## Story 1 ![5-1.png](/uploads/5_1_1c798c0680.png) Having escaped the kingdom, the boy and his clockwork companion now wander the
wastes alone. With men in pursuit, they take refuge in a nearby roadside town. It is a larger
town—one where they can easily vanish into a crowd.

After a bit, they enter a saloon and pause to catch their breaths. The townsfolk are all
smiles, and welcome them most heartily. If only I could create a country as peaceful as this,
thinks the boy. He thinks back on those ravaged by war in his home country as he reaches
across the tavern table for his dinner. Suddenly, his companion's hand flies out. He snatches
the food from his fingers and takes a bite.

"This food is drugged," he hums. ## Story 2 ![5-2.png](/uploads/5_2_aab8aef5ba.png) The boy seems shocked by the news. As he stands and pushes back from the table,
the tavernkeep approaches.

"Hey, now!" he cries.
"What's the big deal here!? That drug's perfectly legal in these parts. "

The boy knows the drug well: It is one that offers temporary euphoria in exchange for destroying
the user's body and mind. It is a dangerous chemical outlawed in every country. When the boy
asks the tavernkeep if he is aware of this, he snarls and makes a motion to the rest of the bar.

The townsfolk begin to close in. Their smiles are gone; they stare at the pair with empty
eyes. They carry knives. Blades. Guns. Each weapon glints menacingly in the dim light. It is
clearly no idle threat. The man stands before the boy like a wall. ## Story 3 ![5-3.png](/uploads/5_3_869a17e2b5.png) The townsfolk press the circle tighter. The boy moves to speak, perhaps hoping to sway
them to peace, but someone in the crowd cuts him off.

"This town was put to the torch during the war," he growls.
"Yet we managed to rise from the ashes and rebuild by selling that drug to anyone who wanted it."
"But now we've run out of willing customers, so we have to introduce our honored guests to it instead."
"Still, a fancy boy like you would know nothing of..."

Suddenly, as if linked, the crowd realizes that the boy standing before them is none other than
the escaped prince, and frenzied voices begin to ring out.

"His people burned our town!"
"Crush the oppressor! Make him pay!"

The boy objects as loudly as his voice will let him, but the townsfolk are beyond hearing.
A moment later, his companion draws his revolver.

"No!" screams the boy.
"Don't kill them!"

With this order received, the man holsters his weapon and begins subduing the townsfolk a
different way. ## Story 4 ![5-4.png](/uploads/5_4_ba61840e50.png) At the end of the chaotic brawl, the townsfolk lie on the floor—bloodied and battered,
but alive. Between moans, they spit curses at the pair.

"We made league with the devil to save our town; we listened to his whispers and did his deeds..."
"Your kingdom started this war... You are to blame..."

The man looks up from his defeated foes. The bandages covering his face have slipped in the
scuffle, baring his visage to the world. His face is covered in a crisscross of scars. It is the face
of a weapon sent to war before being discarded like so much trash. The boy gazes upon him
with sorrowful eyes before reaching out and laying one hand on his rough, craggy cheek.

"Come on," says the boy.
"Let's get moving."

As they walk, his hand makes a fist...and begins to tremble.

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