Chapter Text

“Sir Lavabo! Sir Lavabo!” Marco shouted as he knocked on the manor’s front gate, still panting a little from running all the way from the far side of the estate. His leg still hurt, but only barely.

“Ah, Marco Diaz, please, come on in. It is open,” replied a calm voice through the sturdy door. “Are you mayhap under pursuit? If so, please hold on for just a moment, I’ll be able to lend my assistance as soon as I have finished just this one ear of corn.”

What? No, he was fine. Also, wait, did that mean that if he were being pursued by a monster right now, Lavabo would finish eating and then try to help him!? Marco shook his head and pulled the door towards him, walking in on the Knight of the Wash eating breakfast.

“No, I am not ‘under pursuit’. But, for the record, sir, I did encounter some sort of wood monster earlier this morning,” Marco noted. “A heads up about those would have been nice!”

“Ah, a ‘wooden monster’, you say? A True Timberwolf, perhaps? Or an Elmbeast? Maybe even a Greater Oakwolf? Certainly not the dreaded Ironwood Ursus! Not this far out of the forest…”

Um, did that mean there were multiple murderous creatures made of wood roaming around? Crap! Marco was pretty sure he understood now why nobody else lived out here.

“Look, I don’t know what any of those are, it didn’t look like a wolf, I almost broke my leg kicking it, and I am only alive because I remembered about the bear traps!” Marco complained.

“The Elmbeast most likely, then. Had it been an Oakwolf or an Ironwood, you would most likely have truly broken your leg.” Lavabo wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Please do not risk that in the future, Marco Diaz, a broken leg would greatly interfere with your duties.”

“You know what would also interfere with my duties?” the squire asked irritated. “Being eaten!”

Lavabo blinked.

“Yes, I suppose it would,” the knight admitted, somewhat taken aback. “But I would not expect a paltry beast like that to defeat a squire of the Order of the Wash. Particularly not one showing such great promise as yourself, Marco Diaz.”

Marco almost blushed at the compliment. Ah, right, Lavabo expected a lot of him. He had since day one, since the Lint Monster. Clearly the reason he didn’t think of warning him, and would have had him wait out an attack while he finished breakfast, was that the old knight was quite confident on his squire’s ability to handle anything Mewni might throw at him. So it wasn’t him simply being unconcerned about the boy’s safety after all. Was it?

“I assume you kept the body?” the knight asked pointedly.

“Eh, I, I kept a leg, sir,” Marco stammered.

“That’s ...not much,” reflected Lavabo, scratching his head. “Elmbeast bark’s ashes are a prime ingredient for some of the most versatile alchemical soaps, and their flank is by far the prime cut of their wood. The leg alone is hardly enough for even a single bar of soap.” He paused for an instant. “Tell you what, Marco Diaz, starting next week, I shall teach you all I know about dealing with the forest’s beasts. I shall indeed need help hunting for supplies, after all, and it could also help prevent an unlikely career ending accident of the sort you just described…”

“Ah, yes, that would be great sir, thanks,” Marco replied, half reasured, half terrified about what a hunting trip with Lavabo might entail. “But, sir… speaking of supplies, what I wanted to show you is, well… this.”

He handed Lavabo the Midnight Warrior Blowout Sale invitation, ‘For knights and their squires only’. As much as Marco hated Quest Buy, it did seem less dangerous than a hunting trip inside the Forest of Certain Death, if only barely.

The old knight’s eyes went wide, and Marco could have sworn a tear had begun to form on the right one. “Marco Diaz, this is truly amazing news! Why didn’t you say so first?”

“I tried to…” Marco complained, only to be interrupted.

“It’s been so long! I haven’t been to one of these sales since I myself was a squire! Oh youth... You see, only a knight and squire pair is a valid entrant into their sale, it is tradition, and I never had... ah, I never had a squire, not until now… Marco Diaz, I am ever so honored to…” He stopped short, noticing the rest of the invitation details. “Oh, but we must hurry! Grab some paper and a quill, I’ll try to make a list of what we need along the way…”

“Actually, sir,” Marco smiled, confidently. “I don’t think we are quite so short on time. I mean, we can always just join them all at Quest Buy.”

He took out the dimensional scissors from his pocket and proudly spun them around in his hand. He might or might not have tried to raise an eyebrow too.

Lavabo frowned.

“Marco Diaz, I appreciate the gesture. However, that will not do,” he remarked solemnly. “For you see, while the supplies we will get tonight are indeed invaluable to the Wash and to our sworn duties in general, that is not at all the true intent behind the knight and squire blowout sale tradition. It is, instead, first and foremost, an opportunity for both generations of our gentel tradition to meet and to mingle and to deepen the bonds of camaraderie of our chivalric profession, in a safe and amiable environment. We must, thus, endeavor to make our best impression, and to represent all of the knightly virtues, humility chief among them! To show off in such manner as you suggest, from the very moment of our arrival, would thus run counter to the very purpose of this crucial opportunity to build goodwill among our peers. We must tread the same paths as the other knights and squires, as comrades, or else not join them at all. Therefore, Marco Diaz, we shall walk, and we must hurry…”

“Uh… ok… sure...” Marco tried his best to hide his disappointment as he put the scissors away and rushed for his bag and supplies.

Geez, ok, Lavabo was probably right on this one, but did it really hurt to show off for once? From what he had seen of the other knights of Mewni so far, that whole thing about humility being chief among their virtues was a bunch of crap anyways.

Also, if they were in such a hurry, then surely the old knight could have said the same thing in like one tenth as many words…

----

It turned out, Lavabo had two lists to dictate to Marco, as they literally jogged through the mewnian countryside. The first was apparently the ‘standard’ squire blowout list. A squire was supposed to help outfit their knight with armor, weapons, dragon repellent, and a young war horse, among a few other items. Yes, he was supposed to literally buy Lavabo a pony!

But that was the short list. The long list was this endless wishlist of cleaning implements, detergents, magical waxes and oils, and other magical reagents useful in the job of cleaning clothes. And, Lavabo insisted, both lists were of the utmost importance to fulfill. Plus, he had that other special request, the one Star had asked for… Man, getting that dumb palm tree costume might be his best chance to casually meet up with Star, if only to deliver the prop.

It was weird, but over the last week they had exchanged letters almost daily, some short and some long, and yet Marco hadn’t dared outright suggest that they hang out. He had hinted at it, a few times, but Star was not one for getting subtle clues. After his first two days in Mewni, he had not tried to just find Star again on his own either, given how busy she seemed to be. But if he got her the costume, then he had the perfect excuse to go deliver it to her. Not that he needed an excuse, of course. After all, is not like things were bad between the two of them. Is just, well, that way it would be a bit more, dunno, natural, right?

On the way to the southern fields, they passed a foreboding mountain, crowned with snow and bisected by a flowing stream of lava. Marco recognized the place. It was the ‘hill’ of the king-of-the-hill-like Game of Flags. It was a senseless brutal bloodsport by which both sides of Star’s family regularly engaged each other in competition. Marco had only been there the one time - which, side note, he totally won - and that had been enough to give him a long term sense of alarm about the dynamics of the Butterfly-Johansen feud. That talk between River and Etheria the other day didn’t help matters there one bit.

Marco, more aware of the geographical position of that hill in between the two allied kingdoms than he had been back on that day, now wondered about the first time both families had fought over its peak. Had it been a game that day too, or a field of battle? He briefly considered asking Sir Lavabo. But the old knight preempted him with the words: “Twice diluted ‘Blood of Regin’ potion, for the cuir bouilli of dragonhide, half a gallon at least, three-quarters prefered.”

Marco hurried to write that up, his earlier thoughts forgotten.

----

Marco and Sir Lavabo arrived at the meeting point near the southern corn fields just in time. They crossed the top of the nearest foothills, just as the trumpet called the encamping warriors to attention. Marco recognized the owner of such trumpet. Star’s family majordomo of sorts: Manfred.

“Knights of Mewni, squires, attention,” the vaguely snobbish man announced in a polite detached tone. “The portals to Quest Buy will be opened in 15 minutes. Please undo your tents, gather your supplies, and be prepared to form in orderly files of ten.”

Well, Marco didn’t know if that put them ahead or behind the curve, but neither him nor Lavabo had brought a tent. The more punctual knights however, seemed to be already busying themselves dismantling their own. He and Lavabo just automatically tried the universal strategy of the tardy: mixing themselves with the bustling crowd as soon as possible, to dissimulate their lateness.

The human boy had never before realized just how many knights and squires Mewni had. He counted a few dozens of fully armored nobles, plus each of their far less overdressed, usually much scrawnier, counterparts.

The knights that had apprehended him the day he arrived in Mewni where there, as were the few he met during his short summer stay after the battle with Toffee. He saw that mountain of a woman, Lady Whats-Her-Name… She was literally crushing her own tent flat, with the help of some baby-faced guy who was almost as hefty as she was, albeit significantly more doughy looking.

There were also a lot more people that he didn’t recognize. There was some dude who looked even older than Lavabo, but was not in armor for some reason (he couldn’t possibly be a squire, could he?). Some goth-looking girl with what looked like an iron mandolin stood besides an even scarier knight full of scars. A wimpy kid carried a pile of books around a stern looking older lady-knight. And… wait, was that a demon all the way over there? ...and… oh… crap!

“Ah, arriving late, I see, washboy. Well, normally I’d say it’s better late than never, but in your case… I guess I don’t see the point of even showing up. This is an event for the squires of actual knights.” Such was Sir Stabby’s pointed stab at a greeting.

Marco considered rising to the bait with an equally biting reply. However, such audacious impulse was forestalled by two separate concerns. The first was that he actually didn't have that good of a comeback. The second, and most important, was Sir Stabby's demonstrated willingness to escalate verbal sparring to the steel-wielding variety with remarkable short warning.

The young squire looked at Sir Lavabo for support, but the old knight hardly seemed to notice his apprentice's predicament. The Knight of the Wash looked instead to be utterly entranced with the crowd around them, a starry eyed gaze surveying the arrayed pairs of mentors and mentees.

"My own squire..." Marco heard the man whisper, even as he ignored the squire in question and his predicament.

"Oh, I see," Stabby remarked. "My apologies, boy. I misunderstood. For a moment I thought you were operating under the absurd impression that you were a real participant in tonight's event. Now I see that you only seek to play along with the old senile coot's happy delusions. A noble enough act, all things considered..."

"Wait a minute..." begun Marco, but a firm hand gripped him by the shoulder. Lavabo's hand. It held onto him with remarkable strength, even as the knight's affable and distracted expression remained unchanged.

"Yes, boy?" Stabby asked, haughtily impatient.

"Ah, nothing, Sir," Marco stammered. He looked down, clenching his fists.

He understood what Lavabo was doing. There was no point in starting, or even joining, a fight with Sir Stabby, for either of them. If Marco had to appear to be a coward, and his extremely capable knight had to seem like a loon, then so be it. That was what the grip on his shoulder was telling him. But still, it didn't mean Marco had to like it.

Sir Stabby smiled, "Very well then, you take care of gramps over there, boy. Just remember, when the sale starts... don't get in my way."

The peacock-haired knight swiveled on his feet, purposefully giving his back to the Knight of the Wash and his squire. He begun pointedly marching in the opposite direction.

Marco sighed.

"Hey, don't mind him too much, alright?" spoke a female voice from behind his right side.

Marco turned around to see a redhead girl with a pixie cut walking by, carrying a bunch of jousting lances and a blue tarp with both hands in front of her.

She was wearing a blue uniform, which Marco immediately recognized as a berry dye on mid-coarseness hemp fabric, and had some sort of linen training bandages over her arms. Plus she had these sweet spiked shoulder pads (iron, on grape-boiled leather). Nothing fancy, really, those were materials he saw more often on the huge peasant pile rather than the knights and squires fare, but she made it look great!

More importantly, she seemed nice, which after dealing with 'Sir Abrasive' over there, was a welcome change as far as Marco was concerned.

"Hi, I’m Higgs. I'd offer you a handshake, but," she smiled apologetically, and looked meaningfully at the pile of iron and cloth she still held in her arms.

"Ah... oh... right, I can help you with that!" offered Marco, perhaps a bit too slowly.

"Oh, really? Sure, thanks," Higgs smiled, pushing forward half the pile into Marco's arms. "You are Lavabo's new kid, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, um, my name is Marco," he offered.

God, this stuff was heavy! The human boy struggled to even keep himself from toppling over from the weight, and that was after plenty of days of practice carrying stuff back and forth at the Wash. Whomever this girl was, she was stronger than she looked!

"Well, Marco, thanks for the assist. A helpful squire is the best squire, after all," she said brightly, politely trying to suppress a chuckle as Marco stumbled just a little bit under the load. "Now, why don't you help me get this stuff to our line?"

"Yeah, sure," Marco agreed. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sir Lavabo giving him a surreptitious wink.

"Cool. That way we can keep talking," reasoned the mewman girl. "Sorry to be in a rush, but Sir Stabby always gets cranky if he is not first in line, and I think Old Guy is almost done with Sir Dashing's tent too..."

"Wait, your knight is Stabby!?" Marco realized, with horror. "...I ...I am not sure he'll want to see me bring his stuff..."

"Oh, he won't see you," Higgs reassured him. "He won't be there until later. He only wants me to reserve him a spot. He'll probably be trying to chat up Lady Whosits or something instead. But, really, don't pay too much attention to that guy, he is always like that when you first meet him, really."

"Oh, so he is not as bad once you get to know him better?" Marco asked, not entirely hopeful about that.

Higgs laughed. "Are you kidding? He is way worse when you get to know him! Believe me..."

Marco chortled at this, taken by surprise by the humorous reply. "Well, my condolences, then."

It was Higgs' time to laugh.

God, this was so nice. Marco had just met the girl and he felt like they had known each other for a while. It was just so easy to joke around with her, she was cool like that. She kinda reminded him of a certain other cool girl back in Echo Creek, except that one he had always had a lot more trouble talking to... no, never mind that for now.

"Well, and how about you, Marco?" she asked. "Is the crazy laundry-knight as crazy as the rumors say?"

"Hey! Don't dis Sir Lavabo, he is actually a pretty great knight," Marco protested, in a somewhat serious tone. But then, he had to admit, rolling his eyes, that, "of course, he is mostly great in... roundabout ways."

She chuckled appreciatively.

They finally reached the blue flagpole on the ground that marked the start of one of the portaling queues. Not his or Lavabo's, of course, but apparently Sir Stabby's and Sir Dashing's, and well, Higgs'.

Most of the knights seemed to be missing from this area of the field, relying instead on their squires to carry their belongings and reserve their places in the various lines. Still, the place was teeming with squires, mostly young mewmans, hurrying up and down carrying bags and weapons and camping supplies. Which made it extra embarrassing when Marco tripped on... something, and was sent rolling to the ground, spilling Stabby's lances and packages all over the place.

"Oh, wow," Higgs remarked. "Marco, if those were too heavy for you, you should have told me sooner!"

She raised her voice to where the boy was sure everyone around them could hear it. There was also something about her concern that seemed somehow less than genuine.

"Here, let me give you a hand... prince."

Sarcasm dripped from her voice as she said that last word, and then Marco realized, to his utter confusion, what he had tripped on. The squire girl had stuck her foot in front of him, clearly on purpose.

"Prince?" he asked.

“As in: ‘the prince of the princess' deepest desire’?” Higgs sang and rolled her eyes. Then looking at Marco’s shocked expression, and his slowly dawning recollection, she smirked, “So, I was right! You really are that tool, aren’t you?”

Star’s Song Day! She was quoting from that dumb song: ‘and who is the boy in the Earthly attire…?’. Damn that idiot Ruberiot!

“No. I mean yes… I mean… Look, we didn’t know what was going to be in that song, and it really isn’t like that,” he clarified. Alright, to be honest, it was more accurate to say that he unclarified. He was still more confused than anything else by the girl’s sudden change in attitude.

“‘We didn’t know’?” Higgs asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “‘We’? As in the goddamn Princess Star and you? Well, excuse me, your highness, if us peons somehow misinterpreted the song’s oh-so-subtle message… How about I say what I think I know, so that His Grace might correct my ignorance?”

Where the hell did that come from? Marco was about to ask her what her fucking problem was, when the squire just went ahead with her very public, very loud, explanation.

“The way it seems to me, prince, and to most of us down here, is that the princess was using her formal introduction as a way to announce her complete nobody of a royal boyfriend. Some random idiot that she met during her inter-dimensional vacation and who knew jack shit about Mewni, but might very well have ended up lording above all of us one day,” she explained, angrily. “It seems to me, that she was also using that announcement as a distraction from the fact that she and her parents lost the damn Royal Book of Spells. An ‘oopsie’ that, by the way, led to that monster taking over and flying thousands into the sky… But hey, it’s all fine now, because the princess learned a lesson about having to do her fucking job or something...”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Marco protested. “Star was the one who beat Toffee! She saved Mewni, and she is trying to help her mom rebuild it!”

“So, you’re saying we are all mistaken, then? That it wasn’t half her wand in ‘King Ludo’s’ hand? That it wasn’t her magic that… that… that did all that!” She clenched her fist as she eyed the boy up and down. Then, coldly, she added, “You must think we are all really stupid!”

Marco had nothing to say to that. It still wasn’t fair, Toffee had done that, not Star. But he had to wonder, maybe if they had gone to the Magic High Commission before Song Day…

“But yeah, whatever, I am sure it sucks to be you,” Higgs continued. “Because, well, last I heard, the princess is now dating the Lucitor heir. So I guess she sent off her ex to play squire to get him out of the way, maybe because he didn’t quite get the hint that she wanted him to just leave. Or is that another misinterpretation on my part?”

“I am not her ex! Star and I never dated!” he protested. He didn’t want to think about how the rest of it might not have been entirely wrong, though. “She was… is… my best friend.”

“Alright. I stand corrected then, Marco: You are even more of a tool than I suspected!” she chuckled. “So, my condolences to you too, prince. My condolences that you didn’t end up lucking your way into the goddamn throne just because the princess liked your stupid face. My condolences that you have to settle for being handed in a silver platter the opportunity to someday become a knight, an opportunity that I worked so hard to get. My condolences that you didn’t slam into nobility quite as hard as you expected!”

She seemed furious, and the squires around him were glaring daggers at Marco, no doubt also thinking about how him being there cheapened their own achievements. Marco had thought Star was pushing him aside that day when she brought him down to the Wash. But, at the same time, seen from their perspective, he had actually been handed out a job he didn’t earn, and is not like he could easily convince them otherwise.

Well, so much for Lavabo’s advise to make a good first impression.

He wanted to yell back at the girl, to protest that he didn’t deserve this treatment. He knew he was lucky to be Star’s friend, but that luck wasn’t his fault. He honestly wanted to prove he deserved being a squire and then a knight, but they were not even giving him the chance show that.

What would Lavabo do in this situation? What could Marco do?

He stood up, silently. Slowly, he picked up the things he had dropped, carefully placing them at the front of the line with Higgs’ original pile.

Then he just walked away.

Marco could already hear the snickering increase, and he tried his best to ignore them so he wouldn’t end up sobbing and embarrassing himself further. He had already made himself look stupid by prioritizing another knight’s spot and equipment over his own. Thinking about it now, Higgs was probably testing him on that front as well. He just hoped Lavabo wasn’t feeling a similar amount of shame.

“Look on the bright side, Marco,” Higgs said. Marco kept walking away from her. “The Squire Blowout is only once a year. After tomorrow, both you and us actual squires won’t have to deal with each other for a while. Stay in the Wash if you must. Just stop making us look bad by acting your stupid play-pretend in public, and you’ll save me the trouble of constantly showing you up like this, alright?”

Marco wanted to take after Lavabo. He tried to tell himself he didn’t need their validation. Honor was not about how others perceived you, but about who you knew, deep inside, you were. As long as he was doing the right thing, and kept providing curse-free clothes to every single resident of Mewni, that alone would be enough. He would be content.

But he wasn’t. He felt like garbage. He felt even worse than when he was alone in the Lint Catcher for those grueling six hours. Six hours of self-reflection where Marco reminded himself of every single mistake he had made to everyone, on both Earth and Mewni. But Marco was used to down-talking himself. To be told that he sucked, and that everything he got was undeserved, by a complete stranger...

It stunk. It really, really stunk...