© J.B. Norman — Published by Emona Literary Services™
“Gah!” Kat exclaims as two familiar face steps into the Hammered Nail.
After the unpleasantness in Goldharbour, if Kat never saw the Bandits of Goldharbour ever, ever again, it would have been too soon.
And yet here they are, invading Kat’s favourite public house.
Just once, Kat would like to spend a few, quiet few hours at the Nail with getting caught up in a bar fight, or being the target of an attempted assassination — which has happened twice too often for Kat’s liking — or being ambushed by two lunatic bandits.
“There she is,” Dirk Broadsword says, pointing across the Nail at Kat. “It’s her!”
Kat slowly reaches around the bar for something to defend herself with as the bandits approach.
As the bandits stand before Kat, they suddenly throw themselves at her feet and grab at her legs in pathetic supplication.
“We’re sorry!” the two bandits exclaim.
“What is happening?” Kat exclaims.
“We’re not bandits anymore,” Alison Steel tells her, rising back to her feet.
Dirk Broadsword nods in agreement. “Yeah. We’ve done our time and we’re legit now,” he says.
“And why are you grabbing me?” Kat asks.
“The last part of our sentence is to find everyone we hurt as bandits and apologise,” Dirk Broadsword explains.
“It’s called making amends,” Alison Steel adds.
“So you’re not here for revenge after I beat the two of you up?” Kat asks.
Dirk Broadsword shakes his head. “No, we’re not the get revenge sort anymore,” he assures her. “We’re thinking about starting a flower shop.”
“They made me take Anger Management classes,” Alison Steel. explains. “I’m feeling much better nowadays — much, much less, you know, stabby and hurty.”
“Well, that’s good,” Kat says, nevertheless cautiously backing away from her one-time nemesis.
The female bandit continues, “And I’ve since come to see that it isn’t your fault that the circumstances of our last meeting actualised the downslope of my Emotional Parabola, thereby sending me into a Shame Spiral, to which I naturally responded to with strong negative emotions.”
Kat blinks dumbly at her.
“What we’re trying to say,” the male bandit says, “is that we’re sorry about trying to steal your friend’s necklace and beating you up. And, since they said we need to be completely honest to truly make amends to the people we’ve hurt: my, uh, my name isn’t really Dirk Broadsword.”
“No. I am shocked,” Kat says with sarcasm thick enough to cut with a knife.
“It’s Harold,” he continues. “Harold Burg-Larsson.”
Kat stares blankly at him. “Your name is Burglarson? Like, Burglar’s Son?”
Harold shrugs. “Well, usually it’s pronounced Burg-Lars-Son, but I guess you could say that,” he notes.
“Is that why you grew up to be bandit?” Kat asks.
“You know, I’ve never really thought about that way,” Harold answers thoughtfully.
Kat turns to the former Alison Steel. “And what’s your real name, Bandit McBandit-Face?”
“No,” the female answers. “It’s Aloysia Casagialla.”
“Aloysia? Wow, no wonder you’re so angry,” Kat mutters.
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