"A good pair of boots is more important to an adventurer than a sword or a gun. And these will serve you quite nicely." Aunt Mirabelle said, stepping back to critically assess me.
The boots in question were of sturdy brown leather, and laced up almost to my knees. The soles were heavy and lugged, and at a press of one of the cleverly recessed buttons just above the ankle, spikes would extend downward to serve as hobnails. Another button would extend spurs from the heels, and the one above that would extend a wicked blade forward from the toes.
But pressing the buttons in certain combinations would provide much more spectacular effects: one produced a sound-nullifying field that would make allow me to move silently along, even at a full gallop. Another would activate a set if springs that would allow for prodigious leaps and bounds: I had been able to leap from a standing start onto the roof of the stable. And the final one was by far the most miraculous of all: a pair of small, magical wings would sprout from the ankles, and small jets of some steamwork manufacture would shoot from the soles, and I could fly.
Not terribly far, nor terribly fast, mind you- and not even with anything vaguely resembling the grace or dexterity of an AEfrican Swallow. But I could FLY, dammit!
"I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you, my dear auntie." I said, staring down in admiration at the remarkable things.
Aunt Mirabelle giggled as she reached out to catch my half-engorged prick: other than the boots, I was quite naked. "Silly boy: a full share of the treasure will repay me handsomely. That, and a taste of this, that is."
I should probably mention here that Aunt Mirabelle wasn't really my aunt. Well, I don't think so, anyways. She was some sort of distant relative- a third cousin or some such. Those sorts of things get complicated in my family.
