you said things about memory." He faced her again, letting her see his tired eyes. He smiled. "I thank you for participating in this little experiment of mine. It was certainly enlightening. I only have one question left."

She poked her head out of the mountain of bed-related objects. "Yes?"

"You also told me I should drink that blood drink in a disturbingly seductivemanner." He shivered, recalling the feeling of her hands sliding up to his visor. "You will be honest with me."

"…y-yes?"

"Is there something I should know about?"

She bit her lip and looked up thoughtfully. He watched her carefully, noting her every twitch and color change.

"I will not harm you for anything you say, servant."

She beamed immediately, smiling and blushing a bit. "Can I get more of that blood and chili, please?"

He stared at her stupidly, and then spun around after a long moment. He floated out and away from the room, vowing not to talk with the girl for the rest of the day.

There was a small potion game to play with the bored Mona girl, anyway.

/Iron Whale/

To Treasure Knight, every movement gave him a dizzy feeling. He remained slumped in his corner of the room, softly weeping for his rapidly draining gold. He closed his eyes to shield himself from the horrible light, and froze in his position to stop the nauseous feeling.

"Nice place you have here, goldie!" Plague Knight cackled. "Here's a gift for you!"

He cracked one eye open and saw a blue and white object come to him. He frowned at the thing. Not even something gold, that filthy bastard chemist scientist book-loving coward! No ounce of dignity or even respect-

Waaiiiit a fucking moment that's-

"Frrk!"

The Bait Bomb let out a blinding flash of light as it detonated.

"RRR MRR FRRKING GRRDS I HRRTE YOU, YOU FREEK." Treasure Knight colorfully shouted at the cackling Plague Knight.

/Potionarium main lounge/

"Plague Knight? You summoned me?" Propeller Knight walked in the Potionarium despite the confused gaggle of minions chasing him, his Heli-Helmet off. His eyes were unfocused, and the omnipresent grin no longer omnipresent. He walked slowly, as firm as he can with each step. He felt his arms go numb, like his pinky and ring fingers were nonexistent.

The little alchemist sheepishly excused himself from Mona and hopped over to the Frenchman. "Propeller Knight. Good, hee! Mona and I were just about to ask – are you alright?"

Propeller Knight waved his hand. "Nothing out of the ordinary, mon ami."

Plague Knight scoffed and glared at him.

"Alright. I feel very nauseous today." He admitted softly. "That drink…"

"Before I tell you what we need, you… have to feel better." The scientist blinked and led Propeller Knight to a comfortable chair. He picked the minion he had ordered weeks ago to just keep walking around the place and called him. "You! Get the violet healing potion, third shelf! Give it to this airhead!"

"Right!" The minion saluted as he hurriedly ran to the healing potion shelf.

Plague Knight turned back to the nauseous Frenchman. "That will be here in no time."

"Merci." He forced a smile and let Plague Knight go.

So, the minion arrived at the potions room in a minute.

However, there was a slight problem with the healing potion shelf.

The minion gasped.

Everything in the healing potion shelf was colored violet.

The fat minion shrugged and took a random potion off the third desk. He walked to the Frenchman, nervously offered the potion. Propeller Knight took the bottle, unscrewed its cap, and sipped in the violet liquid. His hazel eyes suddenly opened wide, and then he coughed violently. He clutched his chest and wheezed, his other hand clawing at nothing as he tried to suck in air. He twitched and convulsed, falling to the floor face down.

"Waaaah! Boss is going to kill me!"

Up next: I is for insurgency.

Translations:

Hilf mir – Help me (German)

Water – eau (English)