The Knightpunk Code

by Kory Shen

  I let out a deep breath and took another sip of the ale to calm myself down. It was time for planning, not fantasizing. But planning for what?

  I wasn't sure. I needed to make something happen, something big.

  I could already see myself turning into Vimm. Ten more years, one unlucky job, and before I knew it, I'd be the cranky, crippled boss overseeing my own criminal empire. Just me and the boys, with a bunch of Sentinels on our tails.

  No, that's not what I wanted. Far from it.

  Angry shouts erupted from across the tavern. I ignored them. Typical tavern hooligans.

  I had only been half-joking with Vimm earlier. I had grown up dreaming of becoming a knight. Not any knight, not one of those flunkies us boys ran circles around, but a King's Champion, the best of Evercrown, if not the entire Elderlands.

  But there was no way I could get my hands on a set of Sentinel armor. Hell, they wouldn't even sell ordinary steel to someone like me.

  Armor was power, and the powers in charge weren't going to let just anyone own armor. Vimm could steal paintings, jewelry, even modest sums of gold, and get away with it. Touch armor, and they wouldn't stop until they made an example of you.

  Of course, you could find anything for sale somewhere, even Sentinel armor. But the people who dealt in those wares were in another league. Vimm, the boys, me—we were crooks, urchins, and knaves. Those peddling rogue Sentinel armor were sworn enemies of entire kingdoms, monsters who bartered in death and destruction.

  I still had one path to knighthood. Winners of the yearly Open Melee earned the right to join the Knight Sentinels, regardless of background or wealth. And the king's coffers provided all Sentinels with a minimum level of armor. They were the king's enforcers, after all.

  That left me with two problems.

  First, everyone fighting in the Open Melee would already be a knight of some sort, most with a piece or two of Sentinel armor. Sons of the wealthier families would have years of expensive tutoring, a few even owning a full suit.

  Sure, I could punk a couple of knights, even if I was butt-naked, but I wouldn't come out on top in a wild melee. Running interference on a surprised Sentinel was one thing. Dealing with a horde of armored warriors was a whole different game.

  And second, the Melee was in three days. If I had enough money, like a ridiculous amount, I could buy whatever I wanted. But earning a king's ransom in three days, before this year's Melee? Impossible.

  Maybe finding a rich, old widow wasn't such a bad idea. I remembered the crone I had kissed earlier in the day.

  Blech. I was desperate, not depraved.

  I downed the rest of my drink. That left me back at square one.

  A sudden wave of heat washed over me, pulling me out of my musing.

  A group of men were yelling, trying to douse the burning cloak of a man rolling on the ground. I spotted long golden hair, a red tunic, and a shapely figure leaving the tavern.

  "Damn mage!" someone shouted at the disappearing woman.

  That caught my attention. Mages were rare in this part of the world. We had plenty of enchanters and spirit smiths to forge armor, but pure magic users weren't common in the human cities.

  It wasn't just about the superstitions and prejudice. A squishy mage wouldn't last two seconds against a properly equipped Knight Sentinel. Mages simply weren't popular here. They'd easily find better work and adoration elsewhere.

  I did know of one mage who ran a shop in Evercrown. While he wouldn't carry armor, maybe he would have something more suited for my skills. Something unconventional. It was a long shot, but I didn't have another option at this point. Unfortunately, the mage could be a rather prickly fellow if you didn't know how to deal with him.

  The blonde serving girl stopped by my table again. "Anything else you want?" she asked with a tentative smile, jutting out her ample chest at me.

  I flicked my gaze over her hourglass figure. Perfect. I beckoned for her to lean closer, earning me an eyeful of cleavage as she bent over the table. Her eager face was inches from mine.

  There was a time for flirting, and a time to get straight to business. I moved in for the kill.

  "Hey babe," I whispered into her ear. "Wanna go shopping with me?"

  CHAPTER 4

  Wind chimes tinkled as I stepped through the curtain across the front of the shop. The blonde, Sherry, followed behind me, holding onto my hand.

  The shop was large but cramped, filled from floor to ceiling with what looked like junk.

  "I thought we were going shopping," Sherry said, making a face.

  "We are," I replied. I turned to her, brushing away a strand of golden hair that had fallen across her face. "You're so gorgeous when you pout. Have you ever thought about going into theater work?"

  Sherry giggled as her cheeks turned pink. "Actually, I'm an aspiring actress—"

  "Great! Want to play an acting game?"

  Sherry nodded. "I love games."

  "You stand there and act like I cast a magic spell on you, turning you into the most stunning statue in the world."

  "Are you sure that's a game?"

  "It's the best game ever."

  Sherry pursed her lips. "Is this a kinky thing? Like pretend-play?"

  "What? No, nothing like that."

  She looked disappointed.

  "I mean, yes, totally."

  Sherry's eyes lit up. "I love pretend-play."

  "Me too. See? I'm getting ready. I put on my robe and wizard hat." I pantomimed the motions.

  A hoarse voice shouted at me from further inside the store. "The fuck is wrong with you? You drunk?"

  "Remember, stunning statue," I whispered to Sherry.

  She winked then assumed the pose of a woman trying to see if a feather was stuck in her ass.

  A disheveled figure dressed in a mixture of fetid animal skins and clanking metal trinkets emerged from the bowels of the shop. He chewed on something black and rotten, possibly his tongue, and scowled at me through yellow teeth.

  "I don't serve your kind," the shopkeeper spat at me.

  I had expected this. Mages were a prickly lot. It was only fair, seeing as how the people of the Elderlands treated mages poorly. I didn't blame the people, either. Mages had a reputation for being dirty old men, in all senses of that phrase.

  I smiled back at the mage's glower and glanced over at Sherry.

  The shopkeeper's gaze shifted to focus on the bar girl. His dried lips twisted into a leering grin, and the old mage made no attempt to hide his ogling.

  "How might I help a lovely lady such as yourself?" The shopkeeper asked Sherry. He reached out for her protruding rear with a gnarled hand.

  I slapped his hand away. The brave girl hadn't even flinched.

  "She's with me," I said. "If you don't serve our kind, we'll have to leave, I'm afraid." I let out a deep, mournful sigh.

  The shopkeeper's eyes twitched back and forth between Sherry and me. He gritted his teeth. "Very well. What is it?" He examined Sherry like a cat circling its prey, licking his lips hungrily. "And what's the matter with her? She have lockjaw? Cramps?" He stood behind Sherry and crouched down as if to sniff her rear.

  I whacked him gently in the face with a coin purse.

  "Ouch!" he yelled, standing back up and rubbing his nose.

  I shook the coins, letting him hear the muted sounds of an overfilled purse. "I have gold. I'm here to see if you want it."

  The shopkeeper turned away from Sherry to study me. "How does a poorly dressed slob like you get his hands on gold?" His eyes narrowed. "You stole it, didn't you?"

  "Technically, no, but in spirit, yes. Why? I thought mages were above the laws of mere men." I lowered my voice. "I heard that even the King's Champions tread lightly when dealing with the enlightened ones."

  The shopkeeper straightened, looking down the length of his nose at me. "You're smarter than you look. So what is it?" He gestured towards Sherry. "An aphrodisiac for her?" He gestured towards my waist with a grin. "A potion
to help down below?"

  "I'm looking for armor," I said.

  The shopkeeper blinked at me. "Armor?"

  "Or the next best thing you have. I'm going to fight in the Open Melee, but as you can see, I'm not exactly the son of a rich noble. I need something to put me on equal footing, or close enough. I'll make up the difference."

  "And her?"

  I shook my head. "Here to grace us with the pleasure of her company."

  "Hmm," the shopkeeper murmured, moving closer to Sherry. I stepped between them.

  "So, do you have anything I could use?" I asked.

  The shopkeeper stepped to the side so he could continue leering at Sherry. "My wares would be useless for one untouched by the arts. I have nothing for you."

  It had been a long shot. I tried not to let my disappointment show.

  "For the son of the king, though, I may have something. A relic from another age."

  I took a slight step backward. "Wait, you know who I am?"

  "I know many things, Jakson Ironflame." Piercing blue eyes stared into my soul.

  I shivered and rubbed my eyes. When I looked again, the shopkeeper's eyes were once more gray and dull. What had I just seen?

  "I'm famous. Big deal. What do you have for me?"

  "I have armor."

  He had to be joking. What kind of ancient armor could he possibly own? A heap of rust?

  "How much for it?"

  The man pointed at my coin purse. "All of that. And you must bring me something else."

  It had to be a scam. All the gold I had ever owned wasn't enough for even a plain steel suit, which would have been more of a hindrance than help, anyway. There was absolutely zero chance he had his hands on any Sentinel-class armor.

  Still, the shopkeeper's offer intrigued me.

  "How do I know you aren't trying to swindle me?"

  The shopkeeper grinned while running his eyes over Sherry. "You don't. But I swear by my true name, that I am dealing with you in good faith."

  "What's your true name?"

  The shopkeeper stuck his nose in the air. "A mage doesn't reveal his true name."

  I shrugged. "Then what do I call you?"

  "I am your realm's Grand Warden."

  I mentally rolled my eyes. "Fine. I'll call you Grandpa for short. What's this extra thing I have to bring you?"

  Grandpa scowled at me. "Perhaps I should change my mind—"

  Sherry, who up until then had been the model statue, coughed and jiggled her chest. Grandpa looked up sharply, admiring the aftershocks of her movement. Yora bless the girl.

  "The extra thing?" I prompted.

  Grandpa grumbled and reached for a cluttered shelf. After a minute of shuffling scrolls, he pulled out a small piece of parchment and handed it to me.

  "Bring me anything on this list, and the armor is yours."

  I read through the list:

  Beating heart of a dragon.

  Tears of a stone troll.

  A siren's song. (A transcribed version will suffice.)

  The kiss of a maiden mage.

  "These are all impossible," I said. "Is this a joke? What do you even need these for?"

  Grandpa snatched the parchment out of his hands. "You wouldn't understand. If you aren't able to complete the deal, that's your problem, not mine."

  I ran through the items again. It was ridiculous. Even if I could somehow kill a legendary dragon, how was I supposed to deliver its heart still beating?

  Stone trolls didn't have any water in their bodies.

  Siren songs were lethal to anyone who heard them.

  And mages were, to a rule, anything but maidens.

  Not to mention that every one of those was impossible for someone like me to find.

  Every one? What about the mage at the tavern? I had only caught a glimpse of her backside, but she might qualify. I hadn't seen her from the front, though. There was the chance the mage was a peculiar man shaped and dressed like a woman. That was on the rise in the southern cities.

  Even if the mage fit the bill, how would I get her to kiss Grandpa? Maybe if she was blind and deaf, lacked a sense of smell and taste, and had nerveless fingers.

  It was impossible.

  "You have yourself a deal," I said.

  I turned to leave.

  "The gold," Grandpa said.

  I looked back at him. "What?"

  "Leave the gold with me. Return when you've found an item from the list."

  "Oh, come on—"

  "Those are terms of the deal. Take it or leave it."

  I weighed the coin purse. It's not like I had other plans for the gold. If it wasn't enough to buy armor or a place in the Knight Sentinels, it had no real value to me. Plus, I could always steal it back from Grandpa if the deal turned sour.

  I tossed the coin purse to him.

  Grandpa caught the coin purse with a surprising quickness. He muttered something beneath his breath, and a black circular void appeared in front of him. The coin purse dropped into the void. The strange disturbance vanished.

  So much for stealing my gold back.

  Grandpa gave me a wide grin. "Good luck, boy."

  I sighed and parted the curtains to exit the shop. Someone coughed.

  Oops. "Spell's over, Sherry. Let's go."

  * * *

  I thanked Sherry for her help with fifteen minutes of pretend-play that I had rescued her from drowning in the icy sea. After emptying her mouth and lungs of pretend-seawater and warming her pretend-frozen body, I declared the rescue complete and bid her farewell.

  Now how was I going to find that female mage? I retraced my steps to the tavern, then searched the surrounding district without much luck. I checked with my usual network of beggars, pickpockets, and lookouts, but no one had seen the mage in question.

  After roaming the city's main marketplaces, I was ready to give up and head back to Vimm's place. Thick, black, smoke on the horizon, not too far from my location, caught my eye, though.

  On a hunch, I raced towards the source of the fire. As I drew closer, I heard the shouts of angry men. I spotted a blonde-haired figure dashing down the street towards my direction with a train of burly men in hot pursuit.

  I had found my mage. Hopefully, a maiden mage.

  I glanced around quickly. I didn't have much to work with. A couple beggars sat in an alley to my left. Several head of cattle were tied to a stake on my right, waiting to be sold or taken home. A farmer rolled a wheelbarrow past me, empty except for a large, rough covering.

  I untied the cattle and kicked their rumps, sending them in a stampede down the road towards the mage and her pursuers. In the commotion, I grabbed the burlap-like covering from the passing wheelbarrow.

  The mage nimbly jumped over the rushing animals and continued towards me. I scooped up a handful of the soft brown mud where the cattle had been resting, waving to the mage with my other hand. I raced over to the beggars, whirling the burlap covering around me.

  "Over here!" I called from the entrance to the alley.

  The mini-stampede had kicked up a modest cloud of dust, as well as a general ruckus of screams and running people.

  I didn't get a good look at the mage's face as she dashed into the alley.

  I hid the mage underneath the covering, sat down next to the beggars, and rubbed the mixture of mud and cow shit over my face. I held my breath, trying to keep myself from gagging.

  A group of men rounded the corner and entered the alley. They stopped briefly in front of the beggars and me, made faces, and raced off further down the side street.

  After another minute, I removed the covering and wiped my face with it.

  I finally judged my eyes clean enough to open without being blinded by cowshit. In front of me stood a gorgeous young woman in a flowing red and white outfit wrinkling her nose. She had an exotic aura, with wide eyes and an angular face. Her arms were mostly bare, and she wasn't shy about hiding her generous chest, but she had a white band tied around her golden hair
. Was she injured?

  "Hi, I'm Jakson," I said. I offered my hand to shake, changed my mind, and drew it back. "Sorry. This is all I could think of at a moment's notice."

  The sharp-featured woman raised an eyebrow. "I suppose I should thank you," she said. "So thank you, and goodbye." She spun on her heels and stepped out of the alley.

  "Wait!" I reached out to grab her hand, but the woman swiftly dodged me. She stopped to look at me out of the corner of her eye.

  "Touch me, and you die," she said. Her accent was unusual, clearly not local.

  "Hold on. I just saved you from those men. Can't I get something in return?"

  The woman turned, facing me with her hands on her hips. "What exactly might I give you in return? Let me guess, some foolish adolescent male fantasy?"

  "First of all, I'm eighteen. And you don't look that old yourself. Plus, I happen to be a gentleman."

  "What is it, then? Gold? I'm sorry, but I don't have any."

  "A kiss."

  She made a rude noise. "See? Just as I expected." She turned around again to leave.

  I reached for her again. "No, this is really important. It's not what you think—"

  The woman dropped to the ground and swept a leg at my feet. I hopped over her attack easily, then weaved left and right to dodge a flurry of high kicks. I threw the large burlap covering at her, blocking her vision, then dashed around to catch her from behind. But when I rounded the large cloth, there was no one there. A fist or foot punched through the still falling burlap sheet. She had switched places.

  I swayed backward to avoid the strike. The covering fell to the ground, revealing an icy, but beautiful, glare.

  I raised my hands. "Let me explain—"

  A stiff palm shot straight at my neck like a dagger. I sidestepped, then ducked to avoid a heel strike aimed at my nose.

  "Come on—"

  I leaned back to avoid a punch to my chin. The woman swung at my head again. This time I didn't move.

  The fist stopped before it touched me. I smirked. "Didn't think you'd want to get your hands dirty." My face still reeked of manure.