When Davis the Gunsmith was still a young man, and was journeying across the wastes, he came across a young woman standing near a broken down wagon by the side of the road.

She was, I have been told, an immeasurable beauty, a princess in a pauper’s clothes, a goddess struck to earth.  Davis greeted her, and tried very hard not to stare.  She told him a story of a kidnapped sister and lost gold, of a band of ruffians hiding in a woodland cave just over the next ridge.

As is the way with young men, Davis believed her.


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