the smuggler’s bible


The nine-million-man army of pious Charcoal Martigan rolls over the mountains like a storm, pounding valley towns into dust. Word spreads: The war in the west is over, baby—the beast is headed east and he’s ready to rock and roll.

It’s an exciting time, but god Hobnail’s boss is such an asshole.

“Order more flags,” he says. “There are sixty-thousand other cavalry officers in this corps—all of them planting flags.”

Hobnail ends up requisitioning sticks, scarves and three straight sleepless nights. He worries what he’ll do if the promotion doesn’t come through—but, well, it just has to.