A tall man with a borrowed mustache had a habit of traveling from town to town. It was a confused time then, when wars had taken their toll and odd noblemen wandered the land, looking for a bit of dignity.
The tall man with a borrowed mustache had all the dignity he needed. All he lacked was someone who cared about dignity.

He would waltz into town wearing his finest rags, his rusty sword at his side and his equerry keeping an eye out for unrestrained chickens, piglets, loaves of bread and what have you? Once he had made it to the town square, he would kill a peasant to show that he could and then say,"Take me to your King!"

Sad to say, this behavior often worked. If he was told, "We have no king," then he would say, "Then I am your King!" The more affluent of the locals would then either set the guards on him or pay him to go be king somewhere else.

Occasionally bruised but usually decently treated, at least by his standards, the tall man with the borrowed mustache and his equerry survived at this game for over a dozen years. Trust me when I say that I find this as hard to believe as you might, but this is the way the story was told to me and some things just ARE.

Then, one day, it was a Tuesday, I was told, they overstayed their welcome in a little hamlet and got chased out by a half dozen of the sturdier farmgirls riding dray oxen. The tall man with the borrowed mustache got the worst of it, being beaten about the helmet and breastplate with those odd sticks they use in small house looms. The equerry managed to keep hold of the donkey with the packs filled with the filching he'd done while everybody was laughing at his master.
Unfortunately, one of the packs had been his master's and in order to fill it with the filching, he had to empty it of some of the junk, including the map.

By the time the equerry realized that not only was the tall man with the borrowed mustache stunned, but he was half blind from the blows, it was almost dark and his master had demanded that he take a look at the map and see which direction they should go to avoid any unpleasant places they'd already been. The equerry dug frantically through the packs, hoping he'd stolen a new map by accident. No such luck. But there was something that might could help.

In the pack of filcherage was a telescope. He didn't know that that was what it was called, but he had half a clue what it did. Or what it was supposed to did. He took a look around in the opposite direction from whence they had cometh, decided that they only had two options for travel, since they had approached the last hamlet from the third direction, and put the telescope to his ear. Nothing.

Then, as it occurred to him that he was holding it the wrong way, he began to reverse the object so that the small end was against his... when the thing aligned itself right before his eye. And he saw. A place. He pulled the thing down and he looked that direction with his unthinged eye. Nothing but trees and rocks and a ravine. He rethinged his eye and looked again. A gate with a town beyond it. He looked up at his master and thought... but then shut his mouth and his mind. "This way, Sir!"

The equerry led the way, doing his best to lead his master's horse in the proper course, the thing held to his eye every little bit in the burgeoning gloom so that he would not miss the very thin trail that led to the gate. He was still a little apprehensive at the way the trail seemed to cross thin air in places, but since his foot did not fall as long as it was on the trail, he really began not to care. His mind was filled with the prospect of this town being magickal in some fashion, maybe in a way that would allow their travels to end.

After an hour or so of walking on air, leading the animals, the horse barely keeping the dozing tall man with the borrowed mustache aboard, the equerry touched land. He lowered the telescope and put it in it's case. On odd sound occurred at that moment. The town gate opened of it's own accord.

By the time they had passed through the gate, it was full dark. No torches glowed, no lamps shone. Not a window was open, not a door was unbarred. The equerry marveled at how clean the streets were. No horse pucky or human pucky. He was amazed at how clean the air smelled. No smoke or scent of unbathed humanity and horsemanity beyond himself and the animals. No stray dogs roamed in packs. No bodies hung from makeshift gibbets. No market stalls with rotting produce or week-old fish. Actually, outside of the buildings and the streets, there wasn't much of anything. Which, considering the circumstances, which I hope you all are, was not a bad thing at all.

The equerry found a stable with feed for the animals. He found some apples and dried meat in a room overhead. He bedded his master down, gave him some water, took off his armor and treated his wounds as best he could. Then he took a little walk. Try as he might, he couldn't find the gate they'd come through. He couldn't even see the wall. He couldn't believe how quiet it was. Eventually he went back to the stable, loosened his halberd and drifted off to sleep.

Morning was no more illuminating than the night had been. When the equerry awoke, he couldn't rouse his master, so he fed the animals and went in search of more food. He wandered the city, finding no one. The doors to the homes and shops were latched. The public buildings were closed. Then he noticed something very peculiar. There were no pubs or churches, no brothels or convents. No schools. No town hall. No guild lodges. There was also a lack of heraldry. The town's name appeared no where. In fact, there were no signs at all. No pictures, no carvings, no statues. Just buildings and cobblestones.
And his master and he.

He found food in the stable again and managed to get the tall man with the borrowed mustache to sit up and chew a little and drink a little. The man looked about him and asked where they were. The equerry was silent. The man looked his servant in the eye and demanded to know where they were. The equerry cowered. The tall man with the borrowed mustache struggled to his horse and pulled himself onto the bare back and taking hold of the mane, kneed the animal into the streets.

The horses hooves rang on the streets as the tall man with the borrowed mustache began to ride faster and faster. He could find no one. He could not reach the wall. Finally, he shouted,"Who are you? Where are you? Who is your King!? Where is your King?!"

The equerry sat, eating an apple. He had a real bad feeling about this. He rummaged through the pack and found the telescope again. He climbed to the roof of the stable and looked around with the thing to his eye. Ah! There was the wall. He followed it and saw the gate. He sat down on the roof and watched his master. He looked at him through the telescope. He saw nothing but a tired horse with a pile of dust on it's back that was slowly drifting into the breeze. He pulled the thing from his eye. He got off the roof. He took the donkey and the telescope and a few coins and he headed for the gate.

Once, his master passed him, but he did not acknowledge the equerry. He was still shouting, albeit hoarsely. The horse looked at the equerry, and rounded a corner. The tall man with the borrowed mustache was not on the horse when it returned. It strode up to the equerry and nuzzled him.

The man, the donkey and the horse left the town. The equerry tossed the telescope toward the gate as soon as he was on solid ground. He never looked back. It was a mile or so before he could no longer hear his former master's voice. The last thing he heard was a plaintive, "With a town this size, there must be somebody in charge... "