In the imperfect light of his small, cramped workshop, Bill Hours's hands shook as he put the finishing touches on Ellie. She was a work of art, truly, and for the price, she should have been. Bill paused in his work to wipe the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, then he glanced to his right. On top of the nearly cleared-off table was a single long box, padded and cushioned on the inside. It was already addressed and ready to go.

And so was Bill Hours.

Bill shook his head and returned to his work. Just a few more etchings, a few more strokes, and the final rune would be set. The rifle's barrel practically danced with them. In fact, Ellie's entire length was like all the sweeping motion of a dance frozen in a single moment of time. The runes along the barrel danced and twisted in on themselves like the wind curved across the stretches of the Waste. From the barrel, Ellie widened into a latticework of steel resembling a cross-section of a beehive, all order and precession, and stretching back into the stock, which was shaped into two cupped hands that would gently cradle the shoulder.

There was, and would never be, a more beautiful Lawbringer than Ellie.

Bill's hands steadied themselves just long enough to complete his final rune, and so he set his runic chisel down and allowed himself to breathe. He looked around his worktable with a slight grimace. All that was there was Ellie, the box waiting to house her, his chisel, and a single rag, which Bill grabbed to wipe off his face. The rest of his tools and supplies were gone; his shop was nearly empty. Everything, everything, was riding on this.

Bill Hours allowed himself a small smile. There was no one else there to see it, but even if there had been, it's doubtful if they would have noticed, that's how small his smile was. This was a gamble. A very great gamble. Bill considered himself a talented gunsmith, perhaps the most talented of those who knew how to craft the runes, but unlike some others he could name, he never sent his name out there like an advertisement for some two-bit timepiece. His clientele was far more discerning than that. But all things end, and he was coming to the end of his career. The commission for Ellie had been enough to buy a town out in the Waste.

And that was precisely what Bill Hours intended to do.

The gunsmith took a deep breath, tossed the dirty rag on the floor, and picked up Ellie. He tested her weight, her balance, her feel. His slight smile widened just a bit more. She would pass the test. As quickly and as carefully as he could, Bill placed Ellie into her box, ensuring that the cloth padding was tucked snugly around her. As per the agreement, a small box of the spellshot bullets were already there, secured safely just beneath the furthest reach of the rifle's barrel. Moving as quickly as he could, Bill closed the box, bound it up, slipped the chisel into his pocket, and moved to the door. One quick stop at the post office, and Bill's new life would begin.

As Bill opened his door, he jumped at the sight of the red-scaled Vash standing on the other side, his arm raised as if preparing to knock. The lizard did not seem nearly as surprised as Bill was.

"You Bill Hours?" The Vash asked.

"I, uh," Bill managed as he played for time. The Vash was not particularly large, but wore a permanent scowl on his reptilian face. He wore a brown baloth-leather hat low, and wore a faded poncho that had once been red, green, and blue, but now looked more like dusty shades of tan.

Before Bill could answer him, the Vash spoke again. "That the gun?" He jerked his head in the direction of the box in the gunsmith's hands. Bill clutched the box closer.

"It's...it's not mine."

"That so?"

Bill Hours nodded. "A commission piece," he managed. "Already sold."

"Uh huh," the Vash said. After a long pause, the Vash moved his poncho aside slightly to reveal the handle of a revolver at his side. With a quick glance downward, Bill caught a glimpse of a rune etched on one of the cylinders. Likely not one of his pieces, but undoubtedly a spellshot. "I think you oughta come with me."

"Look, friend, I..."

"I ain't a friend," the Vash warned.

Bill gulped. "Enemy, then. I..."

"I ain't an enemy, neither."

"Well, whatever. Look, this gun was commissioned by a very important person. Someone who wouldn't want it to go missing. Someone who will come looking for it." A sudden fear dashed across Bill's imagination, but he forced it away. "And trust me, you don't want her chasing you down."

"No, I don't," the Vash said, laying one clawed hand on his gun. "And she don't want to have to chase you down, neither." He paused, leaning in closer. "You get me?"

Bill Hours grew pale. "I...I was on my way...to the post office. I swear. She'd have had it in just a day or two!"

The Vash shrugged. "Lady Victoria is very patient, but she decided she didn't want to wait for this one. She's scheduled a meeting with you." The Vash cocked his head to glance behind him, checking the sun. "And you're gonna be late, if you don't hurry." He lowered his head again, glaring at the gunsmith with eyes barely visible beneath the brim of his hat. "You don't want that, now do you?"

Bill could only manage to shake his head in response before he stepped forward, squeezing around the Vash. The Lizard stood there for another moment before spinning around and taking off down the street. Bill could barely take in air, but followed dumbly behind the Vash as he led him to a nearby alley. They turned down the alley, crossed to the street behind the shop, where an opulent carriage waited, standing out like a sore thumb.

The Vash glanced back at Bill. "Wait here."

Without waiting for a response, the Lizard approached the carriage and knocked, surprisingly gently, on the door. After a moment it opened, and the Vash leaned in. The seconds passed slowly as Bill felt his hands beginning to shake again, and clutched Ellie and the box she rode in closer to his chest to steady them. Suddenly, the Vash was next to him again.

"She's waiting for you."

Bill nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped inside the carriage. He had seen Lady Victoria only once before, when she had commissioned Ellie in the first place. She was unassuming, but unnerving, and Bill did not have the words to express exactly why. Now, she sat across from him in a carriage that was plenty big enough for the two of them several times over, yet felt entirely too claustrophobic. Although she was a tiny slip of a woman, she somehow seemed to fill the entire carriage, and a great deal more besides. Bill feared that there was somehow not enough air for the both of them.

"Greetings, Mr. Hours. I trust you remember me."

Her tone was eerie, utterly without feeling or inflection. All Bill could do was nod.

"I understand that my associate found you as you were leaving your shop."

"Y-yes. But I swear, I was on my way to the post office. I was sending you your order. See, look for yourself!" He held up the box to show her the address printed on it.

Lady Victoria made no move to reach for the box, nor even to glance at the address. "I am also told, Mr. Hours, that your workshop has been cleaned out."

Bill had only a moment to wonder how the Vash had told her so much in such a short time before he found himself babbling out a reply. "I...yes...well...I have, uh, decided that it's time to, uh, retire. Your generous commission, Lady Victoria, has made that possible."

"Of course," she said flatly. "My commission. It was indeed quite generous." She paused, still staring at him. "Although, I was given to understand that the majority of what you have been paid was to go for materials. I am told that these items require great expense."

"Oh, yes, very great," Bill responded before realizing what he was saying. "But, of course, I have been saving for years. Your commission merely put me over the top, so to speak." He forced a smile and a laugh. Lady Victoria did not share them.

"Curious," she said. "I had heard from the bank manager that your accounts were not particularly impressive, Mr. Hours."

"My accounts?" Bill said, growing pale. "Well, no, Lady Victoria. My accounts wouldn't be. You see...I...don't really...trust bankers."

The woman tilted her head to the side, but gave no change to her expression. She stared at Bill Hours for a long, torturous moment before finally breaking the silence, although both her tone and her face remained completely blank. "That is no doubt a wise philosophy. I understand that the inlays are done in gold. Is that so?"

"Yes, of course," Bill said. "Here, let me show you." He started to undo the ties on the box, but then froze. His eyes widened in horror as he slowly looked back up at his benefactor. "I'm so sorry, Lady Victoria! I...I didn't mean to presume...I swear, I was not trying to draw a gun on you..."

She stared at him, but said nothing. Eventually, he started to breathe again. "May...may I show you?"

After a moment, she said, "Of course."

With no small degree of relief, he finished untying the box and pulled the top off. He ran one finger along the length of Ellie's barrel. "Each rune is inlaid with gold. It helps the spell as it..."

"I received a very curious shipping report," Lady Victoria interrupted, not even looking at the rifle. "It was for a quantity of pyrite, delivered to this town, and the name of the recipient was one Mr. Bill Hours."

Bill felt his throat tighten. "Yes...pyrite is...quite explosive, of course. It serves as an excellent substance...for the ammunition, of course."

A long pause. "Of course. Oddly, the shipping manifest also mentioned some low-grade steel alloy. Is that used for the construction of the item?"

"Uh, no. No, Lady Victoria, the rifle needs to be only the highest quality, pure steel. You see, Lawbringers require a great deal of..."

"It is odd, then, that this shipping manifest mentioned neither gold nor pure steel."

Bill felt himself beginning to sweat, and he could feel his heart pounding faster in his chest. "My Lady, gold and steel are very expensive and sought-after commodities. I..."

"Commodities for which I paid well," she said.

"Of course, Lady Victoria, and I needed to protect that investment." His throat was dry, and his breathing heavy. "The papers say that three trains have been taken along this route in the last five months."

"I am well aware of that, Mr. Hours. They belonged to me."

"Oh. Yes. Well, I couldn't very will risk your gun, so I had the materials brought in secretly, by acridian coach. I pulled a few strings, and it was brought in described as baloth, well, fertilizer."

Again, she stared. This time, for a very, very long time. The moment seemed stuck somehow, much as he viewed Ellie as motion frozen in time. Even Lady Victoria's face was motionless. Lifeless. She had all the warmth and feeling of a porcelain doll, one that seemed to be weighing the value of Bill's life behind her cold, false eyes. Finally, though, she spoke, her head giving only the barest perception of a nod. "I vaguely recall such a shipment coming in. That was...clever of you, Mr. Hours."

"Th...thank you, Lady Victoria."

"All that remains then is for me to take possession of my property, and for you to enjoy your well-earned retirement."

After a moment, Bill found the courage to nod. "Here...here you go."

He held out the box with Ellie in it, but Lady Victoria made no move to take it. A moment later, the door to the carriage opened, and Bill glanced at the Vash. Beyond the Lizard, though, was a long stretch of empty Waste. He had not even noticed the carriage moving.

"This way, Hours," the Vash said.

Bill glanced back at Lady Victoria, who was still staring directly at him. Bill swallowed air and moved to follow the Lizard, still carrying Ellie in her box. He took just two steps out of the carriage when he stopped dead in his tracks. They were stopped on top of a steep hill, and far below, there was a shooting range. Bill's eyes bulged, and he thought about running when he heard the Lady's voice behind him.

"I believe that you should have the honor of the first shot with your creation, Mr. Hours. Please, follow Mr. Rasp down to the range."

"Oh, uh, well, that's very kind, but I think..."

"I insist." Her voice was still flat and lifeless, and yet somehow he felt her insistence press upon him like the weight of the entire world. Without a word, he started to follow the Vash down a steep staircase cut into the hillside. He knew he couldn't run. If he tried, the Vash would either chase him down and kill him, or fire a single spellshot from his own revolver. But that thought gave him another. If he could overpower Rasp, he could take the Vash's gun, and one shot could finish Lady Victoria off for good. Then there would be nobody to chase after him. All of his problems would be solved. And all he needed to do to overpower the Vash moving downward in front of him was make a single strike through the neck. Slowly, carefully, Bill reached into his pocket.

"Oh, Mr. Hours?" Lady Victoria's voice cut through the air. She wasn't speaking any louder than she had been before, and yet even at this distance, Bill could hear her just as well. He stopped on the stairs and turned around, looking up at her. His heart sank as he saw her hands. "You seem to have forgotten your rune chisel. I shall keep it for you until you are finished."

Bill lowered his head and nodded, then continued following Mr. Rasp. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to have simply mailed Ellie to her, and disappeared into the Waste. By the time she realized that he had used pyrite instead of gold, low-grade alloy instead of steel, and his various other shortcuts, he would have been gone. Assuming, of course, that she had even survived the knowledge.

"Target's over there," Rasp said, pointing across the range. "Good luck."

Once Rasp was halfway back up the steps, Bill bit his bottom lip as he looked down at Ellie. "This was the worst idea I've ever had," he whispered.

As Bill Hours loaded the substandard rifle with the substandard spellshot round, he said a silent prayer to the angels. He doubted they cared. Moreover, he doubted even they would stand against Lady Victoria. Still, there was a chance. His work had been shoddy, and intentionally so, but there was still a chance it would survive a blast or two. And there was still a chance that his benefactor wasn't sure. After all, she could have had him killed at any time. Rasp clearly wouldn't have minded. He had had an answer for every concern she voiced, and this was her final test. If Ellie just held up for one shot, he could climb back up those steps proudly, hand the gun over, and be done, once and forever. Bill Hours was a talented gunsmith. Even with his scrimping on materials, Ellie could stand up to any normal blast. All he needed was for her to stand up to one magical one. He took a deep breath, held it, lifted Ellie to his shoulder, took aim, and fired.

The sound of the explosion reached all the way back to Bill Hours's workshop. Parts of Bill Hours did, as well.

Back inside her carriage, The Duchess gave no reaction. It was an inevitability. The money had already found its way back to her accounts, plus interest. Of course, the money was not the issue. It was the principle. Nobody cheated The Duchess. Across her countless lands, her countless planes, her countless organizations, that one rule was the only constant. Nobody cheated Her without paying recompense. Some paid her back in coin, some in land, and some in favors. Bill Hours could offer none of these things, so he paid her in momentary, fleeting amusement. His rifle was supposed to be a reward for Her most useful functionary on Jakkard, but now he would have to wait. This was far more satisfying anyway.

Without a word from Her, the carriage started making its way back to town. The Duchess had a train to catch, and plans to make, and she gave no further thought to the end of Hours.