Princess of Beasts - Chapter Twenty Seven (Patreon)

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Chapter Twenty Seven

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Some time later, Executor Harliss followed Nok out of Prav’s chambers, and through labyrinthine halls. Nok led them out a different way that they’d entered. The layout of corridors, doors and rooms was unfamiliar, as were all the sights they passed. There were walls painted like blue skies, a room lined with portraits of Prav in elegant, majestic poses, and another filled with locked display cases showcasing trophies from past battles. Altogether, it was another layer of obfuscation to help protect his master should Harliss and her soldiers turn against him. Not that she had any such intentions now. 

Harliss had made it quite clear to the dragon that it was in his own best interests to do as she asked. 

Nok led Harliss and her bodyguards back to The Emplacement’s large tavern. They emerged into it through a different door on the opposite side they’d left from, earlier in the day. The place was once again bustling and noisy, with loud voices and raucous laughter in one section waging a cacophonous war with music and song from another. Servers and workers crisscrossed the room, weaving between tables and booths. Kobolds scurried across the bar and up ladders to fetch bottles. The wounded and the medics treating them were gone. If not for the servants scrubbing bloodstains from the floor and furniture, there would have been no sign at all of the day’s earlier violence. Given how little attention anyone seemed to pay them, Harliss wondered how common such gruesome clean up was. 

The Executor tried to listen in to some of their conversations as Nok guided them through the tavern. There were plenty of eyes upon her, and she rested a hand upon a pistol, just in case. She meant it mostly as deterrent, but was ready in case some offended party tried to avenge someone she’d wounded earlier. It was difficult to pick out individual voices from the din, but when she managed it she did not hear anything to threatening. If anything, a few chattering groups seemed impressed by what they’d seen, or heard. 

Harliss was pleased that so many outlaws and monsters had witnessed an Executor at work, first hand. The more people who saw her weave her tales and put bullets to bones, the more who might be willing to surrender instead, next time. Of course, it worked the opposite way, too. Such tales would surely inspire a few foolhardy pirates and self-proclaimed gunfighters to want to try themselves against her. Slaying an Executor would be quite an honor in some circles, after all. That was alright with Harliss, too. The more such fools she put down, the less a threat they were to those who shared her title. 

Deputy Hatha awaited Nok and the Executor’s trio at the front doors. As they neared the gnoll, he pushed the doors open, waiting for them to reach him. “Your men remained where you left them. I’ll escort you back to them.” He flattened his ears, scowling. “I’m told you’re going to stay here a little while longer.” 

Evlee stepped forward, trailing a single finger down the front of the gnoll’s silver and black vest. “Yes, Deputy, I’m afraid you’re not going to be free of us that easily. Plenty of time for you and I to get to know each other.”

Hatha sighed, his tail going limp. “Wonderful.” He turned his attention to Harliss. “Executor, at any rate, I’d appreciate it if you’d allow me, or one of the other deputies, to escort you to and from the tavern for the duration of your stay. That goes for any of your people, really.” 

Harliss offered the gnoll a polite smile. “If you think that’s necessary.”

“I do.” The gnoll grunted, resting a hand on his oversized revolver. “Not that I think you need the protection, far from it. But if there are any more…” He licked his muzzle, baring a few fangs. “Incidents, I want there to be an official witness from The Emplacement. It will make things easier for us.” 

“Understood.” Harliss put a hand on the gnoll’s shoulder, squeezing it. “I appreciate your efforts today, Hatha, and your understanding. Now, I’ve suggested to Prav that he not give you any trouble about the whole disarmament issue, but if you have any problems, let me know.” 

The gnoll grumbled under his breath, rubbing at his neck ruff. “Not sure how I feel about-”

“Oh, don’t worry, Deputy!” Evlee patted the gnoll’s chest. “We’ll make sure you’re not punished. Well…” She looked him over, smirking. “Not in ways you won’t enjoy, anyway.” 

Hatha groaned, his ears drooping. “I think I liked you better when you were threatening to stab me.” 

“So did I,” Tormin said, glaring at Evlee. 

Evlee just smiled at them both, turning away. “Oh, neither of you are as much fun as Coaldust, anyway.” 

Hatha grunted, turning his attention to Harliss. “Ready to depart, Executor?” 

Harliss swept her hand towards the exit. “After you, Deputy.” 

Nok suddenly stepped up alongside Harliss, barring her way with a slender, red-scaled arm. “Not yet. Buyin’ you a drink, first.” 

Harliss arched a brow, peering down at him. “Thank you for the offer, but it’s not necessary. I’ve had enough, already.” 

“Not asking.” Nok did not lower his arm. “Not a request. I buy, you drink. That’s it.” 

Harliss smirked, hooking her thumbs into her gun belts. “Is this your way of trying to get the word?” 

The kobold inclined his head towards an empty table in a corner alcove, near the bar. “Sit.” 

“Executor,” Tormin said, turning back towards her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Tormin.” Harliss looked down at Nok again, then gave him a nod. “Very well. But give me five minutes, first.” 

“Startin’ now.” Nok dropped his arm out of her way, and backed up. “If you’re late, I’m buyin’ you two drinks.” 

Harliss laughed, and hurried through the door. “I’ll take my time, then.” She gestured for Hatha to lead them back to her own men. 

Outside, the sun had nearly set. A sliver of orange fire still burned above the serrated peaks of the Broken Teeth, and the cliffs that held The Emplacement’s many artillery batteries. But already, long, faintly purple-hued shadows had smothered much of the grounds beyond the tavern. Gas lamps flickered alongside the wide, wooden boardwalks. The tangled streets of the grimy city between the brothel were darker still, as though night somehow found them hours earlier than the flat, open land of the port. A cool breeze rustled her hair, bringing with it enough fresh mountain air to tamp down on the smells of oil, smoke, and refuse. 

Tormin and Evlee walked swiftly at her side as she followed Hatha down the boardwalk. Tormin glared at her, his mouth drawn into an angry line. “Executor, you’re not seriously considering taking that little monster up on his offer.” 

“I can’t refuse now, Tormin.” Harliss drummed fingers against a pistol as she strode after the gnoll. “I’d lose face.”

Tormin made a frustrated, growling noise, his boots falling heavy against the boardwalk. “With respect, Executor. I do not think this is the time to indulge in old-fashioned gunslinger games, whatever your so-called says.” He held up a single finger. “For one, you two nearly already blew each other’s heads off, once. For two…” Tormin ticked off another finger. “You’ve already had more to drink that I’m comfortable with. You’re as fast as anyone I’ve ever known, but even you can’t shoot at you’re best if you’re drunk. And three?” He held up a third finger. “You’re blackmailing his boss. What if that little monster-”

“It’s not blackmail, Tormin, it’s reality.” Harliss scowled, but did not otherwise argue with him. “Prav is smart enough to read the writing on the wall.”

Tormin ignored her interruption entirely. “What if that little monster just wants to get you drunk enough to make sure he’s faster than you? If he puts a bullet in your head, he solves a lotta problems for Prav right now.” 

“And creates ten times more problems down the road.” Harliss waved him off. “Having an Executor killed in his establishment would invite a bombardment the likes of which-”

“So maybe it’s not ‘in his establishment.’ Maybe…” Tormin jabbed a finger towards her. “You go for a drink, and then you just disappear. If we can’t find you, we can’t prove what happened, can we? Hell, he could pin it on someone working for the Princess, or that damn gryphon.” 

“Tormin.” Harliss came to a stop, turning towards him. “Enough. I appreciate your concern, and your disagreements are noted.” She put her hand on his arm, offering him a smile. Frustrating as he was, Harliss knew he only had their best interests in mind. “You’re welcome to lodge an official complaint, if it makes you feel better.” 

The big man rolled his eyes. “A lot of good that would do. I just don’t think this is a good idea.” 

“Oh, it absolutely isn’t. It’s a terrible idea.” Harliss laughed, squeezing his arm. “At least from most angles. But I promise you, the kobold means me no harm.” She flashed him a coy smile. “Well, not tonight, anyway. I assure you, right now is the safest possible time for me to meet with him. He follows The Ballad, Tormin. He just wants to one-up me.” 

“Then let him.” Tormin put his hand over hers, softening his voice. “Please.” 

“Can’t do it, Tormin.” Harliss squeezed his hand, then let it go and turned back towards her waiting soldiers. “But I genuinely appreciate your concern.” 

Tormin followed at her side, glaring at her all the while. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe I just don’t want us to lose our best weapon to a drinking game gone wrong.”

That made Harliss laugh again. “One drink is not a drinking game. But if you keep delaying me, then he’ll buy me two drinks, and who knows where it goes from there.”

“You hear that, Tormin?” Evlee shot him a playful grin around Harliss. “If the Executor comes back stumbling drunk, it’s your fault.”

“Like hell it is!” 

Harliss cut them both off with a loud, sharp whistle. Her two male snow gryphons returned the call with cries of their own. They remained seated in the midst of the boardwalk, where she’d left them. In the distance, the females called out as well, and broke from their watchful patrols. They shot through the skies towards the group of Union soldiers assembled around the boardwalk, just where Harliss had left them. The gryphons landed behind them, trotting forward. When the girls arrived, the boys rose up to greet them. The four gryphons nuzzled one another before taking up positions on either side of the road, clearing the way for Harliss to approach her men.  

Hatha stepped aside, glancing at Harliss. “Since it sounds like you’re returning, I’ll escort you back, when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Deputy.” Harliss smiled at the gryphons, taking time to rub each of their necks, and scratch their ears. “Good boys. Good girls.” When that was done, she approached her soldiers. “I negotiated a temporary arrangement with the local leadership. We shall remain in port while repairs are completed upon our sister vessels. We will be fully resupplied in the meantime. For the time being, continue secure perimeter around all vessels. Close off that section of the docks. It belongs to us until we leave. No one visits or supplies or ships without Union supervision. I expect to be treated like guests.” 

She leveled her gaze with a few soldiers in particular. “And I expect you to treat our hosts just as politely. We don’t have to like them to show them respect. Remember, we are here representing the Golden Union! And the Golden Union has great plans for this place. Peaceful plans. And any little bit of trouble anyone makes, any names they call the locals, any violence they get into, that’s another little thorn for Baron Prav to nettle our Union leadership with when those negotiations commence. So, if I hear that anyone has done something to make those negotiations even the slightest bit rougher? Well…” Harliss trailed off into a chuckle. “I might just sell to the brothel. Clear?” 

“Yes, Executor!” Her soldiers answered, nearly in unison. 

“Good!” She turned her attention at the group’s captain, thrusting a finger towards the damaged Union vessels docked in the distance. “I expect repairs to be completed as quickly as possible. I want those ships not only ready to fly, but armed and prepared for battle, as per Sparrow-Swift emergency combat reconfiguration protocols. See to that after you’ve properly closed off our section of the docks. When that’s done, initiate a shift change, and then you and your men are done for the evening. Your time is yours, to do as please. You’re welcome to visit the tavern, but if you do, please act responsibly. I will hold you responsible for any trouble you’re involved in.” 

The captain saluted. “Yes, Executor! The offer is appreciated.” 

Harliss nodded. “Dismissed, then.” 

“You heard the Executor!” The Captain turned towards his men. “Move out!” 

As the group reassembled and began its march back towards The Stormcaller, Harliss turned her attention to the four snow gryphons. Evlee was already feeding them treats, walking from gryphon to gryphon to offer handfuls of figs, dates, cured meats, and other sugared tidbits she’d taken from Prav’s table of delights. Harliss chuckled, waiting until each gryphon had a turn delicately taking the delicious tidbits from Evlee’s hands. 

“As for you four, my good birds.” She paused until all four gryphons were focused on her. “I don’t foresee any more trouble tonight. I can’t say as much for the near future, however. Something serious is coming our way, and I want you all to prepare yourselves for the possibility of battle.” She looked each of them over, her voice soft, but serious. “Not just against bullets, either. But potentially, against other gryphons, against another Snow gryphon. And against a dragon.” 

Her four snow gryphons all shared glances together. They ruffled up their feathers, unsheathed claws, and gave low growls. Some flattened ears, or tucked wings tightly to their bodies. Nervous gestures, but she could not blame them. It would not be the first time she’d had to put them up against difficult odds, or against other gryphons and beasts. It was never pleasant, but it was what they were trained for. 

Sock bowed his head to her. “Just give the order, Executor. We are ready.” 

“Concur.” Speckles made the same gesture. “More than ready.” 

The females mimicked the motion, with Stripe going first. “We will do whatever we must, for the Union.” 

Star followed suit. “For you, Executor.” 

“I know you will.” Harliss pet each of their heads, stroked their feathers. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, but I want you to be prepared for the worst. But for now, the night is yours.” Harliss stepped back from the gryphons, sweeping a hand towards the tavern and brothel behind her. “The four of you are dismissed, to your own recognizance, and instructed to enjoy yourselves.” 

The four gryphons slowly lifted their heads, glancing at each other again. Sock tilted his head, alabaster crest feathers raised in interesting. “Enjoy ourselves? What…what are we allowed to do?” 

Harliss only smiled. “Anything you like. Well, almost anything.” She put her hands on her hips, chuckling. “Don’t smash the place up, or hurt anyone, unless you’re defending yourselves. But considering what’s ahead, it’s time the four of you have a night to live it up. I’ve already made arrangements with the local proprietor, so to speak. Everything’s on the house. So go do whatever you like. Eat, drink, even fuck, while you have the chance.” 

Speckle stared at her, his maw agape. 

Star blinked, tilting her head. “Really?” 

“Yes!” Harliss thrust a finger at the tavern. “Now go! That’s an order.” 

Evlee laughed and clapped her hands. “Oh, a night of fun for the bestest boys and bestest girls! Get going, birds, enjoy yourself!” 

The gryphons remained uncertain a moment longer. Then Spot charged ahead, squawking excited laughter. The others quickly bounded after him, and soon they were racing one another. Stripe jumped into the air and beat her wings surging ahead, only for Speckle to leapt after, nipping at her tail. 

Tormin gave a long, defeated sounding sigh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, either, but I suppose it doesn’t matter.” 

Harliss put a hand on his shoulder. “No, it doesn’t. But to make sure you won’t spend all night worrying about my bad decisions, or the consequences of someone else’s fun, I’m leaving you in charge.” She squeezed his shoulder. “The Stormcaller is yours till morning.” 

Tormin narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were only having one drink?” 

“I’m sure it’s been longer than five minutes, already.” Harliss patted his shoulder, then pushed past him. “Besides, when I’m back I’m flopping straight into bed.” 

“Assuming she hasn’t flopped into that kobold’s bed, instead.” Evlee laughed, and went to stand alongside Deputy Hatha. 

“Oh, Evlee, please.” Harliss rolled her eyes. “I’d never fit in a kobold’s bed.” 

“And she sure as hell won’t be bringing him back here.” Tormin glared at her, then offered a brief smile, and lingering salute. “See you in the morning, Executor. Do be careful.” 

“I shall, Tormin. Thank you.” Harliss returned the salute before Tormin walked away. Then she turned to Evlee. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Oh, please, Executor.” Evlee hooked her arm around Hatha’s. “The Deputy here is walking me back to the bar. If you get to spend the night drinking with monsters, I want to do the same.” 

Hatha swallowed audibly. “I’m, uh, busy tonight.”

“Which is why I’ll be buying Coaldust a drink.” Evlee said, tugging the gnoll forward. “Not that you aren’t welcome to join us, Deputy. But I was having a lovely time with that little urd’thin, earlier, before your rude friend interrupted us.” 

“Wouldn’t call Yorlok my friend.” Hatha stumbled forward, walking with Evlee.

“And I wouldn’t call a quick whiskey with a kobold a night spent drinking with monsters.” Harliss held up a finger. “One drink, one monster.” 

Evlee flashed her a smile. “Whatever you say, Executor.”

The gnoll escorted them back to The Emplacement’s tavern, and a few other guards pushed the doors open. They gave the Executor and her comrade dirty looks, but Harliss was confident now no one was going to cause them any trouble. At least, no one who worked for Prav. She couldn’t be as certain about some of his customers, though she hoped as the story of the day’s events circulated, it would dissuade more thugs and monsters than it emboldened. 

The scents of smoke, incense, booze and a few too many all swirled around Harliss as she walked inside. She swept her gaze across the crowd, but saw no sign of anyone paying her and Evlee a suspicious amount of attention. Harliss did, however, spot Coaldust ferrying drinks to crowded table. As he passed them out, one of the occupants swatted the urd’thin on the rump, earning a yip and a playful glare. 

Harliss gestured towards him. “Looks like you might have to outbid whatever they’re tipping him.” 

Evlee narrowed her eyes at the table. She gave Hatha’s arm a squeeze. “Deputy, do me a big favor, and find me a place to sit. And then tell Coaldust I’m hiring him.” She smirked. “For the night.” 

Harliss lifted her brows. “Are you?” 

“Oh, not like that Executor.” Evlee rolled her eyes. “But I’ve got to make it worth his while, don’t I? Besides, I don’t want anyone to steal him away this time.” She released Hatha’s arm, smiling. “So help me out, will you?” 

“Oh, gods damn it, alright.” Hatha’s bushy tail twitched, and he started across the room, glancing back at Harliss. “Please don’t cause any more trouble.” 

Harliss only smiled at him. “Wouldn’t dream it, Deputy.” She waggled her fingers at Evlee in playful wave. “Enjoy your completely innocent night with the urd’thin.”

Evlee stuck her tongue out over her shoulder. “Enjoy fucking the kobold you almost gunned down!”

The Executor laughed, and made her way towards the table Nok indicated earlier. The table itself was fairly small, and circular, but high enough for a human. The kobold was already there, seated in a chair made for his people. There were plenty such chairs around, small enough for kobolds, and with space for their tails, but elevated enough to place them comfortably at table level. Two glasses sat before him, one with something golden-hued, the other with clear liquid. An identical set of drinks rested on the other side of the table, before the only other chair.

“You’re late.” Nok pointed at the chair. “Sit.” 

“That I am.” Harliss settled across from him, her hand hovering over the drinks. “So which first?”

Nok picked up the drink with the clear liquid. “This. One go.” 

Harliss nodded, and picked the slender glass. The kobold downed his, and she did the same, swallowing the stuff in a single gulp. Whatever it was, it tasted faintly of cherries and burned like hell. Nok thumped the glass down, clearing his throat with a snarl. Harliss smacked her own glass down, fighting back a cough. Her throat stung, but the mix of sweet and tart cherry flavors lingered on her tongue, fading into vanilla before the burning eased. 

“What the fuck was that?” She picked up the glass again, smelling it. More hints of cherry and almond lingered, but it left her nostrils burning the same way her throat had. “I think I could practically run my airship on that.” 

Nok snorted, the hint of a smile on his muzzle. “S’kobold spirit. We call it ch’atta. Used to be ceremonial. Drink it before a raid. Or share it with an enemy tribe, during a truce. You like it?” 

Harliss put the glass back down, grinning. “I don’t hate it. I’ll assume that’s what you planned to buy me, originally.” She tapped the other drink. “So what’s this one I got for being late? Punishment, or reward?”

Nok shrugged. “That one’s a kobold drink, too. Called nuraag, but it’s kinda like rum. Usually go together. Ch’atta’s like good sex, leaves ya sore but satisfied. The nurag’s like the cuddle afterwards, sweet, and puts you to sleep.” 

The description made Harliss laughed. She picked up the kobold rum, swirled it under her nose. It smelt of burnt molasses and cinnamon-sugar. Just as she was about to ask how to drink it, Nok downed his in another long pull. Harliss did not hesitate to do the same. The nuraag went down much easier, with just a hint warmth following its sweet, sugar and spice flavor. 

“That one’s not bad.” She regarded the glass, turning it back and forth in her hand. “It does go well with the other.” 

Nok only grunted. He lifted a hand and twitched a few clawed fingers in the air. The kobolds tending bar sprang into action, fetching bottles and glasses from low shelves, and pouring a few more drinks. Whatever they’d selected, the labels were unfamiliar. Harliss guessed them to be more kobold spirits. Soon enough, the server hurried them over. The new drinks came in wider glasses, with a larger pour of something dark gold. They passed one glass to Nok, and one to Harliss, and then scurried back to the bar. 

Harliss sniffed the latest arrival, and found it full of notes of fruit and spice, apricots and apples, clove and candied ginger. “And what’s this one? Aside from going to get me drunk.” 

“S’kobold whiskey, basically.” Nok sipped his, then set the glass down. “Don’t gotta drink it, if you don’t want.” 

Harliss smirked at him. “That’s not how this works, and we both know it.” 

Nok shrugged, drumming little claw tips against the table. “I ain’t stoppin’ ya from leaving.” 

“Oh, no.” Harliss sipped the drink, and found it quite enjoyable. The fruit flavors were more pronounced than they were on the nose, and the spices made for a balancing background note. “I think we both know where this is going.” She took another sip, then sighed as she set the whiskey down. “I like this one quite a bit.” 

“Good.” Nok tilted his head, mischief glittering in his dark, vaguely reptilian eyes. “You don’t gotta finish it on my account.” 

That was a blatant lie, and they both knew it. Buying her the drink was already one-upping her after their earlier encounter. If she bowed out now, the kobold would win. While The Ballad did not have rules specific to drinking, there was a sort of personal honor at stake, now. Since the kobold made the initial offer, it was up to him to decide when to stop. While she was free to leave at any time, to do so would be to concede defeat in a quickly growing, albeit enjoyable, rivalry. 

“You know, you have me at a disadvantage. I was drinking earlier in the day, with Coaldust and my crew.” She glanced over towards the table where Evlee had settled. She was sharing a booth seat with the urd’thin, and given the way Coaldust was leaning against her and laughing, it seemed they’d picked up right where they’d left off. “I had a few drinks with him, and then a few more while negotiating with your boss. You only had the one, earlier.” 

Nok shifted in his chair, watching Evlee and Coaldust as well. “I’m half your size. It’ll hit me faster, anyway. We’re even.” He inclined his muzzle towards Coaldust. “Your friend plannin’ on keepin’ him for the night?” 

“You know,” Harliss said, folding her arms. “I have no idea. She took a shine to him earlier, as did her roaming hands, but I can never quite tell where pumping him for information ends, and personal curiosity begins.” 

Nok clicked his teeth. “Pumping him, huh?” 

Harliss smirked. “Indeed.” She turned her attention back to the kobold, shrugging. “Well, I’m sure she’ll have a memorable evening one way or another.” 

Nok tilted his head. “Ain’t that against your Union laws, or something?” 

“Oh, who gives a shit, anyway?” Harliss swirled her whiskey, grimacing. “We’ve urd’thin citizens, I’m sure it happens.” 

“Suppose you don’t really strike me as the sort to care about laws, anyway.” Nok folded his arms, watching her through slitted eyes. 

“Well I certainly don’t care who fucks who.” Harliss took a drink, then gestured with her glass. “I serve the Union for my own reasons, just as you, I suspect, serve Prav for yours. There’s a reason I’m an Executor, after all.”

Nok gave a mock coo. “Aww, and here I thought that was just cause you act like a badass.” 

“For one, Nok,” Harliss said, punctuating her words with a flourish of her drink. “I am a badass. For two, Executors aren’t required for follow the Union’s laws. Now, some of the Executors certainly do.” She sipped her drink, scowling. “Some of them bow and scrape and simper before the priests, others studiously enforce every law and code we have. But a few of them, like myself, find some of those laws…” She trailed off, looking for the right word. “Chafing. So I ignore them.” 

“If you say so.” Nok plucked his drink off the table. “Can’t say I ever met an Executor before.”

“Probably for the best. Not many reasons for us to be out this far into the frontier, other than Union business.” Harliss leaned back in the chair, gazing around the room. “So, how do I measure up to your expectations?” 

“Well…” Nok made a show of looking her over. “You talk a lotta shit, just like I expected. Thought you’d be more like your big, pious friend, though, always ready to beat us godless demon-spawn over the head with your big book of scriptures.” He sipped his whiskey, still studying her. “Your bullshit’s different, though. Crazier, like. And I ain’t yet parsed out where the truth ends and your melodramatic lies begin.” 

Harliss laughed, hooking her arm over the back of her chair. “A toast, then, to blurring the line between truth, and crazy bullshit.” 

Nok snorted, but raised his whiskey and took a drink with Harliss. He set the glass back down. “Didn’t expect an Executor to follow The Ballad, though.” 

“Nor I, a kobold.” Harliss returned her cup to the table as well. “How long?” 

“Twenty years, give or take.” Nok folded his arms, brushing his little claws against the scales of his bicep. “You?” 

Harliss studied Nok in silence. Honor, and The Ballad demanded she answer that question more truthfully than she often liked to be when she talked about herself. “Since I was fifteen. Don’t know how that’s been, though. Don’t really count my years, anymore.” 

The kobold nodded once. “You find it? Or did it find you?” 

Harliss doubted there many more than a few dozen people on the continent who’d even know what Nok meant. She leaned forward, her voice low but powerful. “I heard its song the first moment I ever held a gun in a my hand. The barrel sang to me…” 

Nok picked up for her. “The bullets called to me…”

They finished the last part of the only right answer, together. “And I knew it was meant for me.” 

The kobold tilted his head, the same brief smile from before flitting across his muzzle. “You are old-world Ballad.” 

Harliss picked up her glass, toasting to the kobold again. “As are you, my new companion in smoke and cylinder. To The Ballad.” 

Nok returned the toast. “To The Ballad.” 

Both of them downed their drinks, and slammed down the glass. Nok signaled for more, and the kobolds manning bar were just as quick to bring another round over. Harliss thanked the server, then waggle the glass at Nok. “Just so we’re clear, if you draw on me I’m drunk, that’s an instant disqualification.” 

Nok snarled at her. “I’m offended you’d even suggest it.” 

Harliss sipped her whiskey, smirking at him across the cup. “Offended enough to draw on me?” 

The kobold’s snarl died off into a smug, toothy grin. “Not while you’re drunk.” 

Harliss laughed, plopping the cup down. A little whiskey spilled over the sides and onto the table. 

Nok glanced at the spill, clacking his teeth. “Now you owe me a bullet.” 

“Shit.” Harliss draw one of her spare cartridges free, and tossed it to the kobold. 

Nok caught it, then held it up, studying it in the flicking lamplight. “Human rounds always seem so big. You load ‘em yourself?” 

“Not as often as used to.” Harliss glanced down at her gunbelts. “But I won’t ever load a round I haven’t inspected myself. Frankly, with some of the machining advancements the Union’s made, they can probably produce a better-loaded round than I can.” 

“Never happen.” Nok stood the cartridge up near his empty glasses. “But I’m sure yer fancy Union bullets ain’t too bad. I pack my own, when I can. Though…” His muzzle twisted into a scowl. “Lately I spend so much time guardin’ Prav’s lazy ass I don’t enough time to prep as many rounds as I like.” He patted one of his pistols. “They’re all set with handloaded, but some of my spares are from Prav’s gunsmiths. They’re good, too. I wouldn’t wanna use any of that new mass-produced shit. I hear it’ll just misfire and blow your damn hands off.” 

Harliss nodded. “I can understand that. That’s why I go over each and every round myself. I used to handload, I just got out of the habit, I suppose. Though, I assure you, the machined ammunition the Union sends with my ships is a far cry beyond what the average citizen can get ahold of.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” The kobold waved his hand. “Fancy Union killers get fancy Union ammo. The Ballad don’t explicitly say you can’t use mass-produced, but.” He shrugged, fighting back a smile. “Yanno. It implies it.”

Harliss leaned forward again, shaking a finger at him. “It does not, and you know it.” 

The kobold glanced away. “Only cause it predates factories and all that other bullshit.”

“I’d have never guessed a kobold to be a Ballad traditionalist.” Harliss lifted her drink, wiping away the small spill with her other hand. “And I mean that as a compliment. You’re a fascinating person, Mr. Nok.” 

Nok turned his gaze back towards her. “And you ain’t the worst Union officer I ever met.”

“If you’ve met worse Union officials, I’d go so far as to wager they didn’t make it out of that encounter alive.” She took a sip. 

“You gonna be offended if I answer honestly?” 

Harliss shook her head. “No more so than I suspect you would be if I spoke honestly about my encounters with kobolds.” 

“Fucker drew on me, anyway.” Nok scratched his muzzle. “Or tried too. Blew his head off before he was halfway out of his holster. Would let the rest of men walk, no problem. He drew on me, not them. But they didn’t know the code, and they wouldn’t have given a shit if they did. So I had to put them down, too.” 

Harliss nodded. “They pulled on you. Enemy or not, you’re certainly entitled to defend yourself. Somehow, I imagine those weren’t the only Union folks you’ve killed.” 

“Not that many. Don’t see many.” Nok shifted his weight, tail swishing behind him. “What about you, you kill any kobolds?” 

“A fair few.” Harliss her drink, watching his reactions closely, just in case. “Empire had quite a few kobold squads. Now, the Union’s feelings about your species are well known, of course, but even my old superiors respected what you could do in battle. Let alone when we don’t see you coming. One of my closest calls came from a kobold kill squad ambush, actually.”

Nok nodded, sipping his whiskey. “Yeah, I met a few who used to serve the Empire like that. You know, it’s kinda funny. They were assholes.” He laughed, a bitter, grating sort of laughter that made Harliss wonder what happened between him, and that kobold squad. “Almost as bad as the Union. Not quite as genocidal, but, up there. Worse, in a way, cause they didn’t think they were that bad. But one of ‘em was tellin’ this story about, some Union village, and what they did there, and…” He trailed off, then gave a snarl. “Same kinda shit the Union does to kobold villages! So fuck ‘em both, Empire and the Union.” He toasted to himself, hissing. “May they both burn.” Then he downed his whiskey, slammed the glass down. He held up a hand. “You don’t gotta follow that one, it don’t count this time.” 

Harliss only smiled at him, offering him a salute with her drink. “The Empire’s already burned, and one day, the Union will too.” 

“Ain’t that some kinda blasphemy for you to say?” Nok signaled for another round for himself.

“Pragmatism, I like to think, just like your boss.” Harliss took his sip, savoring it. “No empire, no civilization, lasts forever. The Empire of the Black Star seemed unbeatable, until we swept out of existence. Right now, The Golden Union is damn near unstoppable. But one day, something new will come along, and wipe us from the pages of history. Only a fool would believe otherwise.” 

Nok grumbled something in his own tongue. He stared at the far wall for a little while, then turned his attention to Harliss’s guns. “So, whaddya shoot?”

Harliss unbuttoned a holster, and drew one of her quick-draw pistols free. She set it on the table, and passed it towards him. “They’re all custom engineered, by a private gunsmith. That one’s for quick draw, slightly shorter barrel, but extra rifling to make up for it.” 

“Two extra rounds, huh?” The kobold picked up her gun, examining it. He popped the cylinder open, then gently spun it. “Think your cylinder alone weighs more than one of my pistols.” He laughed, a slightly guttural, yet not unpleasant sound. He closed the cylinder, then turned it a few times, murmuring at each smooth click. “Oooh. Yeah, that’s nice.” 

“I thought so.” Harliss crossed her eyes, watching him, closely. “You know, you’re the first kobold I’ve ever let handle one of my guns. Hell, the first non-human, even.” 

Nok smirked at her, sharp little teeth unveiled all along his muzzle. “I’d be honored, if you weren’t some crazy theocracy’s fancy murderer.”

“And I’d be honored to handle one of yours…” Harliss inclined her head. “If you weren’t some crime lord’s filthy brothel enforcer.” 

“Well…” Nok set Harliss’s gun down, and drew one of his own. “As long as neither of us is honored.” He turned it around, and passed it across the table to her. 

Harliss took the gun reverently, shaking her head. “No, I’m positively disgusted to handle anything belonging to a kobold.” 

Nok just stared at her, his smirk lingering. “Anything, huh?” 

Harliss laughed despite herself, arching a brow. “You know, in some parts of the Union, you’d probably be arrested for making that kind of innuendo towards a human woman.”

The kobold scoffed, waving a hand. “They’d have already strung me up by my balls just for bein’ a kobold, anyway.” He leaned forward, gesturing at his weapon. “Mine aren’t custom to me, but I think you’ll appreciate them just the same.” 

Harliss turned the weapon over in her hands, examining it. The barrel was silver, inlaid with stylistic splashes of black and crimson, like artful droplets of oil, and blood. The cylinder was unusually large, for a kobold weapon, and etched to look like as if it was being clutched in a clawed hand. Its handle also bore etching, a scale-like texture that was both stylish, and provided extra grip in a kobold’s hand. Harliss turned it over to look at the handle’s bottom, and saw an embossed emblem in faded gold. It depicted a spear, with three skulls hanging from it. 

She glanced up at Nok, raising her brows. “Is this an actual vintage War Monger?” 

“Damn right it is.” Nok flashed her his teeth again in prideful smile, padding another holster. “Got four of ‘em in perfect shape.” 

The War Monger models were an especially rare line of weapons, once produced in limited fashion in one of the former Empire’s more far-flung provinces. Their top gunsmith was a kobold himself, and set about producing firearms that were not only a match for the best human designs, but balanced and engineered to fit the smaller races, kobolds and urd’thin in particular. Their reputation was nothing short of exceptional, but they’d ceased production long before the Union overran the Empire. 

“Lovely.” Harliss hefted it, feeling the weight. It was not the first kobold pistol she’d held, and she was surprised by how much heavier it was. It was almost as heavy as something for humans. “Got a lot of weight to.” 

Nok nodded. “Chambers a bigger round than most kobold guns. Needs a fatter cylinder to fit ‘em, so the rest of it’s gotta be balanced to that. Little longer barrel, too.” 

Harliss snapped the cylinder open, peering at the six tightly packed rounds within. “What’s it chamber?” She reached for one, pausing. “May I?” 

“Go ahead.” Nok watched as Harliss eased a cartridge free. “We don’t use the same measurements you do. Kobolds usually call ‘em fulls, or halfs. There’s also quarters, and three-quarters. That’s what that one is, a three-quarter.”

Harliss rested the weapon on the table, examining the round. It had a brass casing, not unlike her own, but it was larger than she expected for a kobold to carry. “Bigger than I thought it’d be, for a kobold.” 

Nok tilted his head. “That’s not the only thing.”

Harliss only laughed. “You’re a little more fun, when you’re drunk.” 

The kobold shrugged. “Says the Executor, drinking with the kobold, in the brothel.”

“Fair point, Nok.” She set the cartridge down on the table. “So why do you call it a three-quarter?”

“Our measurements are based on the old musket rounds we used to pack, when we first started makin’ ‘em. So, a full is basically a musket round.” He licked his nose, glancing up at her. “A kobold musket, that is. Don’t really know how that translates to your terms. But it’s a bigger round than you can put in most pistols. A three-quarter’s just what it sounds like, three quarters the size, three-quarters the powder. Still a big round for a kobold to shoot in a handgun, but a little easier to control.” 

“Fascinating.” Harliss turned the round over in her fingers a few times. “Are they all three-quarters?”

“That one and it’s sister are.” Nok patted one of his other holstered weapons, a little larger. “These two carry fulls, though. The three-quarters are my quick draws, the fulls are my, ‘oh fuck, that’s a big gnoll’ pistols.”

“Fascinating.” Harliss chambered the run again, then spun the cylinder. It clicked smoothly, just like hers. “This is a gorgeous weapon. First time I’ve actually held a War Monger.” She studied it carefully, looking for flaws or imperfections. “The craftsmanship is exquisite.” 

“Thank you. And yeah, it is.” Nok crossed his arms. “Stole ‘em from some rich asshole of a human, years back. Gonna put ‘em display.” Nok snarled his distaste. “In a Union museum.” 

The very idea curled Harliss’s lip. “Glad they found their way back to a proper owner, then.”

“Me too.” Nok picked up Harliss’s weapon again. “So what about yours? Custom, you said?” 

Harliss leaned over the table. “Correct. Not as wonderfully vintage as yours, but crafted by the finest gunsmith I could find. Would have cost me a year’s salary each, if I hadn’t gotten the Union to pay for them for me.” 

“Guess they are good for somethin’, then, once in a while.” He weighed it in his hands, hefting it a few times. “This would be a big fuckin’ gun to a kobold, even without the space for the extra rounds.” He opened the cylinder, gazing at the rounds. Then he glanced at the cartridge she’d passed him earlier. “They all the same?” 

Harliss nodded. “They are. I’ve two for drawing, and two for extracurricular activities.” She chuckled at her own joke, patting one of the longer-barreled weapons. “Better accuracy at range, and the bigger barrels are extra intimidating to someone who can’t tell a War Monger from an Ebony Ranger. But they all chamber the same round. It’s probably pretty close to your fulls.” 

“Looks it, yeah.” Nok closed it up, turning the gun over to examine its adornments. He traced his clawed thumb across the ivory sigil of the Executor’s Sword. “This is nice. Not as fancy as I expected, though.” He ran fingers down the golden script engraved in the barrel. “What’s this say? I don’t read Union.”

“That side, is my name and title.” She pointed it out. “The other side says, By The Gods’ Will.” She drew the companion pistol, and showed him the other half of the phrase. “This one says, You Are Undone.” 

Nok gave a growling snicker. “Oh, I like that. Not that I like all that Union, worship our gods or else, bullshit. But it’s a good phrase for someone like you.” He set the gun down, leaving the barrel pointing away from anyone. “Speaking of, that Sanctified bullshit. You actually believe in all that, or that just part of your scary stories to keep the criminals up at night?”

“Thank you.” Harliss set his gun down in similar position. He hadn’t returned hers, and so she would not give him back his own weapon just yet, either. “And I definitely believe it. After surviving some of the shit I’ve been through, it’s hard not to believe it.” 

“Oh yeah?” Nok snorted, his muzzle twisting up into a sneer. He waved a clawed hand. “Yanno, I been shot at a lot too. No one’s killed me yet, either. Maybe I’m Sanctified.” 

Harliss only smiled, finishing off her whiskey. “Maybe so! Afraid it’s not official until some Union priest high-ups look into your, shall we say, close calls, and have a little debate about it. You would be the first ever kobold considered sanctified, but I’d never be the one to say no to such an idea.” 

“Or maybe,” Nok said, collecting her empty glass. He held it up, and before long the server was swapping it out for one with another pour. “Maybe you’re just real fuckin’ lucky.” 

“Oh, that I am, my new friend.” Harliss took the glass from him when he held it out. “Luck, and skill, have certainly kept me alive more than once. But who’s to say that extremely good luck, in and of itself, isn’t some kind of divine blessing? Who’s to say the gods didn’t give me my talents, or that belief in my own Sanctification doesn’t make it stronger?” 

Nok held his hand up. “Me.” 

Harliss laughed and took a big sip before setting the glass down. “And I certainly won’t begrudge you that you. You’re free to believe I’m as full of bullshit as you like.” 

“Oh, you definitely are.” Nok took a drink as well, wiping his muzzle with the back of a hand. “It’s amusing, at least. If I ever do have to kill you, I’m gonna be real mad about it.” 

Harliss leaned back in her chair. “The feeling is increasingly mutual, Nok.” 

Nok idly traced a claw tip around the rim of his glass. “Alright, question. Be honest.” 

“I will if the questions it.” 

“You really believe in that shit about the Three Gods the Union preaches?” Nok tilted his head, his faintly copper eyes fixed upon her. “I ain’t gonna care, mind you, I’m just gonna judge you real hard.” 

Harliss grinned at that. “As if we haven’t been judging one another all along. But the short answer is yes.” She flourished her hand. “The long answer is yes, but not exactly in the way I’m expected to. I play that part for the Union, happily enough, but my beliefs are my own. Yes, I do believe in gods, and I do believe in the influence they hold on our lives.” She lowered her voice, leaning forward. “Just as I believe they’ve walked amongst us, and from time to time, chosen their chamions amongst us. For good, or for ill, order or for chaos.” 

Nok murmured something in kobold, under his breath, but did not question or otherwise interrupt her. 

“But I don’t believe in those gods in the strict way most of the Union does. For one, I don’t think they’re limited to only three of them. The Union thinks of them as a family, and perhaps they are. But not a human family, as they’re often depicted.” Harliss shook her head. “No, no, no. To imagine that the gods are human shows a profound lack of imagination.” She sharpened her tone. “They’re Gods. They can be anything they damn well please. Human, gryphon, even urd’thin. And perhaps more likely, none of the above. I should think the real gods are something far more…” Harliss waved her hand. “Cosmic. Like the stars themselves. Entities and concepts we can’t quite conceive of, that for whatever reason, have occasional taken an interest in our lives.”

The kobold scratched his muzzle, scowling. “That’s…deeper than I thought you’d get. But didn’t you just say they’ve walked among us?” 

“Would you know it if they had? They could be anything, anyone.” Harliss traced random patterns on the table. “In my experience chasing so-called blasphemers, I’ve come across more theories and beliefs than anyone in the Union Church would ever dare acknowledge. One sect in Diandrios says, the gods are urd’thin children.” She tapped her fingers against the wood. “No, says another belief, the gods are singing stars!” She waved her hand. “The Sun-Feather cult believes their goddess to be a golden feathered gryphon!” She dropped her hand down. “Ask ten disparate people about the gods, and you’ll get ten different answers. I posit, that perhaps that’s because the gods are all of them, all at once.” 

Nok murmured again as he considered it. “That’s…huh. And here I was, just looking for an argument.” 

“Oh, my mistake.” Harliss cleared her throat, then slapped the table. “The only true deities are the Three Gods, you scaly, swamp-dwelling heathen!” She smirked. “Better?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s the stuff.” Nok chittered laughter, but his smile soon faded. “So how do you do it, then? If you don’t believe all those so-called blasphemers are wrong, how do you sleep at night if you’re out there hunting them?” 

“Ah, so now the hardened killer wants to talk about sleeping at night?” Harliss sipped her drink, gesturing with the glass. “That’s easy, in my case. The only time The Stormcaller and her crew are dealing with blasphemers, is when those blasphemers are plotting rebellion. And then it’s not about their beliefs, it’s about the fact they’re trying to blow up a Union port, or what have you. Beyond that…” 

Harliss trailed off. There were many things she dared not tell Nok, even if she’d wanted too. Knowledge she had, missions she’d undertaken, things she’d seen and learned, reasons she believed what she believed, and so on. Some of that hard-earned knowledge was anathema even to the Union, and while few would dare accuse an Executor of blasphemy without both a mountain of evidence and an entire army to back them up, even Harliss knew when to keep her mouth shut. 

“Let’s just say I believe the gods have unleashed me to fulfill a great purpose.” Harliss held her glass up to a lamp, watching the flame’s glow spread to the golden liquid. It glittered when she swirled it. “An instrument of change arriving, just before the wave sweeps clean the shore.” 

Nok licked his muzzle. “You’ve lost me.”

“Oh, don’t mind my ramblings, Nok.” She turned the glass back and forth. “It’s just that I once heard society described as a series of sandcastles, built by fools who thought they could withstand the tide. The Empire, The Golden Union, they’re the same as every other nation. Preoccupied with their enemies, with their…” She waggled her whiskey. “Power. Or too focused on the little things, like…” She scrunched her face. “Blasphemy, and persecuting monsters. Too busy to realize that the tide is rolling in, and the waves are rising.” Harliss sipped her whiskey, sighing. “And deaf to the cries of those wise and learned few, begging them to build a seawall while there’s still time.”

Nok stared at her, his eyes narrowed. “Suddenly I’m wondering if you’re trying to be their wall...” The kobold narrowed his eyes, head tilted. “Or if you’re really the tide, hiding in plain sight, and waiting to roll in.”

“You’re a wise lizard.” Harliss only smiled. “Perhaps I’m not sure, either. Maybe I’m still waiting for the gods to tell me.” She set her glass down. “Suffice it to say, the tide doesn’t need to be believed in, to exist. And neither do the gods.” 

The kobold grunted. “You’re even crazier than I thought. I don’t suppose all the other Executors are as interesting as you?” 

“Alas, no.” Harliss gave a great, exaggerated sigh. “Most of them share my relative skillset, but not my beliefs. Some of them are a bit too much like Tormin.”

“Yeah, I didn’t really care for Grandpa Scripture.” 

Harliss chuckled. “I don’t believe you. He’s a good man, at heart, and I trust him with my life. But he’s got his head so far up the Church’s ass, he’s blinded to all the things I’m trying to show him. Still, I’ll keep pulling on his shoulders and trying to dislodge him, just the same.” She sipped her whiskey. “Enough talk of the gods, for now.” Harliss dropped her glass back down. “How about we play a game, instead?” 

Nok set Harliss’s cartridge sideways on the table, and spun it around. “Guns, knives, or cards?” 

Harliss picked up Nok’s War Monger, waggling it. “Guns, of course. Knives and cards are more Evlee’s thing.” She tilted her head towards the far table where Evlee and Coaldust sat. Piles of cards were now spread out before each of them. Three knives jutted from the table. “Exhibit A.” 

Nok twisted around to watch Evlee deal another hand. “Remind me not to play her. I ain’t that good to begin with, let alone against her type. She’d probably get me naked without even cheatin’.” 

“You know, it’s possible to play cards without stripping.” Harliss laughed, tossing the War Monger to her other hand. 

“True, but people get a lot more angry about losing money than they do about showin’ their bits.” The kobold spun Harliss’s cartridge around again. “Prav’s got rules about playin’ for money, for just that reason. Little games among friends are fine, but anything bigger needs a House witness. All bets are at own risk, and get paid, period. Enforceable by us.” 

Harliss watched as Evlee dealt Coaldust a new hand, and then showed him, in slow movements, how to produce a variety of hidden cards of her choice. “And what about cheaters?”

“Like I said.” Nok shrugged. “At own risk. You get fleeced, you shouldn’t have bet in the first place.” He held up a hand. “That’s for casual games, mind you. Anything big and organized by Prav, or any kind of tournament, those got stricter rules. Can’t cheat in those. If you get caught, you forfeit all winnings to the offended parties, and they get to beat the shit out of you if they want. Then you get a lifetime ban. Course, if you don’t get caught, you probably get rich. Real tournaments are rare, though.” He picked up spare round. “Most people just play for these, or for clothes.” 

“Smarter that way, you’re right.” Harliss opened up the kobold’s gun, and pulled a cartridge free. She set it upright on the table. “Rounds out, if you please. And you’re right, about Evlee. If you played her for clothing, you’d be in nothing but your gun belts before you knew it.” 

Nok gave a guttural laugh. “Not the worse look for a kobold.” He gazed at Evlee’s table, a smirk on his muzzle. “Pretty sure she’s gonna have Coaldust naked by the end of the night, with or without a card game.” 

Harliss emptied out the rest of the rounds, stacking them up in a line. “That she might. She’s an adventurous girl, especially by Union standards.” She set the gun down, then waggled a finger at Nok. “You know, if Evlee hadn’t already purchased his time, I might have had a mind to buy you a night with Coaldust before I went back to the ship.”

The kobold grunted at her, then started emptying out Harliss’s pistol the same way. “Nice try, but you ain’t gonna one up me, Union girl.” 

“Hmm?” Harliss arched a brow, grinning. “Is that what this is about? You only bought me a drink to get one over on me, after I conceded for you?”

Nok laughed again, lining up eight bullets. “Oh, no, not at all.” Playful sarcasm hung heavy in his voice. “I really wanted to spend time with a Union officer.” 

Harliss put a hand against her chest. “Aww, I’m hurt! I thought you just wanted to drink with me, because I’m so much fun.”

“Nope.” Nok placed her gun on the table. “That part just turned out to be a pleasant surprise.” 

“Ah, well, in that case…” Harliss snuck another glance towards Coaldust, now trying to balance one of Evlee’s knives on a single finger. “I do believe purchasing you a whore for the night does one up buying me a drink.” 

Nok tapped his claw tips against the table’s edge. “And what if that ain’t what I’m into?” 

“Well, that’s the beauty of it.” Harliss leaned back against her chair, flourishing a hand at Evlee and Coaldust. “It doesn’t matter if he’s your type, or not. The Ballad won’t let you back out without losing face, just as it wouldn’t let me back out from this drink.” She looked down at her latest glass of whiskey. “Which, somehow, has multiplied significantly.” 

“That it has.” Nok rubbed his eyes, chuckling. “Too bad for you, then, that Coaldust’s already hired for the night.” 

“Indeed.” Harliss sipped her drink. As far as she could tell, she wasn’t completely drunk yet, but she’d be lying to herself if she said it wasn’t starting to affect her. Already the alcohol had warmed her, and loosened her tongue. Not that she minded. The chance to spend an evening with another follower of The Ballad, kobold or not, was a rarely pleasure indeed. She smiled at him, swirling her glass. “Of course, I could just hire you a different whore. Maybe the biggest gnoll Prav has, just cause I find the mental image amusing.” 

“Or, we could call it even, for the night.” Nok’s tail twitched behind the chair, a smile played across his muzzle. “Well, nearly even. I’m obviously a little bit ahead.” 

Harliss leaned forward, looking him over like a cat sizing up a cornered mouse. “Or, I could find some other way to retake the lead.” 

“Nah.” Nok his head once, his eyes fixed on hers. “Whatever you do, I’ll just do better.” 

“That’s dangerous talk, little lizard.” Harliss set her hand on his unloaded pistol, her smile growing. “Very dangerous talk.” 

Nok matched her movements, curling his fingers around the hilt of Harliss’s pistol. “Pretty sure that’s how you like it, anyway.” 

“I’d say danger runs in the blood for both of us.” Harliss glanced at the bullets. “Ready?” 

“I’m always ready, Executor.” Nok sneered the title in playfully insulting fashion. “Better enjoy your position while you can, cause I’m also pretty sure the Union’s gonna demote you when they hear you been flirtin’ with a murderous kobold.” 

“Oh, please, Nok.” Harliss rolled her eyes, forcing a faux-disgusted scowl to her face. “That’s repulsive. A fine, upstanding, Three Gods fearing Union officer such as myself, would never flirt with a foul, swamp-dwelling demonspawn like you.”

“Good, good.” Nok nodded, then flashed her his fangs. “Cause an esteemed, frontier protecting, highly disciplined kobold gunfighter like me would never stoop to foolin’ around with some close-minded, genocidal Union girl.” 

“Oh, now you are escalating things.” Harliss swept her free hand across the line of ammunition. “The game is speed load. On your go, we load each other’s pistols quick as we can. First cylinder snapped shut wins.”

Nok hissed at her, glancing at the line of bullets near him. “Now hold on there, Executor. I got eight bullets to load, and you only got six.” 

Harliss reached across the table, moving two of her rounds aside. “Fair point. We’ll each load six. Ready?” 

“Go!” Nok yanked Harliss’s pistol off the table, flicking the cylinder open. 

“You little shit!” Harliss laughed as she did the same, popping open the other gun. She snatched up a bullet, only to fumble it as she tried to shove it into place. “Damn it!” 

“Hah!” Nok snorted laughter as he jammed one of her rounds home, only to drop the second one. “Fuck!” 

“Not so easy, is it!” Harliss snatched up the round again, and this time slid it home. But when she plucked up the second one, her once-practiced motions failed her. The bullet slid against the metal and popped out of her hand. “Damn it, the holes aren’t spaced right!” 

“That’s what she said!” Nok managed to get a second round into place, only to struggle with the third as the gun wobbled in his grasp. “Damn it, your fuckin’ gun’s too heavy, and your oversized ammo’s like shovin’ logs into…” Words failed the kobold as he worked to insert the third round. “Into a meat grinder!” 

Harliss laughed with him, taking her time to line up the second, and third rounds. “That doesn’t make any sense!” 

“That’s cause I’m drunk!” Nok made a victorious mewling noise as he got his own third bullet into place. 

“You’re drunk, and your bullets are too small!” Harliss growled through grit teeth as she dropped another one. It clattered and rolled away, forcing her to waste a second reaching across the table for it. “Get back here, you little bastard!” 

“They are not too small!” The insult distracted Nok long enough for him to wave one of Harliss’s rounds. “Yours are just big for their own good, just like everything else humans build!” 

“Your bullets are small, just like kobolds!” Harliss snatched up the runaway ammunition and dropped into the chamber, picking up another. 

“Lies!” Nok hurried to match her, chambering his own fourth cartridge. “My bullets are perfectly sized, just like me!”

Harliss couldn’t help but giggle at his bravado, even as she tried to focus on her task. Nok’s rounds weren’t actually that much smaller than her own, but she so used to the precise movements of loading her own gear, that the different size, weight, and chamber spacings of the kobold’s weapon would have thrown her off even if she wasn’t increasingly inebriated. And the smaller size of the rounds left them feeling foreign in her fingers, while the alcohol made it harder to keep a proper grip on them. Still, she managed to get the fifth round in relatively easily. 

“Almost there!” Harliss grabbed at the final kobold bullet, only for it to slip her grasp. “Shit, shit, shit!”

Nok took advantage of her miscue to take an extra second to line up his final bullet. He slipped it home, then flicked the gun sideways, snapping the cylinder shut. “Done!” 

“Damn it!” Harliss finished a moment later. “Well played, lizard.” 

“Thank you, human.” Nok bowed his head, beaming. 

Harliss took the bullets right back out, more carefully this time. “I blame the gear.” She lined the bullets up, smirking. “I’ve never handled kobold equipment before, after all.” 

Nok unloaded her weapon the same way, licking his nose. “First time for everything.” 

“That there is.” Once the bullets were lined up, Harliss inclined her head. “Go again?” 

“Always do.” Nok set Harliss’s gun down, and put his hand on it. “Your go, this time.” 

Harliss settled her hand in position, locking her eyes with Nok’s. She glared at him, unblinking, counting down in her head. Three, two, one. “Go!” 

The Executor yanked the weapon off the table and snapped the cylinder open. This time, the movements were easier, and progress swiftly. Though alcohol’s effects still felt her fingers feeling a little fat, even a single round of experience loading a kobold weapon made a noticeable difference. She worked to focus on loading the gun in her hand, paying closer attention to the distance between chambers, the size of the rounds, and so on. Last time, muscle memory worked against her, but this round, she was able to bend it back to her will. The size and location of the chambers were different, but the motions were generally the same. 

“Done!” Harliss set the loaded weapon down just as Nok was chambering his final round. 

“Aw, fuck.” Nok closed up the weapon to formally finish the match. “Clear victory. But since you like handling my gear so much…” The kobold smirked and moved right back into unloading it. “Best two out of three?” 

“Absolutely.”  Harliss traced a single finger along the barrel of Nok’s pistol teasing at the stylistic ebony and crimson droplets. “I do hope I’m handling such a valuable weapon properly. Just let me know if it’s about to go off unexpectedly.” 

Nok opened his mouth to reply, then just closed it again, shaking his head. After a moment he grunted. “Alright, that’s pretty good. Point to the Executor.” 

“About damn time.” Harliss swiftly stacked up the kobold’s bullets one last time. “Whenver you’re ready, little lizard.” 

“You keep strokin’ my gun like that, and I will be ready.” Nok readied himself, this time hovering his hand above Harliss’s gun. He waggled his fingers twice, licked his nose, then wiggled them again. “Go!” 

Once more, Harliss raced through loading Nok’s weapon. The movements were easier still, but Nok kept pace. The experienced proved a boon to the kobold, as well. Each loaded round was equal until the very end. Only on the sixth round did Harliss take a small lead, chambering the final round and snapping the barrel shut a split second before Nok did the same. 

“Damn it!” Nok snarled, setting her weapon down. “Good win, Executor.” 

“Thank you.” Harliss bowed her head to him. “Perhaps we should play again when we’re both sober, assuming we haven’t killed each other yet.” 

“Wouldn’t mind it.” Nok held her weapon in both hands, looking it over. “How feisty is this beauty, anyway?” 

“Oh, she’s got some spirit in her, that’s for sure, but not as much as you’d think.” Harliss sipped her whiskey. “You wanna shoot her?” 

Nok lifted his head, flashing Harliss a wicked smile. “Not anymore.”

Harliss only laughed, picking up Nok’s War Monger. “The feeling is mutual.” 

“Of course…” Nok’s smile faded, and he glanced away. “The job is what it is.” 

Harliss nodded once. “That it is. So then.” She held her glass up. “Here’s to enjoying the time we have, and hoping we never have to kill each other.” 

“And to forgiveness, if we do.” Nok toasted her, then downed the whiskey, and thumped down the glass. 

“To forgiveness.” Harliss finished her drink and sat her glass next to his. “Now, our potentially conflicted paths aside, it was a serious offer. Would you like to shoot my pistol? Cause I’d sure as shit love to shoot a war monger.” 

“Fuck yes, I would.” Nok held his hand up, signaling for one more round. When the servers noticed him, he called out something in kobold, and they scrambled to fetch a bottle from a lower shelf. “But first thing’s first. We gotta finish this right.” 

“Actually, on that note-”

“Oh, no!” Nok wagged a little clawed finger at her. “You are not conceding now! I won’t let you!” 

“Wasn’t going too.” Harliss passed him the War Monger across the table. “I was only going to suggest we wait until we’re sober before we actually play any live fire games.” 

Nok holstered his weapon, passing Harliss hers in return. “That’d be smart, yeah. Maybe not as fun, though. Besides, don’t you got a lot of…” He waggled his hands. “Executor shit to do tomorrow?” 

“That I do.” Harliss watched the bartenders pour a disturbingly dark liquor into two oddly shaped glasses. “Just as you’ve got a lot of watching Prav’s ass to do.” 

Nok shrugged. “I watch all of him, thank you very much.” 

“Indeed.” Harliss buttoned her pistol back into its place. “But if you’re free in the evening, I can be free in the evening.”

“I can be free, yeah.” Nok twisted around to watch the kobold server hurry the two drinks over. “More importantly, though, I’m free all night, and already drunk enough to want to spend more time with an Executor.” 

Harliss took the drink from the server, thanking him, then regarded Nok with a smile, warmer than before. “I cannot say the feeling’s not mutual, Nok.” 

“Then why the fuck should we quit now?” Nok set the oddly shaped glass down in front him. It looked akin to a blooming flower, with a trio of short petals ringing its opening. “We might hate each other again when we’re sober.”

“You do make a compelling argument, little lizard.” Harliss sniffed the dark liquid, furrowing her brows. It smelled intensely medicinal, and herbal. “What, dare I ask, is this?” 

“Traditional kobold spirit.” Nok licked his muzzle. “Historically, when someone breaks this out, it either means the night’s over, or just beginning.” 

“Ah!” Harliss leaned towards him, grinning again. “I’d hazard a guess that in our case, it’s the latter.” 

“Up to you, I suppose.” Nok tapped one of the petal-like extensions. “Normally, you bite these, and tip it back to your muzzle. Supposed to drink it without hands. In your case, I’ll make an exception.” 

Harliss picked up the glass again to follow his lead. “I’d appreciate that. What are we drinking to?” 

“Same way we started this little…” Nok scrunched his muzzle. “Truce. The Ballad.

Harliss clinked her glass against his. “Once more to The Ballad, then.” 

Nok gripped the glass petal in his teeth, then tipped his head back, pouring the stuff into his muzzle and down his throat in a single gulp. He dropped the glass back down, then wiped his muzzle with the back of his hand. “To The Ballad! Long may we hear the song of the cylinder!” 

“Long may the bullets call our name.” Harliss downed the stuff in a single pull, as well. It was not as fouls as she expected, tasting akin to old herbal medicines and burnt sugars. She set the glass down, then leaned back in her chair, sighing. “Nok, I must say, this has been an exceptional night. Thank you for trying ever so hard to one-up me.” 

The kobold tilted his head. “Are you conceding the night?” 

Harliss snorted. “Fuck, no.” 

“Come on, then.” Nok hopped out of his chair, sweeping his hand towards one of the doors at the back of the tavern. “I’ll show you my private gun range.” 

Harliss laughed, following at his side. “Is that all you’re going to show me?” 

Nok just shrugged. “The night’s young. Who knows where we might end up?”

Harliss smiled. That was fine with her.