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Shiganshina wasn't exactly Kasimir's usual stomping grounds. The streets were dirty, and the whole place was dreary and depressing. Kasimir didn't object to dirt in its proper place, like out in the field. One expected a certain amount of dirt when hunting, fishing, or hawking. But on the street? Goodness. Kas didn't know how people stood for it. If it were up to him, he would leave immediately. Most unfortunately, Kasimir's father seemed to think his son lacked experience in the wider world beyond Wall Sina and their private country manor behind Wall Maria, and so he had sent Kas along on an excruciatingly dull trip with one of his couriers. For the most part, the courier dropped off messages here and there, talked with this person and that person, and Kas sulked in the guest room of a very rich, untitled merchant with noble aspirations and many ugly daughters. It was dreadful.

Seeking refuge from the merchant's many daughters, Kas found himself exploring Shiganshina on his noble white steed Valiant. The people of Shiganshina didn't seem accustomed to noble white steeds clopping down the sidewalk, and his passage was accompanied by any amount of muttering and whispered curses. Uncouth, really. Did they expect him to ride poor Valiant in the street like some common cart-pulling mule? Really.

As soon as Kas spotted a reasonably nice-looking tavern with stables attached, he drew Valiant to a halt and hopped down. Handing Valiant's reins off to a rather surprised looking man at the entrance to the stables, Kas pressed a gold mark into his palm. "I'll expect him groomed and watered when I get out. Oh, and do see to his feet. These streets are so filthy. They don't agree with poor Valiant, do they?" Patting Valiant delicately on his velvety nose, Kas turned and marched into the tavern.

It was smoky and not as opulent as the taverns Kas was accustomed to, but at least the floor was clean. Kas looked about curiously. The patrons were well-scrubbed and their clothes were clean, but they were also terribly dull. Working people, merchants and the better class of laborers and so forth. Dulllll. There were no pale, powdered women tittering behind fans, no ample expanses of cleavage except for the ones on the barmaids, and Kasimir wasn't about to chase after barmaids whose bottoms were pinched by big rough workmens' hands. Walls, no.

The only even slightly interesting person in the whole place was a girl dressed in military garb, sitting at the bar. She had dusky skin and an impressively glorious ponytail of navy-blue hair that would have been the envy of many a society lady. This was no society lady, though. Her cheek was marred by an old scar, giving her a rather fearsome look. A daredevil, no doubt, a rough and tumble lady soldier. Curious, Kas approached her, hopping onto the seat next to her.

"You look interesting," Kas said, without preamble. Awkward greetings were for lesser mortals. Kas had never felt awkward in his life. "Are you a dashing lady warrior? Did you get that scar in a fearsome adventure? Everyone else here is so dull, my goodness. When I saw that scar on your face I knew I had to talk to you. I can't stand one more dull talk with one more dull person. I'll faint dead away, I swear. I'm sorry I've been so terribly rude, by the way. I think it's just boredom driving me crazy. I'm Kasimir Vonnegut, son of the viscount Leopold Vonnegut. Shall I kiss your hand?"

Kasimir looked at the interesting girl expectantly.

The interesting lady soldier didn't seem pleased to talk to him. That was okay. It just reinforced the rough-and-tumble, ferocious bandit queen look of her. Kasimir laughed aloud when she spoke, too delighted by her strange accent to be irritated at her rudeness. He was mildly miffed that she hadn't offered her name, but that was probably just because she was so tough.

"Where are you from? You've got a cool accent. You almost sound like someone from the slums. Very tough." Kas signaled for the bartender, who set a mug of ale in front of him. Kasimir's nose wrinkled delicately at it. Common stuff. Hmph. It would be more fun to talk to the bandit queen in some posh wine house, or perhaps an art gallery, but he supposed bandit queens didn't generally hang out in art galleries.

Kasimir set his wrists on the bar, ostentatiously shaking out the sleeves of his elegantly tailored jacket so that they sat just so on his arms. His hands weren't as smooth as your average nobleman's hand. Kasimir was quite proud of the few calluses he had managed to form while fencing. More than anything, Kasimir enjoyed the art of swordsmanship. "I'm a very good swordsman, you know, but I'm sure you must be an adequate swordswoman yourself, being in the military. Are you in the military police? You must be, you look reasonably intelligent. I can't imagine going out in the field, can you? Disgusting, really. And the garrison spends its time with common street thugs." Kas shuddered. "Can you imagine? I wouldn't touch a street person. Nothing against street people, you understand, but I really don't see why they have to be so dirty all of the time. I'm sure it's rather depressing to live in poverty, but that's no reason to not take care of yourself. Perhaps if they simply cleaned up a bit, they'd be able to put on a smile and stop looking so grumpy all the time. It's quite off-putting to see them."

Kas took a sip of his drink, pinky finger out.

"Oh, yes, we were talking about you. Where are you from, mysterious and beautiful bandit queen?"

Kasmir stiffened when the bandit queen touched his face. It was a sensual touch and would have been weirdly romantic if the girl hadn't looked like she was about to rip his throat out with her teeth. Goodness! She was so utterly ferocious, like a character out of a story. It was very appealing. Kasimir didn't meet many ferocious girls. In fact, he had never met any ferocious girls. Pouty? Snide? Reserved? Snooty? Sure, he could take his pick. But dangerous? Not a one. Kasimir relaxed when the girl drew back. How thrilling! This was turning out to be an interesting night after all, full of colorful characters.

"My goodness,"Kasimir said. If she'd hoped to rustle his jimmies by threatening him or using that terribly sarcastic milord, she would be disappointed. The young noble was too wrapped up in his weird little one-man world to notice people trying to annoy him with such lame insults. Kasimir didn't have anything against street people as a whole. It was more that he had something against dirty, dissheveled people. Having a drink with a genuine former slum dweller was exciting. It would make an excellent tidbit for parties.

Another sip of the coarse, common drink. Pinky out.

"I guess I'm really 'slumming it', aren't I?" Kasimir gave a little laugh, pleased by his own wit. "You're adorable, aren't you. I shall teach you some swordplay, if you'd like. Fists are so vulgar." Tsk. He affected a little frown. "I expect you're happy to be out of the slums, anyways. That scar looks very rakish, but it can't have made it easy to make money. Compared to the other girls, I mean."

Empathy, thy name is Kasimir Vonnegut.

The fist smashing into his face took Kasimir utterly by surprise. Nobles didn't settle things by brawling. He tipped back off his chair, arms windmilling, and fell flat onto his back on the floor. It was probably the best place to be, because moments later the tavern erupted into a full-fledged brawl. Shaking his head to clear it, Kasimir sprang to his feet. His lip throbbed where the girl's fist had smashed it over his teeth. A finger touched to his lip came away with a drop of blood on it. Kasimir narrowed his eyes at the girl. Military, hmf! Who knew the military was full of ill-tempered brutish girls? Kasimir's limited experience was mostly with the military police.

"You split my lip!" Kasimir's voice was higher-pitched than usual, petulant and angry. Ignoring the brawl going on around them, Kasimir rolled up his sleeves (for flexibility) and unbuttoned his collar (for style). He tossed his head, flipping his dark hair out of his eyes.

Fists balled, Kasimir went into a fighting stance, dancing lightly from foot to foot. Fisticuffs weren't his style, but Kas had seen a noble fight or two. He puffed his chest out, the very picture of manly aggression. "I warn you, ruffian, I'll not go easy on you because of your femininity! You would do better to flee now!"

This was actually kind of fun. He was involved in a genuine bar brawl. The guys back home would be delighted to hear it.

This was problematic. Kasimir hadn't actually expected to trade blows with the girl. He figured she would cry, or perhaps swoon and beg his pardon. Hmph. She wasn't even holding up her fists in a proper boxing stance. How was she going to block his blows?

Kasimir didn't necessarily have any objections to hitting girls, but he didn't think it would look very stylish or noble to slug this girl in the face. This was nothing like the elegant, brutal dramatics of fencing.

"I warn you!" Kasimir repeated. His voice had gone high-pitched and whiny. This was annoying. And the girl was laughing at him. Laughing! Kasimir was offended. He was a noble and a gentleman, not someone to be laughed at! Certainly not by some girl with, sorry to say, poor taste. Was she even wearing makeup? That hair was glamorous, but did she even have it styled? He thought not.

The girl didn't run. There was nothing else for it.

Kasimir aimed a punch at the girl's shoulder. It was kind of a weak, wimpy punch and bounced easily off her shoulder, but then, she was a girl after all, and she wasn't even trying to defend herself.

Jeez, this girl was mean. And she didn't fight fair. This totally sucked. He glared up at the little woman. It was a dignified glare, a condescending glare, a noble glare. Unfortunately some of its effect was lost. The glare would have looked a lot more intimidating coming from, say, the back of a horse. Lying on his back on top of a wrecked chair, his hair all messed up and his lip split, Kas did not look very noble. He struggled feebly, turtle-like, rolling from side to side in an attempt to dislodge this annoying girl.

If Kasimir ever regretted anything in his life, he would have regretted coming up to this chick to chat. But he did not. Regrets were for lesser people.

Kasimir let his arms drop to his sides and let out a gusty, melodramatic sigh. "Fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "I give up. Maybe you can teach me."

Another big, gusty sigh.

"There's a chair leg poking me. This sucks. I'm going to need a chiropractor. I need a massage!" Another feeble turtle roll failed to accomplish anything. Kas decided to play nice. "If you get off me we can both go get massages. My horse can carry two, if you haven't got your horse with you. His name is Valiant."

Grumbling to himself, Kasimir got up. He brushed his hands down the front of his shirt, attempting to straighten it out. It was all dusty, and there was a blob of something that was hopefully gravy on his sleeve. Kasimir picked at it, his nose wrinkling with distaste. He shook out his sleeves and patted at his hair. It was mussed. Narrowing his eyes at the awful mean girl, Kasimir shook his head, sending a splinter flying. His hair was a mess, just a mess. His lip was split and his body ached from the blows, but none of that was as awful as imagining what his friends would say if they saw his hair and his scuffed-up clothes.

Kasimir rounded on the tavernkeeper, ready to bawl the man out for having shoddy inferior furniture and dirty floors, but the navy-haired girl dragged him away. Mention of Valiant perked him up somewhat. He had always wanted to gallop away and rescue a fair maiden.

He took the ferocious girl's hand, running with her towards the stables. The door was closed and barred. Kasimir's nostrils flared. "Valiant!" His voice was full of righteous indignation as he shouted. "Bring me my horse, stablehand!"

No response from behind the door, but a loud whinny echoed down the street. Kasimir whirled. There, at the end of the block, was Valiant. The noble white charger was tied to a mailbox. Outraged, Kasimir loped down the street towards the horse. The horse's legs and sides had been painted with all manner of horrible, garish things: pink flowers, yellow bees, green butterflies, blue pawprints. No time to yell about it, Kasimir grabbed hold of Valiant and climbed onto the horse with ease, reaching down to the navy-haired girl to give her a hand up. "Come, fair lady!"

About the only thing she had in common with a fair lady was her gender and her long hair, but this was the first time Kasimir had been able to rescue a damsel in distress and he wasn't about to stray from the script.

The shouts of the barkeep echoed down the dark street behind them. Kasimir put the boot to Valiant and the horse started off, trotting down the sidewalk. His hooves rang loudly on the stone. Their passage would be easy to follow, but Valiant was a good deal faster than the man pursuing them, and in better shape. Kasimir didn't know the city very well, but he knew the way back to the richer part of town and that was where he pointed the noble rainbow charger. Before long the narrow streets grew broader. Houses were set back from the street, bordered by private walls covered in ivy and topped with razor-sharp spikes. Ahhh. Not as elegant as Sina but still very homey.

Clop, clop, clop.

"I'll drop you off at your lodgings if you show me the way," Kasimir said pompously. "Who are you staying with?" He still owed this girl an a** whupping, but for now it was fun to play the hero.

He looked down at the foul rainbow-ribboned mess of his steed's mane and sighed. "Poor Valiant. I'll never take him to that part of town again. Gang symbols all over him! If I see that horrid stableman again, I'll have him whipped!"

Hearts, stars and kitty-cat faces. Gang symbols most foul.

"I say, you were very brave to go there alone."