I can't read anyway.

***Boots*

Boots, upon hearing the news, went back into the barn to fetch his hammer. Opening the door, he saw Gregory standing ominously in the corner.

'He clearly has something to say.' Boots thought with a gulp. He understood, of course, that up until last night his arrival had been somewhat frictional. And now he would be travelling with this man's daughter to town, alone. Any parent had to have their reservations.

Gregory stood silently as Boots walked over, a dark expression on his face.

Boots paused momentarily, before reaching for his hammer.

Gregory's paw snatched at the handle as Boots went to pick it up, holding it in place with surprising strength.

'Here we go…' Boots thought to himself.

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you boy, but that's my daughter you're taking into town." Gregory said, his paw tightening around the handle, "She's the only one I have and… and she's far too quick to trust." He sighed heavily, his paw loosening.

Boots and Gregory exchanged a look, deep golden yellow locked with bright vibrant green.

"Just see that her trust is not misplaced." Gregory finished, releasing the hammer and patting Boots on the shoulder before heading to the door.

"No harm will come to her while she travels with me." Boots said sincerely, as Gregory departed.

Gregory paused for a moment, turning as if to speak, but ultimately settling for a stiff nod. Before exiting the barn.

'Well, that was uncomfortable' Boot's thought to himself, shouldering his hammer and making his way to the door.

***Oswald***

"Well, I'm here Lucia." Oswald said to nobody in particular, seeking the shade of a nearby tree. Carelessly lobbing his pack against the trunk. He then carefully unfurled the crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket one last time to reaffirm his thoughts.

He was at the crossroads; it was still a few hours until noon and he had brought the annoying trinket with him. The note yielded no further clues to him.

'But what the devil am I here for?' he frowned at the writing; Divination magic could be so frustratingly vague. It comes with the premise, he supposed. After all, the slightest thing could change the future, he had to trust that he'd been told exactly as much as he needed to be and not an inkling more.

'Well, if your prediction was any good then you must have known I'd need a nap by now.' Oswald chuckled to himself, nestling into a nook in the tree trunk and pulling the rim of his hat down over his eyes.

He felt the warm tendrils of sleep embracing him as he drifted off in the crisp mid-morning sun.

***World***

Fiona walked beside Boots down the long winding trail to the dusty road. The road lined the crease of the valley and ran adjacent to a small stream. There were bushes and the occasional thin tree spattered either side of the stream, the undulating hills of grass and crops spread wide into the distance. A quiet crossroad with a few trees dotted around it sat in the mid distance. As they dropped down into the valley, the town becoming obscured by the land, the small trails of smoke in the far distance were the only indication that they were anywhere near civilisation at all. Once at the road the farm from which they came was completely out of view.

***Fiona***

"So…," Fiona started, as they made it to the firmer surface of the road. "What's all this 'King' business then?"

"Well..ah" Boots garbled with a flick of his tail.

"Don't pretend you don't remember yelling it!" Fiona said with her eyes narrowing playfully. "I'll pinch your ear again."

"It's kind of a long story."

"It's kind of a long road!"

"Well.." Boots sighed dejectedly, "I'm a King, well, not really right now, but I'm going to be. It's why I'm here."

"…"

"…"

"I knew it."

"You did?"

"Yep," Fiona frowned, with a dark expression, "You really are crazy, aren't you?" she said, staring blankly at his face, a hint of pity in her eyes.

"I am NOT!" Boots started, aghast.

"Aww you poor thing," Fiona cooed. "Just how hard did you hit your head anyway?" she reached up to stroke his cheek.

"I am not crazy! I will be King of this land! Just you watch!" Boots retorted, batting her hand away.

Fiona was caught off guard by this sudden outburst, but her surprise slowly turned to unbridled, raucous laughter at the look of seriousness on Boots's face.

Boots gathered himself and tried to maintain some composure as Fiona laughed in the face of his ambitions. Or, laughed in his face, at his face, for quite some time, to be more accurate.

'He sounds just like a kit in a playground!' Fiona thought to herself as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

Fiona felt like she had a good read on Boots, he was a pretty transparent guy after all. The one thing that concerned her, was that; she didn't think he was lying. What he was saying was ridiculous, yes. But she got the distinct feeling that Boots really believed that's why he was here, he really thought he was going to be a King.

A twinge of guilt panged her for a moment. It felt like she was tearing apart the dreams of a child, Boots clearly didn't understand the world that well. That wasn't his fault.

Had she just been really mean?

***Boots***

'Gah, this infuriating woman!'

Boots felt like such a fool, of course to Fiona he must look like an absolute idiot. But it was too risky to lie, she clearly had some lie detecting magic or something. She always called him out straight away!

And he didn't want to get pinched again!

She had a really nasty pinch that woman, his cheeks couldn't take it anymore.

Thus, the only course of action was ambiguous half-truths. This knock on the head they all seemed to think he'd had was playing into his favour. He had to be careful though. Telling her everything would get him thrown in some kind of asylum, he was sure of it.

Boots the Mad.

'Unacceptable.'

"Hey, Boots?" Fiona said, her laughing fits apparently over.

Boots raised a cautious eyebrow in response.

"I-if you really want to be a King, I think you can do it, big-guy!" Fiona said awkwardly, giving him an unconvincing thumbs up in the process.

'Oh gods, is she really trying to cheer me up? How pathetic does she think I am?' he thought with disgust.

It was better than being mocked he supposed.

"Thank you Fiona, you're support means a lot to me." he said, trying to sound genuine. The sight of Fiona's awkward and frankly terrible, attempt to cheer him up was slightly comical. In an endearing way.

"No problem…" Fiona said, a grin starting to form.

Boots sighed, raising an eyebrow once again.

"Your highness?" Fiona said biting her lip.

Two sets of booming laughter echoed down the valley as they approached a small knot of trees.

***Oswald***

"….do you think he's dead?"

"Don't be stupid, you can see him breathing."

Two sets of boots trudged their way towards Oswald. Who lay almost motionless save the slow rise and fall of his chest, a small drip of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

A faint echo of laughter disturbed his slumber with a snort. He looked up to find the two Lycanthian's standing over him.

The shorter one had short black fur with a countershading of reddish orange running up his neck. His ears were sharply pointed, and he had a crude and scar that snaked across his clouded right eye. He was wearing a well-fitting brigandine breastplate. A single pauldron donned his right shoulder, decorated with a depiction of a skull eating a snake. He had a kite shield on his back and short sword at his waist.

His companion was a lumbering brute with a face of golden-yellow. Stupidity seemed to emanate from his eyes. He was wearing a loosely fitting plate cuirass that was pitted with rust and was probably stolen, judging by its awful fit. The size of the fit clearly indicated it's original owner was much larger than it's already exceptionally large wearer. Fastened haphazardly by a strip of cloth to his waist was a battle axe. Splayed between his arms was a large net.

"Good morning!" said the golden brute.

"Ah!" gasped Oswald, as the net flew towards him.

And then they were on him.

There was a blur of limbs dust and netting as they wrestled in the tree's shadow.

"Get off me you DOGS!" Oswald roared defiantly, unable to mount much of a defence, despite his anger.

His roar was met with the pommel of a dagger.

He felt his head crack like an eggshell. It felt as though his brains were being whisked to make some sort of awful omelette. Slipping in and out of consciousness, his resistance ebbing away, he saw two shadowy figures in the distance.

"Two more there boss." Oswald heard the golden brute mutter as he drifted into his second nap of the day.

***Boots***

The pairs laughter was interrupted by a yell from just up the road.

"Get off me you DOGS!" was the disembodied plea for assistance that they heard.

Boots immediately sprang into action, quickly determining the direction of the shout and charging up the road, hammer in hand.

"Boots wait!" Fiona shouted after him to no avail, running in his wake.

Boots was a man of action; something was happening now, therefore he needed to act now. Waiting was for people with the time and resources to plan ahead. He had neither.

As he rounded the corner he saw what appeared to be a rottweiler and a golden retriever descending upon a ginger tabby cat in a net.

He felt his hackles rising.

"Snatchers!" Fiona said between laboured breaths as she rounded the corner after him.

Boots didn't know what a snatcher was, but it certainly didn't sound like an honourable profession to him!

Boots stormed forward, head down, hammer low to the ground.

"Boots wait!" Fiona said again, caution and fear filling her words as Boots closed the distance rapidly.

"Ah, " began the rottweiler-ish person turning to face him, shield in hand, "my name is Magar of the ki-"

He was cut off by Boots's hammer rocketing towards his face in a ferocious upswing, he instinctively jolted his head back as Boots's hammer flew upwards fast enough to shave a few loose hairs from his chin.

"Wha-!" Magar started again, but Boots's hammer was not finished with him. Using the momentum of the upswing and tilting the haft dextrously in his paws. The hammer spiralled around his body and was twisted into a horizontal swing towards his sword arm.

Magar only just had time to twist his body behind his shield as the thunderous blow came in at chest level.

CRACK!!

As his shield burst into fragments the blow sent him flying into the dirt, sliding several feet on the top of his head and rolling into the underbrush.

"Boss!" the golden-haired lump said, jumping off the bundle of netting on the floor and pulling his axe free with a growl. "Don't you know who you're messing with!" he roared incredulously at Boots.

"I neither know nor care for the titles and excuses of kidnappers." Boots said flatly, closing the distance with calm confidence.

"Boots! They work for the King!" Fiona screamed.

"No king of mine." Boots snorted.

"You should listen to your friend. It's our job to round up strays like this and place them in indentured servitude where they belong. Wanderers like this are of no use to the kingdom if left to roam. They contribute nothing to Raxia!" Magar said through gritted teeth, crawling from the underbrush, clutching at his shattered arm. "Show him our credentials Garv."

"Yes, look." Garv said, fumbling in his pocket for the paperwork momentarily before producing some official looking document.

"I see…" said Boots, raising his hammer once more. "That makes this easier."

He brought his hammer down squarely into the rusted cuirass of the unwitting Garv, denting it into his chest and flooring him in the process. The blow knocked the wind from his lungs so viciously he was reduced to a gasping mess on the floor.

He turned back towards a mortified looking Magar, wrenching his hammer free from the incapacitated lump in front of him.

"I can't read anyway." Boots said with a sinister grin, as he descended upon the horrified lycanthian. "So why don't you explain it, in a language I can understand," he reached down grabbing Magar by his twisted shoulder.

Magar screamed as he was mercilessly wrenched from the ground.

"Tell me of your king." Boots snarled.