A King's Dragoon officer strides into the Rhine Tavern. His arms are laden with flowers, a box of Belgian chocolates, and of course another sheathed sword of an officer of France. Closing the door with a kick of his riding boot, he approaches the bar where Helga stands beaming at him.
"You remembered!" she exclaimed in absolute delight.
"Well of course I remembered", said the Hanoverian officer as he handed her the flowers and the box of chocolates.
Setting the chocolates down on the bar for a moment, Helga turns to find a suitable vase in which to place her latest gift. Filling it with water, she carefully arranges the flowers and places the vase on the counter in front of the large mirror directly behind the bar. The Hanoverian Colonel cannot help but chuckle as he again reads the rather subtle inscription etched into the mirror, a gift to Helga from Die Hannoversche Ratte as he recalls.
Turning back, Helga leans on the bar with her elbows, looks into the Colonel's blue eyes and says, "Thank you."
"You are most welcome, my dear" replies the Hanoverian officer. "There is one more thing", he says as he lays the sheathed sword on the bar and slides it in her direction.
"Hmmm, of course there is", she says. "Whose is it this time?"
"It is another of Capitaine Kling's weapons", grins the Hanoverian Colonel. "It seems he was packing. If you would be so kind as to place it with his other sword, he can claim both the next time he stops in."
"Well, I will hold it for him", says Helga, "but he has already stopped by to retrieve his first weapon. In fact, he told me to give you this", she says as she reaches behind the bar to retrieve another sheathed sword which she hands to the Guards Colonel. "Capitaine Kling said that you would appreciate it."
A bit puzzled, the Hanoverian officer accepts the sword. He immediately notices that the blade is of very high quality, rivaling that of Sir Muddy's German swordsmith. In fact, as he looks closer, he recognizes the style of the blade being the same as that used by the fine German smith. The same craftsman that he himself now uses for the manufacture of all of his blades as well as those of the officers in his brigade. The truth slowly dawns on the Colonel as he recognizes the blade for what it is. All doubt is permanently dispelled as he loosens the blade in the scabbard, withdrawing it just enough to see the name etched adjacent to the hilt. It reads, M. Peccolo!
Congratulations, Al!
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