Royal drapes glide down the sizeable windows. Rows of chairs line up across this massive ballroom. Small tables are set in front of a stage for the betrothed. A wedding is planned, a royal wedding. The mansion housing the wedding could fit ten houses of middle-class citizens. This is no typical wedding.
Droves of people dressed in formal wear take the great trek up the unnecessary amount of stairs. The sadistic owner of this mansion only allows vehicles parked at the bottom of the mountain of stairs.
Vehicles of all kinds and races of all space leave their transportation behind, some better off than others, others realizing they should have stayed home then get a late-night workout in their most uncomfortable attire. One unstable space shuttle dangerously lands, almost side-swiping a few ships on its way to land.
A very curious individual hops out of his rickety shuttle donning a bandana of black, and white teeth covering his face. Two polished six irons sit on his hip. A single lever action rifle rested on a sling on his back.
Tilting his head up to a handicapped person's worse nightmare. His golden eyes strain, even a well-trained marksman can't spot the end.
"This better be the right house." The cowboy heaves a deep sigh and gracefully tips his hat as he ascends the stairs.
His gravel voice combated his whines, "Why did I wear boots? Fashion sense I guess."
Every step he takes spins the Spurs on the back of his boots.
His getup was highly inspired by the old western cowboys. A big shiny metal belt buckle that very much looked like a wolf's skull held his pants up. Brown leather cuffs guarded his wrist against the non-existent brush.
Many gave concerned stares as he made his way up. "Nothin' to worry yourselves, if you did nothin' bad then I am not here for you."
His words did not sway the stares away, it felt like it only made them stare more.
The old relic checked his equipment while walking, "Rope, check, revolvers, also check. Bullets? *Sigh* Nope."
His bandolier held no bullets, the cowboy looked down the stairs to his ship. "I could cash in today, but that is way too many stairs~."
Pulling out his right revolver, the guests screamed, "Calm down!" Checking how many bullets were in his revolver, "Six. At least that is somethin'."
His second revolver counted the same, "I count twelve shots, two guns, and rope. It's doable."
A third of the way up there, a big winged octopus guy takes up the stairs. He delays the people behind him, his slow movements almost look deliberate. "Hey partner, mind if I get through, got a little business to settle."
A growl is the answer for this monstrous being, "What are wings good for when you don't use them."
Another growl, "Well I ain't the patient type to wait for you to make up these stairs."
He dunks under their wing, dodging the tentacles swinging around. Wiping off the slime from his face with a grey serape wrapped around his shoulders. "Yuck."
Stomping up the stairs, his calves tighten. Spinning his lever action to his front. The space cowboy cocked the lever, shooting out one singular 458 magnum round. "Gotcha."
Catching the massive round, "This could ruin someone's day."
He chambers the round back into its rightful place. Tipping his hat to a passerby, "Good evening madam."
"Evening, ladies, gentlemen, and all others! We welcome you to an utmost important event, the wedding between two rulers!"
The alien making the announcement bared a close resemblance to a fly. All except size.
"On my right, is Grolin Helgrath of the planet Ardent! His triumphs against the dastardly Frolins gave him the right to the title of KING, OF PLANET ARDENT!!"
Most of the crowd claps and cheers for the King, hollering his name in praise. Some gave gentle measured claps, a raised lip at the praise of this barbaric king.
Grolin baskets in their applause, his stone features show little change but his booming voice more than makes up for his lack of expressions. Medals line his chest for his achievements in the war.
"To my left, sits, empress Zlith! The jewel of Nilith! Under her great rule, the people of Nilith prospered for centuries and for many more to come!"
A steady amount of clapping and cheering fills the room. The more refined guest are cheering on the empress while the rowdy guest grumbles under their breath.
Her beauty could win the Galaxy's most beautiful contest if she cared about that. The queen's appearance resembled an elf of fantasy mixed with a scaled beast, something like a crocodile. It was evident enough that this marriage was not wanted by both sides but more of a peace deal.
Entering the grand hall where this banquet is being held. "Halt!" Two durable-looking rock guards stand in the cowboy's way. "Hand over all weapons and accessories."
A small chuckle comes from the cowboy, "Sorry, but these stay with me at all times."
Raising their weapons, "Then you may not enter."
The world seems to slow down after their denial, "I wish you'd wouldn't say that."
He measured up the guards, choosing what course of action to take as time seemed to pause. Time resumed, and noise flooded back into the world along with the guard's demands to give his weapons.
"Alright, alright, give me a moment." Handing over the rifle on his back. His revolvers had no holsters, they were magnetically stuck to his him. The cowboy's gloved hand dispelled the magnetic lock. His gloves had no fingertips and some weird gadget on the back of it.
Depositing his weapons in a tray, "You may enjoy this evening."
Tipping his hat to the two and walks to a small table occupied by two others.
Grandeurs decor everywhere you looked. Multiple chandeliers covered the ceiling, pillars line the sides of the room, holding great detail etched into them.
Marble flooring contained patterning that would cost a fortune.
"He looks like my target?"
Checking his phone, the photo shows a striking resemblance between his bounty and the king of Ardent.
"Well I'll be damned, he went and made himself king." The cowboy kicked his feet on the table, disturbing the guests sitting around the same table.