Disclaimer: I do not own W.I.T.C.H. Dezzhed provided by Trackula.

Betaed by: Zim'smostloyalservant & Trackula

Stirred

Chapter 3

Getting Your Feet Under You: Part 1

The Prince of Meridian smiled as he walked through the palace, the staff making way for him with habitual ease that he barely noticed. As vexing as ruling could be, even in the midst of crisis or the aftermath one could relish the simple joy of being in charge and people having to heed what you say.

Phobos could admit it was a good speech he had just given. And not just because of the force of his royal presence and his inspiring flair.

He had quickly agreed with Van and the privy council majority that there was no denying the scale of this embarrassment. They had and lost the rebel leader, making the sensible act of not just killing him immediately look foolish. Or the fact the Guardians had returned and managed to sneak right into the heart of royal power and break out their most esteemed prisoner.

Perception wise, it would have been better had Cedric not caught him at all.

So this speech, instead of denying, took ownership of the disaster but also sought to direct blame against the Guardians as aggressors and the rebels as weak for having to call on offworlders. The fact the Guardians were all women was easily used to fan flames of fearing a return to the matriarchy among those who benefited from the new regime, even if they did not like it. And a part praising the valor of the defenders who failed but nonetheless faced such a threat from the blue as well as they did. After all, it was the job of their reliant superiors, and in some cases his skilled interrogator, to rake the failures across the coals.

Yes, the speech to the court and commons had gone well, and soon it would be read by criers across the realm, the stirring words of their Prince.

Someone else had written it.

Lacrenea, a mid-ranking member of their puppet version of the Sisterhood. Talented, spirited, and unlike most of her superiors a true believer, and wonder of wonders she was actually rather bearable in his company. Yes, she would make a fine replacement when Van was done with her little experiment on Hestine and they needed a replacement. Hestine had served her role well enough at first, shamelessly selling out her comrades and consolidating the new order to serve the throne's interests. But even before Van got to work on her, the woman could not inspire a fly to eat dung, in his opinion.

Frankly, while he cared little for the Sisterhood's representation, having any organization under his control suffering for shoddy leadership offended his sensibilities. Lacrenea had seen enough of him, Van, and the rest to know that obedience was the merciful choice for her Sisters, and might even come around to the benefits of dirty work when she climbed the ranks to the top when Phobos' officials "exposed" the corruption in the Sisterhood.

Van felt they needed to avoid a public execution. Too many, and to be frank too much risk that them shouting they had done it all with his silent approval spoiling the mood they wanted to set. Besides, he had not given permission to a good bit; they just weren't as sneaky as they thought.

Naughty Hestine. Just because she didn't think the Shaper was going to punish her, did she really forget a God-Prince was around to judge her at his convenience?

Taking a seat in the library, he made a gesture and a servant left to fetch the corresponding drink.

Now that the formalities were done, he had time to think.

He had been to see Mimira, who was grateful he had not treated her as shamefully as Van did. Van seemed to forget the girl wasn't actually family, and was more woman than girl now besides. More importantly, Mimira had not seen it. Nobody seemed to. Magic? Or was he simply more insightful than he gave himself credit for?

The girl with Van's old face.

He wasn't surprised no one else had picked up on it. There were no portraits of Van from before her transformation, and the expression and youth were to be appreciated. And of course, of those present at the time, how many had actually paid attention to her back then?

His memory though was excellent, and concerning Van even more so he was quite pleased to say. And Van had reacted to the sight, but not shared what was going on with him.

A connection then. Was this Guardian a child of Van's? He knew so little of her kind — he wasn't even sure if she had a kind, or was a unique being from the start like his interrogator. Asexual reproduction may be possible. But the age? Hmm, Van had told him once that the Guardians' appearance altered to a prime state when active, so the Keeper might be younger than she appeared.

Van was keeping a rather large secret from him.

Well, for the moment, he would trust it was best to let her handle this. And hope she did not press him on a state of willful ignorance.

X X X

Vathek's large behind ached, trying to find a comfortable position in a chair built for a Galian half his size. But he dared not shift and struggle, not if it meant looking at all nervous. Inwardly, he cursed those so-called Guardians for forcing him into this unenviable position, but he kept his face a blank mask, his eyes focused forward and on the man in front of him, but not so much it seemed forced. Living behind enemy lines for so long forced one to develop such habits or resign yourself to a short, painful life.

"Vathek of Borlaf," the man before him read off the parchment gripped in his one hand, "That is your name, yes? Fairly common of the region. You've been in the Prince's service… quite some time?"

Vathek nodded briefly, casually. Careful not to seem curt.

The man, Dezzhed the Interrogator, stalked silently around the bare room, slowly circling behind Vathek's unguarded back. A sharp nail trailed along his shoulder through his uniform as the man stalked around him.

"Your record is spotless, it seems," he went on, crossing over the table to leaf through various scrolls with mild interest, "Very good. This meeting is merely a formality, you understand? After such a… breach in our defenses, I'd be remiss not to debrief the guards that were on duty, yes?"

"My report wasn't thorough?" Vathek asked politely, his tone level and unchallenging.

"Very thorough," Dezzhed nodded, looking almost impressed. His gaunt, colorless face, with his massive, lidless red eyes looked closely over a copy of the document in question, "Airtight, in fact… although…"

'Here it comes…' Vathek's insides clenched.

Nobody in the castle was entirely sure what Dezzhed's race was, or where he was before Phobos personally hired the professional sadist. His face was like a skull, the skin tight to the point of breaking, with massive tusks coming up from his perpetually clenched jaw. And though he was thin, his body moved light, with a wiry, offsetting athleticism.

Most discouraging though was his right hand, or lack thereof. Rather, he wore a variety of… eye-catching prosthetics in its stead, which helped with his dirty work, many dangling from his belt. Currently he wore his favorite, a massive curved hook gleaming in the candlelight.

But his methods, while vile, were effective. And thus, beyond reproach. The whole of the castle feared him, besides the Court. And even then, there were exceptions. As such, when not doing as his job title described, he was free to patrol and investigate security matters within the castle as he saw fit, being one of the Prince's favorite pets.

"How was it, Vathek of Borlaf, that these interlopers were able to not only breach our defenses and apprehend you, but also find their way to the rebel leader so efficiently? Anyone not familiar with the dungeons could be lost down there for days, don't you agree?" His hook scraped against the table, "Even under duress, giving information to the enemy is treason regardless of circumstance, yes?"

Narrowing his eyes, Vathek steeled his fear and snapped in his best imitation of righteous indignation, "If you really thought I'd ever turn my back on the royal family at the first sign of danger, I wouldn't be up here. I'd already be strapped down in your basement for you to play your sick little games, Interrogato-URK"

The movement was instantaneous, the loop of the hook forced under his chin, and his whole body lifted into the air with an iron-like grip on the back of his head. He saw stars dance past his eyes as his air was choked off.

"Not an 'Interrogator', yes? I don't like that term. 'Royal Information Acquisition Specialist', you meant to say. Got confused, did you?" His voice was as calm and soft as ever but his red eyes burned all the same.

"Uh… urk… uh huh…" Vathek managed before he was dropped unceremoniously, shattering the small stool beneath him.

"You're dismissed. Send in the next in line?" Dezzhed asked, not bothering to look over to him from the scrolls he leafed through.

Vathek quickly got up to leave, perhaps too quickly. But he took this as a reprieve that some other poor fool who was likely to buckle under the pressure would be left to the Interrogator's clutches instead.

He'd have been much less relieved if he'd seen the torturer draw a question mark next to his name with the tip of his hook.

X X X

Taranee grumbled, feeling stiff and uncomfortable as she swiped blindly for the snooze button of her alarm clock. But besides the sensation of disturbed pages, her hand met with open air, no matter how long she waved around for it. Screwing her eyes even tighter shut with frustration, she braced herself and got up, rubbing her eyes, only to realize that rather than in her bed, she was propped over her desk. Hardly the first time she'd woken up in such a state, and it explained why she felt so miserable.

Feeling something stuck to her cheek, she reached over and peeled off a page glued to her face with sweat. A quick glance after rubbing the sleep from her eyes revealed numerous notes and theories jotted down frantically in shorthand. Books of all kinds littered her desk, opened and marked with post-it notes, covering subjects such as medieval culture, famous revolutions and successions, and even insect biology.

Slowly, her sleep-addled mind reconstructed the events that she'd fallen asleep in the midst of. Oh, right, trying to get a grip on the radically new reality that had been revealed to her.

She really could have used that bed, she admitted as she stretched while her alarm continued to go off.

X X X

Hay Lin was humming as she packed lunch for the day. There was a second brown paper bag she had prepared last night. Full of cookies. They hadn't had a real chance to cerebrate their victory over the forces of evil, and securing one very cute if grumpy guy. Some cookies at lunch seemed a good way to start.

She called her goodbyes to her parents as she tore from the kitchen through the main dining room where Grandma was sitting with Caleb and her parents still.

X X X

Lillian Hale liked a lot things in life, and shared a lot of things. Her sister Cornelia was both. She liked her being cool and having stuff to share and so many little things. But she hated how Cornelia never wanted her around anymore. She couldn't even tag along with her and Irma and Hay Lin without her sister acting like she was diseased or something.

But she got to act on both feelings on days like this. Cornelia had been a no show so far this morning, so Mom had sent her good daughter to get the lazy one up. But it would be ruined if Cornelia woke up before she got her moment. So she must be quiet as a ninja that was also a cat!

Cornelia was splayed out in bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. A pity she wasn't snoring this time, that was hilarious.

"Hey," her big sister muttered as she tiptoed. Lilian froze, afraid she had failed as a princess ninja. But Cornelia wasn't even looking at her.

"Stupid spider, give that guy back," she protested, wiggling slightly in the bed.

'Dreaming about boys? Sounds right,' Lillian decided. She made way to where the sleeping jerk rested and laid two hands on the quilt, and took a deep breath.

"CORNELIA!" Lillian yelled, jerking the quilt with all her strength.

Grinning wide, the small blonde fled with practiced skill from her vengeful sister, knowing full well Cornelia would freak out over the time before she caught her. Served her right.

X X X

Will awoke to the ringing of her alarm clock. Groaning, she reached out her hand, flailing on the nightstand for the clock. Finally, she seized it and with practiced reflex, her fingers silenced the hideous noise, for the moment.

What a strange dream…

Then she wondered why her chest felt warm. Her hand retracted back under the blanket, and closed around the Heart. Her other hand pulled the blanket aside, letting her pull it out of her pajama top.

Right, it was all real and true. Well, crap!

Letting the necklace fall against her chest, she splayed her arms out and looked up at her ceiling.

"Well, what next?" the Keeper of the Heart asked. The Heart pulsed warmly at the words, and Will lifted her head to stare at it crosseyed.

"And here I was thinking making friends would be the most awkward and dangerous thing here," she sighed, putting an arm over her eyes.

X X X

Irma cursed, running out her door, backpack in hand rather than on her back. Her stepmother opened the door and calmly walked down the steps to the sidewalk. When Irma ran back, she held out the brown paper lunch bag.

"Thanks, bye!" Irma said, before running off.

Later:

"So then, are we just going to sit in awkward silence? Because if that is the plan, I'll just go sit somewhere else. This is ruining my sandwich, and that just isn't going to fly," Irma said.

The five girls had gotten a table to themselves in the lunch room, and even after all of them were seated no one had said a word.

"This the best place to talk?" Taranee asked.

"Oh sure, the others might hear something and come to the conclusion we are secretly magical fairies fighting evil in another dimension," Cornelia said, rolling her eyes.

"Gotta go with Corny. If someone was enough of a loser to eavesdrop, they'd just figure we were into some kind of roleplaying or something. Though that's bad for Corny; those nerd stains don't come out easily."

"…So how is he, Hay Lin?"

"Grumpy, so that's probably a good sign." That got her chuckles out of everyone.

"Yeah, if fearless leader there starts acting nice and handing out compliments, it probably means he's about to pull an Obi Wan Kenobi."

That did not get laughs, and even Irma looked a bit bashful on saying it.

"So, did we kill anyone? Doing that thing?"

"I don't know."

…

…

"Okay, done. Lunch is not to be trifled with, and I for one would like the night off. So, lunch tomorrow we decide when to meet and say whatever needs to be said," Irma declared.

X X X

Whether it was fantasy or sci-fi, Hay Lin had a certain image of brave young rebels. None of them being this grouchy.

"I'm sorry, what?" Hay Lin said, tilting her head as she sat her backpack down in her room.

"If the others aren't coming, you need to bring them here. Now," Caleb said.

"Something happen?" Hay Lin said. She was pretty sure she hadn't missed an explanation. She had said hi when he walked up to her door and he'd given his little declaration thing.

"Not that I know of. But from what I saw, you need to start training right away. Your lessons, whatever they are, are finished for the day, your grandmother said. So we should begin."

"Uh, yeah, I can kind of feel that, but everyone I think wants some time to chill. Which I get, that was way intense."

"It wasn't a suggestion. We don't have the luxury-" Caleb scowled. Then Grandma was there, hooking a granny arm under Caleb's.

"Sorry dear, I need to borrow the dishwasher, get to your homework now," Yan Lin said. Hay Lin grinned at the Grandma power at work as she practically dragged him off. She should be so lucky to become such a cool old lady someday.

X X X

"Okay, that could have been a disaster," Yan Lin muttered as she dragged Caleb into the laundry room.

"What are you talking about?" Caleb asked, taking his arm back.

"Young man, clearly you are accustomed to being a leader, and a military one at that. To get there at your age in such a situation speaks highly of your skills. But these girls, they are not soldiers. In fact, a certain rebelliousness is expected of girls their age here. If you go into this acting like they are just to be commanded — do what I say or else — you're going to get a lot of flak. Especially as they'll see it as you being ungrateful for being saved."

"The best way I could show my gratitude for that is training them so they won't be so unprepared next time. Their power is impressive, but I can only say it's either fools luck or the even the Shaper's blessing that we all survived that mission."

"True, which is why I am not telling you to lay off," Yan Lin said, one eye opening wider and her tone shifting. Caleb's attention focused on her as the laundry tumbled in the machine, "These girls are getting thrown into the deep end from the start. It has to be that way to save your world. But that doesn't mean they are ready, and there's only so much I can do to prepare them. Did you think I'd cover like this for just anyone? Refugees from your side have been quite a headache for me these last few years. I need you to do your part, and you can't do that if you alienate them by pushing too hard and throwing your weight around."

"What do you suggest?" Caleb demanded calmly.

"Well, for starters, maybe try seeing them as new friends as well as students. I think Will in particular could use more friends in her life," Yan Lin said.

Arms crossed, Caleb thought on what she had said.

X X X

Mimira buckled her shoes and pulled her dress into place. Standing up from the chair, she checked herself in the full-length mirror. Good, she looked ready.

Discharged from the castle hospit. She had been worried Van would pull strings to keep her there longer. She was fine! And the last thing she needed was being seen as getting special treatment.

When she reached the checkout, she was surprised at a note waiting for her. A small, sealed one with the Legion's mark stamped on the wax. Breaking it, the spider Changeling was surprised it was an invitation. Apparently the Legion garrison was gathering all non-essential duty members for a party? Not a formal banquet, and judging by the venture it was a wild one, with Cedric overseeing it?

She knew her dear leader was not a fan of the stuffy social gatherings of the court, which was very understandable even if the clothes were amazing. And the jewelry, and the stuff they could do with hair. But still, he was right to have a dim view of it. But she always got the impression he preferred a more freeform celebration out of a lesser evil outlook. And why throw one at a time like this?

Well, tucking the message away and heading off to report in for duty, she admitted it was probably just good to be invited. Maybe cutting loose at something like this would show her comrades that despite her connections she was still one of them? It wasn't like her rank was just built on her connections! She was skilled and hardworking, and if she had to get very drunk while eating fire root until she vomited to prove it, she would.

Hmm, though maybe not too much? She'd never hear the end of it if she ended up back in a hospit bed less than a day after being cleared from Van.

That woman could be the worst.

X X X

Van nodded to herself as she loosened the measuring tape around Larek's bicep.

"No change in this measurement," she told the apprentice on the floor.

"That's all, you're in good shape," Van said to the beige gargoyle. He nodded in answer, giving a higher-pitched purring sound conveying his contentment. All of Gregor's brothers could speak, but for them it was an awkward thing, and it required an accustomed ear to properly understand them. So speech was something they only did as needed, and rarely ever with her, who so readily understood their meaning without traditional words.

He placed Van back on the floor with practiced ease, releasing his grip gently.

"Well, that's it for today, remind Moreck and Crulock I will be seeing them tomorrow," the Grand Doctor said. She accepted a tongue kiss to the back of her hand from her creation, and as he left the Main Large Creature Examination Room, she took the clipboard from the apprentice.

The young Galhot was looking at her in something like awe, she noticed as she double-checked his entries. Well, he was newly transferred to the Grand Hospit. Highly recommended, as she recalled. But he had not had to work wth the kind of material that was exclusive to the Grand Hospit or the lab in the castle.

She supposed it looked odd for her to climb over and let herself be held by the gargoyles while examining them. But honestly, it was just the best way to do it. Hauling around a stepladder would be so annoying. Besides, going to lengths to avoid physical contact with someone you made just seemed callous.

At the risk of insulting the guards and staff, she trusted the gargoyles absolutely to be loyal to her and even die for her. The others… well, it was no insult, she hoped, that she wasn't 100% sure on them.

Speaking of trust, she thought as she left the large room for the more narrow side corridor, Raythor did not seem in any danger of being sent to the Abyss. Another divergence. And of course, Gregor had not been maimed. And if he had, she would not have just made the stump into a mace and called it a day! There would be far more interesting and useful options than a blunt instrument to replace…

Well the point was, he was fine.

And for a bit there, with events playing out so close to last time, she had been quite worried, she could admit now. But it was a whole new world, or tale if you preferred. With all the assurance things weren't set in stone, and the worries on new dangers, that brought.

For instance — this facility had not existed, so who knew if WITCH would target it? No doubt the rebels would see its destruction as a great victory, and Level Zero made that understandable. But there was so much that went on here that benefited not just the capital but Meridian as a whole. And frankly, reckless destruction could prove quite dangerous with some of the stuff stored here. So, a request to beef up security, and maybe it was time to pressure A'lek'hol'an for more tricks to magically guard it?

And she… Will.

"Yeah, no sense ignoring the mynox in the room," Van sighed as she reached her office.

She ignored the In-box to open a cabinet, withdrawing a tall glass and a fancy glass bottle with green liquid in it. Pouring out a shot, she snapped it back before re-corking the bottle.

Mimira had been hurt, by WITCH. As Van understood it, she'd been left helpless. If they had lingered to make sure…

Van put her head in her hands. Nothing was simple this time. She did not want Will or those girls hurt, but she had so much they could hurt or kill. And Caleb was a darker one than she had known, and being willing to risk her own life against him was one thing…

Back then, the good guys ultimately had been willing to give people a second chance. But would that be the case here? And would Raythor's staying in play make the court's forces more honorable with Cedric not getting free reign, or would it be a worse clash, with a real soldier commanding rather than a terrorizing thug like the Lord Legatus?

She knew she couldn't just stand still. But what was she supposed to do now?

X X X

Panleus' leave had been canceled. He had been looking forward to going back to his home village for a time, introduce his wife around, tell some tales. And next time he had a chance, pass on news of home to Van.

As it was, he had been summoned back before ever reaching there.

He supposed some would be grateful to be away during a crisis. He couldn't be blamed for what happened in any shape or form.

He wasn't most people. He knew he did not deserve his rank — he had risen to his post because a childhood friend was one of the Hands of the Prince Regent and in the early days his trustworthiness was seen as more important than any real skill. But for all his unworthiness, it was still his responsibility.

His men could have been in deadly peril, and he was not there to lead them and share in that hazard. The Council had never understood that; those great ladies, as much as he disliked political thoughts, had been out of touch. No matter how much their troops might have believed in their cause, if your leaders aren't willing to show equal conviction by standing against the carnage with you, how can an army's will survive?

He might not be fit to lead, but he could fight and face death as well as any guard who earned their basic armor.

Reviewing his men in the parade ground, he nodded in approval and walked back to the wooden stage. He accepted a scroll from his aide and attached it to the clip board provided.

Time to hand down the orders from on high.

X X X

The party was not very enjoyable, Mimira had to admit. Many of the attending legionaries were already drunk and cutting loose; a hedgehog Changeling in particular was performing an impressive dance on a tabletop. For herself, she had gained a spot on the corner of the bar, and not been approached by anyone save for refills. Anyone else having a good time was a fluke, because she was bored!

Looking down the bar, she watched another woman of the Legion shift into her hybrid form and take some liberties with a handsome boar Changeling. No, she did not want to see that, Cedric wasn't even here yet.

He had said he was going to be coming to this, right? She pulled out the invitation and was surprised to be holding an apple instead. Taking a bite of the apple, she surveyed the boring chaos from her perch on the stool. Maybe she should shift too? No, Cedric wasn't even here yet.

The door to the chamber boomed open, and Cedric entered in glorious form. Her cheeks got hotter at the sight of him slithering in, taking up the doorway and immediately dominating the room.

"Well, it seems you are all in quite the mood."

She didn't think to join in the cheer until it was over, and so stayed quiet, just raising her glass.

"Ah yes, a night of festivity and plenty! Wasn't so long ago we could only enjoy such when we had pulled off a magnificent raid. Though even then we had to be wary of the consequences, of the Guard and worse."

"But not anymore, the Guards are with us now!"

The shout came from a cluster of teenage Changelings hanging by the rack of ale barrels that nearly reached the ceiling. They were so drunk, just look at their cheeks, Mimira mocked them silently, smiling.

"Ah yes, they are! Not that it was easy to get to such a secure place as we are now? Was it?!"

"No!" she joined in this time, smiling.

"Yes, things have gone splendidly these last years. I look around, and it occurs to me many of you may not properly remember the bad old days. One could call that an achievement."

"Yeah!" that chorus was not as universal.

"But there is still the Rebellion. They'd like nothing better than to bring those bad old days back," Cedric remarked.

"Ah, they're shadows of ghosts these days! More rebels are under Hades' thumb than Jupiter's sky," one of the drunks remarked.

"Yeah, they're weak, nothing but bandits with a cause," a woman in the young drunks' midst commented.

"Weak, one could say that," Cedric nodded, "Especially compared to mighty warriors like you all."

That earned him a cheer and he smiled. Plucking a tankard from a table, looking over the rack of barrels, he picked one and drove a clawed finger through it with ease. Catching the frothy flow in the tankard, he then poured it on the woman slowly, who laughed and twisted in the seat to catch the last of it in her mouth.

"Can you handle that?" Cedric asked.

"I'll have another, sir!" the drunk laughed. Her companions joined the cheer, leaning to try and catch the flowing arc of ale in their own tankards.

Mimira frowned, looking to Cedric's face as he smiled wide at the display.

"Yes, just a bit, and not that strong, no problem," he commented, laying his hand on that rack.

"No problem AT ALL!" his voice broke into a roar as he toppled the rack of barrels down on the group. They barely had time to scream while those nearby jumped clear or transformed in rush.

CRASH CRUNCH

Mimira shifted, the effects of the drinks burned away by the change, moving to crouch on the bar. Across the room, she saw the drunken levity had vanished, everyone transformed and focused on the Captain. Except those groaning or silent under the wreckage, as blood-tainted ale spilled out across the floor.

Cedric's glare swept over them all, his lips a stiff line that broke to reveal a sneer.

"Just a bit of weak drink, nothing to worry about. Until it is. You seem to forget we are outnumbered to such a degree, even now, that the word outnumbered seems laughably unfitting. Of how much and how long we have been hated. I assure you, they have not forgotten. The people of this world despise us as a rule; our history has been a tragedy of their writing. It is only because of the new order we have what we have today. And if that order falls, the bad old days won't come back — after all we have done for the Prince, and to avenge ourselves, they will not settle for making us suffer as we once did. With the Guardians and with the God-Queen they pray for, they will wipe our race out.

"This is not a war of dynasty for us. Or dominion. Or even a war for a cause. This is a struggle for survival, with the only outcomes being victory, or annihilation. No one in this war has as much to lose as us. Do not doubt for a moment our allies would toss us to the gallows if it could earn them any advantage should the Prince's order fall. And who would say a word in our defense? No one; we are a tool to their ambitions, and a tool that becomes a liability is discarded or sold out.

"You've grown complacent, over-reliant on so-called allies and lacking urgency. We are fighting for survival, and besides the Prince, anyone who is not one of us is potential traitor. You will start acting like it," Cedric declared.

He left. He didn't so much as nod to her, just sweeping out back into the night. Mimira mingled for the first time that night, joining the crowd digging out the crushed, inspecting their wounds and changing back to her Gallian form to pull out the aid kit she had brought out of habit. The party was over, but her night lasted longer, seeing them all to the doctors.

And even when she settled down, she felt the words of her dear leader echoing in her head. It was true, wasn't it? The only thing she could say against it was there was another person they could trust.

X X X

A life such as his was fraught with uncertainty and risk. And while the reality of such when he first ran off from home had been somewhat hard to roll with, he had adapted well and he could claim at times to have it no other way. Living free, in his experience, meant living without the assurances of routine as much as an absence of drudgery.

An outlaw's work was just that in the end, of course, work. He had to see to as much of everything he could himself, lest he be betrayed. Especially as the Portal Plunger; his fellows of the shadows would love quite a bit to steal his secrets and reap the profits that came from his being able to pop over to other worlds. Which meant his contacts and suppliers often needed to be given a better bargain than normal to ward against them being bribed to turn on him.

The Rebels were a concern as well. They paid well enough, but truthfully he disliked working with them. He had no deep hatred of their cause, save the fact two friends of his were on the other side, but he regarded them as a lost cause. And people too deluded to see their cause was lost or mad enough to fight on pointlessly… well, you could not grasp and predict their actions like sensible folks. Who knew if one day, they might turn on him through no fault of his own?

The Court was, oddly enough, an easier client, for all he was technically a fugitive. He dealt through Van, and as such it was a pleasure first with business added. Ah, what a fine lady she had become! True, she was likely up to some degree of something with the Prince, and too good for him besides, but ah, what a lady nonetheless. Though he suspected she still saw him as little more than the lad she had caused havoc in an irrelevant village with, dragging Pan along for the chaos.

So, returning home to check his channels, he would normally be pleased at finding the sign Van wanted to meet with him. The Rebels must be lying low to not be seeking him out for word on their leader.

He was certain his aid to the initial Rebel plot was not a problem. It could not be said he had violated the understanding he enjoyed with her and the Court at large. But the Guardians… The whole thing left him uncomfortable. They might look impressive, but they were girls at heart it seemed, rather than women. Fledglings that, even as a group, lacked the presence their elder had casually been able to bring him into line with.

Speaking of which, he poured a strong drink out and toasted to the late Guardian's memory. Not a friend by any means, but it was sobering to see such a powerful personage vanish from the game so suddenly. All the more reason to not be sober, lest you dwell on it.

Tegus looked around his main hideout. It had been a Passling dwelling, sequestered away in these hills, one of the last ones to be abandoned. The last inhabitant had teased him for it, adding in some modifications to accommodate a healthy Gallian like himself.

Van knew about it, to his embarrassment, but he hoped no one else did.

He had many hideaways, and more places where money was stashed for emergency. Yes, he spent well on himself; miserly behavior was mad in this profession, where risk ran so high. But he had come to understand he needed some preferred place to hang his hat and go to ground when the world seemed too shifty even for him. And if Van took exception to him helping the Guardians, he would lose it.

Oh, he was certain she wouldn't stab him in the back. If the pact was broken, she'd give him a fair head start for services rendered and old times sake, but this place and probably others would go into the rubbish pile. And the Prince, he imagined, would be keen on getting ahold of his magic.

Yes, it would mean harsher times. A challenge he would rise to, he was himself after all — he'd gone to great lengths to throw away a peaceful rich life to be wild and free. But it would mean being cleaved from Pan and Van.

Well, nothing to do for it but sleep the night and meet her tomorrow.

X X X

"Where are the rest of you?" Caleb asked. They were standing under the bridge the portal had once rested under, Yan Lin having apparently set up what she called a "Nothing To See Here" ward on the area.

And more importantly this early evening, he was short two Guardians.

"Well, I told you Taranee wanted to really buckle down on that project. And Irma, wellll…" Hay Lin said with a habitual smile. Cornelia broke in to answer him.

"Irma's dad is angry about another D and she wasn't even going to ask to go out with friends tonight."

"This, is gong to be a problem. Can't you just tell your families that you have a higher calling than lessons?" Caleb asked.

"No," the three answered in sync, looking at him as if he had asked them to arm wrestle a Lurden.

The rebel leader wanted too press the issue, but he had a feeling that would lead nowhere fast.

"Well then, this will have to do for now. Which of you has the most combat experience?"

The three exchanged looks, then Hay Lin raised her hand.

"My mom taught me how to put a guy in a hold if he gets grabby. But I never actually used it."

"…Nothing," Caleb demanded calmly. How did Earthers keep their wealth if they were too weak to protect it? Even aristocrats were often expected to learn something of combat on Meridian.

Shaking his head, Caleb tried to dismiss his exasperation. It would do no good if he raged against this complacency now. What mattered was remedying this deficiency.

"Very well, then. It seems, then, we must start with basics. I won't be able to treat you as the Guardians at first, but rather as raw recruits that hardly know one end of a spear from another or how to make a fist without breaking their thumb," Caleb said.

"Ohhh, so you're just going to be thinking of us as girls you just met?" Cornelia said with an odd tone. Caleb watched the Keeper roll her eyes while the Wind Guardian just looked… bouncy.

"First step, attack me."

"Sorry, what?" the Keeper said.

"Attack me. Try and knock me down. Together, all at once, as you please."

"…Do we get a prize?" the Earth Guardian asked.

'Do I have to BRIBE THEM TO TRAIN?!" Caleb thought furiously.

"If you aren't willing to start, I could make the first move," Caleb said, cracking his knuckles in the intimidating manner he had mastered for impertinent recruits.

"No thanks!" the Keeper said, lunging.

Shortly:

"Owww."

"Love is pain. But why does it have to be so painful?"

"I see a light. I'm going to it, okay?"

"Enough, there's nothing worse than a bruise there," Caleb said, standing over the Guardians, who were practically laid on top of each other, groaning, "Excellent, now that I know how terrible you are, we can begin."

"Begin? That seems more like an end of lesson," Cornelia said, getting to her feet while Will offered Hay Lin a hand up.

"In battle, there's no time out to catch your breath and nurse your wounds. The one who gives in to fatigue first is often the first to die. You must either build your stamina enough, or build a fighting style that will either make it simple to disengage when you need to conserve your stamina. But we're not close to styles and technique. You need the fundamentals, such as how to strike a blow, and how to take a blow first," Caleb explained.

"Uhh, are we going to be painting fences or catching chickens?" Will asked.

"I know little of your chickens, but I see no need for you to perform day labor. Now line up, a proper punch seems a good place to start. Tomorrow, hopefully we will be able to start on the best ways to block or take one."

"Umm, what about our wonderful, less beat-y, magical powers?" Corneia asked.

"I have worked with magic users before, but it's different from what you possess. Besides, the instincts and reflexes of a fighter should carry over and hone your skills in those crafts. And should the time come you can't or shouldn't use your powers in a fight, these skills could be the difference between life or death. Now, show me what you think a punch is," Caleb barked.

X X X

Van was waiting for him at the inn they used for meetings. She was dressed discreetly enough, a hood covering her head and visible rings on her fingers making it apparent to a casual observer she was some high class woman likely here for an affair, or simply indulging in the pleasures of the flesh or pipe away from prying eyes.

What had him wary was, rather than sitting on the bed, she was sitting on a wooden keg.

"Be with you in a moment, Tegus," Van said, holding up one webbed finger from her hand-concealing sleeves. She seemed to be talking intently with a jet black frog that filled up her other hand, the two croaking back and forth. After about a minute, Van offered the frog what looked like a ruby, which its tongue snatched up, and then it hopped from her hand and quickly swept out of sight through a rat hole.

"Multitasking. You certainly know how to make a man feel special, mi'lady," Tegus commented, giving an exaggerated bow.

"Sorry, something came up and I needed to make a quick delivery. Which, incidentally, is what I need you for. Deliver this to Heatherfield and let the cargo out," Van said, patting her perch.

"…it's not a weapon, is it?"

"No, just some friends of mine to keep an eye on the other side. They're quite harmless — I should know, I have tried to give them a poison factor to defend themselves, but they're resistant, it seems. If only people could be so reluctant on being poisonous, eh?" Van said, getting up and stroking the wooden container.

Tegus was aware of certain rumors on the origins of Van's frog familiars, and he was certain they were baseless. Still, he wished she wouldn't be quite so affectionate with the things.

So he distracted her by inquiring about cost.

X X X

"So, Guardian boot camp?" Taranee asked, not looking as put out as they expected.

"Heck yeah, time to get our montage to badassery," Irma grinned. They were sitting in a group again, and it occurred to Will that at this rate people were going to think they were a clique. Cornelia had even had to do some fast talking to get rid of a smaller platinum blonde girl that had wanted to eat lunch with her.

"Exactly how is this going to work?" Cornelia asked, "With Hay Lin's grandma wanting us to train our powers, now this? I mean, between my family and Elyon, I do have a life, you know."

"Just think of Caleb's abs and I'm sure you'll find a way, Corny," Irma said.

"Well, yeah, it's not going to be easy, but after nearly getting killed in an evil castle, it's not so bad. And apparently we're an entire world's last best hope or something," Will added.

"Well Will, you get a pass it seems like, as you don't have any powers to train," Taranee remarked, before discussing her interest in learning about the war going on alongside any training.

None of the others seemed to notice Will wilt a bit and finger the Heart before resuming eating her potatoes.

X X X

Night had fallen over Heatherfield. Clear and relatively pleasant, the park might have hosted some seeking to enjoy the atmosphere. But none of them were under a pedestrian bridge to witness a portal ripple and a man emerge hauling a small barrel.

Setting his burden down on the damp gravel, Tegus pulled a pry bar from his belt and with two efforts, the lids came lose. Stepping back, he watched as the darkness within stirred, and water sloshed slightly. A tiny dark green frog with a mark on its back like a brown eye jumped onto the rim, looked around, croaked, and jumped down to to the gravel. Two more followed, then another.

Stepping back again, Tegus watched as what he thought might be a hundred of the Eye Frogs surged forth onto the gravel and dispersed into the park.

Van's eyes were on the city now. The Guardians might be impressive, but he wasn't sure what their chances were if the Court was willing to take matters to Earth.

"You're neutral in it all, Tegus, remember that," he told himself, replacing the lid and carrying his load back through the portal.

Author's Note:

Well, here we are. I admit I am not entirely happy with this chapter; it seems there should be something "more" after such a long hiatus. Too short and not enough advancement, etc. But after so long, it seemed something was better than delaying in the slim hope of a worthy reward for your patience finally being produced.

I had hoped that turning my back on the stations of canon would ease things, freeing me from trying to fit the divergences into such confines. The wide open range, though, holds its own perils of plotting a course, it seems. Oh, I have my goals on the horizon; I can see them clearly enough. But between the near and the far, the sheer number of options seems to grind things to a halt, trying to decide exactly how to get there with that vast field of possibility.

So I think and hope for inspiration, and lo and behold thinking has led me to this long hiatus. So rather than linger on that, it seems the only thing is to plunge ahead in the hopes that I will triumph by seeking in the doing. So I can in good conscience offer no assurance as to a timely update, only thank those of you reading this for having the patience to still be interested after all these years and hope to better reward that patience in the future.

Finally, with the world experiencing both pandemic and upheaval, I pray for you all to look after each other and yourselves. The situation is rarely such that caring about others won't improve it somewhat.

Long days and pleasant nights to you all.