A/N: Wow! It's been a while since I properly visited the Ranger's Apprentice archives on FFnet. Hi guys! Long time no see.

Just to let you know, I'm completely breaking away from canon here. I've had my own headcanons about the future RA world long before Royal Ranger and to be honest I really didn't like what Flanagan did with the place - no disrespect to him, because it's the only RA book that I haven't liked, but... yeah. Sorry, couldn't help it.

Also, in this particular oneshot it's a bit unclear, I'm not sure if Duncan is dead or not. I don't want him to be dead and didn't plan it that way, but I just really liked the image of Horace as King. Whether or not Duncan died young or if he abdicated to Cassandra is up to you to decide.

It may have surprised any number of people to learn that the most famous shot that Will Treaty would ever make would not be with a bow and arrow. In fact, it would not even be made with a throwing knife. Rather, Will Treaty would go down in history (among a great number of other things) as a man who was able to throw a saxe knife more accurately than any other ranger, knife-fighter, or marksman in the entire history of the world.

It was only one time, he'd grumble in embarrassment, but it was one time that had mattered immensely, and no one would never let him live it down.

The story went something like this.

Castle Araluen was a veritable beehive of activity today, and no wonder: Shigeru, Emperor of Nihon-Ja, was arriving in a matter of hours. Shigeru may have been a personal friend to the King and Queen, but he was also one of the most important foreign diplomats that Araluen would ever host. The castle staff and nobility were all abuzz to make sure the Nihon-Jan would feel welcome and at ease after his long journey. Those who had never meet the Nihon-Jan Emperor or his embassy were daydreaming of what the exotic foreigners might be like even as they scrubbed floors, cooked pies, and folded sheets. Nobles were brushing up on the Nihon-Jan language, holed up in their rooms with borrowed dictionaries and texts, sounding out alien pronunciations of welcomes meant to impress and honor. Some of the nobility were even lucky enough to practice conversing with their king, who was fluent in the language and happy to to help others learn. From the lowest scullery maid to the Queen and her family, the entire castle was working nonstop to prepare for the big arrival that afternoon.

Well, almost everyone.

Any King's Ranger who had lived at Castle Araluen could have told you that the best course of action for an Oakleaf bearer on a day such as this was to relax. Not to say that they slept in late or lounged about listlessly all day, but it was important for them to keep their minds worry-free and nerves calm. The Rangers would have to be on high-alert for the entirety of Emperor Shigeru's stay, and the day before his arrival was their last chance to center themselves before the world of international diplomacy fell at their doorstep, requiring them to turn into a hyper-vigilant guard for their monarchs as well as the foreign embassy.

In this numbed state of nerve, the Ranger Corps. Commandant strolled quietly through the castle amid a sea of activity. Normally a ranger would gather a handful of wary looks no matter where he went, but the servants and workers who whizzed by were too busy to consider the grey-cloaked man strolling by with distant, calm eyes. It was nice, he thought, to finally be unseen in an urban setting without even having to try.

The Commandant let his left palm rest idly against the pommel of his sword, weighing the tip up from under the hem of his distinctive grey cloak. Unfortunately for him, this was a mistake. Everyone knew that he was the only ranger who carried a sword, and it was only this identifying hallmark that allowed the King to spot him and come over to shatter his entire day.

It was the only time in their long friendship that he would manage it, but Horace actually startled Gilan as he wrapped his arm around the smaller man's bicep and started dragging him along into step with him.

"What the-" Gilan started, wresting out of Horace's grip and jogging to keep up. "Good day to you too, your Majesty," He griped, shaking his sleeve back into place. "What's got your goose?"

Horace ignored the attitude and kept his eyes trained forward as he said, "I've had a report just now claiming there may be an assassination attempt at Shigeru's arrival."

"What?" Gilan was suddenly serious. "Where did this report come from? I should have heard about it."

"It wasn't from any ranger," Horace told him, weaving through crowds of people, some of whom stopped to bow briefly to him. "It's from Toscana, actually, by pigeon. They say a Genovesan left one of their ports two days ago, heading for Araluen. He was traveling alone, did not seem to be nobility or with nobility. The Toscanan intelligence seem to think he may be a merc or an assassin. Either way, it's entirely possible he's slipped past our guard along with all the other continentals come to see the Emperor. He may already be in the city."

"And the Emperor is his target?"

"They're not sure. It'd make sense, but Shigeru's arrival is as much an opportunity on his life as anyone's. They could be after another embassy, or Cassie - hell, they could be even after me," Horace allowed with a measure of disbelief. Gilan glanced at the man. Horace was self-deprecating even as king, and didn't often admit the fact that people around the world wanted him dead - when he did, Gilan knew they were treading in gravely serious waters.

"I'll alert the guard," Gilan said, but Horace put out a hand.

"No, not yet. Not until just before things get underway. We don't want them paranoid all day. Keep it within the Corps. for now, but do have your eyes peeled."

"Do we have a description of this Genovesan?"

"Beyond his nationality, no, not much. The Toscanans tell me he carried weapons and travelled alone. I've only met a few Genovesans in my life, but they tend to have a certain look about them. He'll probably have dark eyes, long dark hair. If he has facial hair, it'll be neat and trim. He'll likely use a crossbow if any bow at all, so look for a quiver at the hip, and probably multiple daggers. Also, I'm willing to bet he's dressed up to blend in here." Horace sighed as they passed through a doorway into a roomful of extra gently dressed nobles. "Genovesans do love their elaborate fashions."

"Prim and pretty with lots of pointy things sticking out of his pockets. Got it." Gilan tipped his head respectfully and turned away.

"And Gilan?" Horace stopped him.

"Aye?"

"Do you think you could manufacture some excuse for my children to stay inside when all of this is happening? Possibly with a ranger or two?"

Gilan smiled, but it was a serious, sad sort. "Of course. Should I tell the Queen?"

"No, I'll tell her myself. Thank you, Gilan, and good luck."

"You as well, Sire."

Will Treaty was following the ritual of all rangers at Araluen that day, and was in a state of pleasant mind-numbness as he fletched arrows over a small fire he'd built atop the roof. The Queen would have told him off if she knew he was up here, but Will was a good climber and a good hider. Besides, Will didn't fear Cassandra's wrath. Queen or not, they'd known each other since they were children and he knew that she could do naught but smack the back of his hand. She already had done on many occasions.

He held a fletching steady against an arrow shaft with his left hand and used his right to bring a cup of coffee to his lips. As he stared calmly off across the green horizon, his own name awoke his dulled senses from their nap.

"Have you seen Will Treaty anywhere?" Gilan's voice asked. Will finished swallowing and set down his coffee. Leaning forward slightly so the ground was in view, he saw Gilan talking to his apprentice, Joan.

"Last I saw him, he was climbing up the walls around the parapets in the North Tower - I think he thinks he's being sneaky."

Will squinted at her. He was actually impressed that she'd seen him, but didn't appreciate the sarcasm in her voice. Don't see me now, do you? He thought smugly, and perhaps a bit childishly. Below him, Gilan sighed heavily. Joan's mood shifted.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"Horace seems to think there may be an assassin lurking about the city, waiting to make a shot when Emperor Shigeru arrives."

"Heavens," Joan said, training her reaction so the surprise wasn't as intense as she felt. "Are we going a search for him then?"

"Yes, but quietly. We're not to tell anyone beyond the Corps. unless we still can't find him by noontime. Will's the only ranger I know who's had close encounters with genovesans, and I need him on point. If you see him, tell him to find me. In the meantime, I need you to go find two rangers to guard Liam and Ben for the afternoon, and then report back to me." Joan nodded seriously and the two walked briskly away, leaving Will with his eyebrow high.

If Horace was putting his children under guard, he really did believe there was serious danger afoot. Will quickly set out his arrows to dry, extinguished his small fire, gathered his things and scuttled off of the roof. The time for relaxation was over.

While Will rendezvoused with Gilan and the other rangers and Horace did what he could to stay calm, the Queen was thus far aloof to any assassins under her roof. She was just now riding back into the castle from the dock, where she'd been checking the preparations for Shigeru's arrival and personally thanking the dockmasters. It was a tradition that her husband usually oversaw, but he'd been so occupied with other things, she'd taken on the job herself today.

As the stablehands whisked her horse away to the stables, a pack of her maids and ladies in waiting swarmed her, holding up dresses, taking her muddy coat, telling her that there was a bath waiting and her court dress and did she want tea?

She kindly brushed them off and promised she'd be up to dress in a few minutes. First, she strode into the feasting hall where they would be holding a banquet in Shigeru's honor that night. While maids straightened tablecloths and set out plates, a line of young men and women in white coats carried trays of all sorts of food to and fro a blonde woman who wielded a checklist and a wooden ladle.

"Jenny," Cassandra greeted as she surveyed the hall, "How are things going for you here? Do you need anything?"

"Your Majesty," Jenny curtsied, "Honored to see you, things are going well so far." She tucked a hair behind her ear. "Harry, that's good, keep it warm, don't cook the other two until dinner has started. Next!" she waved a young chef past so another could take his place.

"It all looks delicious," Cassandra complimented, and Jenny smiled at her.

"Oh, we try. If I do say so, tonight will be one to remember. Titus!" She snapped loudly, "Steady with the champagne, it hasn't travelled across the channel to be drunk up by the floorboards!" She cleared her throat and smiled back at the queen. "Sorry."

Cassandra tried to hide her smile. She'd always been amused by the juxtaposition between Jenny's fearsome kitchen demeanor and her cheery personality. As Jenny surveyed her small empire of food and drink with an eagle eye, she adjusted the clipboard against her waist, unwittingly showing off her slightly domed belly.

"Are you sure you don't need anything? I'm sure Master Ganner would be more than able to take over from here," Cassandra eyed Jenny's stomach meaningfully. The other woman smiled, but shook her head.

"Thank you, milady, but I'll be fine. The bairn's given me no grief yet, and I'd like to see this through the end - oi!" She pointed her ladle at an offending apprentice, who froze. "That one goes back in the ice locker until third course!" The boy scuttled away with a muttered apology.

"I don't know if anyone's told you yet, Jenny," Cassandra chuckled merrily, "But you're going to be a wonderful mother."

Jenny shone. "Won't I?" She said, confident but happy to receive the encouragement. She looked back out across her sea of workers and week's worth of planning come to fruition. "Don't you worry yourself, you Majesty, I'll have every stomach in the hall happy tonight - even Horace's ravenous appetite."

"Of that I have no doubt - he's has been talking about your mint cream cakes for weeks, you know."

"And he'll have as many has he's talked about, I'm sure - well, as many as the Queen lets him."

"Less than he likes and more than he needs." The Queen took Jenny's hand in hers. "You are an angel, Jenny, and I hope Gilan lets you sleep as long as you like when this is all over." Jenny giggled. "I'll leave you to it," she said, and turned away. Jenny resumed shouting threats and tossing her ladle about as soon as Cassandra was gone.

As both women went about their preparations, one covered in flour and one cleaning herself of mud to put on court finery, neither would have noticed the finely-dressed stranger scouting out the castle with a neat mustache and a crossbow-shaped lump under his cape. And unfortunately, no one else would notice him either. For a rare time in their history, the King's rangers were looking in all of the wrong places, and they were running out of time.

"Damnit," Gilan cursed as the clock rung out the twelfth hour. They still hadn't found their supposed assassin - they didn't even have any leads. Will appeared by his side some minutes later, glancing about the crowds, looking for some flicker of movement out of place, some figure he hadn't spotted yet.

"Now what?" The shorter ranger asked. His commandant sighed.

"Brief Sir Nelson. Alert the guard, but tell them to keep quiet about it. I want every ranger at court on high alert, a quarter on the perimeter, a quarter in the castle, and half spread out in the crowd when Shigeru arrives. I'll be on the dock, I want you to stay close."

"Yes, Sir," Will said business like, and veered away on his mission. Gilan sighed to himself and looked around, wishing beyond hope that they'd find this man before he found them.

It was just as he had this thought that a loud horn blast cut through the air, and the milling crowds began to buzz and cheer. Shigeru's fleet had arrived.

Elsewhere, a now plainly-clad Genovesan tipped a small glass vial to his lips and swallowed the pungent liquid inside. He hissed at the taste, but made himself ignore it. As the crowds beyond his hideaway cheered, he stretched his neck and fingered the bolts at his hip. He closed his eyes and navigated the path he'd scouted out this morning through his mind's eye. When he was satisfied, he opened them. Plucking up his crossbow and strapping it to his back, he ducked out into the sunlight. It was time.

Horace had to jog slightly to reach the raised dock in time. As he ascended the stairs to where they would meet Shigeru, Cassandra looked back at him with a slightly irritated expression, tucking her hair away from the stiff breeze on the docks. "Where have you been?" she asked.

"Oh, running errands," Horace smiled too cheerily at her, "planning… trying to find errant assassins."

"Assassins?" Cassandra asked, frowning in sudden alarm.

"Yes," Her husband smiled at her, "Genovesan, not sure who his target is yet, but please don't stop smiling, because everyone is looking at us."

Cassandra blinked, then suddenly laughed as though at something he had said. "And have you found this Genovesan?" She asked, a well-practiced smile hiding her very real fear.

"Not a singular trace," Horace said, glancing around, eyes nervous despite his smile. "The guard knows, and every ranger in riding distance is crawling the castle to find him - Gilan will be up here with us," Horace gestured right as the cloaked Commandant came into view.

"As bad as all that?" Cassie beamed, and waved at the crowd graciously.

"I'm afraid so," said Horace, mimicking her example and waving briefly.

"Where are the children?"

"Inside with Callum and Sam on guard," he replied right as Gilan jogged up the stairs to meet them.

"Your Majesties," the ranger bowed for show, and glanced at the Nihon-Jan junk-style ships approaching the docks. A richly-dressed figure stood at the bow of the first one. He raised his hand at the welcoming party, and Horace raised his back in greeting. "If I give the word," Gilan told the royals quietly, "Please be ready to duck."

Cassandra took Horace's arm and patted his hand in what she hoped looked like a causal show of affection. "Oh, good," she lamented through a smile.

Below the dock, the crowds were cooing at their king and queen and the exotically fashioned ships coming into view. Some people clapped and cheered when the Emperor and the King exchanged distant welcomes, and wondered aloud to each other what their friendship must be like outside of politics.

Will Treaty heard none of this, however, because his eyes and ears were too occupied with trying to figure out where the hell their Genovesan assassin was hiding. Doubtless like most of the other rangers in the area, Will was trying to get inside their man's head, looking at the surrounding buildings and dockside structures through the eyes of an assassin, imagining where he would gravitate if he wanted to shoot someone from afar.

Unfortunately, despite all of their experience and training, none of the rangers had been able to turn up anything. Will looked up at the dockmasters' house where Joan was standing on the second-floor balcony. She shook her head, and Will sighed.

The guards were beginning to shuffle nervously in their boots, glancing around to find the eyes of a ranger and ask the silent question hanging in the air. "Steady," Will told a few as he passed, "Nothing yet, lads. Stay sharp." He patted on on the back. "If any of you see anything, let us all know."

Will scanned the scene, a half dozen rangers checking various perches and windows around the crowded quayside. There was nowhere else for him to check, nowhere else to guard. Now, he just had to wait. Absently, he drew and arrow from his quiver and held it tight against his bow, ready to nock at a moment's notice.

The reason that the rangers could not find the Genovesan was because was not in his perch just yet - he was just now getting to that. For the past hour or so, he'd been hiding in plain sight in the crowd. He'd put on peasant's garb and tucked his long hair up under a cap, and made his crossbow look like a workman's pack on his back. Now, he walked calmly over to the scaffolding around a dock crane and hoisted himself up to begin climbing. As he did, the crowd exploded in cheers: Emperor Shigeru was here.

Horace bowed and shook Shigeru's hand warmly, making a show for the audience below. Cassandra also bowed, and turned to introduce Gilan, who smiled, but did not stop casting his eyes about. Shigeru frowned at the action, and Horace was about to explain quietly the situation, but before he could get out a syllable, a shout cried out from the guard,

"On the scaffold! The crane scaffold! There he is!" Gilan's head whipped around along with every ranger, warrior, and guard in the area. Sure enough, a brown-clad man was just visible amid the beams and levels of the scaffolding, ducking away from sight just poorly enough for vigilant guards to see. In one swift movement, Gilan drew an arrow, aimed, and shot. The arrow slammed into the man's shoulder, but he recovered from the hit and kept moving.

"Damnit," Gilan cursed, drawing another arrow. "Shoot him! Shoot him down!" Gilan yelled, drawing and letting off another shot, which the man now ducked by a hairsbreadth.

Every Ranger who had a shot took it. A few arrows stuck to their mark in various places, but in a crowd-stirring move that defied reason, the man kept moving, now loading a bolt into his crossbow.

Will Treaty had his arrow at full draw when he realized what was happening. He'd seen the Genovesan's fondness with poisons and potions first hand. Now, he recalled discussions with the healer Malcolm, and the shelves of medicines and drugs that could be used to push a human's system beyond the point of normal function. He recalled his own distant experiences with warmweed. "He's dosed himself," Will hissed to himself in realization. "He won't stop."

After a heartbeat's pause, Will let down his arrow and dropped it and his bow clattering to the ground. He looked between the Genovesan and the dock where Horace, Cassandra, and Shigeru stood. Horace was interposing himself between the other two and the crossbowman, and three of the guard were rushing up the steps to stand in front of Horace - little protection they would be from an attack from above.

Will ignored them and watched out of the corner of his eye as the assassin steadied his crossbow against a beam of the scaffold, five rangers at different points scurrying up to intercept him. They wouldn't make it in time, Will knew. He drew his throwing knife. "Move!" he shouted to the crowd, and panicked bystanders scurried out of his way. Cries of alarm rang out louder as the crowd awaited the inevitable shot, and Will shouted again for a path as he bolted headlong toward the waterfront. As the assassin lowered his head to sight his shot, Will raised his throwing arm.

A fleeing body appeared from nowhere and slammed into Will, knocking the throwing knife from his hand. "Son of a-" Will recovered his footing and shoved the panicked peasant out of his way and continued running. He now drew his saxe knife and weighed it breathlessly, eyes flicking quickly again between Shigeru and the assassin, the assassin and Shigeru. Still moving foward, Will raised his arm and judged the distance, the timing, the placement. He did not have time to remember that he'd never done anything like this before, that only idiotically naive apprentices would think this was a feasible plan. The crossbow trigger clicked, and the bolt shot downwards toward Shigeru. Will could hear his own heartbeat and breath in his ears, and for a short, fleeting moment, he willed them both to stop.

He tripped over someone's shoe. He closed his eyes, threw his saxe, and fell.

The whole action took place in less than ten seconds - the path of the bolt took considerably less. But with a swell of alarm and a metallic flash, the crossbow bolt shot downwards… and hit nothing. There was a pause of confusion as the royals and the crowd braced for an impact, and waited far too long for it to come. It was Shigeru alone who had seen the flash of the knife, and pointed voicelessly, incredulously, to a spot on the hull of his ship. Horace followed his finger.

A saxe knife was buried into the wood of the ship, still quivering with a flayed crossbow bolt stuck fast in its razor's edge.

Horace didn't even bother to wonder who. "Will Treaty you glorious bastard," he breathed, wanting very much to lean up against something for support. He took Cassandra's hand.

Below the dock, Will had propped himself up on his elbows just long enough to see the knife make its impact. Now, he huffed out his lips in relief and fell onto his back, disregarding the crowd and the filthy quayside street.

My god! How did you do that? Halt, now leagues away in Redmont, lent a mental voice in Will's reverie. "I have no idea," Will said breathlessly, running shaking hands across his face and through his hair, "I really have no idea."

The other rangers were able to apprehend the Genovesan before he could reload his crossbow for another shot. Understandably, the monarchs and their guard chose to rush along the welcome party so they could move indoors. A fraction of the guard and the rangers stayed behind to clean up.

Will was inspecting his dinged throwing knife and bow string when Gilan came up to him.

"How the everloving hell, Treaty," He started, pure disbelief in his voice.

Will glanced at him. "I nearly didn't get to - tripped as I threw."

Gilan's eyebrows shot up and he gaped for a half a second. "You tripped as you were…" he closed his eyes. "Will, you are a right piece of work, do you know that?"

Will shrugged. "I don't try to be."

"Which is exactly why you are." Gilan shook his head and sighed.

Will changed the subject. "Do we know who sent the assassin here?" Gilan shook his head.

"We will soon, hopefully. Anyway, thought you might want this back." Gilan held out Will's saxe, which sill had the crossbow bolt attached. Despite himself, Will looked impressed at the sight. He took it and the two inspected the feat.

"I didn't know who he was aiming at," Will admitted to Gilan. "Could've been any of the three." the two took a moment to consider this. Eventually, Will shook his head pried the bolt off of his saxe. He held it up for inspection. It had no poison on it, only a nasty, deadly sharp steel tip.

"D'you think you'll keep it?" Gilan asked, and Will looked up at him, and Gilan crossed his arms, nodding at the bolt with a smile. "That doesn't exactly happen every lifetime, you know."

Will considered this, weighing the weapon in his hand. He shrugged. "Well," He said, casually, "I suppose it could make a decent letter opener." Nodding approvingly, he pocketed the thing that had almost killed one of his closest friends. He looked back up at his Commandant. His Commandant looked back. And then, after a few seconds, the two dissolved into free, relieved laughter.

"Well that was close," Horace said, shoving another mint cream pie into his mouth. Cassandra had allowed him to have a few more than usual, given the circumstances.

"A bit too close, if you ask me," Said Gilan, who was staying near the royal party for the rest of the evening as a precaution.

Cassandra muttered her agreement. "And where is Will? I still need to thank him."

"No need for that, Evanlyn," Will said, approaching the royal's table.

"Will!" She cried, and actually stood to hug him, disregarding the audience. "You have no idea how much you've done today."

"Oh, I think I do." He corrected her quietly. "It could've been any of you, and I wasn't going to let it happen." He glanced at Horace and Shigeru also. She smiled and drew back.

"Wirru-san," Shigeru interrupted, and raised his glass. "This is the second time you have saved my life in such a way," he smiled, and Will couldn't help but smile at the memory of his impossible feat back in Nihon-Ja. Did he really make a knack for this sort of stuff? "It seems my men may have erred when they called you Chocho - how much better to call you Kamakiri."

Horace, who knew the language, smiled. Will glanced at him for explanation, but the king only smiled in mock seriousness. "It is a term of great respect," He said, and they all laughed - even Will, who shook his head slowly.

"Thank you, your excellency," he bowed to Shigeru. The emperor stood and bowed back, more deeply.

"No, my Kamakiri, it is you who brings me luck. Thank you."

And so, for the rest of his life, Will Treaty would be reminded of his feat at the arrival of the Nihon-Jan Emperor at Castle Araluen. People would talk about it for years, a bard would turn the story it into a very catchy jig, and Gilan would force him to teach saxe-throwing lessons at every gathering after that day (every year met with Will's protests that it wasn't a viable skill and was sheer luck that it worked at all). Horace would call Will Chocho and Kamakiri alternatively for years to come, but it wasn't until he was beginning to sprout grey hairs that Will would find the word in a Nihon-Jan dictionary and learn that he was now called 'Mantis'.

The Araluen guards would never actually learn who had hired the Genovesan, nor whose heart he had been aiming for. (Common belief would hold that it was Cassandra he was aiming for, and Araluens the country over would rally around their well-loved ruler.) Unfortunately, the assassin bit into a capsule of what the healers would later identify as cyanide and killed himself before the interrogations could prove fruitful. However, deep within the memories of a dying man, it was a matter of fact that he had been setting his sights solidly on Horace's throat. No one but the one who'd hired him knew this, and no one would ever learn or be haunted by the fact.

In fact, the assassin's benefactor, a disgruntled Toscanan who did not appreciate the Araluen king's knack for meddling in international affairs of his homeland, would be frightened away by the impossible feat at the quayside. He would take it as a sign from his gods and learn to live a quiet life in his expansive villa, living out his years making some of the finest white wines known in the world. Incidentally, he would eventually forget about Horace altogether.

So perhaps it was irony when, years later, Will gave the battered crossbow bolt to Horace as a birthday present, joking about the distant past and the luck they'd had. Horace would forever keep the token, and use it both as a letter opener and, on occasion, a tool with which to butter his toast in the morning. In each case, it operated less than an arm's length away from the throat it'd once been destined to kill, now doomed to serve its earthly existence covered in paper glue and the odd bit of bread.

The king would sometimes catch sight of the worn but still visible notch about three-quarters down its length, where once had lodged the knife of a very lucky, very dear ranger. He'd shake his head, determined to never let Will know exactly how unbelievably impressive he could actually be.

Oh the wind they say
Was strong that day
On the Quayside by the sea,
When the King and Queen
So finely seen,
Met an old friend on the bay.

And little did they know but then,
About the coming danger
Or the man who'd save our noble queen
With the knife of a King's Ranger.

Oh the wind they say
Was strong that day
On that hide so high and dry,
Where a villain shot
Down to the dock
A bolt to our Queen slay

But when the bolt had left its bow,
Its master thought he'd faulted,
For with the flick of a well-thrown knife,
A Ranger the bolt halted.

Oh the wind they say
Was strong that day
The strongest ever seen,
But wind or still
It was the Ranger Will
Who saved our noble Queen.