The farther down you are on the socio-economic ladder the worse your shoes are – which is an issue because also the father down you are on the socio-economic ladder more important your shoes are.  When I was first drugged and left for dead in Graltontown I was pissed that my dress had gotten dirty.  Those were my priorities at the time.  I quickly discovered that when you’re down here in the mud and the guts with everyone else what you really need is a good pair of boots or shoes.  When I was given this potato sack to wear it came with “shoes” in the form of cloth to wrap about my feet, which is more common than you’d think.  It really tears you up.  Whenever I face a serious setback like the one currently occurring my first order of business is to get some proper footwear.  It was easy this time because I didn’t have to do anything.  The first step of Bolbec Forthwind’s plan was to give me some different clothes to wear.  A pair of sturdy boots, cloth skirt with an overtunic, a belt, a shirt with a terrible jacket, gloves, a scarf, and an ugly a wide-brimmed hat.  It looked terrible.  Sadly I’ve worn worse.

It’s a commentary on my life now that I didn’t even think about it – I just started changing right in front of him.  I wonder what kind of commentary it is that he didn’t even remark upon that fact.  Instead he started explaining the subsequent parts of the plan – sneaking out of town and going some number of paces this way or that and blah blah blah, I wasn’t really listening.  Once I was dressed in my slightly less crappy clothing I lay down on the bed in the shitty hostel with my hands behind me head.

“I appreciate it Bolbec but what I could really use is a whiskey sour and a nice juicy rabbit.”

He was understandably confused “But we need to go right now, we only have . . .”

I waved his concerns away “It’s no use Bolbec, they got me good.” I tapped the collar they saddled me with “This baby is all magiced up the wing-wang, there’s no getting away for me, not until I can figure out how to get rid of it.”

“That shouldn’t be hard, we just need . . .”

I sat up quickly as I felt the collar start to constrict “Stop!  Don’t say anything more about it!  Talk like that sets it off.”

He looked at me for a moment “They really got you don’t they?”

I laid back down “The hook is in deep this time my old friend.  And by old friend I mean someone I barely know.  Why is that you were going to help me?  Seems like you had this whole plan worked out in advance, what’s the skinny?  Were you secretly in love with me the entire time we were at court?  Were you pining away in silence, enraptured by my beauty?  I don’t blame you there Bolbec, I was quite something back then.  This is the part where you’re supposed to say how lovely I am still.”

“Huh?’

“Forget about it, just tell me what’s going on.”

“I volunteered for this assignment, from the beginning my plan was to help you escape, I did have things arranged beforehand.  Before I got here I spent some time working it all out.  I should have guessed that it wouldn’t be that easy.”

“Nothing ever is.  That doesn’t tell me anything about why you did it though.  Are you working for someone?  Do I still have allies at court?”

He shook his head “No, I did this on my own.”

“You’re being very cagey Bolbec, why is the question – what’s your angle?”

“I just didn’t think it was right what had happened to you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second but I won’t press the matter anymore, you can have your secrets if you want.  I supposed embarking on this shenanigan this is better than being on the front lines.  How is the war going Bolbec?  Seems like the Kingdom is losing a lot of territory given the fact that we’re supposed to be winning this thing.”

He smiled sadly “I’m sure it’s a tactical decision, all part of the plan.”

“I’m sure.  Tell me something Bolbec, if I snuck my way into Finchley’s room in the night and slit his throat and tossed him out a window how would that make you feel?”

His facial expression was hard to read, it looked like someone had stepped on his balls and he was trying now to show it “Are you capable of something like that My Lady?”

I snorted “Oh, I’m no lady anymore Bolbec, not that I ever was truly, I was the Duke’s dress up doll.  I’m still in the process of figuring out what I am.  It’s harder than you think.  Let me ask you this Bolbec, when the war is over and the Kingdom has won as it always does in war, there’s going to be a flood of people in society that have become killers.  Some of them will be pretty broken up about it but for a lot of them it will just be a thing they did.  Do you think having that many killers in society changes things?  Every time there’s a war is it followed by a weird period in the kingdom where society is made up of killers?  Seems like that would change things.  Forget the poverty and the hunger and all the other fucked up stuff about the war itself – afterwards there’s a whole generation of murderers running around.  It’s something to think about.”

“I . . . I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Don’t worry, I’m just thinking out loud.  I’m a killer now Bolbec. I’ve tried to feel guilty about it but I can’t seem to pull it off.  What do you think that means?  Am I doomed to the fiery pits of the Thirteen Hells to be tormented forever by Krolkoth the Awakener?  Seems a little harsh to be tormented forever no matter what someone did.”

“Uh . . . I’m not sure.”

“Sorry Bolbec you were expecting an exciting rescue, running through the night and hiding and horses in the night and shit and instead here I am dropping some heavy philosophy on you.  My apologies, I tend to get metaphysical whenever I lose everything.  It happens every seven or eight months.  Sometimes I can get the stuff back but I’m in a real bind this time Bolbec, I think my goose might be pickled on this one.  You’re a fighting man Bolbec, you were in the last war right?  How many men to you reckon you’ve sent on the next life?”

He seemed mightily uncomfortable “I couldn’t say My Lady, chaos of battle and all.”

I nodded “I know what you mean, after a while it’s hard to keep track right?  If you told me I had killed a hundred people I could believe it.  A thousand I don’t think so, but I can’t even really hazard a guess what the number is.  Some of them I probably wouldn’t even remember.  Most of the ones I straight up murdered in cold blood I could probably list if I tried hard enough but when you’re in the thick of battle and your blood is up you’re just reacting.  Afterwards you think, did you kill five people or seven?  It’s impossible to say.”

He abruptly headed for the door “I should get some sleep.”

“Sure, sure, you get some rest Bolbec.  How are we doing on that whiskey sour?”