Few citizens of the surviving butterfly kingdom had ever heard of the ever-elusive Vault of History, and fewer still had ever actually laid eyes on or in it. But late into the night after the Butterfly Ball, it was an unusual center of interest for many castle guards, and Butterfly nobility. Knights and nobles alike trudged in and out to receive reports, orders, updates, mandates, whatever. The Queen wasn't in a mood to be questioned, and it showed through the focused quiet that hung over every occupant of the vault. With Moon standing over the room's proceedings, one person, in particular, caught her eye.

"McMera, a report, if you please. Have you or your team found anything? Missing or otherwise unaccounted for?" Moon asked the senior Records and Trinkets, or R.A.T. guard, "If so much as a broach or a letter has been moved, I want to know about it the moment you do."

McMera, a smaller, timid woman dressed in a sand-colored Tunic with tied-back brown hair, adjusted her glasses and rifled through her very long list of reports and queries. "M-my Queen, we've merely j-just begun sifting through the t-top layers...it will take more time to know if anything else was...stolen," she whispered.

McMera had what humans called, a 'Photographic Memory'. She could recall just about anything she'd ever seen in near-perfect detail and thus, carried an essential role for her Records and Trinkets division. However, she could be less than confident when speaking to anyone outside of her team, so getting that perfectly stored information was always the more challenging part.

Moon gave her a short nod and took the liberty of looking over the list of inventory herself, McMera standing idly by. Pages flipped one by one and as attendants rushed by, RAT, noble or otherwise, Moon's brow furrowed deeper by the second. It was all there, every transaction, every addition, every. Single. Piece. Nothing else looked out of the ordinary, except for one thing.

Finally, she shoved the stack of papers back in McMera's hands and turned towards the single shelf on the opposite side of the Vault, one spot empty smack in the middle. "Of all the things that could be taken from here, out of every ounce of treasure and history, every single magical artifact, they decide to take the Heavean's Lament?" Moon's voice carried more confusion than urgency, so McMera trudged after her until they both stood before the bare rectangle devoid of dust on the wood.

She shifted nervously in place, absent-mindedly organizing the now ruined stack of reports. As more personnel sifted through the loot and swag around them, she had to ask, "My Queen...what exactly does the missing artifact...do? Is it a weapon of some kind? Or, is it more of a spelled heirloom?"

Moon raised an eyebrow at the question, so McMera explained, "It was filed under 'Magical, and I've only ever seen its name written in the logs for cleaning, and a transfer from the Grandma chamber, like- I don't know, six hundred years ago? So I'm, quite frankly, just as confused as to why it would be stolen."

"It's complicated," Moon muttered, a faraway look in her eyes, "There is quite a fair amount of information regarding these artifacts that we don't possess. And this would be one of them."

"McMera, nothing to report on the correspondence letters, nor the Etheria troop loss records!" Another RAT guard shouted to her senior officer, but she waved it off, following Moon's gaze to the empty space. As her subordinate marched off to rejoin the search, McMera asked under her breath, "So...i-is it a weapon, or-"

"It's not a weapon, but rather, it's a pathfinder," Moon explained, pulling an elongated, and very dusty box from the place above the empty spot. From the box, she produced a confusing, bent contraption of winding gears and secured purple crystals in the shape of a triacontahedron. "This, is a weapon, and a powerful one at that. It can transport an entire enemy army to the Nightmare dimension."

McMera made to comment, but Moon continued, grabbing another, equally elegant artifact from the shelf, this one a gold sphere with ineligible writing etched on every inch. "This artifact can be used to see the future, any future, and lets you alter it as you see fit, clearly a far greater prize than a glorified compass."

"Why...do we have those here?" McMera asked, her voice betraying the growing fear of even being close to these horrid things. Moon placed both artifacts back on the shelf haphazardly and rested her hands on her hips. "Because none of them work without the user willingly sacrificing something of equal value. The Nightmare Gate destroys the user's army with the suffering of your enemy. The Eye of Magnus can only be used by someone willing to sacrifice their own sight, so you can't see what future you pick."

"That all sounds...a little useless," McMera mused, looking at the rest of the shelf, "are all of these artifacts the same?" Another member of her detail rushed between the two, but Moon didn't even seem to notice.

"Quite, all of them have a price that renders them a monkey's paw of sorts. Including Heaven's Lament," Moon answered, gesturing to the square of the clean shelf, "It looks like a silver teardrop surrounded by golden coils-"

"Yes, My Queen, I've seen it once before during a scheduled cleaning," McMera interrupted, waving off another RAT guard presenting a worn painting, "But what does it do that makes it stand out? Surely Toffee considers it's price worthwhile if they'd break into the castle vault to retrieve it."

"It's used to find Magic Wells," Moon finally answered, her eyes not leaving the empty space, "when it is activated, the silver tear will disconnect, and shoot off towards a Magic Well point-first."

"...M-Magic...Wells?" McMera whimpered. Moon nodded silently, waiting for her attendant to catch up.

"...And...the price?"

Moon was silent for a moment, clearly deep on thought, until finally she released her captured breath and explained, "First, you must understand that it moves very, very fast. Faster than any warnicorn, faster than a Juniper bird. It will reach the Magic Well in moments, and when it arrives, it will drain the user's lifespan rapidly, unless it is reunited with its cradle. Something about 'spending one's life searching in vain', I don't know."

Now it was McMera's turn to think, trying every possible angle in her head to find a reason for the artifact's theft. "Suppose you tied yourself to the tear, or tied it to a cart?"

Moon sighed, but she couldn't blame her. "It's been tried, believe me. It moves too fast for anyone to survive, and no one has ever made it in time." She turned to end the frivolous notion of someone using Heaven's Lament, only to find several nobles and guards gathered behind her, listening intently to her mock report before shuffling off, busying themselves.

Moon narrowed her eyes but didn't question it. Instead, she marched off towards the Vault's door, closely followed by McMera, to find River. Despite his usual tendencies for fun and sport, he had surprised her with his sudden ability to take charge of the situation and direct workers about the vault. She found him standing by the massive door, which was currently under repairs, and asked, "how have our outside efforts been met, dear?" with a hint of relief in her voice not going unnoticed.

With a noticeable snap to attention, River answered, "Quite well, my love. The guides have been escorted home, as well as the nobles, no such trouble arising, repairs are well underway," River shifted uneasily in place. "We've erm...given the fallen guard's proper preparations for their rights, I've personally seen to that. OH! We've also begun writing out apology meat for all of our guests."

Moon nodded slowly, forcing a thin smile to her lips despite the circumstances. "That's...good to hear. And, how's Star?"

"Erm, well...she hasn't left the castle, so that's quite the plus! Otherwise, she's still denied anyone access to her room, so that's a bust."

Moon nodded, a hint of defeat betrayed by her tired eyes. "Very well, then. Thank you, River, do keep up the good work. And, maybe don't send any meat?" She asked, hopeful for once that perhaps her husband would choose the more subtle and refined path, but River was already waving it off.

"Too late! The couriers have already left!"

"But you just said you'd only just begun writing them?" She asked, a worried tone in her voice, "River! No one but your family knows what a mutton roast carved with 'Sorry' means!" But he was already gone, leaving her alone to deal with the aftermath. Aside from the RAT guard to her right, who waited patiently before speaking.

"My Queen, I really think we should discuss Heaven's Lament further, we have procedures in place for-" McMera began, but Moon abruptly rushed off towards another gathering of statues and busts. "Nonsense, just keep searching for anything else out of place," she quelled, "Have we looked over the carvings and sculptures yet? What about the-"

"QUEEN MOON!" McMera yelled, silencing the rest of the Vault, all eyes turning to her and her queen. "T-thank you. Uhm...M-my Queen, this- this artifact is a category four, and we have procedures in place in the event of its loss, so we should be focusing our effort on retrieval before inventory."

A collection of whispers from nobles and RATs alike washed over the vault. A records officer putting fieldwork over inventory? Losing an artifact? Giving the Queen orders? All eyes shifted to Moon, waiting for an answer.

Moon stood rigid in place, her attention locked on the marble sculptures before her, but she knew everyone was staring at this point, especially after such an outburst. Slowly turning around, she pressed her hands together and gave McMera a thin, choked smile. "When our ancestors sealed it away, hundreds of years ago, it was not in fear that it would be used against us, but that it would be used by us," she explained, slowly pacing closer to her guard, the room quiet enough to hear McMeras heartbeat.

"We sealed it away to keep people from dying at its use. Using the artifact is a fruitless, suicidal effort, and every single soul that has tried to harness its very limited use has been met with a remarkably early demise. So it is with considerable confidence that I assure you all," she addressed the nobles around her, "that there is no danger in this unfortunate loss, category four or otherwise."

"And what if they have a way around that?" McMera pushed, standing before the Queen without pause, "What if Toffee found a way to use it without dying? Or if they plan on using it for something worse? If nothing else, it's a piece of our history!"

All eyes went back to Moon, who remained carefully expressionless against such a notion. "The Tear only has one use, and there is no way to negate its effects. We have tried," she explained almost as though she had done so before, "There is no if, for whether or not they plan on using it; I am quite sure they do. But given that it will cost them at best, several of their lives, I say let them keep it until they've all had a go. We have more important things to worry about, and a suicide artifact is quite, low on my list. Does the crow speak in two tongues?"

Moon's annoyed tone betrayed her, and a rapidly withering McMera nodded meekly, subconsciously hiding behind her stack of reports. Taking that silence as an affirmation of her point, Moon then turned to the nobles gathered around. "In the meantime, I want to be sure we have no real threats to worry about. That means a reinforced checkpoint at every entrance to the city, to include sewer outlets and livestock grazing grounds. Guards posted at every garrison, and around-the-clock watch. Understood?" She was asking the room, but every single soul present nodded as though she had been speaking to them personally.

"Now, I would like to know, in addition to what else was stolen, how exactly not one, but two troops of enemy forces infiltrated the city grounds and the castle walls." Her stare was collected and calm, but the suddenly uneasy guards knew well who would be the first to blame. "I can excuse an infiltration by the Zryne, with little to no preparation on our part, but if we do already have the 'why', there must be some way we were caught so off guard by such a simple show of force."

Her gaze was avoided en mass, even some of the higher nobles shifting in place. The seconds of uncomfortable silence rolled by, and just as Moon was ready to buckle down for a more serious inquisition, a voice finally answered, one she knew well.

"They've been watching us, that's how," Reynard called out, "have been for a couple of weeks, I'd assume. While we've been resting on our wounds and licking our laurels, Toffee hasn't ceased his efforts to destroy us, and they've only just made a move." He came to a stop beside Moon, his head half-wrapped in spelled cloth, and gave a small smirk to a blushing McMera before addressing the other nobles.

"The Zryne can infiltrate just about anything, but Rasticore? That big clunker came in full force, stronger than we've ever seen him, and they knew exactly where we'd be, what we were doing, who would be here-," he had to refrain from spitting on the ground at the mention of Rasticores name, and cautiously refrained from any more. "We thought running would save us, but they've had their eyes on us this whole time."

"Yes, I remember Rasticore well, one of Toffees lead Generals," Moon noted, the room still watching with detailed interest, "but he was never quite this strong, nor were his forces. To have slipped through our detection spells and guards, and to have even gotten to this dimension at all…" she trailed off.

Reynard nodded and folded his arms, leaning against a large crate of documents. "The last time we fought, I made the mistake underestimating that snake. With everything they've just thrown at us, I can't help but feel that they had ample time to plan around our every countermeasure."

A collection of whispers and murmured assent weaved through the group of nobles and guards, before one asked, "what exactly are you suggesting? That we've gotten sloppy and careless?"

"No, quite far from that, actually," Reynard answered, now carrying even Moons undivided attention, "Defeat has taught us to be careful. What I'm suggesting is that Toffees forces may be too well-informed for coincidence, and too bolstered for us to ignore. I'm suggesting they might have had help from an elusive third party to execute a strike such as this."

As he waited for the room to settle from its sudden uproar of surprise and fear, Reynard took notice of Moon's change of posture, from collectively neutral, to abrasively rigid. With a stringent tone, she spoke above the crowd. "Thank you for your perspective, Reynard. However, I will be directing our very limited resources toward the rebuilding and restructuring of our defense, as it would seem to be a prominent requirement...despite our previous assumptions."

McMera looked between Moon and Reynard, the latter of which had donned a look of stymied surprise. The nobles took to muttering amongst themselves as Reynard began, "Queen Moon, surely you don't intend to simply brush the possibility of a-"

"That's enough, Reynard. We will speak when the crow leaves its nest," Moon eyed him with purpose, shutting him up immediately at her intended words, "and as for you, McMera?" The woman in question stiffened at the mention of her name as Moon moved around a silent Reynard to address her properly. "You and your RAT detail are to remain here. Continue to comb through whatever evidence you might find, as well as the remaining items, and you are to report to me- only me -the moment your team discovers anything. Am I clear?" She asked for the second time that night.

McMera adjusted her glasses and gave a short, dutiful nod. "Crystal clear, My Queen."

Moon then turned to the assembled group of nobility, knights, and servants. "The rest of you: Out. No one enters this vault or leaves without my expressed permission, save for McMera's team. Sir Stabby, post a guard detail outside the training chambers and the spellbook room, in addition to the lockdown already in place. The rest of you, we will reconvene in the main hall for questions and deliberation."

"Yes, my Queen!" The knight and guards recalled before ushering out nobles and non-essential servants alike, to some protest. As Moon watched them go, Reynard stood idly by her side, McMera taking to directing her team. With a low voice, he asked, "And what of me, Moon? What shall I-"

"You are to return to your quarters for the night, Reynard," she interrupted shortly, and with finality, not even turning to look at his shocked expression, "you're injured, and you need rest. We can talk about what you've brought to my attention once you're feeling better."

She made to leave, but Reynard moved to stand in her way, his eyes suddenly alight with a fierce determination. "Moon, my family made the mistake of not taking one of Toffees 'prods' seriously, and now myself and Etheria are all that's left. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not lose my only remaining relatives to the same monster."

He felt his point carried weight, but Moon simply moved around him as though he hadn't spoken at all. "That is precisely why I want you out of this," she muttered over her shoulder as she slowed to a stop, "You've been in enough of this sort of mess, and it's cost you much of your young life. We can talk later, but talk is all we will do. I'm well aware of the implications you've presented, so trust that I will handle them accordingly. Good night, Reynard."

As Moon walked away, Reynard stood there, defeated. To feel so desperately that they were all in danger, only to be told to 'go lie down'? "You know this isn't the end of whatever he's planning, Moon," Reynard called after her, "the first step never is."

Moon stopped and looked back, seeing her young, injured half-nephew staring with eyes that had seen the worst of the world. "You know better than most what he's capable of, Reynard. It's one of my greatest regrets. But for now? I just need you to rest, and trust that I will handle it; with your help when you're ready."

Reynard didn't say anything back, just slowly nodded and left the vault in a rush. Moon watched him leave, and with every step he took, she felt the sting of regret carry her own words back into her mind. But that was another time, in another world… and there was nothing to be done for the boy that she hadn't done already.

So, smoothing herself over, she headed for the main hall, hoping to make good on her recent promise, and begin preparing for the worst. When she pushed her way through the ornate, carved doors, however, she was met with a sight she hadn't considered a possibility. Every noble, to include Etherea, Piteros, and Saffron, were all collectively silent, patiently waiting for her arrival.

As her footsteps echoed off the marble floors, Moon felt an unusual prey instinct begin to tick on the back of her neck. She was being watched with excess scrutiny by the attending party, and it was no guess as to why: Blame. Someone had to carry it, and whether it would be her, a member of nobility, a knight, a guide, or a citizen, she knew that she had to address it before any deliberation could begin.

"Preceding any discussion as to what actions we will take moving forward, I would like to express my condolences to the households present. We lost six loyal servants to the Butterfly family today, and we have suffered a catastrophic blow to our sense of security, pride, and principle. You all put your trust in me, when I decided upon relocating to this dimension, so it is undeniable that I alone will carry the fault for allowing such a thing to happen."

After she finished, Moon paid little regard to the blank stares and nearly inaudible murmuring, instead clearing her throat once before continuing. "Moving forward, I believe-"

"Just how stupid do you believe we are?" A male voice asked from the back of the crowd. Moon, being used to such outbursts from her daughter, simply waited as the nobles parted, revealing a slender, very well dressed man stroking his beard and eying her with contempt.

"In regards to you, Lord Parcival, I can only say that I compare your intelligence to that of a monster: meager at best," Moon returned, watching him with little interest. Several of the nobility snickered at the retort, but Lord Parcival wasn't one of them.

"You're compliment does not go without my gratitude, my Queen," he mocked with a bow before adding, "as it was none other than the monsters who swept in under your watch, stole your trinket, killed our men, destroyed your ballroom, and made off with little more than a few harsh words." He stepped closer, weaving through the parting crowd and addressed Moon without his prideful sneer. "I ask again, how stupid do you think we are, that you expect us to believe the blame lies not with your troublesome daughter who galivanted into enemy territory and slain scores of Toffees men, but instead… with you?"

For the second time that evening, Moon stood in a silent room full of subjects staring at her and waiting for something. The only difference was that this time, she cared little for the self-indulgent, pompous, and arrogant man standing before her. She let out a shaky, barely controlled breath and answered with her usual, collected tone. "My daughter was visiting a dimension known to Mewmans as a popular tourist destination, and defended herself against an active threat, Monster or not. As reigning Queen, it is my responsibility to keep the people safe, and-"

"And you're doing a fabulous job at that, my Queen," Parcival interjected, "but one cannot ignore the coincidental timing of the princess being allowed unrestricted use of the wand, and a sudden, violent attack on our very borrowed soil. So, if I may be so bold, Moon, what do you plan to do to alleviate the situation?"

Though they couldn't tell, Moon was a hairsbreadth from closing the gap between herself and Parcival if only to rearrange his smug, vile man's face. It would solve nothing, of course, being that he had already made his point clear to the other nobility, but Moon wished dearly for the chance. "If his Lordship doesn't mind," Moon began, forming a thin smile, "that was the topic of discussion before you so rudely, insubordinately, interrupted me. My daughter, for the time being, is not only out of your concern, but out of this discussion. I will handle her with strict discipline-" Parcival drew a breath to speak, but Moon slammed a closed fist down onto the arm of her throne, silencing the snake. "-on my own terms. Now, if you please: Fall. In. Line."

Despite ultimately having to concede to her will, Parcival smiled, having made his view known, both spoken and unspoken. Without another word, he stepped back in line with the other nobles.

"Now then, to the topic of discussion, should there be no more interruptions. The Butterfly Royal Tournament," Moon said, mentally preparing for another sleepless night of deliberation. It wouldn't be the first or the hundredth, but now more than ever it wasn't a choice she was able to make.

"You do still intend on hosting the tournament, yes?" Etherea asked, an eyebrow cocked in Moons direction. It came to no surprise that she would oppose a postponement of the games, her family having once been a dominating team for years. At her inquisition, Moon let out a brief sigh and shook her head. "No."

The entire main hall was suddenly in an uproar, with a clear divide between hosting, and canceling the tournament. Moon expected this sort of reaction, so above the shouting matches she called out, "Not yet, at least. Right now we have more important things to…" her voice trailed off, lost in the commotion.

"Why would we host the tournament at such a dire time," Piteros yelled, "if nothing else, it would serve only to distract us from the real issue that we are no longer safe here!"

"Queen Moon, hosting the tournament now isn't feasible," another man called out from the rear, "we are in a strange land we barely know, surrounded by strange people that don't know, or particularly like us, and we have just been attacked. We. Are. Vulnerable."

Moon nodded, finding the idea quite agreeable, but more opinions came showing her way from the nobles, each split between absolute disagreement, and a near insatiable urge to host. Both sides had valid points, however, and she wasn't sure if either would be convinced before the night was over. On one hand, they were vulnerable, the attack had made that much clear. Whether or not relocation was an option was still a long way off, but at the same time, perhaps the people needed something to ground them during the chaos of the attack.

"Our people need some reassurance that we aren't so weak as to take a strike like dogs: on our backs, cowering from a threat!" Etherea shouted back. Moon found herself surprised to be actually agreeing with her cantankerous aunt, albeit somewhat, but her focus was not on the conversation anymore. Rather, it was on Parcival, who continued to stroke his red beard with a contented smile.

"And what of the princess?" Lady Jaster called out from the back, "surely her actions precipitate a need for review! Are we to assume that she has brought us back into the war, only for us to squabble over a tournament when-"

"ENOUGH!" Moon was through listening, every attendant falling silent under her suddenly overwhelming glare. "I will not repeat myself again: my daughter is out of this discussion."

"How can you say that with such confidence? At best, she should be reprimanded for-"

"If her discipline is such a prominent talking point then I shall start with this: she will not be permitted to take part in the tournament, and will instead be allowed only to attend," Moon snapped, waiting for some sort of argument. But as the seconds rolled by, none came. Only Etherea stood to speak.

"So...you will be hosting the tournament then? Despite these other fools' derivative complaints?" Moon stood there, for a moment too conflicted to answer. Even Parcival seemed to be fully attentive in her deliberation. "Before we make a decision, I believe I should make my current stance clear," Moon began, her voice tired from the long night, which showed no signs of ending soon. "I would prefer we postpone until we are sure our defenses and people are secure, and we are no longer under the watch of a hostile, monster power."

In the wake of her voiced opinion, there were some murmurs of agreement, but they were short-lived before the arguing started up again. "Moon, we really don't have a choice. Think logically: we've been attacked, that much is inarguable. But, suppose the tournament could be used as a distraction, we could have more events, more competitors, we may even allow humans to attend. Imagine how quickly the people will forget what's happened when we feed them "'the Tournament of the century'!"

"Heartrude?" Moon asked, deadpanned. The younger noble who had been speaking stood at his name, smiling up at the queen without a care. "Yes, My Queen?"

"How quickly could we organize a new event for every day of the week? And how soon would we be able to localize a playing field, considering outside attendance?"

A few ticks rolled by as Heartrude ran the numbers in his head, working out everything from cost to concessions. As she waited, Moon made a mental note to thank her family's gene pool for such a studious young man, despite his outspoken shortcomings.

"We could have everything ready by Sunday evening, for the tournament to be held beginning Monday morning," he finally answered. "This is, of course, factoring in outside assistance, should we contract Earth-land for the venue."

Like a magnet, Moons drew all eyes to her as she summoned a Records officer, one of McMeras subordinates, Halsen. "By governing power of the Crown, I hereby decree that the Royal Butterfly Tournament will be held on schedule, wherein Earthlings will be permitted attendance, and guides shall be permitted both attendance and competitor status. Funds will be allocated from the treasures reserve, Lady Locus will be in charge of adverts and admittance, Sir Heartrude will oversee venue and schedule formatting as well as event registration. Lord Parcival will direct prize issuance, and will allocate manpower for event security."

Surprisingly, at her decree, no one spoke, and those addressed merely returned with nods. Even Parcival seemed to acknowledge his duty with stoic regard. By the time she was finished, Moon was merely waiting for someone to voice their clutched opinion. So when a moment had passed without more than a cleared throat, she opted to accept it as reality.

"I'm happy that we were able to reach a unanimous agreement, or rather, that some of you are satisfied to coast with the one that was made," she began, stepping down from the throne to address the court more...personally. "Toffee means to scare us into submission, or worse, prod at our shell in the hopes that we crack under the pressure. And I will admit, we have cracked... But we are far too strong a people to let our enemy know when we are afraid. And where he seeks to divide us through fear, we shall only come together, stronger and more resolved than ever. This tournament will be our proof of that, a testament to that strength and vitality our people must see we haven't lost. 'Go forth and have your tournament', one might say. For, in the end, it will prove a bulwark against the shadows and those who lurk within it.

At the end of her closing statement, a few nobles managed a meager clap, but it was paltry compared to the fanfare Etherea and Heartrude produced on their own. "Four long years since our last tournament, and we will make it something to remember!" Heartrude shouted, earning a smile from several other nobles.

"What the people will remember is that we contended alongside the humans," Parcival spat, "I look forward to hearing of the people's receipt of your decision, Queen Moon. For better or worse."

Reynard, who waited in the shadows just outside the doors of the hall, answered under his breath, "Just as a snake would say, I stand beside you when you fail if only to hold you down." He hated Parcival with more reason than most, and now he felt a similar distaste for the entire collection of nobles in that room. The idea of the tournament being put back on for the first time since… 'It's complete horse shit,' he seethed.

For Queen Moon, hell, even his own granny Etheria to forget why the Tournaments were discontinued in the first place made him sick to his stomach. Four long years of war, years fraught with death and loss, they were good reasons that weighed against everyone's hearts then. But in the end, he knew it was an eventuality for them to return, despite his voiced opinion and the seemingly forgotten history of the last four years. "I will not give in so easily to a hastily decided plan to distract,' he thought, turning to leave in a huff, 'my family will not be brushed aside without challenge, and the people will rage against their insulted memory.'

Too lost in his own vows, he rounded a corner on that thought, and bumped face first into River. However, only Reynard fell to the floor, the king's chest as sturdy and sound as the walls around them. To make matters worse, Reynard wore his worst glare to meet the King's whimsical grin. "Oh! My apologies, River, I was just on my way-"

"Young man, do not insult my intelligence as many of our other relatives have and do. I raised your cousin," River interrupted, offering a hand to help Reynard to his feet, "I know what 'up to no good' looks like, as well as what an 'I spied on an upsetting conversation' face looks like! Spying leads only to crying, dear boy!"

Reynard started to make an excuse to defend himself, but lost all steam the moment he realized how foolishly like Star that would have been. "I'm aware, Uncle River. I know I shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but…" he trailed off, looking for that anger that had kept him warm moments ago. But even thinking of Parcival's smug grin brought about none. Only cold, unfeeling sadness filled his chest as he slumped against the wall, his eyes downcast to the tile. "Queen Moon means to host the Royal Butterfly Tournament. And the rest of those- those nobles, they just gladly accepted it without fare. It's as if they've all forgotten… why we all had to change so drastically."

River slowly donned an expression akin to remorse before answering softly, "Oh...I see. Well, I'm sure she has a good reason for making her decision. Despite what many, including yourself, may think, she feels the most responsibility for what happened, you know. I scarcely believe she's forgotten."

Reynard, despite his unwillingness to relent, found himself nodding at the idea that Moon was somehow responsible, or should have even felt in such a way. All she was due to answer for, was hosting the tournament and ignoring how it was her who had ordered it to be discontinued in the first place. "I apologize for intruding, I know it's not my place to listen in, or argue against her decision. I'll see myself to my quarters for the evening, if there's no other use for me," he said with sharp finality before making to leave. But River grabbed his arm, holding him in place with a firm but somehow still gentle hand.

Reynard tried to brush him off, but before he could react, the King had pulled him into a Johansen style bearhug, nearly squeezing the life out of him. "My boy, I can only imagine how hard it must be to see the tournament's return. After everything that's happened," River began, his hug not waning. "And I'm sorry that you have no say in the matter against it, but you must realize that your family, our family, would want nothing more than to see you doing what you were born to do: nothing less than the absolute best. What say you prove it to them, and honor our families wishes?"

Reynard managed to squirm out of the shorter king's embrace and, even in the dark light, had a hard time hiding his offending blush. "I-it's fine, River. But I think- …I think my efforts would be better spent elsewhere. I'm not quite sure what my family would want of me, but I'll rest better knowing...someone still remembers; still cares for them."

"We all cared for them, Rey. Still do, but nothing can be changed about what's brought us here. We can only look to the future and build it with our past in mind!" The king gave Reynard a slap on the back, but it wasn't well-received, the young Viscount just nodding, his mind somewhere else. Despite his love for the king, River was daft to think he'd partake of the tournament, especially after such an attack. "My future…," Rey spat, his expression darkening, "my future was robbed from me four years ago. And unlike the people in that room, I won't forget so easily."

River made to offer some other sort of advice or condolences, but Reynard quickly snapped his coat back into place before trudging off down the corridor to the upper quarters. Under his breath, all he had to mutter was, "Enjoy your games, because I'll be as far away from them as possible."

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

"Hooookay, so that six stands, juuuuust abooouuut set up," Star rolled, jotting down a hastily scribbled note on her report, "I give it maybe till noon, and they should be done!"

Marco traced her steps, but his eyes were wide open and focused on the Tournament grounds around them. So far, workers had built five and a half sets of wooden stands for the event patrons, with banners hanging from the center of each stand to represent each of the noble houses of Mewni. Organized in a hexagonal shape, the stands all faced the center field, a large pasture of dirt and grass cleared for the coming events, with a larger watchtower built between House of Sun and Fayerin Court for the Royals to view.

"When did-...how did you guys build this so fast?" Marco found himself wondering out loud, "I was here like, yesterday and none of this was up." Star, not looking up from her report, offered only a quick shrug as she checked another item off her list, giving a thumbs up to the Mewman hammering away on the scaffolding. "Make sure your harness is on tight, Fredo!" She yelled, waving him goodbye.

The two continued to walk around the grounds as she suddenly answered, "Is it really such a far stretch? I mean, we did build the castle and the city in a week. What're a few bleachers overnight?"

"Yeah, but aren't you the one with the wand? I thought your mom built the castle with magic." Marco found himself looking back at the ornate and imposing Castle Butterfly, which stood looming close by. Star, again, offered only a shrug, and kept walking, dutifully inspecting every nail on the stands. "Nope. Built with nuthin' but the sweat of a Mewmans brow. *cough* andsomemagic. OH! Marco, Look! They're bringing out the KillJoust this year!" Marco followed her pointed eye and saw a mechanized horse with several barbed and gleaming lances protruding from its chest and muzzle.

"Isn't it awesome?!" Star yelled, "I thought they had it scrapped because it killed a guy a few years ago, but I guess the games are going off with a bang huh?" She turned to face Marco, expecting an equal or greater level of excitement, but was met with a mortified, pale stare.

"R-right! Yeah, that looks like something cool to watch...from a hundred yards away…," he murmured, but Star was quick to calm his nerves. She grabbed his shoulder and pointed him towards the watchtower, which currently sat guarded with a small squad of knights, and grinned. "You'll be up there with me, so no worries about the KillJoust coming to get ya. Mama Stars gonna keep you nice and alive for our next...friendship Thursday."

Immediately, Marco's cheeks burned, as he quickly sought to change the subject. "You aren't competing? You sounded so excited, I thought for sure you'd enter this thing." He watched as Star's expression fell to a look of begrudged dismissal.

"I was...but after Mejoga, and last night, my mom basically gave me two options: no leaving the castle and no Marco for a week, or no Tournament. You can guess which one I picked," she prompted, giving him a gentle smile. But Marco wasn't smiling back. Somehow, he felt like it was his fault that Star had gotten into so much trouble lately, besides her being the driving force for so many of their adventures. Again, he found himself looking to change the subject to something a little loaded.

"Speaking of last night," he began, watching as Star kicked some of the field's dirt, finding it satisfactory, "how uh...how about that dance? I don't think I've ever done something like that at a ball before. And I've been to some balls."

"Ooooohohooooo, I bet you haaaave," Star cooed, playfully cupping his cheek. She stopped when she felt her cheeks starting to roast, and quickly dove back into her progress report, noting Lady Whosits increased security. "Anyways yeah, Marco, we were literally dancing on air, it was the most magical dance I've ever had, and I'm a magical princess from another dimension for corn's sake!"

"Ooooohohooooo, I bet you aaarrrree," Marco mocked, pinching her heart stamped cheek before she effortlessly shoved him to the ground with a snort. "I'm serious, ya goof! That was such an amazing night until Lizard Breath showed up to crash the party," Star finished with a scowl, personally offended that Rasticore had interrupted her amazing night with her guide.

Marco climbed back to his feet and dusted himself off, adding, "Yeah what was that about? I thought Krunt was tough, but this guy just walked in mopped the floor with us, and then he peaced out like it was nothing."

"Wellllll," Star mulled over her words, absent-mindedly flipping through her pages, "my mom found something out, and it kinda has to stay a secret for now, so don't tell this to anyone else okay?" She waited until Marco had nodded his assent before continuing, "He was just playing with us, Marco. He was trying to distract everyone while those guys that knocked out Reynard stole some artifact from the Repository."

"The what?" Marco asked with a confused look.

Star huffed like it should have been common knowledge, but nonetheless explained. "It's a really big vault where we keep reports like this one, documents, treasure, art, historical pieces, annnnnd really powerful, magical artifacts."

Marco was suddenly far more uneasy, thinking of fighting Rasticore when the villain had a magical weapon even the Mewmans kept locked up. "What uh...what does it do?" he asked, but Star answered with a shrug. "Dunno, mom wouldn't tell me. But some of the Repository guards are saying it's super-duper dangerous, and others are saying it's useless. Either way, Rasticore made off with something of ours, and a lot of people would sleep better at night if we got it back."

"Woulda been easier to keep him from running away if Tom had been there to actually help us, instead of just vanishing…" Marco found himself grumbling out loud, but to his surprise Star agreed.

"Yeah…I don't like how he suddenly disappeared when things got dicey," she mused, donning an air of scrutiny, "but, I'm trying to stay optimistic like you said. He probably just got mad at whatever my mom told him and went home. It would explain why he's not answering any of my calls."

"Was he that mad that we danced? Didn't like, a bunch of other guides dance too?" Marco asked as Star jotted down some notes about the 'corncession' stalls.

"Well yeah, but you gotta admit, Marco, we weren't dancing like everyone else. We had our own thang goin' on," Star giggled. "Besiiiides, he'll get over it when the tournament starts and he gets to mill around up here. He used to be a huge fan of them back before the war."

Marco made to comment on how he would never have pegged Tom as a big fan of sports, but before he could speak, a slim, purple-haired man approached them from the stands, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Little Star! How lovely to see you here, and…what do you have there?" Heartrude was pointing at Stars clipboard with a curious, but fearful look in his eyes. "You wouldn't happen to be running a report for her majesty, would you? Because, and I'm ashamed to say, we are running a bit behind schedule."

Marco glanced around at the near-perfectly organized Tournament grounds and had to wonder what 'on schedule' would have looked like, but he held his tongue. Star, sensing the moment, licked her thumb and pawed through the checklist, eying Heartrude every once in a while. "Hrrrrrmmmm. Moms not gonna be happy to hear thaaaat," she mused, pursing her lips, "I'd sure hate to have to be the one to tell her things aren't-"

"Ahhh, blackmail is it?" Heartrude asked, "Very well! I shall let Lady Locus know that you and Marco here are entitled to as many corn shakes as you desire -for your...cooperation of course."

"Hmmmmm, I suppose...Marco, what do you think?" Star asked with her chin in her hand. Marco was quick to answer, "I believe we can be convinced to omit any discrepancies."

Heartrude gave them a beaming smile and shook each of their hands respectively. "Glad to hear it! A fine queen you'll make one day, Princess. A cutthroat deal broker as well!" Star offered a shrug and a grin, but refused to disagree with his point before another visitor walked up, grabbing Heartrude by his shoulders and pointing him back to the stands.

Lady Whosits smiled at Star and Marco before twisting Heartrudes arm, shoving him off as she huffed, "So sorry to steal him from you, but Lord Heartrude here is needed, Parcivals orders."

"What's he need Uncle Heartrude for?" Star asked, noting the unalarmed expression on his face and feeling her shoulders untense.

"Who's Parcival? Like, The round table guy?" Marco asked, "Lotta King Arthur stuff with you guys." All parties present excluding himself gave him a confused look before brushing off his comment, Lady Whosits answering, "just some security questions, a few budget concerns, that kinda stuff."

Star found herself giving Heartrude a quizzical glance, but once again he brushed it off, gesturing for them to follow. And so the four of them walked towards a small tent tucked beside Sky Castle's stands. Under the canvas shade sat a modest desk strewn with papers and contracts, with a familiar man sitting behind it. Looking up at the odd collection of people, Lord Parcival gave Whosits an accusatory, bored stare. "I do believe I only requested Heartrude's presence. To what do I owe...the pleasure, miss Butterfly."

Marco noted the way the man seemed to spit out her name, like if it put a foul taste in his mouth, but Star didn't seem to mind. She simply flashed her clipboard and grinned, answering, "It's Princess Butterfly, actually. And I'm doing a report on your progress so far. Which, if I'm being honest, doesn't look like much."

"Oh really?" Parcival stood, spreading his hands over the table, "Allow me to enlighten you on my, progress." As effortlessly as turning a single page, Parcival had collected, organized, and spread a list of documents, each sealed with his own blue diamond wax stamp. "We're thirteen percent under budget, both in regard to asset delivery and acquisition. We shall need an increase in security by six hundred percent to fill the spaces left by lockdown procedures and to cover the surplus in attendance. Furthermore, due to a surplus of attendance, we shall need to reorganize and redistribute sales and advertisements as directed by these reports, given our strict time frame until day one of the tournament. To close, I formally request what I have listed thus far, as well as an increase in the scheduling department's manpower."

Star stood blank, staring at him. No one else said a word as Parcival sat back down and stroked his beard absent-mindedly, giving Star a bored look. "Do run along and tell Mother dearest what I require to run these games, and leave the adult work to those that carry the responsibility to see them through. And don't dally with these documents," he finished, stacking his own reports and handing them to Star.

"R-right, I'll get these...to Queen Moon," she stammered, turning on her heels and promptly leaving the canvas shade, Marco quickly following behind. When they were certain they were out of earshot and eyesight, Star stopped and collected the new papers into her own compilation, Marco asking her "So seriously, who the hell was that?"

"Just an old jerkface who thinks he can run the kingdom better than my mom. Every castle has one," she answered, turning and scowling at the still rustling tent flaps.

"Is that why you corrected him to call you Princess? I know you usually don't go in for titles," he grinned at her, noting the way she narrowed her eyes at the tent before falling back to her usual chipper self.

"Definitely. You give jerks like that an inch, and they take an hour."

"It's a mile, Star, but I get the point," corrected Marco, before both of them broke out in a fit of giggles.

When they'd laughed themselves into a contented silence, Star perked up, "Hey, I gotta take these up to my mom, my report's about done anyway. You wanna come with, and after we can go grab some of those corn shakes?"

Marco rubbed the back of his neck, finding himself taking a step away from her. "I actually kind of want to go check out the stables, I haven't really seen a warnicorn since that day you almost ran me over." He noticed Star's prolonged stare, and the way her lips were curled into that 'really?' position. "Okay…that and maybe your mom scares me a bit after Friday night."

Star dropped her stare and laughed, shuffling her stack papers as the two watched a cart full of lumber rumble past. "It's alright, Diaz. She scares lots of people. I'll meet you down by the stables then after-"

"No no, I'll uh...I'll come up in a few, just wait for me, okay? Won't take too long to gawk at horses," Marco proposed, still rubbing the back of his neck. Star slowly nodded and took a careful step towards the castle. "Warnicorns', Diaz," she corrected, "And alright, I'll see you...up there in a little bit."

With that, Star made her way up and into the castle, following the familiar blue carpeted steps she always did whenever she found herself trudging up to Moon's office, whether for permission or forgiveness. And when she pushed open the ornate office door, finding her mom sitting patiently at her desk, Star smiled cordially and presented her now-hefty report.

"And what did you learn from taking on such a task as this?" Moon asked after reading the documents, "what would you say you took away from today's experience?"

"That I now have a new respect for you, and you dealing with people cr- nonsense, all day," Star answered definitely, "But, I also learned that I can tooootally handle a bit more responsibility around the castle."

"Yyyessss," Moon found herself actually agreeing, "Despite that, you saw fit to use glitter and stickers on my official documents… you surprised me today, Star. I suppose it would only be fair to lift your punishment."

Star's eyes lit up like sapphires as she clasped her hands together in joy. "You mean I GET TO COMPETE?!" She screamed, but Moon, without looking up, answered flatly, "No."

"B-but you said-"

"I said your punishment, not my decision to keep you from competing in the tournament," Moon interrupted, folding her hands in front of her, "You did well today, so I am allowing you to once again leave the castle as you see fit, but as for the Tournament, your omission is another matter entirely, and its discussion is off the table."

She expected some level of defiance, or maybe her usual moaning and groaning for things to go her way, but once again Star surprised Moon by conceding to her decision. It was almost enough for her to change her mind. Almost. Star nodded, and with a growing smile, added, "I can handle keeping out of it this time. I'm still a bit rusty, and I guess I should be happy to at least be free to go where I want," she reasoned. "And I mean, as long as Reynard still kicks butt out there, I'm fine with watching. He's gotta be soo excited!"

Moon, however, didn't share in her daughter's enthusiasm, instead only shuffling her new, bedazzled documents and musing aloud, "I haven't actually seen Reynard since Friday evening, and I don't believe he's actually...signed up for the tournament yet."

"Wait whannow?" Star asked, narrowing her eyes at the idea that Reynard wasn't first in line at the signup that morning, "Why? Is he busy with something?"

"Well, dear, he may still be recovering after his brush with...the Zryne," Moon offered, already preparing to dive back into her work, "I would expect him to join in time, if he feels capable when the Tournament commences."

Star only gave her a half-hearted nod, but as she turned to leave, she asked, "Do you think he'd mind if I went up to see how he's doing?"

"Not at all, Sweetheart. I'm sure he'd be delighted with the company. Perhaps you can even bring him something to eat," Moon offered, already ringing for Manfred.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

When Marco pushed open the double doors to the Royal Stables, the first thing that hit him was the smell. It wasn't a bad smell, far from it, but it was unearthly. The scent reminded him of lavender and mandarin orange, and just a hint of cinnamon lingered in the air just out of reach. He exhaled sharply, pleasantly surprised by the mixed aromas, and took notice of the present animals as he headed further in.

There were Warnicorns of varying colors, from bright red, to the deepest black, there were pig goats, Juniper Cows, and to the rear, of course, were horses. And tending to a horse of pearly white and oak brown, was Penelope, as promised. The two had agreed to meet here of all places, at Marco's response to Penelope's odd request that Star not be aware, and as he approached her, Marco began to fully grasp the mood his girlfriend was in.

"Does she know?" Penelope asked without wasting time, not looking away from the exquisite horse she was brushing.

"No, she doesn't know why I'm here," Marco answered, "And why exactly are we meeting in secret in the barn? You realize we could meet like, anywhere else and it wouldn't make a difference." Penelope didn't respond, she just kept on brushing as if he hadn't said a word. It had been less than a minute, and Marco was already losing his patience with something as simple as talking.

"What's up with you? I came down here in secret like you asked, I kept Star out of it like you asked, I even convinced her to meet back at the castle," Marco implored, moving around her to catch her eye, "so why have you been giving me the cold shoulder since yesterday?"

"I'm not giving you anything," Penelope muttered, placing her brush down and giving Marco an ounce more of her attention, "I'm just waiting for you to apologize."

Stunned, Marco managed to ask simply, "Apologize for what? What did I do? You were the one getting into a fight with Star."

"AND WHY EXACTLY-" Penny began, but when her horse started to complain and frit in place, she smoothed back down and met Marcos stare with a glare of torrid impatience. "And why exactly do you think I got into a fight with her? Do you think I'm just some bitch that loves to engage in senseless arguments over nothing?"

"No, but I also don't understand what could have provoked you like that, we were all literally having a ball- ...unless…" Marco stopped for a moment, deep in thought before his eyes rolled back in realization. "Is this about the guide dance?"

"YES, IT'S ABOUT THE GUIDE DANCE!" Penelope shouted, scaring the horse between them, "Do you think I enjoy watching my boyfriend dance on a cloud with some- with Star?"

Marco groaned aloud. He wanted to argue that neither of them had any control of that, that it had been some outside force of magic that literally swept them off of their feet; but he knew she wouldn't understand. Much less concede to his point of view. So in an effort to satiate her lust for an argument, Marco sighed deeply and met her eyes with spite.

"I'm sorry."

Penelope met his gaze, but she didn't appear moved. "You're sorry for what? Sorry I'm being rude about Star always stealing you away? Sorry for my attitude? Or are you just sorry I noticed?"

"No. I'm sorry that I danced with Star like that, and that I made you jealous," Marco gave her, this time a touch of sincerity added to his words, "When things started getting weird, I should have just stopped dancing. I didnt think about how you might feel about it, and I just went with it. So, I'm sorry for upsetting you."

This time, Penelope seemed to digest his apology with greater interest, until finally she picked up her brush and continued tending to her horse. "You are forgiven. Sorry for being short about it, but you understand why I get so defensive over you, right? I swear she's always got a hold on you."

Marco nodded, absent-mindedly of course, and moved to sit beside her. "Yeah," was all he felt obliged to contribute. For a moment, only the horse made any sound as the two sat in silence before Marco found himself wondering aloud, "So, this is a pretty nice horse, is it yours?"

Penelope stopped brushing and slowly looked up to meet Marco's gaze with complete insult. "His name is Grend, and he's not a 'pretty nice horse'," she mocked, "he's a Vineberd purebred conditioned for speed and stamina above all else. His bloodline stems back six generations in my family and even foals bred from him are worth more than-," Penny stopped when she realized what she was doing, so soon after that all-too alarming porch discussion.

"I mean...yeah, he's a nice horse. You wanna feed him?" She corrected, visibly deflating at having to reduce one of her most prized possessions to 'nice'. Marco, however, was quick to notice, and nodded, standing as Penelope handed him a couple of apples. Quietly, as Grend feasted on the first, he offered, "Please, tell me more. That actually sounds really interesting."

Truth be told, he wasn't overly interested in the specs of Penelope's horse, but seeing her clear effort to tone down her usual antics of pride and pretension was worth plenty. And to say he didn't guilty for many of the events as of late would have been a lie, so when Penelope beamed him a smile and continued to brag about her prized horse, he listened intently.

"Oh my goodness so, he's actually a descendent of one of Queen Festivia's horses, since obviously, she was big on horse races- for the parties of course. And he does this thing where he'll brush his face against your arm, it means he wants some attention." And like clockwork, Grend nuzzled Marco's side, to which the boy eagerly gave out a barrage of pats and pets as Penelope continued.

"Oh man and he's worth more than some of the larger estates in the old spider bite kingdom. People used to come from miles around to see him race, and I even managed to talk Lord Heartrude into letting him compete in the jousting event! Like, how cool is that?! The first tournament in years and he gets to be out there too!"

Marco watched with vested interest nodding where prompted, and actually found himself somewhat captivated by not only Penelope's enthusiasm, but gradually by what she was saying as well. He felt nice, a new, warm feeling in his chest that he hadn't felt in some time. "How old is he? Dude seems pretty strong," he commented, much to Penelope's delight.

"He's the same age as me, so he's kind of middle-aged I guess," she answered, setting down her brush and moving to gather her bridle and saddle, "and the last time he was put to work, he was able to pull two tons of corn sacks for six miles."

Marco whistled in awe, the way the horse's muscles rippled as he was saddled not going unnoticed. "That's pretty amazing."

When Penelope nodded eagerly, a wide, familiar grin on her face, Marco found it hard not to surprise her by pulling her closer and planting a gentle kiss on her nose. "I really am sorry for how things have been going lately. From dinner with my parents, to the ball, to… -just, not too good," he offered, "Maybe we can go for a horseback ride tomorrow before the games start? Just to have a little, quiet date together, you know?"

As Penelope finished tightening Grend's saddle, she flashed Marco a confident, warm smile and answered his proposal with a quick kiss of her own. "I'd really, really love that. And...don't worry about it, Marco. I'm sorry too, for how I've been acting, and for how I can be sometimes. I'm still adjusting to being…a princess of nothing," she finished modestly.

"If you're looking for a title, you can be Princess Penelope, ruler of my heart," Marco offered with a smirk.

"Soooo cheesy," she answered right back, pausing for a moment to think, "but I'll take the deed to those wildlands, as long as you'll have me, Prince Marco, ruler of mine."

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

*knock* *knock*

After rapping her knuckles against the door to Reynard's room, for the sixth time, Star's patience had finally run its course. Carefully holding a tray of Reynard's favorite breakfast, Pork links, and corn biscuits, she leaned up against the frame and called out, "I SURE HOPE YOU'RE DECENT, REY!" before kicking the door nearly off its hinges. After the echo of the crash had died down, Star took her first tentative step into Reynard's room, noticing all of the finer details only the chambermaids and baroness' got to see.

His room was...actually very reminiscent of how Star imagined River would decorate the royal apartments, were he not a married man. Dotted around the left-hand walls were stuffed heads of every creature from Rainbow bison to Poison bear. And nestled between two fireplaces, for whatever reason, was a massive, hand-carved oak bed that stood with as much majesty as the castle itself. Two bears locked in combat were etched into the headboard, with ivy and vines tangled about the posts, topped off by a suspiciously disorganized silk bedsheet.

"Definitely gonna stay away from that…specimen," Star shuddered, letting her eyes drift further about the room. There were weapons of every kind perched where Reynard hadn't already placed racks of armor, and in the center of the room was a rug stitched with various displays of wars against monsters. Star felt a small amount of discomfort, seeing the meticulously patterned images of death and torture, likely a feeling shared by any girl Rey brought home, but as her eyes drifted to the right side of the room, the contrast was like night and day.

There was an indoor canopy of several different species of oak and fern shading a desk that rivaled even the bed, and carved into the trunks lining the walls were rows of bookshelves filled with poetry and epics spanning back generations. Tucked into the corner by the separate balcony was a modest-looking bean bag chair, but despite everything she saw, Star didn't see any sign of Reynard.

The only indication as to where he might have gone, was a rack on the wall missing a longsword, and an empty spot for a chest plate.

"Ohhh, corn, that could be bad," she whispered, setting down her tray on the ornate desk. It was probably nothing, but Star wasn't positive on that. Especially given Reynard's recent brush with a squad of deadly monsters. Hurriedly, she left the room and headed back down to the Queen's office, not bothering to knock before kicking open the door.

"Star, how many times do I have to tell you-," Moon began, but Star barreled right into her office and immediately notified, "Reynards gone."

At first, Moon didn't respond, instead opting to continue rifling through scores of blue diamond stamped documents. When she finally acknowledged her daughter's common form of entry, however, it was with bored dismissal she answered, "I do believe that unlike you these past few days, Reynard has the right to go where he wishes. I hardly blame him for wanting some fresh air."

Star frowned, countering with, "Isn't he supposed to be resting? I'm not a doctor but 'cracked skull' is usually pretty nasty sounding."

Moon sighed and without looking up from her desk, called out to the room, "Mirror, please call Manfred, private line." Immediately, the mirror in her office began to ring before the close-up and oddly disproportionate image of Manfreds face appeared. "Yes, my Queen?" The toad of a man answered.

"Did Reynard say where he might have run off to when he left?" Moon asked, shooting Star a quick but casual glance, "He wasn't in his room so I'm inclined to believe he may have left the castle grounds. Perhaps to see that young woman he's been spending time with?"

Manfred's image disappeared for a moment as he rummaged through some reports or asked questions of out-of-focus guards. Meanwhile, Moon now took to giving Star her full attention as they waited, her tired expression meant to convey everything she wouldn't say. Just when Star was beginning to get uncomfortable, Manfred called out, "My Queen, we actually...don't have any record of young Master Reynard leaving the property, it's likely he's in the castle somewhere."

Moon's eyes widened in a way that was barely noticeable. "Are… are you sure? We're on lockdown, he couldn't leave the premises without checking out."

"I'm sorry, my Queen, but no one has seen him leave, and I've already asked the servants to check the castle for him," Manfred offered, "Is this an emergency?"

Moon paused for a moment before meeting eyes with Star. Shaking her head, she answered, "Not yet. Have the staff continue to check the castle and notify me of what you've found when you're done." Manfred returned with a cordial nod, and the mirror went black.

"Forget what I just told him, could you please go try to find him?" Moon asked Star almost immediately, "I don't like the idea of him getting himself into trouble, given what all of this must be doing to him."

"What like, outside the castle? Do you really think he just left?" Star didn't put it far past Reynard to peace out, even if only to get some fresh air, but there was a lot of world for him to get away to. Moon must have figured that, because onto a slip of paper she began scribbling notes before handing it to Star.

"The spellbook is under lockdown as well, but this pass will get you in. See if Glossaryck might be able to help you find him, and if not, I suppose just keep a weather eye out. He can't have gotten far," Moon offered as Star read the note.

True enough, it was good for one-time access to the now sealed spellbook. Tucking the note into her dress, Star nodded and without further prompt, left the office and frantically dialed Reynard's number. Her footsteps echoed against the marble hallways, and by the time she had made it to the grand entrance, Star had called him twenty-five times, only to get no answer.

Passing by maids that blushed as she asked for the Casanova-like Viscount, and questioning servants that donned looks of worry at his absence, Star found no help from the staff as to Reynard's whereabouts. So when she finally made it to the entrance, Star decided she was wasting time walking, and chose instead to portal to her guide.

With one quick slash of her ivory royal scissors, a magenta rift was cut through the space before her. Star wasted no time stepping in, and when she came out, she found a scene that vexed her to no end.

"Whooooooss a gooood boooyyyy, ohhhh you are! You're a goooood booooyyyyyy," Marco cooed to a Warnicorn with enough scar tissue to paint its face half pink. It's furious eyes burned with pride, but as Marco patted its neck, it would briefly snort in approval, and wait for more.

"Whoooooos agoooooboooyyyyy? Whoo-"

"MARCO!" Star shouted when senses finally came back, "we gotta go, so say goodbye to your friend!"

Marco gave her a confused look, trading a short glance with the imposing warnicorn to his side before asking, "Is something wrong? This sounds like the 'bad things happening' kind of we gotta go." Star made to answer, but before she could utter a word, the small flash of green to her right signaled the presence of someone she had missed when she got to the stables.

"Oh...hey Penny, I didn't know you were here too…," Star murmured. Penelope didn't respond. She only continued brushing her horse as though no one had spoken, much to Star's annoyance. Marco, sensing the promise of an awkward confrontation, thankfully stepped in the fill the gap both girls would inevitably create. "She's in trouble too, so she got put in charge of stable duty. And she's still kinda upset about that," he offered.

Star seemed satisfied with that answer for the most part, and ignoring Penelope's cold shoulder, directed her attention back to Marco. "It is a 'bad thing happening' kind of morning. Reynard's gone, and he won't answer his phone. No one knows where he is and...I'm honestly a little worried."

"You don't think he might just be off with Amanda or something?" He asked, but Star was quick to let out a deep sigh. "I asked her, she uhm… they broke up...apparently. Something about, 'men all being the same, and not knowing why she wastes her time with the gender'?"

Marco drew breath to offer some ideas, but Penny piped up, picking up on the ominous signs. "When did they last see him?" She asked, not looking away from her horse. Star traded a short glance with Marco before answering, "Manfred says the kitchen staff served him breakfast last night at two, and no one's seen him since."

"Maybe if he and Amanda had a falling out, he might be doing something to fix it?" Marco wasn't sure if that quite fit Reynard's modus operandi, but it was worth a shot. "F'only you thought like that all the time," Penelope grumbled, to deaf ears.

Star shook her head, and stood there awkwardly before the two. "I'm worried because he was acting really weird after the attack. And with a head injury, he shouldn't be anywhere but resting. I need help to find him, and you know the area better than me, Marco."

The boy in question started to answer, but as if in pained betrayal from his own body, he stopped, and found himself looking towards a now still Penelope. Without turning around, she growled, "As much as I would love to have Marco spend time with his girlfriend, Reynard might actually need some help. So, go. But no. Funny shit. Star."

Star visibly shrunk into herself ever so slightly at the jab, and it was plain to Marco what her thought process would have been. Instead of a real answer, Star simply nodded to herself and cut an aquamarine portal shimmering with refractions of magenta, waiting patiently as Marco said his goodbyes to his girlfriend before stepping back for Marco to go through first.

When the two emerged on the other side, they found themselves standing at the end of a dimly lit hallway. In front of them stood a door braced with sheets of iron, with a purple sheen almost invisible in the poor light. Star stepped up to it first and knocked loudly before a small slit hissed open in the center of the door, with two narrow eyes staring back out at her. "State your purpose, present parties, and authorization code!" A gruff man barked.

Star took out her small note and answered back, "We need to speak with Glossaryck. Star Butterfly, and Marco Diaz. Cirrus."

The slit immediately slid shut, and the door clanged with the sound of locks being opened. Half a minute went by of grunts and heavy metal being moved before the door finally began to groan open, dragging a score of marks into the stone floor. Marco stood and watched as the heavy door stopped halfway open, and an armored Mewman guard stepped out, a spear gripped and ready in his hands.

"You may enter, but the boy is not permitted," the man ordered, to which Marco nodded and took a step back. Star traded a short glance with him to assure his compliance before entering the room before them, two more guards posted on either side of the door. Inside, the walls were braced with two feet of stone and metal bars, and on a marble pedestal in the center, stood the book of spells.

The very old and hastily filled book was closed and locked, likely for the guard's sake, Star figured knowing Glossaryck, and as she waited, the man from the door produced a jeweled key from his neck and unlocked the book. With a *thunk*, the metal lock dropped to the pedestal, and without contact, the book slowly opened. Star continued to wait patiently as the pages fluttered open, finally resting at the center of the book as a small blue man floated out from the spine.

"Princess Star Butterfly," Glossaryck addressed her, bowing slightly, "to what do I owe the pleasure? Have you finally come to resume your training?"

Star winced, mumbling back, "ehhhh, not really. Sorry, but I'm here to see if you might have a spell for finding someone who's missing."

The small blue book elf let his smile falter for a moment before he reclined on the air. "Sounds like you are here to get trained then," he proposed, "But I'm inclined to wonder why you need magic to find someone, when you have the castle at your disposal."

"Glossaryck, if Reynard was somewhere the staff could find him, I wouldn't be asking," Star huffed, rolling her eyes, "He could be in trouble, so I kinda have to find him quickly, and I can't portal to him if I don't know where he is."

"Pah, knowing that strumpet of a cousin of yours I doubt he's very far from a woman's bedroom," Glossarcyk suggested, resting against the furled pages of the book. "I may have something you could use to find him," he continued, absentmindedly blowing on his six fingernails and polishing them on his yellow robe. "But it's more advanced than you can handle, and I doubt you'd even be permitted to use it."

Star frowned at him. She knew what he was doing; he was goading her into asking for a dangerous spell, just to watch it blow up in her face later when she abused it. "Almost every moment, is a teachable moment!" she remembered him saying after a particularly bungled spell had singed off both of her eyebrows. But this time, that wasn't going to work. "You're probably right, I should stick to what I know, and what would be safe," Star suggested, leaning against the pedestal and checking her nails, "If you have something less dangerous, maybe a bit lower level, that would probably be best. Besides, I doubt you could teach someone like me a dangerous spell at an advanced stage."

Now it was Glossaryck's turn to frown. "Is that so?"

"Yeeerp," Star followed with a sigh, "I wouldn't want to put you in an awkward position, having to teach me something you can't. Best to stick with the safe stuff, huh?"

Glossaryck Stared at her, his expression blank. 'Does she actually think I can be baited into teaching her advanced spells so carelessly?' He wondered. 'I mean, of course, I will, but honestly, that's just low.' He floated up from the page and eyed Star with a coy smile. "You know that doesn't work on me, right?"

"I know. But I also know you're gonna teach me the spell I want anyways, right?" Star grinned, happy to have won their little cat and mouse game. "Come on Glossy, chop-chop, time's wasting!"

"Alright alright, what you're looking for is the all-seeing eye spell," he explained, donning a more serious expression, "It's dangerous, uses volatile dark magic, and is one of the spells from Eclipsa's chapter of the spellbook."

"Sounds like fun. How do we use it?" Star grinned, looming over the pedestal as Glossaryck turned the pages of the book.

Minutes passed as Marco sat outside the small chamber, the lead guard watching him carefully. Whatever, it wasn't like he was planning on forcing his way in. The guard was probably just looking for something to do that didn't involve sitting in a tiny room with two other dudes. So Marco sat there and waited, and waited, and waited, until finally, the door opened again for Star, walking out with a spring in her step.

She grabbed Marco by the arm and pulled him up as a voice called out from the room, "And be careful around him, Star! All that gallivanting around, the man might have contracted something!"

Marco saw Star roll her eyes and smirk, but he decided not to ask. Instead, he let himself be led through another portal and out into the courtyard, the hot California sun beating down on the cobblestones.

"Alright, now we get down to the bass tracks," Star remarked, producing her wand from her purse and searching for a wide-open space. Marco coughed into his hand and looked over his shoulder at the stables in the distance, offering, "it's 'brass tacks', Star. And what exactly are we doing?"

"Finding Reynard? Have you not been paying attention, my loyal Guide?" Star poked, deeming the spot she had found clear enough to operate on, "But to answer your question, I'm using a spell that will show me exactly where Reynard is, so we can use a portal."

"Annnnnd, we need to use the courtyard... why?" Marco was given pause as Star stood before him, focusing intensely on her stance, and giving small corrections where needed. She only answered, "'Cuz it's a big spell," before inhaling sharply, and beginning the powerful, dark incantation.

"I summon the all-seeing eye," she began, dragging her wand through the air like a paintbrush, the purple, winged bulb staining a river of dark fluid that hung in place.

"To tear a hole, into the sky," Star continued as she finished the circle. The dark energy met to form a ring and began to roll into itself violently like smoke, the ground shaking slightly beneath Marco's feet.

"Unveil to me, that which is hidden," Star whispered, the gem of her wand lighting up lime green, bathing the rolling ring in its brilliance.

"Reveal to me, what is forbidden!" Star was yelling the last line over the rumble of the Earth, but Marco couldn't hear it. The ring of darkness began to ooze a veil of smoke towards the center, cutting off any vision through before the wand suddenly shot a beam of green light in the middle. Like ink spreading through water, the green light turned purple and filled the darkened window until it was solid amethyst.

With an invisible shockwave, the rumbling stopped as the window threw up a ring of dust around it, and everything was still as Marco whispered, "Woah...what the hell is that?"

Star looked back at him and smiled, though she looked visibly fatigued by the effort of the spell. "Just a little bit of daaaark maaaagic," she whispered in a mockingly ominous voice while wiggling her fingers for effect, though Marco didn't find it nearly as funny as her.

"Now, show me Reynard," Star commanded, pushing her wand closer to the window. Marco watched in amazement as it split clean through in a horizontal line, opening to reveal a bulging, yellow eye. It blinked once, and where the pupil had been, now was only a crystal clear image of a young man, fending off attackers with marked fury.

"It's him!" Marco shouted, stepping closer to the ominous portal, "he looks like he's in trou-" Marco didn't get to finish as he placed a hand on the film separating the two and their target. The eye flared open like it was in pain at the touch, and blinked hard. Star grabbed Marco and pulled him back seconds before it opened once more to unleash a hellish explosion that ripped the cobblestone ground to pebbles. Heat rolled over the two for a moment, and Star held Marco to the ground as dark purple clouds of smoke poured through the air.

As the echoing reverberations died down, and the smoke began to clear, Star picked Marco up by his collar and readied her scissors. "Sorry, I should have warned you not to touch the eye… but I figured that much was obvious since it's a giant eyeball," she commented, checking him for injury, " we can fix the crater later, for now, let's just get to Reynard before he gets hurt."

"Crater…?" Marco whispered, turning to look at the courtyard with wide eyes. Where the eye had been floating, now there was only a ten wide and three-foot deep hole smoking with charred rocks. "Ah, alright then...yeah let's go. Now."

"Already on it, Diaz. C'mon!" Star yelled, cutting open a portal shaped like a diamond, hissing with white sparks at its edges. Marco didn't have any time to react before Star grabbed his wrist and dragged him through, the hot sun fading in lieu of a cool, refreshing wind. It was jarring, to say the least; being pulled from one end of the universe to the other, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be used to it. But as always, the first few moments always took his breath away.

The cold wind blowing against his still-warm face wasn't like any breeze from Earth. He could see the air, like small trials of vapor that snaked through the trees around them and curled between his fingers. And tracing them back to their source, he saw a faded, looming ring of stone thousands of feet high on the horizon. Dark clouds were pulled in from behind, and as they were sucked through, they changed to an icy white and split into smaller and smaller wisps of vapor that danced in the wind.

"Is that...a giant air conditioner?" Marco asked, pointing at the stone ring that stood out against the heavens. Star followed his gaze and looked surprised when she took notice of the object in the distance. 'How could you have missed that?!' Marco wanted to ask, but he held his tongue.

"I dunno, actually. I've never been here before," she answered, craning her neck to look around for Reynard, "It probably uses magic though. Because I've been to tons of places and never seen anything like that." Marco nodded, realizing it was probably a non-issue when the sound of clanging metal rang out through the trees around them. It was coming from the direction of the mountainous ring, so after exchanging a short look, Star and Marco took off running for it.

Not long after they began their mad dash, they found the source of the noise in a small clearing a hundred yards away. Reynard stood in what Marco recognized as half-plate armor, his sword drawn and pointed low as he circled a small group of...things. They didn't look like people, or even monsters for that matter. They looked prismatic yet humanoid, with a metallic sheen on every surface, and they stood only three feet tall. Yet they carried clubs and swords, with a clear intent to harm.

Marco briefly looked at Star, as if in question on whether they should intervene, but her focus was on Reynard, watching as one small being charged him, and was immediately cut down with a loud clang of metal.

"Kinda looks like he doesn't need help after all," Marco whispered to Star as Reynard zipped around and between his opponents, dispatching them with blurred swings of his blade. Star watched on with apparent interest and nodded. "Yeah...he's doing great actually, I wonder why he left."

"Maybe he just wanted some fresh...cold air?"

"Oooh or maybe he's training for the tournament," said Star, a little too loudly.

Reynard flicked his eyes toward the two teens hiding by the treeline, and with one fluid motion, cut down the remaining three creatures as if they were paper maché. The two flinched as Reynard stomped hard and spun, flinging his sword at them and lodging it deep into the tree behind them, its pommel squarely between their heads.

Neither said a word, they only watched as the dismembered humanoid's pieces flipped and rolled back together to reform, the confused metallic creatures trudging off. "No. I am not," Reynard growled, approaching Star, "Nor will I ever. That Tournament… Those ridiculous games… They're a stain on my conscience, and I would be far happier if they were erased from history!" He finished that sentiment, inches from Star's face before pulling the sword out from the tree behind her.

As he trudged back to his clearing, the small beings chittering at his return, Star looked over to Marco, finding an equally shocked look on his face.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked, scandalized by his harsh words, "this isn't at all like you, and- hating the tournament is crazy for someone from your family! They were unstoppable!"

Reynard frowned at the mention of both the tournament, and his late family, glaring at Star. "I despise that wretched competition, and I'm the only surviving member of my family. It's amusing how that works, isn't it?"

Star donned a look of consternation, silenced by his grim statement. She knew better than to push her family member on such a touchy subject, but Marco however, wasn't as committed to the idea. From what he could gather so far, he figured the issue here wasn't with the actual tournament, but rather, with what Reynard associated with it. The death of his family, and being one of the only surviving members of it, Reynard likely linked the Tournament with that personal loss, given no other outlet.

"How could you just-" Star began, taking a step closer, but Marco put a hand out and stepped between the two to level with him.

"Reynard, be honest. Is it this tournament thing you're actually mad about, or is it that you're the only one of your family who can still compete?" He offered a sincere look, taking Stars' intended step closer," you should represent them, and carry their memory forward, don't you think?"

Reynard spat on the ground and drew his sword, the metallic beings chittering and readying their own weapons. "Not a chance in the very fires of The Underworld. Now off with the both of you, I have to train for a real fight," he growled, continuing his mock battle.

But Marco wasn't going to let him off so easily, and called out after him, "if your family were still alive, they'd be disappointed in how you're acting."

Even the metallic creatures stopped as Reynard stood dead silent against those words. Marco didn't care. If Reynard was going to get better, he needed to face what was bothering him the most. "A good warrior is strongest in the mind, and noblest in the heart," Reynard had told him once, and it was time to see if he meant it.

Whether or not Reynard knew Marco was simply trying to get a rise out of him to get him to open up about his past was hard to tell. And what the outcome of that prodding would be, was even harder to anticipate. But when Reynard turned to Marco, his sword gripped tightly in his hand, he looked enraged. 'Bingo,' thought Marco, knowing now he was on the right track.

"Do. Not. EVER! Provoke me in such a manner as that, Marco. You are and have been a trusted friend and ally since the day we met. But I have made my position on speaking of my family extensively clear, and I will not tolerate any further discussion on the matter."

"How about you make me…stop…talking about them," Marco floundered, "I'm not leaving without an explanation about what happened, and why you're so scared of talking about it, so if you want me to leave, you better put that sword to use." With one swift motion, Marco drew Silverlight from its sheath, the edges still stained a deep crimson even in the bright daylight.

Reynard simply stared at him incredulously, too stunned to say a word.

'Come on, take the bait,' Marco thought to himself. He knew Reynard needed an outlet, anything to help him stop bottling up his emotions about his family, and it was now or never. Even if the scrap ended with a few scars, Reynard needed to open up, because fighting with the little metal goblin things wasn't going to help.

"Okay, Marco, how about we just all just relax, sit down, and-" Star began, but once again, was interrupted as Reynard scraped his sword against the ground, stepping closer.

"No. If my pupil has an issue with me and deems a fight as a potential solution, I have no qualms with taking up his blade," Reynard growled.

"Marco, getting your butt handed to you isn't gonna fix anything," Star argued, which was odd given that it was usually her starting the fight, but it was true. "You don't have Mewman strength like he does, and he almost beat my dad in a sword fight."

"Even if I lose, he kinda needs this," Marco countered, "To work through some kinks, and we'll be there to help him figure himself out. Just trust me, I've dealt with Janna enough to know when someone needs to vent."

Star met his gaze, and after a moment of contemplation, nodded for him to continue. "Okay. Just, be careful? Both of you. If either of you starts pushing too hard I'm stepping in and freezing you both."

Reynard and Marco both nodded before taking a fighting stance, facing one another. Star moved to sit down on a fallen log, joined by many of the metallic creatures as Reynard mumbled, "When you are beaten, I trust that you'll kindly leave me to wallow in peace. Perhaps we can reconvene another day for 'Burritos', or something of the like."

"Deal," Marco answered, "but after you cool down, you're gonna join that Tournament, one way or another."

Reynard didn't react. There was only a whisper of a breeze before he suddenly darted forward and feigned a strike for Marco's legs, instead pivoting to swing up towards Marcos's wrist. The strike was meant to disarm, had it worked, but steel clanged against steel as Marco blocked the strike and countered with one of his own. After a parry, Reynard put some distance between the two, reevaluating the situation.

"I never taught you that move. You must have been practicing on your off time," Reynard commented as the two circled one another.

"Star drags me all over the multiverse every week… You pick up a few things," he answered, flashing Star a short grin before turning his attention back to Reynard. "Would your family be proud of how scared you are to move on? Would they be proud of what you're doing?"

Reynard blocked a blitz strike for his ribs and swept a leg under Marco, finding only air before rolling to avoid a downward slash. When he came back up, he dodged an unarmed jab and elbowed Marco back as he caught his breath. He looked to Star, and then back to Marco. "Would your family be proud of what you're doing?"

He kicked Marco in the chest, forcing him back against a tree, similar to how Star had caught him off guard at the sleepover and lunged to jab seconds too late. Marco brought up both knees and drove his heels into Reynard's chest, throwing the Viscount back into the clearing. "Yeah, my parents are definitely proud that I could double-dip with two princesses! Why don't you ask your cousin how much she enjoys it?"

"MARCO!" Star yelled, jerking her chin at Reynard and giving her guide a scandalized look, "What the heck?! Why would you say that?"

"Sorry, sorry, my bad, Star!" Marco apologized, shouted over his shoulder as he and Reynard exchanged attack after attack, "Got a little carried away with the goading!"

Reynard took advantage of the distraction and barreled forward, tackling Marco to the ground and moving to pin his sword to the front of his neck. But Marco swatted his blade aside and rolled Reynard off, pushing to his feet before blocking a flurry of strikes aimed for his ribs.

"Damnit Reynard, I've known you for two years, and I never once pressed about what happened. From day one I never pushed, but now?" Marco rolled under a wide swing and came up to exchange a clang of sparks between the two combatants. "You're not really giving me a whole lot of choice here. So just talk to me!"

Reynard parried a downward slash and spun, catching Marcos guard and prying the boy's sword from his hands. Disarmed, Marco dropped into a fighting stance as Reynard leveled his sword and circled him. "You have the ability to ask anyone in the MRC, and yet you come to me to wring my past from my teeth?"

"Beats watching you sulk off by yourself," Marco noted before ducking under a blurred slash that ruffled his hair. When he came back up, he drove his heel into Reynard's wrist, knocking the sword from his hand. "How about you stop being all broody and just talk to us?"

"My history is my own, Marco, do not make the mistake of thinking it is your burden to bear. Should you so desperately want to know of my family's demise, perhaps you should ask the Queen who wasn't there for us!" Reynard shouted that last sentiment and sent a haymaker forward, catching Marco by surprise. Marco tried to dodge, but caught a good deal of the strike before grabbing Reynard wrist and vaulting over his arm.

Reynard had a split second before catching Marco's shin against the side of his head, the two going down in a pile. Grappling, Marco prodded further by asking, "So you can kill monsters- gah! -and goad me into doing the same, but when- hah! -but when they fight back, and beat you! Suddenly you have a problem with it?!"

He wrapped his arms around Reynard's waist and threw him over his hip in a judo toss, slamming him back down to the ground. He made to pin Reynard down, but a stiff heel to his chin sent Marco reeling towards Star as Reynard retrieved his sword. "How dare you compare the loss of my family to the extermination of the scum that stole them from me! I kill when I have to, and yes, I take slight enjoyment in knowing every dead monster is a small token of retribution!"

Marco picked his sword from the grass and brought it up just as Reynard brought his down, sparks flying as the two struggled from leverage. "What is it then, Rey? Nobody can enjoy the games just because your family used to play?" Reynard struggled to push him back, but Marco held firm and continued. "I don't see anyone else crying about the people they've lost, when your people have a chance to enjoy something from before the war!"

"Maybe that's due to a lack of caring on their part!" Rey countered, both with his blade and his words. He pivoted and elbowed Marco back before driving his sword forward, only finding a waiting parry to match his steel. "Hence why they brought that bloody Tournament back at all! No one cares!"

Reynard sent forth a barrage of attacks, and Marco could only hold his own in defense, awed by the speed his foe had been holding back. "I lost EVERYTHING! And no one cares" Reynard shouted, darting around Marco and thrusting into a barely-quick enough parry that sent him back a few steps.

"I CARE!" Marco returned, twirling about and sweeping Reynard legs, forcing him to a kneel. Marco parried a wild slash and pressed the edge of his blade to the young viscount's neck. The two locked eyes and Reynard spat on the ground at Marco's feet.

"You. Are not. Mewman. You have no idea what I've borne witness to- what I've done! You've no idea what we had to leave behind, and I would rather die, than allow myself to forget like everyone else!"

Reynard struggled to break free, but Marco held firm and pressed the blade closer as a warning. "Moving forward doesn't mean you've forgotten, or that you've stopped caring." Reynard managed to slip free just enough to elbow Marco back before the two stood carefully, eying each other with ragged breath. "Don't you think you're better off by making them proud? Instead of lashing out and hiding like a pathetic kid out here?!" Marco demanded.

Reynard's ragged breathing slowed as Marco panted, and in a blur, he shot forward with his sword swinging in an arc of fury. Marco brought up his blade to defend against a feigned strike from above milliseconds before Reynard suddenly swept low. Hacking and slashing with surgical precision, he kept Marcos guard low to his legs as he surged closer, pushing Marco back. No more goading, no more comments, Marco was giving it his all to keep a straight-faced Raynard at bay, but he couldn't hold forever.

Reynard sent a thrust to Marco's chest, and as the two blades hissed past one another in a parry, he pivoted and turned his back on his foe. With both blades pointed away, Reynard drove his pommel into Marco stomach before catching the doubling boy in a twisting uppercut, sending him reeling. After one more false attack sent Marcos blade to the side, the Viscount hooked his leg behind Marcos heel and stole his balance before sending a powerful haymaker forward, knocking Marco to the ground with a crunch.

"MARCO!" Star yelled before blasting Reynard with an ice cube ray. He was instantly frozen up to his neck, hissing in shock as the ice burned against his skin. Star glared daggers at him as she helped Marco sit up, his nose already oozing blood.

"I t-thought y-you were g-g-gonna stop us if w-we got t-t-t-to far," Reynard grumbled, shivering against the cold.

"I got distracted by the nonsense you two were yelling! Seriously, what the heck is wrong with you?" Star shouted before turning her attention to her guide. "Radioactive healing… snail," she whispered, shooting a much smaller version of the healing slugs onto Marco's forehead. Instantly, his eyes fluttered open and he drew in a sharp breath, taking in his surroundings.

"My apologies for your injury, Marco," Reynard noted, jerking his chin as if to give physical condolence, "but I warned you against prodding me in such a manner. I hope now you two will-"

"Bullshit," Marco spat, rubbing his nose as the snail worked it's magic, "keep your apologies. I want you to tell me about what happened. I want the full story."

Star was silent as Reynard looked to her in shock. "B-but y-you lost the-," he began, but in a flash, Marco had picked up Silverlight and chucked it at the giant ice cube prison, lodging the blade deep inside. It barely missed Reynard's side as the ice webbed with cracks, shattering to chunks.

Reynard dropped to his knees and began to warm himself as Marco and Star approached, slowly this time. "Reynard, come on. It's just a Tournament. You can't just keep running from what happened."

As he rubbed his hands together, Reynard's eyes looked downcast at the frosted grass. He didn't answer.

"Rey…," Star began, kneeling beside him, "Mom wants me to bring you home, but I want to help you feel better. I never asked why you moved in on Mewni, I never asked why you were alone, and I never asked why you wanted to sleep in the barracks with the guards for six weeks." Reynard blushed, but kept his scowl as he stared at the grass.

Marco plucked the snail from his forehead and wiped his nose, and offered in a low voice, "I know it's terrifying, Reynard. Having to go back to a time when everything fell apart? I know it hurts. But you're only hurting yourself more by running away from it."

Reynard sat amongst the broken shards of ice, not saying a word as the little combatant creatures fritted about the field, looking for something to fight with. "Fine," he finally mumbled, wiping the frozen beads of sweat from his brow, "I'll tell you what happened. Why I hate monsters with passion, and why I'm one of the few survivors that even know how my family died."

Star and Marco traded a relieved glance that slowly shifted to one of comforting sincerity before sitting down next to Reynard. The chilling wind from the mountain gusted through the trees as the alien sun began to dip lower, the little creatures looking to retire for the day. Neither Star nor Marco prodded for him to begin, but finally, Reynard exhaled sharply and let them into his world.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

You might say it began as every other disaster and nightmare begins: completely and utterly normal. I'd safely assume it was a sick twist of fate that brought that evil creature to our doorstep, just days before the last Tournament was scheduled to take place. Back then, I only ever hoped to make a name for myself, perhaps woo a princess into marriage, and continue my family line with honor. But when that monster came...my only wish was to survive.

His siege went on for days, legions of monsters and creatures of terror pounding at our door relentlessly. I had stopped counting after eleven, but it wasn't much long after that the battle was over, regardless. From the highest tower of the castle I'd look out at the enemy, just to feel the awesome might of an army capable of challenging my people, and it never disappointed. Outnumbered was far too kind of a term to describe our position; we were laughably outmanned.

Though, I suppose the silver lining in all of it was that we were, after all, Mewmans. We had the strength of ten men, and of course, we had the might of the Butterfly family to bolster our defenses. A shield, easily twice the height of our castle and twice as wide, would crackle with energy whenever one of Toffees brutes dared to get too close. Just a sharp crack of thunder, and they were little more than ash on our lawn.

I would be in far better play to tell you that I felt safe, but I didn't. We weren't. When Toffees' advance was halted by our shield, we expected him to leave, or at best, to simply charge forward and accept defeat. A simple, painless death. But that lizard wasn't done with us, just because of an obstacle. He ordered his men to keep thirty yards out of range of our arrows, and away from the shield, and he just…waited.

Do you know what it does to a man, to see a rightfully feared enemy, recognizing your strength and just...waiting? He was watching us, analyzing our weaknesses from what he knew was his safety. Every knight in that castle knew it. We all were under his microscope. For days their army made no move, and when we sent our forces out to attack in units, they'd hardly put up a fight. Both sides lost men, theirs far greater, but when our forces came back, proud of the blood they had shed, everyone knew that the enemy cared far less for their losses than us.

Every meal, every goodnight, every hello, we were wondering if it would be the last. The silence before the battle was deafening, and the explosion of chaos when it began was enough to shake you to your bones. I thought little of it at the time, I was far too occupied with my own arrogance, hoping beyond hope that I could be out there with them; my brother Chime and my father Reithvelt.

On the last day, I got my wish. Mind you, I was younger than you back then, and twice as stupid. I felt as though it was not pride that burned to battle the monster scum, but rather a duty to the people of my land. I charged into that war room dressed in chainmail and armor like a child dressed in his father's clothes. Which of course, I was.

"Get out, Reynard. This is not the place for you, you're too young for this," my father had told me, "Go to the sublevels with your mother. Tend to the servants and citizens, ensure they're all safe and cared for. That is your duty."

I was confused, having felt so ready for war, having been so convinced it was time that I earned my manhood. Chime simply looked away, like he was ashamed, or perhaps he was being humble. I never got the chance to ask him.

"I won't go, Father! I want to fight," I shouted back at the king of those lands. As if I had any voice to shout with. I was so scared, really, but I couldn't show it. "I'm ready to carry on our household creed! I want to be like you and mother, and beat those cretins back into the shadows!"

Such bold words for a would-be prince. Such dignity behind that breastplate, ready to burst at the seams. But rightfully, I was denied my chance to fight. My father relieved me of my weapon and ordered me to leave the war room; to seek out my mother. Now, a side note for you, Rhenea was a fighter just the same, and had beaten my father on several occasions of battle. But, it was an image thing, the Lady of the household fighting in a war? Unthinkable.

So like me, she was condemned to work below, in the castles bunker. Ensuring the people were cared for and steadied in such a dire time as that. It was a distinguished duty all as well, but it wasn't to me. I was meant for greater things, destined to prove myself. Or so I had wished. I'll never forget that last moment of quiet, the last whisper of hope, that we might emerge unscathed.

I had been on my way to the sublevels when it happened. From the northwest tower, I could see them, plain as day: The Walkers.

Awful creatures from some long-abandoned dimension. They resembled a four-legged arachnid, though their exoskeleton was as tough as iron. Needle-like spears of bone covered their body, like hair, in a way They towered over the enemy, several of them fifty feet high. Even from the tower, I could hear the way their armor scraped against itself, and that awful chittering of their fangs.

At first, I was rightfully nervous at the arrival of these new creatures. 'Just what had Toffee been up to?' I had wondered, 'how vast are his forces of evil?' None can truly say, for many who faced him breathed their last struggling to postpone his inevitable conquest. But I'm getting off track- the odd arachnid...things.

They stomped closer, fresh from their hellish dimension from portals cut by Toffees' own elite. I could hear the nervous shouting of the guard, of the knights; they prepared for some sort of onslaught. But their mistake was expecting it outside the shield.

Have you ever smelled the air before a lightning strike, Marco?

"No...I don't think I have…"

It smells like copper and the sea. The air gets heavy all around you, the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and suddenly your teeth begin to ache. That's what it was like in our final moments of safety.

The ground began to shake, I felt dizzy, and then when it sounded as though all sound had left the world, the walkers fired upon the shield. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen before, like staring at the sun, but the heat feels as though it's within arms reach! Tendrils of white energy snaked from the ground and up the walker's legs, it danced between the protrusions of their body, and it curled between their legs as they stood tall, high above the rest of their army.

I was hoping it was some sort of suicide attack, that perhaps they'd turned on their masters, perhaps they'd given up. But no, their fierce display was meant for us, and the last thing I could see was a dozen beams of white, pulsating magic launching in a volley toward our castle. Towards me.

Whatever happened next, be it the energy broke through, the blast killed the walkers, the shield ran out of time, I do not know. But when I opened my eyes again and felt a trickle of hot blood running down my cheek, our shield was gone, and the army was fast approaching our main gate. They had surrounded us easily, given the size of their army, and like a lion to an injured gazelle, we watched as they waded closer, through the mangled and scorched bodies of the walkers.

The castle around me was heavily damaged, stones falling from the ceiling, cracks crawling up the walls, and piles of rubble growing everywhere I looked. I rushed out of that crumbling ruin-to-be, and I searched through the chaos for anyone who needed help. I'm sad to say, I saw more bodies than survivors, but we pressed onward through it all. We carted our dead to the rear of the castle in a feeble-minded hope that we'd soon have a chance to bury them, but I think we all knew there would be more to bury before last light.

"Wait, so the walkers just...killed themselves?" Star asked, cocking her head to the side in thought.

Yes. Though I'm not sure what magic was used, or how they broke through, or why it cost them their lives. I just know what I was able to witness.

"But...Toffee didn't have magic, he had strength in numbers, and better intelligence…"

What I witnessed that day can only be described as magic, Star. Forget what Moon told the people of Mewni, because regardless of what the records hold, Toffee wielded magic. And I, in all my arrogance, thought I could stand up to him. I had decided then and there that-

"Wait, you fought Toffee?"

Star. No. I thought I could, I didn't say that I did.

"Well come on then, get to the part where you take up a sword and start hacking some people-"

"Star...this isn't about that. Let him finish, this is probably very hard for him to relive."

"Oh….Sorry Rey. Go ahead."

Well...I took up a sword and started hacking at people, actually. Like a leaf searches for the sun, I found myself quite drawn to one weapon of the light above all others. If I was destined to take my destiny into my own hands, then they had better be holding onto the hilt of my lineage's sword. I stormed my way down to the throne room and I stood there, already ragged yet naught a moment of battle to my name, before the sword that I knew would save my people.

"Silverlight…?"

Yes, Marco. Silverlight called to me like a siren to a sailor, And I tore it from its display above the throne. My, the way it gleamed even in the darkness gave me a glimmer of hope that we might still beat back our enemy. It was a losing battle but I knew that I was the key to fighting Toffee, and winning.

How wrong I was.

I tore out of that throne room, I raced down the halls, like a bat out of hell I charged toward the castle gate where a battalion of knights stood ready and waiting for their order to advance. They were like a hundred gleaming pieces of silver, their swords and shields drawn, it was almost beautiful. Had it not been for the occasion, I might have stood there for hours, taking in the pride of those lands.

But I was a boy on a mission, I had a duty to my people to rush headlong into battle, to take on the enemy a hundred to one, and march onward towards their leader unscathed. That was...what I envisioned for myself, some grand battle, a heroic charge, a mountain of laurels and cheers of my name once Toffee was vanquished.

To the top of the gate that housed our drawbridge, I ran, my eyes set on the enemy just beyond our moat. When I could see over the stone wall, I saw them all, weapons ready and faces horrid, it was a stark, grotesque reflection of our army.

But what was most surprising wasn't the size of the fortitude of their army, no. Rather, it was how still they all were. None of them moved an inch toward the gate, not a single soldier crept against the other. It was quite safe to say that that was the second time that day that I felt we were truly out of our league… they were waiting.

Not unlike their stillness outside the shield, I knew enough of battle to know that they were waiting for a signal, or some event, to sound the horn for their conquest. And that signal had but one name whispered amongst our ranks.

The Zryne.

"You mean those guys that broke into the vault?!"

Yes, Star, the very same.

"How did they signal the army?! They were there too?"

"Star, I think he's getting to that…"

"Oh, my bad for wanting to know what happened."

Either way, it was not something I'd quickly forget. I'm one of the few survivors from that time, and fewer still are us who have seen the Zryne and lived. I was up near the drawbridge tower, surveying the advancing army, looking for the best point of entry, the cleanest kills to add to my belt. And like a shadow in the corner of my eye- I almost missed them you know- I saw these...things peel themselves from the darkness of the walls.

It was like they could use them as a gateway, the shadows I mean. The Zryne just...pulled from the stone, and there they were, inside the castle walls! I'm ashamed to say that I was too stunned to move, too afraid to draw Silverlight. Though, I doubt it would have made a difference. They relieved the gatekeepers of their lives, similar to how they had slain the guards posted outside the vault.

Those things...those soldiers, they cut down and gutted our men as silently and as carefully as panthers in the night. And I was powerless to stop them, I was frozen with fear. They say that willpower is stronger than fear, that courage can beat any obstacle of the mind- I myself have told you, Marco, that fear is the greatest weakness of a warrior. But when they pulled the lever and lowered that bridge to my people? Marco, I was the weakest Mewman to ever live.

I couldn't even draw my sword, let alone stand up to them as they doomed my people. They were gone before I took my first step, that paralyzing fear waning from my chest. I would have been able to hear my own heart pounding in my cheat, were it not for the battle raging all around me.

"Rey...you can't blame yourself for not jumping in and getting yourself killed… you were just a kid."

I blame myself, Star. When Toffees men stormed through those gates with renowned energy and vitality, it was my fault they got it.

"Bull. You couldn't have taken on a squad of...the Zryne. They would have killed-

Then I would have died with honor! Like my family! But instead, I chose cowardice and doomed them all. Our last line of defense fell, and I watched from a perch as the monsters slogged forward, cutting down knights left and right.

Had it just been men with spears and knives and swords, we may have stood a chance. I ran down to the courtyard where the fighting was in full force, with some brash hope that I could at the very least make a difference. A fair fight breeds confidence after all. I rallied with the other knights, to this day unsure of whether or not they suspected I wasn't one of them. The front line was holding, and the roar of battle was deafening, I was boldly assuming we could hold them back. But then, the enemy attacked with their secret weapon.

"Was it more spider-thingies? Or was it like a really strong monster?"

No. Magic.

"But...that's impossible. No monster has ever used magic! The high commission would have stopped them!"

That's what we all believed, yes. But what I witnessed that day proved otherwise. Of course, it wasn't as powerful as the wand, far from it. But they wielded magic all the same, and it cut down our men in droves. Fire, ice, lightning, death, the spells they cast were unlike any I'd ever seen.

I fought- being modest -bravely, I weaved Silverlight through a dozen monsters, claiming so much of their blood, my steel was glowing red. But I was just a child. Every time one of their…'chosen', would cast a spell, it would silence the battle for a breath of time before it began again. Those chosen, few as they were, they wore robes, not armor, and they carried no weapons but their hands. And we fell at their will.

We fell like dominoes. We had to fall back, slogging over the bodies of our friends, our families, the smell of burned flesh was in my nose. We fell back to the castle, half of our men dead or dying behind the enemy….my god...I can still hear the periodic scream as they gutted them alive as they passed. It was a hell I'll not soon forget.

For a moment, I as well as my fellow soldiers- if I can call them fellow- felt the hope to leave our bodies. Again. It was like a wave beating down on us, we'd have a moment of relief, only to have it slammed back into our faces. And this time, that relief came in the form of my father, Reithvelt, and my brother Chime.

The front doors burst open and a legion of men stormed out, led by my father and brother. I can say without shame I nearly cried, having looked so close to death and found a force of life. Even the enemy halted their advance in the face of Reithvelt. His claymore was legendary amongst all inhabitants of Mewni, said to cut through an army of monsters with just one swing. And all of us, we all knew it was time to witness it first hand.

With bated breath, not a soul moved before him. My father surveyed the courtyard, our battlefield left ragged and bodied, before raising his sword. Monsters moved to cower, monsters tried to hide, their vitality broke, and with that one swing, I'll never forget the carnage. His blade spawned forth an arc of energy that roared through the air. It was… like a wave… his one swing carried through every monster present, mowing them down like wheat in a field.

I could lie, and say I didn't relax, but I did let my guard down, even lowering my weapon to cower back with the other knights as my father marched forward. Enemies continued to flood through the gate, but Reithvelt never slowed. He waded through piles of monster's bodies, creating more with every swing of his sword. And any time a monster would attempt to flank, Chime was there in a blur to cut them to ribbons.

It was a blessing to those of us who survived the first wave, but even blessings fall short of miracles. You see, you fought Krunt, one of Toffees generals? Well, he was the lowest of them all. And at the top of that hierarchy, sat Rasticore.

"We fought him too, and we almost won."

If you almost won, then you may have been fighting him, but he most certainly wasn't fighting you. Believe me, I know what he's truly capable of. Toffee sent him, along with one of his other Generals, a spineless ball of spines named Cruzoga. He resembled what Earth refers to as a porcupine, except much larger, and a touch more deadly.

Like a rolling wheel of needles and death, he rolled into the courtyard, over mounds of bodies, and launched spines the size of arrows through soldiers and monsters alike. My father immediately took to battle, and while I would like to describe it to you, all I can remember were brief flashes of a shower of spines and arcs of cleaving destruction.

Yes, I wish I could have watched it. Like the child I was, I was more concerned with the dueling gods before me than my own safety. I was so captivated by their battle, I almost didn't see the ax as it swung to sever my neck. I ducked out of the way, losing a few locks of my hair in the process, and barely had time to block another strike from the one man I never wish to meet again.

I'll never forget that insane, deranged look about him, or the horrifying disfigurement his face was cursed with. Rasticore was- is, a monster, but I was quick to find out there was no other monster like him. "Lookie here, a lost Mewman pup in the storm," he said to me. He cackled as he raised his ax and I could see these...lines, drawn onto his skin. "Say goodnight!" Were his words of departure, and he swung again.

Swiftly, perhaps fueled by my earlier terror, I managed to evade his attacks, desperate to find a moment of clarity to regain my footing. But the brute couldn't let up! He would bury his axes into the ground, the stone, anywhere I had been standing, and rip it out just as quickly to continue his chase.

"Did he fire those beams of magic at you? Even I had a hard time evading them…"

"That's because my mom was busy, if she was fighting with us, he would have-"

What? No! Rasticore didn't have magic, he never has! Where did you get such a notion?

Marco and Star traded an uneasy glance, and both turned back to Reynard, Star offering, "He has magic now, Rey. His whole left arm is like, bionic now, and it shoots magic beams that even my mom has a hard time standing up to."

….thats, far more troublesome. And annoying. No, when I fought him, he was naught but a normal monster, albeit far stronger and faster, but mostly magicless all the same. And as for the arm… well, I found out quickly why it's mostly. You see, I landed but one attack on him, a slash across his exposed right arm. I felt contact and I was overjoyed to feel as though I could stand up to him, a general! Toe to toe!

But the sparks that flew from the strike were...alarming. Those lines I told you about? They weren't just artfully drawn, or perhaps tattoos, no. They were reinforced steel, and it was embedded in his skin. Those bars of metal, they moved seamlessly with the rest of him, yet withstood my best attack. I later found out, from others who survived, that his magic is not offensive, like yours, Star. He is the opposite.

When he is wounded, he heals, as Toffee does. Far slower, weeks even for a mended gash. But that's because it heals not as flesh and bone, but as steel and mineral. His bones mend as stones, his skin fills with metal, and it stays, like a webbed cage of pliable armor that holds its forms when struck.

I was thrown back, but I was determined to find a weak spot. The minutes felt like hours as we traded strikes, his attacks doing far more damage. My armor was shredded after five minutes, and I had lost more blood than I'd care to admit. Once, I had the upper hand when he made the mistake of misjudging my agility, but curse that honorless scum. He would pluck men from his own army, and throw them at me, even in the hope that I would at least be slowed.

I was enraged at his ignorance of the rules of engagement, but what do you expect, from a monster? I was able to dodge one foe thrown at my head, and I was closing in for a strike backed with all of my fear and fury. Silverlight, she flamed in my hands as I readied to strike, and I could even see in his eyes that he knew I was a force to be acknowledged. But alas… you remember the waves, yes?

He had a trick up his sleeve, one no doubt given to him by Toffee himself. I doubt you're familiar with artifacts, Star, but for Marco's sake, I'll explain. They're immensely powerful-

"I sorta filled in Marco this morning, actually. He's pretty caught up."

"Yeah, they're like, super-powerful objects that come with a price?"

…..yeah. Pretty much.

"Sorry, go ahead Rey."

Thank you. You see, Rasticore had one such artifact, one that not even Queen Moon could give me information to. It was a crystal, glowing with power, and even from my position of attack, I could hear it, calling my name. I was but a foot away when he used it, and suddenly, every ounce of energy left my body. I was powerless, hardly able to even stand, the weight on my shoulders was crushing, the pounding of my chest was deafening. I could see that I fared better than others, something about the Butterfly bloodline, but I was still helpless.

For a moment, I thought I was as good as dead. But it seemed I wasn't the only one to suffer. Rasticore, my god, his body crumpled before my eyes. A shower of blood, the groaning of metal, he wrinkled like a piece of paper, every bone snapping, every vessel popping, I almost felt satisfied. Some survivors speculate that the artifact had the ability to sap the energy from countless foes, and put it all within you. Which, of course, Rasticore was no match to handle, and promptly was served swift justice. Temporary justice, but justice all the same.

I only wish that justice could have saved all of us. But with a wave, we weren't so fortunate. We were still helpless, all except for my brother and father… they fought on, but I could tell that the artifact's power was taking its toll. Enemy archers and soldiers advanced, barely slowed by the two, and began to pick off our men. One at a time.

Where there had been silence after the spell, now there was screaming, men turned to children, such as I, screaming for mercy, begging for even a painless death. But under Toffee's orders, none received them.

I...I...I ran.

It haunts me, even to this day...the voices of my fellow men… the knights and soldiers, calling to me, screaming as they died, all behind me, and all falling upon deaf ears. I ran away from the battle, I ran from the enemy, and I ran from my men as they were surrounded, and captured. It was bitter work, struggling to move my exhausted body through a blown hole in the wall of the castle.

But I made it inside, and I climbed. Climbed flights of stairs, climbed over bodies, climbed past rubble. Until I reached the safety of a servant's chamber, I dared not stop climbing.

"So...you hid…?

" MARCO!"

"No no, I'm not saying it's bad, or even wrong. I would have done the same...but...that must have been torture, Reynard…"

Yes… it was an experience that will haunt my memories until my body returns to the weeds. I hid in a closet in some long-forgotten servants bedroom, waiting for some sort of sign that I might yet be safe to return to my family. I wish...I could say I received such a sign.

For half an hour I sat there, hoping desperately, and terrified out of my soul. My wounds had stopped bleeding, save for the gash on my arm, and I was feeling brave, so I decided to set out, perhaps look for somewhere better to hide, when I heard it. A thunder of marching, growing steadily louder, shaking the castle itself!

I took to the window, limping mind you, as my body still screamed with pain and exhaustion, and I bore witness to the brunt of Toffees army advancing on our doorstep. My... doorstep. And it hit me at that moment that they were there because I had let them in. They killed our soldiers, because I let them in. I had doomed all of us, and I was hiding from the people I had once vowed to always protect.

From below, the thundering continued, and shouting took up arms beside it, filling the halls with its maddening noise. I don't know what compelled me to move, to overcome that gripping fear, but for a moment I was given a speck of strength back for my efforts, and I hurried to the wall beside the exit. There, a hidden passageway lie safely out of view, the paneling of the door matching with that of the wall.

I pulled it open, but damned it all if fate didn't have a final in for me, as the door groaned a melody deep and horrid. I was sure every soul in Mewni could have heard it, but to my relief, no monsters came charging into the room after. So, admittedly shaking with fear, I crept deeper into the secret chamber, a tunnel system for servants to go about the castle with discretion.

"Im sorry, but that's actually kind of cool…"

It's quite an alright Star, were I not in such a position as that, I would have thought the very same. It was cool. Though, as I crept down the dark hallway, already having shed what little armor I could salvage, you'll understand my mind was set on finding my family. The last I saw of them, my brother and father had been outside, fending off the horde, so in my ignorance, I had only assumed they too had gone into hiding.

Of course, when I found myself exiting the hallway to a small, railed catwalk high up in the throne room, I was met with a grim reality. I had found them.

There, on the floor of the great hall, Chime and my father knelt, bloodied and battered, and at the mercy of them. The Zryne themselves held spears to their backs, and every monster was silent as death...perhaps hungrily waiting for it. It took every fiber of my soul not to cry out, like a helpless babe in the night at their plight. But I at the very least kept quiet as he walked in.

"...Toffee."

The very same, Marco. The man was everything I had been taught to fear, and then some. He was cold, and collected, despite our ragged positions and our broken spirits. He held his head high, but not in arrogance or pride, no. He was only ever disgusted by that which was around him, bored even, by his surroundings, as he had lived a hundred lifetimes to have seen everything. He walked through his army, and where he stepped, they parted to make way.

Up to my family, he walked, and while I felt some relief at the fact that my mother was not present, it quickly faded as Toffee spoke, the first words I ever heard from him.

"I know you're out there, young man," he called out, though he didn't look my way, "hiding like a rat in the shadows. Come down here, face your enemy like a true warrior, and I will spare your family. You have my word."

"You didn't believe him, did you?"

No, my life as you see it is proof to that, for I am sure that had I taken his offer, I would have met the same...the same fate as my brother and father. I remained in hiding as my father laughed in that lizard's presence. "Ha, my son is far from here, with my cousin, Queen Moon," Riethvelt lied, though Toffee was smart enough to see through a dying man's fibs.

"I know more about you, than you may think," Toffee returned, "Reynard is here, as is Rhenea. And if he doesn't end his game of hide and seek before my wound heals, he will bear witness to your fate."

I hadn't a mirror nearby, but I know my face paled as my chest tightened. He wasn't bluffing, and my father knew it. Toffee used the blade of one of his soldier's swords to slice a gash into his arm, and immediately he began to heal. Slowly, but fast enough to see.

"Your son was on the battlefield, my generals confirm it. Lying will get you nowhere, anyway, as your life is in his hands."

There are some moments in every man's life that he wishes he could change. Words left unsaid, a heart sadly broken, or a goodbye not given...but for me? It was not moving from my perch. I sat there, too petrified to move, and as Toffee's wound finally closed, my time, my family's time, ran out.

"Rey, be good, son. And don't ever stop fighting, don't you ever...give up on yourself."

"Be better than me, Rey. Live."

The final words of my father, and my brother, before they left this world forever. Toffee looked disappointed, but nonetheless, he was willing to keep his word on one end of the agreement. What happened next...it will haunt me. I will never forget the sound, and only the sound. My eyes were pressed shut when Toffee ordered, "Relieve them of their heads. Perhaps that will send the right message to Queen Moon."

I...I watched as they beheaded my father...my older brother… they didn't scream, they didn't beg, they didn't cry. They just closed their eyes, and that was it. It was over.

"What about the other ones? And the castle?" A monster had asked.

Someone had the gall to still hunger for more death as I sat there, tears streaming down my cheeks, a sight far less proud than my late fathers. Though Toffee was less than interested in anything less than the end. His prize was won, and to his men, would go the spoils. The Immortal Lizard, I swear he looked right up at me, or maybe just at the ceiling.

"The castle isn't strategic, nor is it important. Take what we need, round up the survivors, and burn the rest down. Seal the bunker below the castle, and let them be buried in the ashes of this mewman castle. The boy? If you find him, make an example out of him. One that will go down in history."

For once, I ran with good reason from the enemy, I ran back through the secret corridor, into the servant's room, and I dove down the latrine shaft. Yes…I know. The pride of my battle, the ending a shameless coward like myself deserved: to send myself hurtling down the shit tube and into the river below. But I survived, and I live now to relive my greatest failure every day, every night.

The castle is said to have burned for three days...though the sub-chambers are said to have burned far longer. No bodies were ever recovered, either unidentifiable corpses, ashen bones, or worse, some twisted amalgam of bodies charred together, huddled in corners. I escaped, because of my cowardice, and a few members of my family lived, as they were away from the castle when the siege began. And you two… you are the first I've told, about what really happened.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

Reynard, for whatever reason, smiled wistfully at the horizon, the looming mountain before them never slowing in its billowing wind. Star and Marco, however, both exchanged wide-eyed and uneasy looks with one another before Marco dared to speak.

"Reynard… you know that...that none of that was your fault, right?" He asked with a hushed voice, laying a hand on the young viscount's shoulder. But the idea that Reynard had done such things, and seen worse? Marco was almost scared of him, had he not been so hurt for him.

"You see, that is where I must disagree with you, Marco," Reynard countered, shrugging off his hand, "In a moment of duty, a short span where I had been called to serve? I 'chickened out'. I hid like a coward and watched them all die. So now, you'll kindly understand why I have no place, no desire, no right, to be in the tournament."

"Bullshit," Star spat, surprising both of them. "You have more reason than anyone else to compete, Rey. You have a right to be there, and none of...that will ever change it."

Reynard cast his eyes upon her, stunned at her words, and further intrigued by the determination in which she said them. "After everything you just heard, the things I chose to do in the face of real danger, you still think I should join? Why?"

"Because you fought, Rey. Knowing when not to fight when you don't have a chance isn't cowardice, it's survival. And if running when you've been beaten means you can't compete, then no one else can either, because we all ran from Toffee. That's why we're here."

Reynard stared at her before shifting his gaze back to the sunset, the orange sky funneling through the ring. Marco leaned forward to catch his eye, and gave him a sincere smile. "It might not mean much, but I stand by what I said. You would be making your family proud, by continuing their legacy with honor. 'Never give up, don't stop fighting', that's what your dad said. You owe it to him to show him how far you've come. You're not that same kid anymore, and you can prove it to the rest of Mewni too."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Marco," Reynard began, his shoulders slowly sagging at his realization, "but they won't see it that way. I'm the one that survived, and in war, there are no sole survivors, only cowards that got away. Besides, you may deem me forgiven, but I'll never see it that way."

"So let us help you see it that way," Star offered, grabbing Reynard's hand. She didn't let go when he moved to keep his hand separate, and she met his eyes when he looked at her. "You need to forgive yourself, Rey, but not for anything that happened that day. You did what you could, and you were braver than I'd have been if I were in your shoes. You saved at least one person that I love, so you belong out there on the field."

Reynard was silent for a long time, and neither Star nor Marco pushed him to speak. They waited until he was ready, and they listened as he whispered, "Fine. But I'm not competing alone."

AUTHORS NOTE

Well hello there to all of you wonderful readers and fans! No doubt you have waited long, and you have been patient. So I am happy to have given you a chapter worthy of such patience! If you're new to the story, favorite and follow for future updates from your future queen, and even if you're not, leave a review with your thought and any suggestions! We love feedback here and it helps keep us going strong!

The first comic requested, the hilltop scene between Star and Marco, will be released next Sunday posted first to my Deviantart account of RonaldReagan96, and then to Reddit under MyRonaldReagan96. So keep a weather eye open! Also, check out my Deviantart account for a special concept design of Heaven's Lament!

Corn and I are thrilled to be able to give out as much content as we do, both for our shared story, and for our singles, Forgotten Ventures and In The Pale Starlight. So if you liked what you've seen thus far, be sure to check out those as well! Now, I must go, but we won't be gone long this time! I'll see all of you in the next update, and I hope you've enjoyed!

Postscript from LordCornwalis here! Had a blast helping to write this chapter, though Ronald Reagan deserves the vast majority of the credit here. After the 50k word monster that was chapter 9 part 1 and 2, I went to an advisory role in this chapter even though we had agreed to completely co-write it together. I'm happy to say I enjoyed helping where I could and I definitely don't plan on keeping you fans waiting another two months for the next chapter. Ronald and I will be working on an outline ASAP!

~Mr. Ronald Reagan

~Lord Cornwallis