The following day, before he left Lordanin, he had his driver take him over to Skinners Lane. He told them it was because he needed a new pair of boots, but really, it was because he wanted to visit the small courtyard where the Knights of Brass held court without being watched or followed.

So, he had his carriage parked nearby and perused several shops. Then, when he found one that was shady looking enough for his tastes, he warned his guards that he'd be a while and then paid the proprietor a handful of silver kings to act busy and keep them away while Lucas used the man's back door to walk over to the street of hammers.

While there was always the possibility that he could be assassinated or robbed, even by the men he was off to visit, he found that unlikely. The Knights of Brass were interested in money first and battle second, which made them exactly the simple sort of people he preferred to work with.

When he walked into the courtyard, no one seemed to recognize him, but he walked with enough confidence toward where the captains were sitting that no one tried to stop him until he'd almost reached his destination.

Then, a tough walked up to him and put his hand on Lucas' chest to stop him. Lucas ignored that and the man and shouted past him. "Sir Tristin, are we ever going to have that rematch or what, man. "

That boast stopped half a dozen conversations on the spot, and for a moment, the iron-haired knight flashed an annoyed look, which was, in turn, banished from his face by a look of recognition. "Well, look who it is," he said, standing and striding toward Lucas as the other man backed off. "If it isn't my favorite blueblood, in the flesh. Come to see me about a rematch, no less."

Lucas shook the man's hand, noting that he still wasn't nearly as strong as the knight, which did not surprise him. "Well, I'm here about something else, but I figured there was no way you'd let me get out of here without a fight, so I figured we'd start there."

That was a lie, but only a small one. While Lucas did have another reason to come here that he thought Kar'gandin would be unwilling and Heisenburgle would be unable to fill, he also wanted to fight this man. Lucas didn't expect to beat him, of course, not without potions, but that last time he'd stood in this courtyard, he'd had absolutely no chance of winning, and since his big date with destiny was coming up ever faster, he wanted to see how much or little that had changed.

Being faster and stronger only helps, he reminded himself as he looked into the other man's eyes. They don't mean shit without the skill to use them.

Lucas spent a few minutes putting on some practice armor, along with gauntlets and a helm. He had a couple of decent healing potions on him, but that didn't mean he was eager to use them. Getting stabbed still hurt like a sonofabitch.

When he was ready, he strutted back out into the middle of the field with a bulled steel practice sword in front of the eyes of thirty men. There was some betting going on, and though he didn't know the odds they were giving him, he doubted they were good.

"This time, I won't go as easy on you, Mister Blue," Sir Tristin cautioned him. "You've had plenty of time to get better, and I aim to see it."

"Of course," Lucas agreed. "No potions, either. Just you and me."

The knight flashed him a predatory grin and settled into a stance, flexing his knees slightly as he growled, "Show me!"

Lucas leaped forward, even before the words were out of his mouth, aiming for the man's face, even though steel sprang up to bar the way. "I want you to know I'm going to count any hit as a win!" he cried out.

"Count what you want!" the other man roared, pushing him back. "You'll end this fight on your back regardless. I just want to see how you fight until then!"

After that, talking became less important as the blows started to bleed together. At first, Sir Tristin fought fairly defensively, letting Lucas show his stuff. He didn't have a shield, but then, he didn't need one. His weapon moved like an extension of his own body. While initially, it teleported wherever Lucas happened to strike, in time, it started to lash out more and more frequently.

Soon, it was like the knight was really fighting him, and for half a minute there, Lucas felt like he was holding his own. However, the knight kept getting better and faster, and in time, Lucas could no longer keep up with him.

For several minutes, the two of them exchanged blows. Earlier, the knight had been toying with him, but now he seemed too ready to put Lucas in his place and, without too much difficulty, put Lucas wholly on the defensive for more than a minute.

Eventually, he managed to get the pace of the new fighting, but by the time he regained control of the fight itself, he was drenched in sweat. "Good," the knight roared with a laugh as they locked blades. "Now come at me. Strike me down!"

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Lucas sprang forward, delivering the first three blows of a five-hit combo of a flurry that had been drilled into him. He knew that move like the back of his hand, as well as the way one was supposed to defend against it. Sir Tristian knew it, too, though, which was what Lucas was counting on. That was why, during the fourth beat, he zigged when he should have zagged and lashed out in an unexpected location.

For a moment, it worked, too. For the space of a single parry, Sir. Tristin's blade had moved to where Lucas' blade should be next, not where it had actually gone, and he slid past the knight's defenses at the cost of leaving himself wide open.

The sound of his sword tip scraping against the other man's chainmail was as close as Lucas got to winning. Without armor, it would have been a painful blow but not a fatal one. It might have even cracked a rib, but the hammer blow that landed between Lucas's eyes damn near cracked the helmet and put him on his ass. That one would have definitely killed him without armor. It might have even with armor if his opponent had hit him a little harder.

"Well fought, but hardly a victory," the other man said, clasping Lucas' gauntlet and pulling him to his feet. "I see that you have not been wasting sir Milen's time. I'd even hire you myself if you want to start at the bottom as a squire to someone more competent. What do you say? A copper commoner a day and a silver king a job. Good money."

With Lucas' ears still ringing, he wasn't sure if Sir Tristin was joking or not until he started laughing.

"Thanks," Lucas mumbled, absorbing the compliment as he tried not to make his dizziness too obvious. He decided against telling the man that, as far as he was concerned, he'd won. That wasn't how it would work with the dragon, either.

"Now, what's this other business you want to discuss," the man prompted after Lucas continued to stand there in silence.

"Well," Lucas said softly, not moving from where they stood in the center of the courtyard. Distance was their only form of privacy, and he would take it. "I've got a job coming up, and I need a certain… well, a special. Sort of armor, just in case shit goes south on me."

"Armor, eh?" Sir Tristin smiled. "Well, why didn't you say so? I know every smith worth his steel on the street. We can get you—"

"Not literal armor," Lucas corrected him. "The metaphorical sort. My problem is, uhm, a mage known to enjoy fire spells, and so I need a magic sort of solution to that."

"Mages, huh?" the knight chewed on the words. "That will be tougher. The Mage's guild has that sort of trade locked down pretty hard. I'm not sure I can help there."

"Come on, man," Lucas retorted. "You know everyone who knows anyone. I'm sure you know a guy or two you could ask for a ring of fire protection or whatever. I'm even offering a commission on this."

"A commission, you say," the man raised an eyebrow. "How much are we talking here?"

"Ten percent," Lucas answered, and when he saw the look of calculated disappointment on the knight's face, he continued. "Don't give me that. Ten percent is a lot of money! This thing is going to cost me 200 dragons, easy."

"And you have that much ready coin?" the man asked, "I heard you've been quite inconvenienced over the last few months."

"We're still getting you supply, aren't we?" Lucas countered. "We might have had some setbacks, but I'm away from the city so much opening a new larger distillery for our shit."

"Well, that's good news," Sir Tristin agreed. "And if I'm able to locate such an item, how do I go about reaching you for approval? Does it have to be a ring?"

"I don't care what it is, so long as it works," Lucas said, just send Sir. Milen to me for another lesson, and I'll let him know if it's in my price range.

The two shook on it and then, after a few minutes, parted ways. Sir Tristin all but insisted he stay for a few beers, but Lucas had been gone long enough. So, after that conversation, Lucas had largely recovered his breath. So, even though he wished he'd had the chance to shower, he toweled off as best he could, straightened his rumbled clothes, and then walked back toward Skinner's Lane.

"I had to bar the door," the cobbler said, "They tried to insist that they needed to come in and—"

Lucas ignored the man, walking past him and opening the door where someone was pounding. It was the captain of his escort. Lucas smiled as if everything was normal and said, "Can I help you?"

"Uhm… Mister Blue, Sir, we were, uhm…" the man stammered. "I was worried something had happened to you."

"Well, as you can see, I'm just fine," Lucas countered, "Nothing's amiss now if we could—"

"But you were gone for hours," the soldier complained. "And you don't even have new boots!"

"Yeah," Lucas agreed. "The measurements were grueling, but he'll send them along when he'd finished. Now let's go home."

The guard tried several more times to get answers out of him, but Lucas stonewalled him. "Tell Heisenburgle or the Prince or whoever you're trying to get the answer for to ask me directly. I might actually tell them. Or, on second thought, don't. Letting them know you lost track of me for hours probably wouldn't be a good look for you, would it?"

That statement ended the conversation, and Lucas returned to Blackgate in silence, but he really didn't give a shit. Reminding the guy that sometimes saying nothing was the best move worked for him, but then, every one of the people that accompanied his carriage two and from the city probably reported to a different master. He had no prayer of trying to silence them all, so he didn't bother trying.

Instead, he ignored the man and focused on the countryside. That was doubly true when he reached the woods. He'd been attacked there before, and he had no wish to be blown up again.

That continued when he got back to the keep. He gave Hesienburgle the good news once they were alone, but the gnome brushed it off. "Bah, she'll sober up and remember she hates you again."

Lucas was forced to acknowledge that possibility, but he didn't think that was how it would turn out. It only took three days for him to receive a letter from the dragoness that proved him right, though he did his best not to rub it in the gnome's face, at least until he'd arranged a rendezvous.

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