In which Marco has his day off, hangs out with his fellow squires, eats some meat pie, discusses nicknames... and sneaks out in the middle of the night to commit grand larceny!

Chapter Text

The three days had come and gone, and Marco was every bit as conflicted about his decision as he had been right after writing the letter to Star. The letter he didn’t send. If anything, he had more doubts now and, even worse, they went in both directions!

Higgs, Old Guy, and him had settled on tonight, at least partly because it was Marco’s day off from the Wash. It meant there was very little chance that he would be held up late by his duties, like he was the other night with the deliveries. It further made it less likely that him coming back home late that night would strike Sir Lavabo as odd, or even notable. Sure, the old knight had already said that he considered Marco’s business his own, but that extra layer of inconspicuousness was never a bad thing!

Then again, there was a downside to it actually being his day off. It meant that Marco had plenty of time to stew in his own doubts. Without the work of the Wash keeping his mind occupied, it had instead spent the entire morning rehashing the same never-ending arguments, for and against the robbery.

It was fortunate, then, that Marco had already made plans for lunch that same day, well before the whole Count Mildrew thing came up. Normal, ordinary, unsuspicious plans...

"So, what do you think, Marco?" Nicholas asked, biting into a delectable looking, albeit predictably corn-based muffin. “Isn’t this place great?”

The question brought Marco back to the present, sitting next to Nick and Timore as they enjoyed lunch together.

Well… his squire friends were enjoying their meals, at least. He had ordered the beef pie, and it was, um, ‘alright’. The meat pieces inside were pretty tasty, but the outer crust left a lot to be desired. It was too thick and undercooked to be edible, never mind the fact that it was, of course, made from corn. Marco soon found himself discreetly peeling it off the top when the blonde boy wasn’t looking, and eating just the filling.

Maybe that was how you were supposed to do it? Perhaps the pastry was only there to keep the meaty parts inside warm? That way, if you didn't finish it here, you could have it later in the day? That made sense, actually. This section of the Butterfly Kingdom was no Rat's End, but basic food storage still seemed like it would have been a luxury item for the locals.

"It's... pretty good!" Marco said, in his best attempt at enthusiasm. He had eaten better. Way better, in fact. But Nick had been hyping up this place since they met up this morning, and he didn't want to come off as ungrateful. Nick was treating him and Timore, after all!

Satisfied at his fellow squire's reaction, Nick smiled light-heartedly. "'The Hungry Brute' is the pride and joy of Southern Goblin's Claw! I was so depressed when the rats destroyed it, but after the owners announced their reopening, I got reservations for the three of us as soon as possible!"

That must have been quite the accomplishment. The outside eating area they were in was packed. Not a single table was open, and the inside probably didn’t fare much better. Beyond the people sitting to eat, the Brute’s take-out window acted as the start to a long line of impatient but excited mewmans, which extended well out of view from where they sat. This place really was a big deal!

"Morale around here certainly seems to have increased," Timore noted, trying her best to ignore the gazes from the other patrons. "Nicholas, didn't Queen Moon repair this area recently?"

Nick grinned. "Yup! She did a good job coordinating the carpenters. Now that they're done, the local businesses are running again, which means that those of us in Goblin's Claw can start making a living again!"

Even before the explanation, Marco had a feeling that Star and Moon had been hard at work here.

Okay, the various buildings singing Love Sentence songs had been a pretty obvious clue. But even if it wasn't for that, you could definitely tell by looking at the general mood of everyone around.

The reopening of The Hungry Brute meant much more than just another place to eat. It symbolized a complete recovery from Ludo's Invasion, at least for this part of town. The people here were happy, bustling with activity, and finally looking forward to the future. The squire wondered if, before the end of the week, the citizens of Rat's End would be wearing the same optimistic expressions...

"Are you all done? Need anything wrapped?" a friendly but rather hurried voice interrupted his thoughts.

The human turned. It was the same waitress who had taken their order, a young mewman girl around their own age. She had stopped by their table once again, to ask if they wanted anything to go. Marco skipped on the offer, giving the unfinished beef pie one last unenthused look before handing his plate over.

"I'll take a bag for this, if you don't mind," Timore said, holding out her bowl for the girl. She had specifically asked the waitress if she could get a salad, despite it not being on the menu. The girl had eventually returned with, among Marco's beef pie and Nick's muffin, a bowl of grass. Surprisingly, Timore didn’t seem much bothered by the dish or the gesture.

"Um, sure. Whatever." The mewman reluctantly took the bowl and two plates, and quickly retreated inside the restaurant.

"The poor girl. It must be stressful serving so many people on such a busy day," Timore lamented, leaning in for a whisper. "I didn't want to say anything, but there was a bit of dirt on that salad. She must have dropped it on the way to our table.”

The two boys looked at her in disbelief. Marco considered mentioning the more likely explanation, but he couldn’t bring himself to dash the demon girl’s good mood.

"So… I've been meaning to ask," Marco began, trying to change the subject. "How has squire-life been for the two of you? I'm always in the Wash, obviously, but where are your knights usually stationed?"

Nick answered first. "Well, Lady Jaya is the sole attendant of the castle's weapon chamber. If you don't count me, that is. Together, we maintain the Order of the Armory."

Ah, so every knight did have their own specific order to uphold. That certainly made Lavabo's station somewhat less unique. Marco could totally envision Nick and his knight going through their own little misadventures in the armory. Perhaps they once had to fight off an infestation of gauntlet yetis or something, the human let himself imagine, dramatically. Whatever it was, it was probably better than battling freaking knickers gnomes…

Then another thought occurred to him. "But, wait. Lavabo is the one that cleans every knight's armor. So, where does Jaya come in the picture?" Marco asked, a little confused.

"Lady Jaya's work in the Armory goes way beyond simple cleaning," Nick commented, before looking slightly embarrassed. "Er, no offense to you or Sir Lavabo."

"None taken." Marco had heard worse. Specifically from Higgs.

Nick nodded. "Anyway, despite the name, it’s less about the armor part, and has more to do with the kingdom’s weapons. Basically, while there are certain knights who already have their own signature weapon…"

Like Sir Lavabo’s enchanted clothes iron, or even Stabby with his vorpal sword, Marco thought.

“...and there are knights who solely rely on their squire for obtaining gear via the Squire Blowout, those two instances are pretty uncommon. Most of the knights in Mewni don’t have or even want a squire, so whenever they need weapons, Lady Jaya is the first person they go to.”

Marco blinked. “So they… rent knight gear from her?”

“That’s one way to put it, though that might be an over-simplification.” Nick said. “Keep in mind that the kingdom has a massive shortage of supplies, ever since Ludo’s attack. Weapons and armor are no exception, sadly.”

“I can attest to that as well, Marco” Timore said, chiming in. “Sir Thorncloak doesn’t let me use any of the weapons from his collection, so every morning, before guard-duty begins, I go to the armory to take something for the day.”

Huh, pretty weird that a knight wouldn’t let his own squire borrow a weapon, especially when they apparently had a freaking collection! Well, it might not be such a surprise in this particular case, though. Marco had only met Sir Thorncloak briefly, but he really didn’t seem like the nicest fellow.

Timore continued. “Lady Jaya usually gives me this magic claymore that was forged by selkies in the Waterfolk Kingdom. She says that, when submerged in water, the claymore is practically weightless, but on dry land, it is roughly three hundred pounds.”

Marco lifted a surprised eyebrow at that. Would Lady Jaya really be that cruel to poor Timore?

It seemed the prejudices of the kingdom extended even to the unusually perceptive weapons master, let alone the other knights. The fact that Timore was a demon instead of a monster probably made little difference to Jaya. A similar sentiment might also explain why Sir Thorncloak had such a hands-off approach to mentoring his squire as well.

Marco was about to express his annoyance, but then he looked at Timore’s huge arms. He remembered how, during the Squire Blowout, she had taken the full force the Baby Man’s iron mace, without even flinching.

“Ah. I get it.” Marco had a brief epiphany. “No normal mewman could ever hold such a heavy weapon, let alone wield it effectively. But to Timore, it’s practically nothing, because of her freakish demon strength!”

Nick smiled at his friend’s assessment.

“‘F-freakish?’” Timore said self-consciously. The flames around her skull started to turn into a much brighter tint of red, specifically around the cheek bones.

“Er, well, I meant that as a compliment. Most squires would love to be just as strong as you, Timore! In fact, I myself find your strength downright inspirational!” Oh boy, Marco hoped he wasn’t overselling it.

Thankfully, his words seemed to be the right mix of genuine praise and over-exaggeration, as Timore (and her flames) began to calm down after hearing that. “O-oh. I see. I’m... honored you feel that way about me, Marco. Though I can’t really give much to you in terms of... pointers. I guess it’s just… a natural talent of mine.” she laughed nervously, running a hand down her bulky forearm.

"You’re right, though," Nick said, turning to Marco. "Lady Jaya doesn't just give you any old sword and shield. If it were that easy, anyone could do it.”

Marco chuckled. “Alright, so she’s a lot more than a weapon’s lender. And, knowing her, you probably aren’t allowed to pick and choose your own weapon, right?”

Nick nodded. “Of course not! There’s a lot of knights here that don’t think very practically. They usually just want the flashiest weapon or the one with the most fame around it. Many have practically begged Lady Jaya to let them try that claymore for a day, but she knows better than to humor their little fantasies of wielding something so heavy. She understands, more than anyone, that each person has their own strengths and weaknesses, and the same goes for the weapons. She’ll assess you for a little bit, sometimes testing you with a few sample weapons, and will pick the best match for you based on that. Timore got the claymore because Jaya knew she was the only one who could handle it, and now that it isn’t collecting dust in the Armory anymore, that frees up another basic weapon for someone else to use.”

As Nick talked at length about his knight, the boy beamed with a sort of pride by association. It was a feeling Marco himself was quite familiar with. Besides, he certainly couldn’t help but agree that Lady Jaya had a knack for analysing people and their abilities. He had experienced that first hand, back when he first met her, even if that hadn’t been weapons-related. That probably extended to the enemies she had faced throughout the years as well, making her quite the formidable knight.

Not that Marco was jealous, or anything. In fact, it made him happy that his friend was in such capable hands.

“I was wondering, Nicholas. What kind of weapon has Lady Jaya given you? If you, uh, don’t mind me asking…” Timore inquired.

Nick’s face dropped at that, as if the simple question had taken him completely off guard. “Um, my… weapon?”

“Y-yes. Your weapon.” Timore fidgeted a little. “I-I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. I suppose no matter what weapon you’ve had, it would never be as impressive as the Selkie Claymore, so I’m sorry if you feel self-conscious about answering that question.”

Timore’s heart was in the right place with that statement, but it obviously only made Nick feel worse. Marco was starting to get curious as well.

The boy gulped. “Listen, guys. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I need you two to promise not to tell this to anyone. It’s… beyond embarrassing.”

“No problem, dude. You can tell us whatever, and we won’t repeat it to anyone,” Marco said reassuringly. What the hell had Jaya given him? Was it some sort of sword with a phallic blade? That would at least fit the description of ‘beyond embarrassing.’

Nick took a deep breath. “Alright, well, the truth is… she hasn’t given me a weapon yet.”

“Oh. That’s it?” Timore asked.

“Yes, that’s it. That’s been it since I became a squire,” Nick said, clasping his forehead. “On the very first day I went into the Armory, and met Lady Jaya for the first time. She took one look at me and, without even giving me a chance to prove myself, said with the utmost confidence that there wasn’t a single weapon there I was capable of wielding.”

Ouch. That must have been harsh to hear from your own knight, and on your first day, no less.

“Well, to be fair, Sir Lavabo hasn’t given me any weapons, either,” Marco said, trying to dispel the other squire’s fears. A lot of the cleaning implements in the Wash were pretty dangerous, but even the Phoenix Flakes detergent wasn’t technically a weapon. The closest thing that Lavabo had given Marco to a sword was a steel reinforced mop.

“Sorry, Marco, but that’s not the same. Sir Lavabo gives you the exact instruments you need for your tasks. Plus, you already have dimensional scissors,” Nick argued. “Besides, the worst part is: she’s right. While she was busy helping a knight one day, I snuck into the back and tried out a cool looking bow. The string was so tight that I could barely pull it an inch, never mind draw it fully! I realized then why she’s been training me all hours of the day. Compared to, say, Higgs or Baby Man, I’m really weak.”

Marco and Timore looked at each other in worry.

“Nick, being strong isn’t everything,” Marco began, before backtracking. “I mean, yeah, it helps a lot, but you’re really resourceful and smart, which also counts for something. During the Blowout, I would have been out of the race before it even started, if you hadn’t loaned me your screwing machine when my cart broke down.”

“I guess…” Nick said. “But Lady Jaya doesn’t care for my inventions. She considers them toys and a waste of my time.”

“Well, with no offense to Lady Jaya…” Marco did a quick visual scope of the eating area, to make sure she wasn’t around for some reason. “But she isn’t right about everything. Knights like her and Sir Lavabo are pretty old fashioned, and have their own way of doing things. They are experienced, but that doesn’t mean they always know what’s best. Nick, you should keep making inventions because, one day, you could make something revolutionary, something that could help the entire kingdom, something so great it’ll even impress her. Most importantly, though, inventing things makes you happy, so that alone is good enough of a reason to keep at it.”

“Heh, I do like making whatever weird thing pops up in that head of mine,” Nick said, slightly flustered. “But what if being a squire isn’t right for me? I only really became one so I could help my family get by, but now that Goblin’s Claw is repaired…”

“Hey, don’t start thinking about quitting on us,” Marco said sternly. “Don’t forget that we’re all squires in training. You still have time to prove yourself, but you won’t get there if you consider leaving every time you get discouraged.”

Nick stared at Marco for a second, but then clenched his fist with confidence. “Right, I’ll do my best to become a great knight, and a great inventor. Lady Jaya won’t know what hit her!”

Marco looked over to Timore, and while the demon was incapable of smiling (or was she always smiling? Her sharp pearly whites were ever on display, after all), the dancing sparks in her eye-sockets gave off an overjoyed expression.

The mood, however, was abruptly ended when a small piece of paper was slammed against the table.

“Sorry about the wait. Crazy busy today! A...are you ready to pay?” It was their waitress, who was now sweating from all the running around and maneuvering through guests she had to do.

“I got it,” Nick said, reaching in his satchel for his money.

“Um, did you ever wrap up my salad?” Timore asked.

The waitress kept her eyes on Nick rummaging through his bag, as if Timore wasn’t even there. “Oh yeah. The owner’s pet pig-goat got hungry, so I fed him. My bad. Go eat a baby if you’re still hungry, Ms. Monster. Just go do that, elsewhere.”

Unfortunately, there was absolutely no way the demon could misinterpret that. Timore flinched at the girl’s harsh words, as if they had physically hurt her as well as emotionally. She didn’t say anything in response to the biting remark, though. Instead, Timore took out her purse, placed a small ruby on the table, and excused herself, thanking the girl for her service.

Marco and Nick ran out after her as soon as the bill was paid.

----

“Ugh, I’m so sorry she treated you that way, Timore,” Nick apologized profusely, walking alongside the demon squire. “I could send a formal complaint? Make the owners fire her?”

Nick obviously felt pretty responsible for what happened, since he was the one that took them out for lunch there to begin with. Timore made it clear she was already over it, and would rather just see the new shops in Goblin’s Claw with her friends, but Nick was insistent on making it up to her somehow.

“I don’t want to ruin that girl’s livelihood over an insult, especially during times like these. That would just worsen her opinion of me,” Timore said. “Please don’t burden yourselves over it anymore. I’m quite happy with how I handled the situation, actually.”

“Really? How so?” Marco asked. Timore’s reaction, while perhaps too passive for his liking, was at least a lot more graceful than how another certain demon would have responded, so he’d give her that.

“This type of interaction is nothing new to us. You see, ever since our kind first rose from the Underworld, demons were unfairly compared to monsters by nearly everyone.” The girl chuckled at the apparently ridiculous notion. “The Lucitor family tried to combat this discrimination by forming alliances with the royalty of other kingdoms. Things seemed like they were going smoothly, until one fateful dinner with the Johansen family, where their King accidentally called Queen Erinya Lucitor ‘monster-ish.’”

“What happened after he said that?” Nick asked, in anticipation.

Marco didn’t even feel the need to ask. Not due to a lack of interest, but rather because he already had a good idea of the aftermath…

“W-Well, Erinya decapitated him on the spot, in front of his wife and children.” Timore admitted tensely.

“O-oh,” Nick said.

Called it.

“Suffice to say, it was a political nightmare for everyone involved. As news of the dinner spread, every other kingdom began fearing that the monstrous demons would come out of the ground and chop their heads off. Every kingdom except for the Pony Heads, I suppose.”

Marco could think of at least two different reasons for that.

“Erinya Lucitor was notoriously stubborn, and did not feel like she did anything wrong. She was insulted, and acted accordingly. However, she eventually realized that in order for our people to separate ourselves from the monsters, and align ourselves with the other kingdoms of Mewni, she would need to swallow her pride and reach a peaceful resolution with the Johansens.”

“Exactly! Had she been an actual monster, she would’ve never admitted fault in the first place! That’s just how monsters are.” Nick said with confidence..

Marco didn’t much care for Nick’s comment, but decided to let Timore finish her story rather than make a big deal about it.

Also, the squire thought his friend was giving Tom's ancestor a little too much credit. Like, yeah, it's nice she probably apologized to the Johansens, but it didn't change the fact that she decapitated their king!

Timore went on. "Before Erinya confronted the Johansens one last time, she had heard a rumour that their Queen had a particular interest towards rare and valuable jewelry. So, Erinya decided to give up her family's most valuable possession as a peace offering: A one of a kind pearl necklace, said to have contained the very essence of greed itself. But, more important than that, it looked really pretty!"

"So she… bribed the Johansens into forgiving her?" Marco asked, trying to sum up the resolution.

"What? N-no! Of course not…" Timore said, mildly offended. "That's… well, it may look like that, on a surface level, but it's said that Erinya and Queen Johansen became good friends after the ordeal. Besides, it’s not like her husband died that night. They were able to quickly stitch the king’s head onto the body of his horse. Somewhat of a family tradition now, I am told. Some say he preferred living that way, and was even grateful towards Erinya. So, yes, the alliance between the demons and the Johansen tribe was one built off the foundation of genuine companionship, and the other kingdoms soon followed, after receiving additional olive branches from the Lucitors."

"Right." Marco said, unconvinced. He was no gambling man, but the human was willing to bet his royalty checks that those ‘olive branches’ were just more priceless jewels. In a sense, that probably meant he was willing to bet olive branches as well...

"I think I'm starting to get it now," Nick said. "You gave that ruby to the waitress as a peace offering, just like way back then!"

Timore’s flames glowed bright with approval. “You’re absolutely right, Nicholas. Since then, it has become customary for demons to show their good will towards mewmans by giving a small diamond or such whenever they may have accidentally frightened them. It’s our unique way of saying ‘Hey, we’re not that bad!’ Why, I’m sure that waitress has already reevaluated her stance on demons!”

As Timore and Nick continued their optimistic discussion, Marco couldn’t help but feel that the true moral of the tale wasn’t nearly as rosy as what they were describing. That story didn’t feel like a tale about two seperate groups learning to understand and accept one another, not in the slightest. Instead, it was an anecdote about one group of people being paid to tolerate another.

Marco looked around Goblin's Claw, and noticed the several judgemental stares of many mewmans passing by. They were all looking at Timore with disdain. Her squire uniform made her look official enough, but that didn't mean she was accepted here, let alone welcomed. By Timore's logic, would she need to pay every single person here to get on their good side? Really?

Her story at least made Marco realize that the world really did revolve around money, and in turn, made it the solution to most of its problems. Sure, Star had magic, but even that had limitations. It couldn't fix everything. She and her mom had to kiss up to the other kingdoms as well, to be on good enough terms with them to get some assistance in repairing their broken home.

It was probably why Etheria was so insistent on Star being Tom's girlfriend. If their relationship eventually evolved into something more, then that would mean more support and resources for the Butterfly Kingdom in the long run. In a way, it wasn't a wrong way of thinking, much as it pained Marco to give the old hag any credit.

So… screw it. If one little robbery was all it took to help save the people in Rat's End, if it was the surest way to raise the most money, at the expense of a single coward, who was living off the stolen valor of others, if it was the only shitty thing Marco had to take to his grave-

"Marco?" Nick said, ripping the human out of his thoughts.

"Oh. Er… what is it?" Marco asked, feeling slightly bad for ignoring them.

"Nicholas and I were just bonding over the various hurtful names we have been called over the years, and how overcoming them have made us stronger people. You obviously wouldn't have to have been a demon to have gone through that."

Ain’t that the truth. “Yeah, Higgs still calls me ‘prince’ all the time. Although, to be honest, I think recently that became less of an insult and just what she likes to refer to me as.” Didn’t make it entirely not annoying, though.

Timore and Nick looked at each other, then, Nick was the first to say: “Marco, you’ve been hanging out with Higgs? I thought she hated your guts, and… that you returned the sentiment.”

“Um… she picks up her clothes at the Wash once a week. We sometimes chat then, but it’s nothing substantial,” Marco lied, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

He should’ve been more careful there. It would’ve been better to pretend he hadn’t seen her since the Blowout. Or maybe he ought to have admitted to seeing her that night in the Rat’s End, but without giving specifics? After all, plenty of people had seen him there. Oh, crud! Well, too late to backtrack now…

“Oh, okay. Makes sense. Glad she isn’t giving you any more trouble.” Nick left it at that, causing Marco to cool down somewhat from his incipient internal panic.

Timore, for her part, seemed like she just remembered something. “Speaking of nicknames, you both know Claus, right?”

The name didn’t seem familiar. Marco was in the Wash all the time, but even then, was that a knight’s name or a squire’s name? Nick looked equally stumped.

The demon giggled. “I’m surprised, Nicholas. You just mentioned him a few minutes ago. Back at The Hungry Brute?”

“I did? When?” Nick asked, bewildered.

“That’s Baby Man’s real name. His name is Claus. It’s such a nice name, isn’t it?”

Nick was surprised by that. “Huh, first time I heard it, I think. I always assumed his parents were just bad at coming up with names,” He paused, thinking for a moment. “How do you even know this?”

“Sir Thorncloak and Lady Whosits are both part of the castle’s elite guard. The two of us sometimes patrol the same area...”

“My condolences,” Marco said, with a smirk. He couldn’t imagine working with that guy, especially after the Quest Buy drama.

Timore lifted a shy finger in protest. “Actually… um, Claus isn’t really that bad of a person. In fact, he’s sort of this gentle giant once you get to know him. He told me how he never really had a problem with demons, since he had never met one until that day. It was Old Guy who had goaded him into harassing me. He apologized for it, though.”

“Old Guy?” Marco said, curiously. Somehow, Marco felt it was worse for the elder squire if he had been the sole instigator, rather than one of a pair of misguided bullies. Although he couldn’t quite put his finger into why.

“Yes. In fact, it was Old Guy who gave Claus that awful nickname in the first place, despite the fact that he’s so embarrassed by it! He never protested it because he didn’t have any friends at the time and wanted to be accepted. Can you believe such an awful situation to be in?”

“Old Guy is pretty awful,” Nick admitted. “It’s no wonder he’s been a squire for who knows how long. He just can’t grow out of his immaturity.”

So if ‘Baby Man’ was just a nickname, what did that make ‘Old Guy’?

Marco looked up at the sky. It was well past noon now. “Hey, guys, it was really fun hanging with you again, but I need to head back home.”

Tonight was the big night, after all. He still needed a few hours to get ready.

“Already?” Nick said, not trying very hard to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“You did mention how you had plans after lunch, Marco, so I hope the extra time you spent with us doesn’t cause you any trouble…” Timore said in her usual apologetic tone.

“Nah, you’re good. Thanks for the lunch, Nick. See you around the castle, Timore.”

And with that, the squire took out his dimensional scissors, cut a portal to his room, waved goodbye to his friends, and stepped through the vortex.

Well, lackluster pie or not, this morning had certainly given him food for thought. Marco had had half a mind during lunch to ask his friends for their opinion on the robbery, but he knew Higgs wouldn’t approve. The less people involved, the better, which was probably why they hadn’t brought Bab.. er, Claus in on it. Still, talking to Nick and Timore had helped.

Or, well... had it?

On the one hand, Marco really ought to reevaluate the company he was keeping. Nick had been shocked to learn he was hanging out with Higgs, and it’s not like Marco could blame him. Plus, the stuff he just heard didn’t make it any easier to trust Old Guy’s word.

And yet, well, wasn’t the moral of Timore’s story about the Lucitor Queen that sometimes money did solve people’s problems? Wasn’t seeing the Goblin Claw, racist waitresses and all, downright inspirational for what Marco could do for the Rat’s End? Could he really turn his back on them just because Higgs was sometimes confrontational and Old Guy had been a shitty friend to Claus?

---

It was a moonless night, dark and quiet, in which two dark and quiet figures waited by an unremarkable cliff, halfway up the Hill of Flags. The hill - in truth a mountain in which the traditional game of mewman nobility was played - laid at the midpoint between Butterfly Castle and the Forest of Certain Death. The eastern face afforded a look back into civilization, and a perfect vantage point from which to surveil the old castle west of the main town: Count Mildrew’s castle, to be exact.

The standing figures wore dark gray woolen cloaks. They shrouded their faces under the garments’ secretive cowls, blending seamlessly into the starlit darkness. Soon, a third figure joined them, a concealing hood also drawn over his head. This later hood, however, was dyed a bright crimson red.

“Corn damn it, prince! You stand out from a mile away in that thing!” complained the tallest of the two original figures.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, ok? This is literally the only kind of hoodie I got!” protested Marco as he approached the other squires. His goblin dog shirt beneath it was just as conspicuous anyways and, besides, it was chilly out here!

“You work as a laundry squire!” Higgs retorted. “Couldn’t you have, um, ‘borrowed’ something else?”

Marco reeled, aghast at the notion! He could only imagine what Sir Lavabo would reply, to such an ignoble accusation...

“Those clothes belong to whoever left them in the care of the Wash, Higgs,” he explained. “How would you feel if I had taken yours? Besides, how would I explain if they got damaged? It would only raise more questions!”

“Like it won’t raise questions when they see the crimson dunce running around Mildrew’s castle!” she insisted. “Everyone who meets you knows you own that stupid thing!”

“Ahem” coughed the shorter of the figures. “It really shouldn’t matter, Higgs. If anyone sees us, we’re all screwed anyways. The plan is to portal directly to the sixth floor balcony, then sneak around inside the castle. It’s not like we are trying to sneak past the gates. There should simply not be anybody up and about on the upper floors at this hour. If all goes well, no one will know anyone was there at all, and it won’t matter what we’re wearing.”

Marco knew he ought to feel grateful to Old Guy for the save, but he was still not sure how he felt about the older squire.

Higgs just sighed, conceding the argument. “Did you at least bring the scissors?”

Marco nodded, extending out a hand showing the purple-handled dimensional blades.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Higgs announced, determined.

She took a step towards Marco, which only made the boy notice how stiff her movements seemed under the robes. Also, her right arm never really left the insides of the cloak. It was as if she were holding something under there, something she had to carefully maneuver out of the way as she walked...

Had she brought a weapon!?

Well, duh, of course she had! Something quite bigger than a dagger too, from the looks of it. It wasn’t anything large or heavy enough to really hamper her movement, but it was certainly enough to cause a visible shift in her walk. It made sense. If they got caught, they might need to defend themselves.

Marco hadn’t thought of that earlier, and now that he did, he sort of wished he still hadn’t. Somehow, the idea of the other two being willing to get into a deadly fight, all while breaking and entering, served to bring home to Marco just what kind of ‘quest’ he was about to join.

“Guys, I am sorry.” Marco raised a hand. “But I actually have a few questions, before we go.”

“Really? Now!?” protested the redhead.

“When else, Higgs!? I haven’t seen you two since that night at the Rat’s End!” Marco argued back. It had been yet another measure not to arouse suspicion. “Look, I just need to get a few things clear. I am taking a lot on faith here, and it’s not like I could go digging around for answers from anyone else…”

“You better not have, prince,” she interjected in a threatening and somewhat disbelieving tone.

“Now, now, Higgs,” Old Guy offered, conciliatory. “Let him ask his questions. Without his scissors, this entire operation wouldn’t be possible, so I believe we owe him as much. But, um, Marco, we really don’t have much time. Not if we are doing this tonight. Count Mildrew’s castle does have nightly patrols, and we want to be out before the next one even comes near the upper floors.”

Did he say nightly patrols, or knightly patrols? Somehow, that thought reminded Marco of Timore and, um, Claus, which only made him all the more determined to ask his questions!

“So, just to be clear, this story about the dragon…” Marco began to ask. “Well, um, how come I never heard about it before?”

Higgs raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you are an expert on mewman history now?”

“Well, no, not really, but…” Marco knew he had questions. It was just that he wasn’t quite sure which questions. “I mean, it was a big deal, right? I have certainly heard people discussing the Ludo invasion since I came back. So, why not a dragon attack?”

“Marco, it all happened fifteen years ago,” Old Guy reminded him. “Do you have any idea how many monster attacks there have been since then? People barely mention Queen Comet’s death nowadays, and that was a much bigger deal. The dragon attack actually happened closer to that battle than to today. Take it from me, nobody will give a crap about who fought Ludo’s invasion even three years from now.”

In fact, already close to nobody even remembered that Marco had been part of that group, actually…

Ok, alright, but Marco still wanted to check one more thing...

“Higgs, you grew up knowing about this, right?” he asked. “This isn’t something Old Guy just told you, correct?”

The older squire gave him an inescrutable look. Marco just hoped that he hadn’t offended the man too badly, particularly if he was actually being honest. Still, he’d take being rude over not checking something like this, any day.

“Yes, Marco, of course I have!” Higgs replied, annoyed. “Anyone who actually grew up in Mewni knows about it, just as anyone who grew up in Mewni knows that there is no way that the official story is real! Count Mildrew is a pompous fool who barely leaves his castle nowadays! No one buys that he actually fought a dragon.”

Marco nodded. Ok, that was good enough for him, actually. He didn’t exactly like Higgs, but, frankly, he trusted her honor way more than he did Old Guy’s. Her explanation didn’t quite mean that Old Guy’s version of the battle was accurate but, on the whole, the fact that there had definitely been a dragon attack, made the story a bit more likely. And, well, Higgs wasn’t a reliable source for that, but if the count really did have a reputation as a cowardly recluse, then that was further confirmation of Old Guy’s tale.

“You know what else anyone who’s actually grown up in Mewni knows?” Higgs added, impatient. “That if we don’t do something about it, there will be a lot of people suffering come winter. And that will be on your cowardice, prince.”

The human squire sighed. Yeah, that was the thing too. Even if the story wasn’t true, even if it turned out that Count Mildrew didn’t actually deserve this, Marco knew for a fact that the people of Rat’s End needed that treasure. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few, or so he heard somewhere.

“Is that it?” Higgs pressed on. “Are you only stalling because you’re afraid?”

“No, but…” Marco struggled for a moment to explain his hesitation to her in any way that wouldn’t be just rehashing their discussion from the other night.

Maybe she was right? Maybe he just got scared when he realized she was ready for the possibility of fight? A fine brave squire that would make him! But, well, he really didn’t think that was it, though. He wasn’t afraid of a fight. He was afraid he was making a huge mistake, somehow.

As he trailed off, lost in thought, Higgs took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her tone had become a smidge more friendly, and a lot less like her usual style of talking to him. “Marco, look, if you get caught, what do you think will happen? You’ll just be sent back to Earth, I wager, to live the rest of your life in safety and comfort, from the sound of it. What do you think will happen to us? Hell, forget the rest of it, what do you think Sir Stabby will do if he finds out I, um, ‘borrowed’ this?”

She gave him a smile, and out of her cloak she produced a sword. No, not a sword, the sword. Sir Stabby’s vorpal sword. That was the weapon she had brought!

“Marco, honestly, I am worried too. I am worried about being caught. I am worried about being thrown in a dungeon, or being executed, or, worse, never becoming a knight…”

Old Guy made a face like that was truly the worst fate he could imagine as well.

Marco wasn’t one hundred percent sure he understood mewman priorities, to be honest. Then again, would Higgs being kicked out from being a squire mean that she would just become one more of the downtrodden inhabitants of the Rat’s End? He found that hard to picture, but...

“What I am not worried about, though, is about this being the wrong thing to do,” she finished, perhaps reading Marco’s true concern from his expression. “It’s not. The people back home need the money, and they need it now.”

Higgs’ moral compass wasn’t exactly Marco’s own, but, in this instance, he really didn’t think that he could disagree. Alright, he had debated his choice long enough, no turning back now. Point of no return in 3… 2… 1…

“So, that balcony?” Marco pointed out with his finger.

Higgs nodded, and then put her hand on his shoulder for a moment. “Ready, prince?”

“Yeah, I think I am,” Marco admitted, surprising even himself.

“Then I guess you aren’t half the asshole I thought you were,” she conceded, patting him on the back.

Marco wasn’t sure that really counted as a compliment.

----

The blue vortex of the portal opened in the middle of the sixth floor balcony. Unlike those of the two floors above, this particular terrace extended out from the castle’s dining hall, not anyone’s bedroom, which made if far less likely that their entrance would be spotted.

Old Guy drew a finger to his lips and moved towards the glass windows ahead, creeping slowly. Marco followed him, as did Higgs.

The elder squire stopped abruptly, raising his right hand in mid air and pressing it against nothing at all. He lifted his left then, and did the same thing. He then began moving both hands around the empty air, as if examining an invisible wall. It was almost as if he had suddenly decided to become a mime or something.

Marco tried to turn around to look at what he was doing from the other side. Halfway through the attempt, however, his head hit something unseen that felt very much like solid rock. “Ow!”

Old Guy shushed him angrily. A moment later, however, at an angle Higgs wouldn’t have been able to see, he flashed the human a short-lived but quite nasty grin. Or at least, Marco thought he did.

So, there actually was an invisible wall there. Ugh, Marco ought to have seen that coming. Did the force field go all the way around? Could they just circumvent it somehow? Maybe they could use the scissors to...

‘Snick!’

There was a sound like the rushing wind as the vorpal sword swung through the ostensibly empty air right beside Marco. A second later, Old Guy’s hands fell forward from their previous position, and the squire resumed walking, calmly moving past Marco’s left. Higgs did the same on his right.

It took the human squire an instant to realize that Higgs had just cut down the magical barrier that acted as part of the castle’s security system. Right. ‘Fun fact about vorpal swords, prince, they are pretty handy against magic,’ is what Higgs had told him before. Well, no kidding!

Still, he had sort of expected something more remarkable to happen as the barrier fell down. Maybe a roll of thunder? A flash of lightning? But no, it had just been there a moment ago, then gone an instant later. Which was probably all well and good considering they were trying to sneak in, but Marco couldn’t help but feel it was also a bit anticlimactic.

‘Snack!’

While Marco was still thinking about their initial obstacle, Higgs had walked ahead and thrust the point of her blade through the keyhole of the balcony door, busting the lock. She then pushed the door open and began motioning, impatiently, for him to follow.

Marco did.

They crawled around the castle corridors for quite some time. The long hallways all seemed deserted at this time of the night. Marco felt the impulse to whistle the Mission Impossible tune, more out of sheer nervousness than anything else.

He didn’t actually do that, of course! He wasn’t an idiot. But it really did feel like they had somehow been transported into the middle of a heist movie. In truth, thinking of it like a movie was a lot of easier than facing the reality that he actually was in the process of committing a crime, even if it was for a good reason.

That said, Higgs had been right. While the people of the Rat’s End froze to death on the street or, at best, spent their days inside crumbling wooden boxes, this asshole was living like a king!

Literally so, perhaps.

Having seen quite a lot of Butterfly Castle - particularly a few days ago when delivering its inhabitants’ clean laundry - he couldn’t help but make the comparison. Count Mildrew’s castle wasn’t nearly as big as Queen Moon’s, of course, but it was just as luxuriously decorated, if not more so. The man could afford anything, it seemed, except a sense of subtlety.

Every single corridor was covered in purple velvet carpeting. The ceiling and wall-mounted chandeliers were pure silver, as were the numerous mirrors along the walls. The doors were solid mewnian oak, intricately carved into an exquisite pattern of vines and roses. The same style could be seen in the few desks and stands they found along their way, usually with a marble bust or porcelain vase atop them as decoration. It was the first time Marco had even seen porcelain in Mewni, now that he thought about it.

But, by far the gaudiest of all the decorations were the portraits! There seemed to be one in every corner and two in every room, and they all depicted the exact same person.

“Count Mildrew, I presume,” whispered Marco finally, while passing yet another life-sized picture of a brooding tall man with long blonde flowing locks and a jawline square as a cutting board. “Man, this guy likes himself almost as much as Sir Dashing...”

Higgs chuckled quietly first, then shushed him second.

She seemed nervous too. Somehow, this surprised Marco. Despite her earlier confession, he hadn’t fully considered the possibility that Higgs might actually be just as in over her head on this as he himself was. He wasn’t sure if that made him more or less nervous in turn.

Honestly, he wasn’t even sure why they were still creeping around further inside this place. Maybe the portraits would be hard to sell, but he was sure they could have made a fortune just out of melting the silverware in that first room they entered, not to mention all the solid gold frames.

But Old Guy was taking the lead, and he kept dragging them further and further into the castle. He seemed to be looking for something in particular, and Higgs was content to follow him. It made sense. After all, if he had served under Mildrew, he probably knew the layout of his home. Didn’t he?

“Almost there, almost there…” muttered Old Guy, stroking his long mustache under the cloak.

He was likely just trying to reassure the other two. Although, for a moment, Marco could have sworn that it sounded more like he was talking to himself.

They doubled along a corridor, and found themselves going down a spiral staircase. There was a door at the bottom. It was locked, but that didn’t deter Higgs, or her vorpal sword.

Behind it, there was a long straight narrow corridor with walls of rough stone, unadorned by frames or purple tapestries. There were no portraits in there, and no chandeliers. No windows either.

Out of his robes, Old Guy produced two candles and a match. Higgs and him both wrapped a small cloth around their left hand, lit a candle each, and held it up, using the cloth to protect their skin from the hot dripping wax.

Old Guy marched ahead, with Marco following, and Higgs in the rear, closing the door behind the three of them. As long as nobody inspected the busted lock too carefully, they wouldn’t know anything was amiss.

“No patrols in here,” Old Guy announced. “But don’t get too chatty, we want to hear if we are being followed. The Count himself may be a bumbling idiot, but let’s not assume the same for his hired muscle.”

The tunnel was dark and had no side openings or branching pathways. Their only light came from the two feeble candle sticks Higgs and the elder squire carried. They had only gone down one or two floors from the sixth story balcony, so this whole thing had to be well above ground. Still, it felt more like a crypt than a part of the opulent castle they had been walking through, moments earlier.

Honestly, if this had been one of Janna’s D&D sessions, the squire would have been poking at the stone panels in the floor with a ten foot pole. He was almost surprised when they actually reached the end without finding a single hidden trap. Maybe that was more a sign of his overactive imagination than anything else, though.

Eventually, however, the corridor widened. It opened into a small foyer, at the end of which was a second locked door. No, not a door, but rather a proper castle gate! Twice as tall as they were, solid oak, iron beams reinforcing it, and a goddamn portcullis in front!

Higgs took one long look at it and sighed.

‘Snickety-Snack!’

The vorpal sword cut through it like paper, and nearly without a sound.

Of course, the crash that followed, with the heavy door and metal bits tumbling along the stone floor, was far less quiet. Marco could only hope that the walls around this place had been made thick enough to deafen even such ruckus. So much for the idea of nobody even realizing someone had been here tonight, though!

Then again, it was not like there had been any obvious way to unlock that contraption. So, in a way, it had been the only option. As long as they could finish the job before anyone saw them, it would be fine. It would be obvious that someone had been here, sure, but as long as there was no way of knowing who, it wouldn’t really matter. Right?

Marco looked around at Higgs for reassurance, and realized she was glancing back at the two of them, just as nervously. Her deep, anxious breaths, clued him to the fact that she also didn’t want to be here any longer than they had to.

He was about to ask her if she was alright, when all three squires found themselves speechless as they caught sight of the inside of the treasure vault.

For it was a vault that laid behind the indoor castle gate: a huge hall of stone, larger than what the light of their puny candles allowed Marco to see, all filled with riches. There was a narrow walkable path, leading away from the entrance and the now fallen door, but every other part of the floor’s surface was covered with treasure. The place was littered with gold coins and gemstones, which in many places formed mounds as tall as Marco’s knees. Besides the gold and gems, there were also random pieces of jewelry, full-body marble statues, fancy looking shields and swords, as well as a variety of fine tapestries lying atop the piles.

It took Marco a few moments to realize what he was looking at. It truly was a dragon’s hoard!

Other than the self-indulgent paintings, all of the fancy decorations outside had probably been picked from among the least valuable of the pieces in this room. Which begged the question of what did this Count Mildrew guy do with all of the stuff that he kept inside here? Swim on it like freakin Scrooge McDuck!?

“Yes! Finally!” cried Old Guy. He seemed to catch himself. “Er… I mean, here we are, Higgs. What do you think?”

“I… I…” the redhead was speechless. Her usual cool completely shattered at the sight of such shocking wealth.

This was a fortune by Marco’s standards, maybe even by Star’s. He could only imagine how the girl, having grown up in the Rat’s End, must have felt seeing it. Did the sight come as a relief? Or as further proof of the world’s terrible unfairness?

“I think,” Marco interjected. “That there is probably enough stuff here to rebuild the entire kingdom!”

“Oh, that too…” muttered Old Guy, “…that too.”

He seemed to be looking for something, walking through the path to the end of the room while glancing at both sides. Unsatisfied with what he found, the mewman began pushing around the treasure with his feet where it was clumped the highest, like he was sweeping around dirt, looking for the real valuables hidden beneath.

“Um, what are you doing?” Marco asked.

The old man glanced back at him, looking entirely out of it. A flash of exasperation came and went from his face. Finally, he grinned at Marco, albeit in a somewhat forced way.

“There was a gem, I heard, in the dragon’s hoard, fifteen years ago,” he explained. “Supposedly it is a curse breaking stone. A ‘severing stone’ or some such. Really valuable. We obviously can’t take all this gold with us. But if we could take only the stone, then I am sure we could sell it for enough to like, save the Rat’s End or whatever… and still be able to keep a hefty tip for our good deed...”

The glint in the squire eyes told Marco all he needed to know about which of the two Old Guy saw as the priority. He really needed to keep an eye out for the man’s wrinkled grabby hands. That said, well, it wasn’t like his logic was without merit.

“Ok, let’s take a look, then,” the human agreed, and began helping the other squire rummage through the piles of treasure.

The three squires searched the hoard by candlelight for what felt like hours. As time went on, their source of illumination and their determination to find the damn thing began slowly melting away. Everyone’s except Old Guy, who remained steadfast that they must find the severing stone.

Higgs patience ran out the fastest.

“Ugh, we’ve spent forever rummaging around all these riches just for a damn stone!” she complained. Marco felt she sounded a bit like her own knight. He wasn’t sure why, exactly. Maybe it was just the short-fused impatience that reminded him of Sir Stabby. “We’ve searched everywhere. If that severing stone even exists, it doesn’t seem to be in this room. We can’t afford to delay any longer,” she declared. “Marco, just open a portal back to the cliff, we are pushing a cartload of treasure through and then figuring out how to hide it and sell it later.”

“No!” yelled Old Guy, before Marco could respond, surprising the other two. “No. No. No! It has to be here!”

“Come on dude, it isn’t. Maybe it got lost? Maybe this guy already sold it?” Marco asked. “Who cares? I know it’s valuable but…”

“You, kid, know nothing…” Old Guy grumbled, coldly, dangerously. Then, in a slightly calmer tone, he continued, “there were magical treasures in the dragon’s hoard! This stuff? It’s all junk! Pretty baubles and fancy trinkets, but nothing more. The stone is more valuable than all this crap put together!”

“It looks valuable enough to me,” Higgs pointed out, annoyed. “Even with just what we can carry, we should be able to make a big difference back home…”

“You don’t understand! I need…” Old Guy paused for a second. “I deserve the stone! I was there, remember? A squire fighting back when Mildrew cowered before the dragon? This belongs to me! The stone belongs to me!”

“Look, I get it. Mildrew is a piece of work, I am sure. They all are. But this isn’t about fifteen years ago,” Higgs reminded him. “This is about the Rat’s End.”

“Who gives a fuck about the goddamn Rat’s End!?” Old Guy yelled in response.

Slap!

Marco always forgot how fast Higgs was, and just how strong. Right as Old Guy finished his sentence, she slapped him with the back of her cloth-wrapped hand, throwing the elderly man across the room and into a hard bed of gold coins. By the look in her eyes, he was lucky she had used the hand without the vorpal sword, even if that meant that a few drops of hot wax from the candle had splashed out into his mustache. A final drop of wax slid down across Higgs’ own cheek.

“‘Who gives a fuck about the Rat’s End?’” she echoed, in cold fury. “Who do you think?”

“You… I…” Old Guy stumbled over his words as he stood back up, one hand holding the side of his jaw. The flame of his own candle had gone out as he fell, the remains of the mostly consumed wax cylinder falling besides him. “I am really sorry, Higgs. I... really don’t know what came over me…”

“Greed,” she replied, disdainfully. “Prince, open the portal. We are leaving now, with whatever we can take.”

Marco sighed. How did being angry at Old Guy translate into calling him names again instead?

Well, never mind that. They had wasted enough time. Marco took out his dimensional scissors, lifted them up and made a motion as if he were cutting an invisible sheet of paper in the empty air in front of him.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

And again.

And a fourth time over.

“Um, Marco?” Higgs asked, nervous.

“It isn’t working,” he said. “The scissors aren’t working!”

The three of them stood there in silence for a moment.

For better or worse, a moment was all it took for them to hear the sound of heavy footsteps on the stone. They sounded distant, still quite far away from the fallen gate of the vault room. But they were growing closer and closer. There was every chance that they came from the windowless corridor beyond said gate, marching towards the three of them right through the only exit from the secure treasure chamber.

Fuck!

None of them had expected to dally in there long enough for anyone to notice the damage to the first door’s lock, and they had counted on the dimensional portals to leave without being seen if someone actually did. But now both those plans had failed them.

Marco tried the scissors again. He started frantically waving them in the air, to no effect. They were so screwed! Any minute now, the person those footsteps belonged to would make it to the broken gate. They would find all three of them in here: thieves, incompetent thieves.

Would Marco be kicked out of Mewni for this? Be brought for trial before Queen Moon? Before Star? How would he explain himself to them? What about Sir Lavabo? About his duty to the Wash? What would his mentor think of his promising young squire then? Would he still be proud of him? Would he feel betrayed?

Then Marco realized that Mewni might well have a tradition of executing burglars, rather than capturing them. They had the vorpal blade, so they could fight for their lives if needed be, but… would that really be any better? If they were seen and escaped, they would be branded criminals either way. And if they killed the guards to escape unrecognized, well… Marco was ready to be a thief, but not a murderer. Could you even argue self defense after you had just broken into another person’s home?

Marco began to hyperventilate. This was too much. It felt like his life was over, and he never even managed to patch things up with Star, or even got a chance to apologize to Jackie, for that matter! He had no idea what to do!

Higgs, fortunately, did.

“You two, grab anything you can pocket, quickly,” she whispered, as she did the same. “Follow me.”

She ran directly at the wall of the chamber, slashing at it with the vorpal sword, hacking it apart as if it were made of cardboard… three feet thick ‘cardboard’. Even with the magical blade, it took her many attempts before she was able to make the gash big enough for the three of them to sneak through.

It wasn’t a quiet process either.

The footsteps behind them broke into a run.

The three squires ran too. They ran along hallways of purple velvet carpeting, and along rows of portraits of a regal looking Count Mildrew looking down on them with - and this was probably just Marco’s imagination - an expression of reproachful disdain. The golden coins lining the red hoodie’s pockets clattered and fell through the sides as they raced away.

Marco tried the scissors again. Still no luck.

Eventually, they found a window. Out of nowhere, Higgs pulled a long rope. Ok, not out of nowhere. Obviously she had brought it inside that cloak of hers, maybe tied around her waist or something. So, unlike him, she did have a plan B for their escape. A prepared squire is a… you know what? Not the time!

“Prince, hold this!” she yelled, handing him the vorpal sword.

Marco picked it up, without even thinking, and set himself in a defensive stance, looking back towards the hallway they had come from. The steps sounded real close now.

With her hands newly free, Higgs was quickly tying the rope to the door closest to the windowsill. As soon as she managed to secure one end, she threw the other through the opening. Old Guy went down the rope first, just as soon as Higgs was done setting it up. She followed him.

Just as Marco turned to do the same, a loud angry voice shouted behind him. “Stop! Stop or you die!”

Marco turned around and saw… the man in the portraits.

Blonde, square jawed, tall, and just slightly less fit than the pictures made him look, Count Mildrew stared at him in disbelief. He was holding a poker iron, like one would use to feed a fireplace, and wearing purple silk pajamas. There were bags under his eyes and he had the disheveled look of someone who had been abruptly woken up.

By reflex, Marco lifted the magical sword to defend himself.

“You trespass into my property, steal from me, damage my home, and then raise your blade towards me…” the count listed, surprised. “Why, Marco Diaz?”