"Indeed," Duck said. "Quite a way to be introduced, what with you falling from the sky and all."

Walter responded with an annoyingly enigmatic smile. "Yes, isn't it?"

The two men kept their gaze locked in a polite war of social etiquette.

"How come you fell from the sky like that, what is you, some sort of god or something?" Gerfungle interjected, unable to spell the word etiquette.

Walter let out a sporadic fit of laughter. "No, no, perish the thought. I am a wizard."

He stood there with hands on hips. "I mean, I think that's pretty obvious," he said gesturing in the general direction of his head.

Gerfungle and Duck both gave him an empty stare.

"The hat," Walter said.

"What hat?" Gerfungle asked.

With a sense of dread rising up from his pointy upturned shoes, Walter slowly patted at his bare head. His hand dropped quickly to his side as what he had just felt, or rather hadn't felt, sunk in like a screaming victim in quicksand.

Being a wizard meant something. It meant that there was a reason the old fat guy in the shiny purple robe could walk down a dark alley and feel confident about exiting the other side in one piece. Half of the point of being a wizard was so that people knew you were one and the only sure fire way to ensure that was by wearing a big pointy hat. A wizard without a hat was like a waffle without syrup; it just wasn't right.

"It must've fallen off when I was on the damn carpet. You go a bit too fast and the next thing you know you're on fire. Stupid way to fly, never understood why it couldn't be a chair or some other more sensible form of furnishing."

'so you are a wizard?" Gerfungle said excitedly.

"Yes of course," Walter said, peering into the crater for his hat. The hole was empty save for the threadbare, scorched remnants of the flying carpet. "Wow, I never met a real wizard before," Gerfungle persisted. "Oh I've met my fair share," Duck said, in a tone that skilfully managed to hint at suspicioun but also say, "I believe you enough not to have you demonstrate your magic by turning me into a toad."

"I would imagine you think it strange," Walter said picking up on the tone, "a wizard crash landing in the middle of nowhere."

Duck answered with a well composed silence.

Walter turned back to face them. "It is a tale of intrigue, mystery and terrible treachery." He punctuated his statement with the appearance of a well timed green flame at the tip of his fingers. The flame swirled with magical incandescence, morphing and contorting into what looked like a burning dagger held ominously over a nervous looking skull. It was the emblem of a society that has written its history in blood. He allowed a smile to curl up at the corner of his mouth as he noticed Duck take a step back. "Have either of you heard of the Brotherhood of Khan?"

Gerfungle shook his head as Duck nodded slowly.

"They are one of the city of Argon's royal orders, set up to protect the sacred Sceptre of Khan."

"Yes," Walter said, donning on a new facade of solemnity. "I am a member of that order, and I fear I have faltered in my sacred duty."