In which Marco makes his final delivery, an old lady is in danger, a fifteen-year old tale is recounted, the tragic fate of Lavabo’s siblings explained, and our young squire must contend with a choice of right and wrong.

Chapter Text

Marco had spent the last hour portalling between the Wash and the various mansions and estates of the knights and nobles of Mewni. At least, those of them with deliveries due that day. A rushed salute, a quick greeting, a handful of clean folded clothes, and then off he was. It wasn’t the most polite delivery service ever rendered, but it would have to do.

He had let himself become delayed far too much inside the castle, what between Ruberiot’s antics, Etheria’s threats, Eclipsa’s tea, and Tom’s, um… Tom-ness?

In the end, he had had to make two hours worth of long distance deliveries in only one. Even with dimensional scissors, that had been quite the challenge. Still, unwilling to disappoint Sir Lavabo, the Squire of the Wash had pushed himself harder than ever, and just about managed to accomplish his quest...

Now there was one final delivery to be made, though it wasn’t really the last name on his list. Marco had actually skipped over it repeatedly until now, trying to postpone the inevitable and unpleasant encounter as much as possible.

Well, he no longer had that option! He sighed, grabbed the heavy wooden basket - heavy because it included, among other items, a full chainmail armor and breastplate set - and cut his last outgoing portal of the evening.

Normally, he’d have Artax Ed by his side to carry the clothes, but, for this final trip, the squire had decided to leave the young foal back in the Wash with Lavabo. After all, the tiny horse might get recognized by the man who, um… actually purchased him, and then Marco would really be in trouble!

‘Sir Stabby: One suit of armor, three pants, five shirts, nine sets of undergarments, one skirt,’ Marco had counted, marking those off in his master list.

He had been somewhat surprised when he first read the last item, but then he realized, upon closer inspection, that it probably belonged not to the knight, but to his squire. So did one of the pants, one shirt, and two pairs of underwear. There was no way any of those would fit the broad muscular man, particularly the two bras.

That said, if it turned out that the skirt was somehow actually Sir Stabby’s, then all the more power to him. Princess Turdina was all up for defying stereotypes!

Marco wondered what kind of place Stabby and Higgs would live in. Would it be similar to Sir Lavabo’s estate in the outskirts of the kingdom? Or perhaps a smaller but more elegant urban manor near the royal mile, like Sir Dashing’s had been?

It was curious, though, of all the knights homes he had visited that day, none of them roommed with their squires. How weird was it that Higgs and Marco had that, of all things, in common?

Speaking of finding the place, well, that was the next challenge. Mewnian addresses were weird. There was a system to them, of course, but other than the royal way - and the royal mile in particular - it wasn’t the streets that carried names. It was the plazas and neighborhoods. The best way to find where to deliver the clothes was, often enough, to portal to a high vantage point (say, one of the castle’s balconies), find the right plaza, then portal down there and look for the fanciest house around.

Except, well, this particular address couldn’t possibly be right!

Marco looked at his list, then at his map, then at the view before him. ‘Queen Comet’s Third Memorial Plaza, Western Rat’s End’ was the address. It looked, well… like you’d expect a place called ‘Rat’s End’ to look like. Not to be unkind to Sir Stabby, but just from up here, Marco could see that the place was a slum!

No, literally, it was a slum. A big sprawling one, too.

Marco portaled into a narrow dirt street between two leaning houses, which looked less like a planned construction and more like stacks of room-sized wooden boxes that had been thrown one atop another. The ground level windows were boarded up, and the street itself smelled heavily of piss. High above him, clotheslines hung between the upper windows, none of which had any glass panes, broken or not.

A few of these second and third floor windows had tattered rags for curtains. The rest, Marco could see through, into the sparse yet chaotic rooms within. A few ‘apartments’ were empty, but many more were veritably crowded: families of eight or more mashed together in what in the castle might have well been one of the servant closets. As the squire glanced inside, dozens of despondent eyes watched him in return, with confusion and muted curiosity.

Queen Comet’s Third Memorial Plaza turned out to be a tiny patch of grass by the end of the narrow closed alleyway. It held a lonely looking bust of Star’s grandmother atop a stone column standing near the far wall. Not counting the somewhat dismal statue, the mini-park would have been large enough to hold maybe four people sitting down for a picnic. If they were willing to end up leaning against the building walls on either side, that is.

Not that such seating would be possible right this moment, however, as the park’s ground was entirely covered with garbage. Rotten food scraps for the most part, but also tons of wooden debris. It stank horribly, and yet the odor of urine remained the stronger of the two.

Now, Marco wasn’t blind, or naive. He had been around Mewni long enough to know that this is how a lot of the kingdom probably lived. If anything, the people here seemed far less, well, dirt-poor than the farmers further away from the main city. There were, for example, iron pots and pans hanging from the clotheslines, along with other such modest possessions - no actual clothes, though, after all, there were only two people in all the kingdom that regularly did any laundry.

Yet, while these people obviously had more material wealth than the corn farmers did, they were also certainly crammed far closer together, and in far more unpleasant, if perhaps safer, conditions. Marco wondered which of the two lives he’d chose, if those were his only options. Neither seemed particularly bearable. Would the squire have had to endure this rough lifestyle if Lavabo hadn’t been so willing to share his home with him?

It was very much unlike the other areas he had delivered to during that same day, that was for sure. After all, only nobles and knights got deliveries, plus the castle staff. Most mewmans simply queued each morning along the Wash’s pick-up window for their clothes.

Usually, this was the part where Marco would look at the different houses, starting with the nicest-looking one, and inspect the name plates hung on them to indicate their owner. But, down here, houses had no name plates. They barely had anything to distinguish one from another, except for the different patterns of rot in their wooden walls. Several windows did have some basic graffiti plastered right above them, but the boy wasn’t sure if this was to indicate a person’s home or their association with a gang. There was simply no way Sir Stabby lived in this dump!

Marco’s prospects of finding the right home didn’t get any better after he tried wandering around for a bit, attempting to find some larger street or plaza. If anything, Comet’s Third Memorial was the more upscale section of the Rat’s End, if only in that at least the buildings near it were all in one piece.

Just around the corner from that same alley were two apartment-stacks for which half the second and third floor had collapsed. The box-like rooms that remained on those floors had been ‘reinforced’ with a series of thick nautical ropes, but it was clear that was a temporary solution at best.

Further afield, Marco found two full blocks that had completely burned down. Instead of being rebuilt, they now hosted some sort of semi-permanent encampment within the blackened husks of the former structures. The streets around were impassable, blocked by piles of broken wooden beams and planks. Even where they hadn’t actually broken down yet, plenty of homes showed signs of fire or water damage along their walls.

Marco thought about Star’s letters, and about her talk about rebuilding Mewni. For the first time since he came back, the squire finally understood the truly herculean scope of such a task!

Eventually, he made it back to where he had begun, feeling half-convinced that he had simply mistaken the address in his list. He briefly considered yelling at one of the windowless rooms, asking about Sir Stabby’s home. It seemed like a sure way of getting laughed at in response.

Instead, Marco shook his head and took out his scissors again. He began cutting a portal back to the Wash. Perhaps Lavabo knew where his fellow knight lived?

“Ugh! I thought I recognized that flash of light the first time around!” came a voice from above. “What the hell are you doing in the goddamn rat ass… prince?”

He really didn’t need to look up to figure out who that was. The tone, not to mention the nickname, were unmistakable signs. Still, he did venture a weary glance towards the voice. There, standing by a tiny irregular hole, in one of the second floor wooden boxes, was Higgs.

Her box did have a curtain, and now that Marco was looking directly at it, he realized that it ought to have identified the house as well as any name plate would. It was a long blue cloth, made of what had, a long time ago, been finely-dyed velvet. If it weren’t so washed out and half-burned, the human would have immediately recognized the heraldry in it. It was clearly one of Sir Stabby’s old capes! It covered a window so misshapen that Marco half-wondered if Higgs had simply punched it into the wooden wall.

“Oh, so you guys do live here!” Marco exclaimed, in relieved surprise.

It was only a second afterwards that he realized that was about the worst thing he could have said!

Higgs face turned red. For an instant, perhaps, red with embarrassment. By the time she jumped down, landing right in front of Marco, it had clearly transmuted into red with rage. She pulled him by the collar of his hoodie and lifted her other hand to form a threatening fist, looming far above the clothes basket that Marco was still carrying.

“And what is that supposed to mean!?” she asked in a quiet but angry tone, almost as if she was trying to yell at him and whisper at the same time. “Not all of us live in the castle, prince. And, again, what the hell are you doing here!?”

Marco, blinking, realized that walls were probably pretty thin around here, and that his earlier shout, loud enough for her to hear from the second floor, had probably had half the neighborhood for an audience. He also realized how Higgs had interpreted it: as if he was amazed that people, in general, lived in a place like this.

He hadn’t meant it that way though!

Had he?

“I, I am looking for Sir Stabby,” Marco protested. “I was beginning to think he didn’t live here, because there are no signs in the houses. So I was relieved to see that you two do live around here. That’s all!” He defended himself.

Also, he technically didn’t live in the castle, nor it’s basement or sub-basement, but in Sir Lavabo’s estate. Somehow, he doubted that clarification would make Higgs any less angry at him, though.

The squire considered letting down the basket to be ready to block Higgs’ punch, just in case she didn’t buy his explanation, but his sense of duty prevented him from doing so. After all, defending oneself against a strong assailant was one thing, but letting clean laundry fall so near to the piss-smelling ground was unacceptable. Lavabo would never allow something like that to happen, and neither would Marco!

“I do live here. He doesn’t,” Higgs replied, dialing the tone down from murderous back to merely annoyed. To Marco’s relief, she also lowered her fist and let go of his hoodie.

“But, the list said…” Marco began musing aloud. “Look, do you know where he lives? It’s official Wash business. I am just trying to deliver his clothes.”

Higgs looked down at the basket for the first time since they began their, um, conversation. She seemed to reassess the situation. “Ok, fine! Just hand them to me, prince.”

She took a step back, and extended a single arm, palm up, beckoning him to pass the clothes basket.

“Um, well, I mean, I could, but... I am supposed to deliver to him in person,” the boy protested.

“One, I always get Sir Stabby’s clothes. He really doesn’t trust your laundry-knight, so he insists that I polish his armor a second time, before handing it over to him, that’s why this stuff gets delivered here. Two, I thought you guys just sent the mail mewman to do the deliveries,” she paused for a moment and glared down at the pile of clothes. “And, three, some of those are my clothes, and I’d appreciate if you’d deliver those to me in person!” she demanded.

Marco raised an eyebrow. “Because Sir Stabby doesn’t know you have been requesting delivery for your own stuff as well as his?” he ventured a guess.

“So? What of it!?” Higgs asked, testily.

“Well, delivery is supposed to be only for nobles, knights, and those living in the castle,” Marco pointed out. “So look who is getting favorable treatment now, your highness!” he added, making good use of Etheria’s lessons in protocol.

Frankly, the human didn’t give a rat’s… end if Higg’s was getting her clothes delivered when she shouldn’t. But after all the crap she had given him for getting unfair advantages via his association with royalty, well, he certainly wasn’t going to let this little hypocrisy of hers slide!

Higgs frowned.

“Yeah, well, whatever. You know what? Go hand Sir Stabby his stuff and go return mine to the Wash. I’ll just pick it up tomorrow like everyone else.” She crossed her arms in front of herself. “Good luck with handling his stabby-ness as he complains about ‘the shoddy polishing job of those incompetent laundrymen’, though!” Higgs added, in her best impression of her knight.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Marco protested. “Lavabo himself polished that armor! You could use it as a mirror!” In fact, that’s what Sir Dashing had done with his own, right after the squire had delivered it earlier that evening…

“I know,” Higgs grinned victoriously. “That’s why I never actually bother trying to polish it again when it just came back from cleaning. But if you hand those clothes directly to Sir Stabby, I guarantee you he will find fault with it, whether real or imaginary. So, this is me doing you a favor, prince, not the other way around.”

“Ugh. Fine,” Marco relented. There was no winning with Higgs, and the prospect of doing one more trip carrying the huge suit of armor was becoming less and less appealing by the second. “But, um, are you sure you want me to just hand it to you like this? This is pretty heavy…” he warned her.

Higgs just rolled her eyes and extended her hand again. Marco, obligingly, pushed up the wooden basket with both arms and let it fall on Higgs outstretched palm. He had expected the girl to at least struggle to keep her balance, if not to topple forward altogether. She just smiled at him and pulled the basket closer, holding it level with one arm.

She did end up grabbing onto it from both sides, but only so she could then throw it flying through her second-floor window. From the sound of that ‘thud!’ and how rickety the homes around here looked, the human boy was surprised the basket hadn’t just broken through the wooden floor on impact. Marco, apparently, had once again underestimated how strong Higgs truly was.

Thinking about it now, Star was also pretty strong. The squire pondered what would happen if the two mewmans ever had to fight each other in magicless hand-to-hand combat. Which girl would be more likely to win in that scenario? His friend or his rival? Marco would have been really curious to see that! But, uh, not in like a weird way or anything...

“Alright, prince, thanks for your service,” Higgs added, rolling her eyes in a way the belied the appreciation. “It’s been… whatever the opposite of a pleasure is.”

Marco shrugged tiredly and prepared to head back to the Wash, glad to see this day, and this meeting, come to an end.

KRA-THACK!

The squire’s plans were interrupted by a sudden booming sound, like two ships crashing one against the other, and then a noise like a cracking whip, but ten times stronger. It was followed by a panicked cry.

Marco reacted on instinct, running towards the source of the noise, only to discover, to his surprise, that he was following Higgs, who had reacted even faster. The two squires raced out of the alleway holding Comet’s Third Memorial, turning around the connecting street just in time to see the tragedy in progress.

The first noises had both come from one of the two partially-collapsed buildings he had seen before, the ones that had been missing half their third and second floor. Predictably, the supports for the remaining half hadn’t been entirely stable either, and one of the apartment-boxes, currently still on the third floor, was now in the process of sliding down and crashing through the second. Most of the ropes ‘holding’ the falling apartment had snapped instantly, with two more currently straining to keep the wooden enclosure from falling down altogether.

Below the crumbling structure, was the origin of the terrified cry: an old lady, slowly trying to move out of the way of the impending disaster! Too slowly, Marco realized.

Higgs raced towards the woman, disregarding her own safety, just as focused as she had been during their own race for the vorpal sword. Marco looked at the straining ropes, and realized she wouldn’t make it on time…

“Higgs! Stop!” he cried, hoping that, for once, the redhead squire would listen to him, would trust him.

Just as he shouted, Marco began cutting with his dimensional scissors. He stuck his arms through the portal and grabbed the elderly woman by the shoulder. He pulled her through as fast as he thought he could without hurting her, and closed the portal right after.

By the time he glanced back towards Higgs, the girl was already sprinting back. Whether because she had heard him, or because she had seen the blue vortex open besides the old lady, Marco didn’t know. But he was relieved to see that his fellow squire was also well out of the range of the collapsing building.

Using an arm to protect the back of his head, Marco positioned himself to cover the lady he’d just rescued from any flying debris. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Higgs catch up with them and do the same. It took barely a second after that before the entire thing came crashing down behind them.

Fortunately, the only thing that reached them, as far as they now were from the falling structure, was the thunderous din of the crash. The old woman whimpered, startled by the noise more than anything else.

“It’s ok, ma’am. You are safe now,” Marco reassured her. “Just, breathe.”

“Nice save there, Marco,” Higgs noted, this time without sarcasm. “And, um, thanks,” she mouthed quietly after a short pause, like she didn’t actually want him to hear it.

Rather than being an ass this time around, Marco just nodded, and turned around to the old woman.

“It’s alright ma’am. Please take all the time you need. Afterwards, we’ll both be happy to escort you home,” he offered.

“T… t… that was my home…” the lady muttered.

Marco didn’t really know what to say to that.

“Marco,” Higgs explained, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think we have time to walk her anywhere, either. She knows where the encampments are. We need to look and see who else was in the crash’s radius.”

And just like that, the full magnitude of what had happened began to sink in.

----

Marco spent the entire night in the Rat’s End, helping Higgs push aside wooden debris, and coordinate the neighborhood's ad-hoc relocation.

It turned out that the redhead squire was well known and, surprisingly, well liked, by the people living in this section of the Western Rat’s End. It further turned out that buildings crashing down around these parts, if not exactly a common occurrence, was not a rare event either.

Fortunately, no one had been badly hurt. No one else had been out on the street at that time, and the walls of the other box-apartments had held against the assault of the bits and pieces of the falling one.

Still, there were plenty of doors that had become obstructed, and a good chunk of the homes near the collapse area had gone from barely livable, to unlivable altogether.

“So, every few weeks something like this happens!?” Marco asked shocked, as he helped Higgs move a wooden beam away from a box apartment's first floor door.

“For the past few months, yeah,” she muttered. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, buildings around here were always crap. But, it’s way worse now a days. There was a big fire, back during the whole Ludo thing. Those damn rats probably started it! Not to mention that huge monster trampling all over town before the invasion.”

“A fire?” Marco asked, dumbly.

“Yeah, well, we put it out,” Higgs remarked, resignedly. “We’re not too far from the lake.”

“Not that water helped these putrid wooden walls any, did it, Higgs?” asked Old Guy, pensively, as he stroked his beard.

He had arrived at some point during the night, possibly after somehow hearing about the accident. It didn’t seem like he was doing much to actually move stuff around, on account of how he was, well, an old guy. But the fact that he was around was more than either of the two squires could say about, for example, the actual knights of Mewni!

Ok, fine, Sir Lavabo’s duties seemed to start and end with the Wash - and, that itself was plenty, whether others believed it or not!

But where were Sir Stabby, or Sir Dashing, or, um, Lady Jaya, for that matter? Maybe they each had their own specific areas of expertise, their particular posts, so to speak. But, if so, then why the hell did Mewni not have, say, a knight of civil engineering or something!?

Marco wasn’t sure whose job was to help these people. But, well, it certainly should be someone’s...

“I thought Queen Moon and Star were in the process of rebuilding Mewni,” Marco mussed, more to himself than to anyone else around. “Wouldn’t it make sense to start with this place? It certainly looks the most damaged…”

Higgs raised an eyebrow.

Old Guy just began laughing. It quickly degenerated into a dry cough. “Start with the Rat’s End!? Good one, kid!” he exclaimed once he had recovered from his coughing fit. “Why rebuild what’s a ruin to begin with? No offense, Higgs.”

“Look, prince,” she spoke, ignoring Old Guy’s comment and subsequent mis-apology. “There are a lot of places in the kingdom in need of rebuilding. Places people in power care about, and also places like this. Guess which ones get fixed first, and which last? If at all…”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Marco observed. Did it? He didn’t really know Moon well enough to be entirely sure of what her order of priorities would be, to be honest. He knew she was a good person, but also somewhat set in her ways on matters of tradition. On the other hand…. “Star wouldn’t think that way, like, at all!”

“Oh, really? Ok, kid, tell us about how your ex-girlfriend is going to sweep in to save us all. That’s bound to be an entertaining tale, for sure,” Old Guy chuckled. “Isn’t that right, Higgs?”

Marco braced himself for the redhead squire’s cutting response, particularly after the way her elderly-looking friend had just set her up for it.

“You know what? Nevermind that,” Higgs simply sighed, tiredly. Clearly the work of lifting plank after plank, and wooden beam after wooden beam, had begun exhausting even her. Or perhaps it was just the situation itself that drained her. “You know my opinion of Princess Star already, prince. But, then again, I also think you are a pampered idiot, and yet here you are, helping out. I… am grateful for that, actually. So, tell you what, if you can get her to come here and fix this one mess, I am willing to reconsider that opinion as well. Or, at the very least, I am willing to be grateful to her too.”

Uh. Marco had certainly not been expecting that!

Then again, why not? He was sure that Star would be right here with him if she knew what was going on, that she would help them rebuild even if she had to do so by hand. Besides, wasn’t she saying that she could make houses with magic these days? Singing houses, sure, but still, better than literal boxes that were falling apart!

It’s not like he thought she would be able to fix the entirety of the Rat’s End by herself. But this one street? This one house? And it would show Higgs, and anyone else who doubted it, that the princess of Mewni truly did care about her people!

But, how to get her here? Portal into her room? In the middle of the night? Definitely not! Write her a letter? Not fast enough! Call her?

Marco hadn’t called Star since he left Mewni the first time, actually. She had called him after, once, when he was back on Earth, but he had missed the call. He hadn’t called her after becoming a squire, either, not even as he tried to catch her in person. Somehow it hadn’t felt right. The letters had seemed… safer.

He pushed the power button of his phone. His palm was sweating as the phone vibrated and beeped on. Higgs and Old Guy gave the device amazed and confused stares.

“Figures you’d have a magic compact mirror,” Higgs commented with disdain, too exhausted to add anything else.

Higgs and Old Guy just stared at the boy, as he remained frozen there, his finger hovering over his best friend’s picture inside the phone’s contacts address book.

What if Star didn’t want to talk to him still? After all, she kept promising that she would find a way to meet him, but never did actually settle on a time. What if she was still annoyed at him for interrupting her date a month ago? For showing up on her life, unannounced?

Marco looked away from his phone, and saw the old woman sitting by a fallen wooden beam, crying softly. He saw the young boys, in filthy broken down rags, staring at the damaged front of their nearby home, looking lost and confused. They probably didn’t know where they would spend the night. Another woman was trying, in vain, to comfort them.

The Squire of the Wash sighed. This went beyond whatever was going on between him and Star. It was not about the two of them. It was about these people, and about Star doing her job. Wasn’t that what she said was keeping her busy? Being the best princess she could be?

Marco tapped on the screen and pulled the cellphone to his right ear. It rang for a quick second and then-

“I am sorry. The mirror you have dialed has been disconnected. Please check the number and dial again. If this does not work, then perhaps the person you are calling does not wish to speak to you,” came through a recorded gangly male voice. “Reflectacorp Mobile apologizes for the inconvenience. Everything is possible with Reflectacorp Mobile technology, except for completing this call!”

“So…?” asked Higgs impatiently.

So, Star had changed her mobile number? How did you even change numbers in a magic mirror? And, had she changed her number… because of him?

“It’s ringing,” Marco lied. “She is just, um, not answering. Let me try again.”

He did. Even though he knew he would just hear the same recording again. He stood through it, in silence, trying to compose himself. The other squires would have a field day, exhausted or not, if he told them about the missing line. If they knew about how Star had basically blocked him!

“No answer,” he lied again, in a daze. “I guess maybe she’s asleep? I mean, it’s pretty late…”

“Figures,” sneered Higgs. “The princess sleeps in her queen sized bed while her people suffer… and you,” She jabbed her finger at Marco’s chest. “You make promises you can’t deliver on. I guess my first impression was right, then, prince, on both of you!”

Marco looked down sheepishly in response to that. She was technically right, after all. He felt quite guilty about letting everyone down like that.

“You know, kid,” Old Guy noted. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been so quick to save that lady before. Without a home, she is just going to freeze to death come winter.”

He sounded matter of fact about it too, like it wasn’t even his problem.

Well, it was Marco’s problem! He would go to the castle tomorrow morning. Then find Star, or Moon, or River, and show them the sorry state of this street. Hell, he would drag Tom into this somehow if he needed to. Someone had to help these people…

“Could we… Higgs, could we rebuild that house?” he asked.

“Do you know carpentry, prince?” she countered.

Marco shook his head. He wouldn't know where to begin learning, either.

“Besides… we don’t have any supplies, or any money with which to buy them.”

Higgs and Old Guy exchanged a strange look then. It was as if she was asking the elderly squire for permission for something.

“How about this?” Marco extended out a hand, showing the redhead squire and her friend a stack of bills.

Higgs quickly pushed it back inside Marco’s hoodie. “Don’t show that around here!” she whispered rushedly into his ear. “Can’t believe what kind of an idiot you are sometimes, prince! This is the Rat’s End, people are desperate, they will take it if they have half the chance…”

“Yeah, sure, but, um, isn’t that the idea?” he asked.

She gave him a quizzical glance.

“I mean, is not like I’d blame them. And I don’t need this money. There’s plenty of food at Lavabo’s place to live off of, and I can always go to my parents if I really need to.” he explained. “If this can help these people survive the winter, then I’d say they should take it.”

“‘It’s not like you would blame them’?” Higgs asked, pensive. “For robbing you?”

Old Guy snickered. “Either way, it’s not going to be the old lady that takes it from you, or from her, for that matter. Look, kid, if you are going to be that naive, why not give the money to me… for, um… safe keeping?”

Marco got the point and closed the zipper of his hoodie, eyeing Old Guy suspiciously.

“How much do you have there anyways?” the redhead squire asked, curiously.

Marco looked at the two of them, uneasy. He then whispered into her ear. “Six hundred and fifty dollars.”

She gave him a dirty look. “More than I’ll probably see from Sir Stabby until the day I get knighted. And yet not nearly enough to rebuild even one of these shambling stacks…”

“Isn’t there anything we can do? Anything at all!?” Marco asked, angrily. What was the point of becoming a squire if he didn’t have the power to help a single old lady?

Higgs seemed to hesitate for a second.

“Tell me, prince, if you wouldn’t blame these people for robbing you to repair their homes, would you blame them for robbing someone else?” she asked. “Someone richer? Someone who owes them a duty that was never paid? Someone who basically had it coming?”

Old Guy gave her a look, and Marco was sure he was telling her to shut up. There was something going on here, and how he responded was likely to determine how much he would learn about it.

“I’d say…” Marco whispered back, uncertain. “... it depends.”

He half couldn’t believe what he was saying!

“Ok, say there existed such a person,” Higgs explained in hushed tones. “And say someone planned to try to rob them and then… and this is important… then spend every single speck of gold, corn, silver, or extra-dimensional currency, into helping rebuild the Rat’s End. What would you do?”

“Who is this person?” Marco asked. “The one you are planning to rob.”

Marco shut up immediately, realizing he said too much a little louder than he intended. At the same time, it wasn’t like there were any knights patrolling around to report them. Higgs still gave him the stink eye.

“There you go! Told you trusting him with the information was a bad idea, Higgs. His Majesty probably can't keep a secret to save his life,” Old Guy commented. “Too late to go back on this now, I suppose.”

Truth to be told, Marco really wasn’t sure about any of this. If they were going to ask him to steal from Star or her mom, then they could shove it. He’d find another way. But, considering what he had seen of some of the other nobles... if it were, say, Etheria, well... would he really be right to say no outright?

He had witnessed first hand how a lot of the castle nobles lived, contrasted with the lives of these people. It did seem mightily unfair, especially since the nobles barely worked at all, from what Marco gathered.

“We didn’t say we’d be robbing them. But if that were the case, what would you do?” Higgs pushed.

“Look, it depends,” he answered, still in hushed tones. “There is a story, a story from where I am from, in which a group of people rob the rich to give to the poor. But, even in that story, that’s only moral because the rich were robbing the poor already, through impossibly high taxes and…”

He wasn’t about to explain the tale of Robin Hood to the mewmans. The point was, it was sometimes the right thing to do, but not always! And didn’t they sign up to defend the law as knights, rather than break it? What would Lavabo do in this situation?

“How about stealing from a man who stole from heroes? Heroes who saved the Butterfly Kingdom?” asked Old Guy suddenly.

“What do you mean?” Marco asked, more curious than ever.

“Look, prince, I know you care about these people, and you really could help them, if you wanted to,” she spoke. “You don’t need to be with us on this. But, before we say anything else, you need to swear, at the very least, that you won’t rat us out.”

“I…” Marco didn’t know what to say to that.

“On your honor as a squire, and I am taking a big leap of faith here in assuming you have any,” Higgs sighed. “I need your word that you won’t talk.”

Marco looked around, once more. This seemed wrong. It seemed like the kind of decision he would later regret. But, which of the two choices would he regret the most? Keeping Higgs’ secret? Or telling other knights about the fact that she was planning a robbery, without even knowing who she planned it against, when it could in fact help the people of Rat’s End stay alive to the end of the year?

Besides, he had to admit, this all felt like he had gained some serious points with Higgs tonight, if she was willing to trust him with something like this...

“On my honor as a squire, I swear that I won’t say a word about this to anyone,” he finally said.

He had intentionally left the option open, if it was really, really bad, of writing a letter to Star.

Higgs looked in every direction, and brought the other two squires close in a circle. “His name… is Count Mildrew.”

It didn’t ring any bells for Marco. It certainly sounded like a noble, but it wasn’t one of the ones in today’s delivery list.

“He owns a minor castle within the kingdom, and came across his fortune, and subsequent retirement, when his men saved Mewni from a dragon,” she continued.

“Wait. That sounds pretty heroic to me,” Marco noted. “What was that business about a duty he’s never paid?”

Higgs motioned towards Old Guy with her eyes. The elderly squire nodded and cleared his throat.

“Look, this all happened about fifteen years ago,” he begun. “A mighty dragon descended upon the southern corn fields one night, burning them to the ground, demanding tribute from all mewmans. He was a monster among monsters. The queen and king raised an army to fight him, and marched out through the Forest of Probable Itchiness, all the way to the skirts of the Musty Mountains, inside which caves the beast had made a lair upon a hoard of gold and silver…”

Marco mentally pictured Moon and River, followed by Lady Jaya, Sir Scarsguard, and, perhaps, a younger Sir Lavabo and the rest of the knights, marching south to face the monster.

“So, was this anything like the dragons Higgs tried to have assault me during the Squire Blowout?” Marco asked, eyeing the redhead. She smirked unapologetically in response.

“Oh, not even close,” Old Guy said. “Let me put it this way, kid, There are ‘dragons’, like the domesticated ones wandering Quest Buy, and then there are dragons.”

Yeah, so, probably a lot scarier. “Fair enough, but I imagine Moon still managed to kill it?” he asked.

“No, she didn’t. But, despite what some might think of royalty,” Old Guy looked at Higgs with an open grin, “she did have an excuse. You see, the queen was pregnant at the time. She went into labor just as they were within a few hours march of the lair of the beast. It was the worst timing imaginable.”

Wait. Fifteen years ago? That had to be Star! Holy Crap! Moon was pregnant with Star and still marched forward to defend her kingdom from a freaking dragon! How did Higgs not see how much the queen cared about her people, from that fact alone?

“With the queen out of commission for the night, and the king by her side, it was up to the knights of Mewni to coordinate the attack. If they waited until morning, the dragon might attack their camp, and the royal family would be killed,” Old Guy explained. “The highest ranking person there, other than the queen and king, was Count Mildrew. He was chosen to march his men first, to scout the area. And march them he did… right back towards the Butterfly Kingdom! The coward abandoned his people and his queen, out of fear of confronting the dragon without magic by his side.”

“Wait. If he deserted, then how come you said his men saved Mewni from the dragon?” Marco asked.

Of course, if the story so far was right, he already didn’t like that guy, and would have agreed to anything Higgs was planning to do to him. Abandoning Star to danger as a newborn baby was enough to put anyone on Marco’s permanent shit list!

“Heh. Well, the next morning the dragon didn’t go for the camp,” Old Guy continued. “It flew directly at Count Mildrew and his retreating contingent, and he was forced to fight. And by ‘fight’ I mean cower under a tree, whimpering as his men slayed the dragon. They won that day, but only one in four made it out alive. While he took the dragon’s treasure hoard and the glory for his 'leadership’, their families barely got their sons and husbands’ corpses back.” The elder squire shrugged.

“That sounds horrible!” Marco exclaimed. “Sure, if that’s true, I’d see why someone like that would have it coming, but, um, why tell me?”

“Corn, you are slow, prince!” Higgs interjected. “Mildrew has his own castle. He keeps the treasure there. We need a way in, and, more importantly, a way out, with as many coins as we can carry. Believe me, he won’t even notice them missing…”

Oh. Of course! Higgs knew he had…

“My dimensional scissors?” he confirmed.

She nodded.

Marco paused for a moment. Was he seriously considering it? Becoming a thief? Was that proper behavior for one who wished to become a knight? Would Star approve of that? Marco thought that she might have, if she knew the full story. Then again, maybe if she knew the whole story, she could just seize the guy’s funds and use them to repair the Rat’s End. But, that assumed Marco would be able to contact her. And, if that story was true, then why had Moon not punished the man… did she just not know?

“Wait, I need some time to think,” the Squire of the Wash explained. “Besides, I need to know that this is all true. Is this public knowledge? Why hasn’t the queen done anything about it before?”

Higgs rolled her eyes. “It is not public knowledge. The queen never talked to the men who were with Mildrew, she just talked to the count, and he sold her a very different tale, I am sure. But while he has his own castle, some of the soldiers that actually slayed the dragon now live in places like this. For many, that fight ended their careers. Those who didn’t lose an arm or a leg, ended up too terrified to ever leave the city. But nobody talks to us, nobody that can do anything about the injustices of today or of fifteen years ago. Do you think the knights of today would care about an incident that happened more than a decade ago?”

“Ok, ok. But, um, can I maybe meet one of those men who fought the dragon?” Marco asked. “Just to confirm this version of the story.”

“You already have, Marco,” Higgs whispered.

“I was there,” Old Guy explained, the years seeming to weight heavily on him all of a sudden. “In Mildrew’s entourage, fifteen years ago. Barely made it alive.”

----

It wasn't until late that night, or, rather, early next morning, that Marco made it back home. He could've used the scissors to portal to his room, but the squire really needed the long walk. It gave him time alone to think about the decision he now had to make.

He thought the contemplation would calm his nerves, but it had only succeeded at putting him further on edge.

The walk, and the full day and night of work before, had also caused the young squire to work up quite an appetite. Before retreating into his room in the eastern annex, he really wanted something to eat, and that meant going into the main building's kitchen.

Actually, screw that! Marco was still a jumbled mess of anxiety and didn't want to risk running into Lavabo. It was probably safer portaling to some 24/7 convenience store in Echo Creek somewhere. Not to steal food, of course, but to purchase it with the money he had legally obtained…

“What troubles you, Marco Diaz?”

Marco jumped to the side, startled. He glanced around nervously, looking for roaming Elmbeasts or the like, before he realized no such creature would have called his name. Instead, he spotted a shadowy bearded figure, slowly standing up from within the tall grass. As the man lifted himself from his crouching position, the dimly lit silhouette revealed itself to be… Sir Lavabo?

“It was not my intention to startle you, Marco Diaz. I apologise.”

“Sir? What are you doing here?” Marco asked, confused and slightly annoyed.

Lavabo lifted an eyebrow, which Marco could barely see thanks to how dark it was.

“I suppose I could be asking you the very same question…”

Marco gulped. He walked right into that one. If only he had kept his stupid mouth shut.

The old knight suddenly started chuckling at his charge. “Do not look so guilty, my young squire. It does not suit you. I may be your superior under Butterfly Castle, but here you are your own man, and how you spend your nights away from the Wash is, frankly, none of my business!”

Marco gave a sigh of relief. Still, he had to ask… “I mean, I was gone for awhile, Sir. You must have been somewhat concerned for where I was?”

“Perhaps I was, but you had already left with the last of the laundry that needed to be delivered. You performed you duty admirably, and that's all I ask of you. Thankfully, Artax Ed and I cleaned the garment goblins' mess and managed to deliver all the specialty articles of clothing before 6:00, with twenty-seven seconds to spare!”

As Lavabo said that, the elder got on his knees and began roaming his hands through the tall courtyard grass, presumably to resume whatever he was doing before Marco came through.

Well, at least things had worked out on Lavabo's end. Marco had been concerned for his mentor the entire day, actually, even while evacuating the Rat's End denizens away from the collapsed building. Going overtime was apparently a fate worse than death to the man, so Marco would have hated himself if his absence had cause such an event, even if he was away for the noblest of causes.

“Ah, Ha! Found another one!” Lavabo shouted exuberantly as he lifted a metal device off the ground.

It was one of the many active bear traps that we're scattered throughout the sprawling property. Lavabo grabbed both sets of metal teeth with his protective gloves, and separated both ends of the trap from each other. The iron contraption creaked, it’s spring tensed to its limit under the knight’s vigorous pull. A moment later, the entire thing was torn apart into two motionless pieces.

“You’re… going around dismantling animal traps?” Marco asked. I mean, it's not like he minded those safety hazards finally being taken care of. The squire was getting a little sick of treating his front yard like a game of minesweeper.

“Aye, I believe this is long overdue. Some of these traps go all the way back to the earliest skirmishes between the Butterfly knights and the Johansen warriors many decades ago, but, they serve no purpose today.”

Lavabo picked up the pieces of the trap and threw them into a bag that was nearly filled to the top. Had he been doing this all night!?

“Sir, or uh, Lavabo. I don't want to be a nag, but we're going back to work in a few hours. I think this can wait another day.” He had already worked himself to the bone cleaning up the day's mess with one less squire.

Lavabo didn't respond right away. He simply sighed and sat down, looking over at the main building.

“I’m well aware, Marco Diaz, but recently I find myself restless all the same. The Wash demands so much from us, both physically and mentally, yet, instead of using the few precious hours we’re granted to sleep, I've become increasingly worried about the state of our home.”

“The state of our home? You mean the manor?” Marco asked.

“Everything inside and out.” Lavabo answered. “Artax Ed may be small, but as he grows into a stallion, he'll need more open space in which to run around. That is why finding every last one of these ancient traps is paramount! And after that, I planned on clearing out the area of all this unpleasant overgrown grass.”

Marco smiled. Okay, that made sense, and was awfully nice of Lavabo to do that for the Wash's official steed.

“As for the manor itself, I feel ashamed for letting it's condition deteriorate so much over the years. All the furniture needs to be replaced, I've been overly cordial to the cockroaches who keep stealing our food, and certain parts of the roof are ready to collapse at any given moment.”

This was probably a bad time to mention how there was already a giant hole in Marco's ceiling…

“I have lived this way for a long time and never minded it, but... things are different now. The Wash's family has grown in an unprecedented amount of time, and as the head of the household, I feel that it is my sole responsibility to provide the best shelter possible for my new companions…”

“I-it's not that bad, Lavabo,” Marco said, in a lame attempt to comfort his mentor. “I’m not disgusted with living here or anything!” Um, that had sounded way better inside his head. He hadn’t meant to sound ungrateful, doubly so after he remembered the houses in the Rat’s End. “It’s all super roomy, and fresh smelling, and remarkably solid. Even the annex... and, hey, I can help you fix the place up if you want.”

Lavabo looked up at the human. “I would appreciate that greatly, Marco Diaz. Housekeeping has never been my strong suit. My sisters were always the ones in charge of that responsibility, until…” he suddenly went quiet.

Marco took an uneasy breath. He had been wondering what became of Lavabo's family ever since he told the story of his first Squire Blowout. After hearing Eclipsa's words regarding the dangers of the Wash, well, Marco had a pretty good idea of what happened to them.

“Did your sisters… lose their lives in the line of duty?” Marco asked nervously, gripping the sides of his hoodie. It was an awkward question to ask, but, well, Lavabo was his friend, and of course the boy wanted to be there for his grieving friend!

Lavabo blinked. “Pardon?”

“Um… you know. Did your siblings... die... while fighting off some monster in the Wash that was too much for them?”

“Marco Diaz! I’ll have you know that I visit my brothers and sisters every Stump Day without exception,” Lavabo exclaimed, crossing his arms. “Are you alright? It isn’t like you to make such morbid assumptions like this. Perhaps I should be worried about where you go and who you associate with after hours? I fear they may be a bad influence to you.”

Lavabo had no idea. But, more to the point. “I'm sorry! It's just, I don't know, you never receive any mail that's addressed to you specifically, and you sometimes have this solemn expression whenever you talk about your time with them. I just assumed that if your family was alive today, they'd be working in the Wash alongside their brother. I’m sorry I took it that far...” In a way, with that and the risks already associated with the Wash, Lavabo had the perfect setup for a tragic backstory.

The elder sighed. “Death is not the only way one can leave the Wash, you know. Contact with my siblings is indeed limited, due to them leaving this world, but not in the way you have imagined.”

'Leaving this world?’ Could he mean…?

“It’s true, we were all raised by Sir Hanger to one day take over the Wash as a family, and for a short few years after my promotion, we were all fellow laundry knights, sharing both blood and a common cause.”

For a moment, Lavabo's face glowed with a warm expression of nostalgia, visible even through the darkness, before grimacing into a sullen frown.

“But that joyous era did not last long. Eventually, my oldest sister saved up enough money to purchase a pair of dimensional scissors. She bought them from the local descendants of a brave hero who had earned them generations earlier. They were simple farmers, who were more than happy to let go of their family heirloom for the generous amount she was offering. As soon as the transaction was complete, she announced to us her retirement from the Wash.”

“Where did she go with the scissors?” Marco asked curiously.

“I am not even sure Iscrubella herself knew where she wanted to go initially, but she always had such an adventurous spirit. I imagine she spent the first few years exploring the worlds that were described in the books she read as a squire. As her journey went on, she met a fellow who partook in map making, and together they charted undiscovered dimensions and would sell their work to the Magic High Commission. They have been married for forty-five years now.”

“Well, Iscrubella seemed like a woman who lived her life to the fullest.” Marco said, trying to ignore how ridiculous the name was.

“Ah, I would have to agree with you, Marco Diaz. Soon after Iscrubella left, the rest of my siblings shared their collective desire to one day leave the Order of the Wash. To pursue other possible careers. Careers outside Mewni, that is.”

Lavabo once again looked over at the manor.

“My father didn't take this well. He desperately wanted to keep the family together, but there was nothing he could do. He understood, more than anyone, that this was a long time coming. Once my two brothers and remaining sister located another pair of scissors, they left the Wash together. Sir Hanger cursed Quest Buy for cleaving us apart.”

“Quest Buy?” Marco said, confused at the seemingly random non sequitur.

“That is where it all began, during their respective squire blowouts,” Lavabo said. “While I feared the strange and unfamiliar, my siblings embraced it! Craved it even. As they were exposed to the obscurities and chaos of Quest Buy, they realized just how big and varied the multiverse was, and how, perhaps, there was a special lifelong post out there awaiting them. They wouldn't know unless they tried.”

“Wow,” Marco said. It really put into perspective how many mewmans probably had no idea what was outside their kingdom. Then again, Marco himself wasn't much different from them until the day he met Star. If he hadn't been assigned to be Star's Earth guide, he would still be ignorant of the wider multiverse today.

“That is probably the real reason I was blindfolded for my blowout,” Lavabo confessed after a short pause. “In a desperate attempt to keep at least one of his children in the Wash, so he could leave some kind of legacy, Sir Hanger gave me a much harder task, but, to him, my continued ignorance was well worth the risk of failure.”

Marco stayed silent, though he wondered if this was something Lavabo had only just realized about his father's motivations. Maybe the old knight knew all along, and was either finally coming to terms with it, or had just gotten to the point of trusting Marco enough to admit the darker side of his father’s own devotion to the Wash.

Thinking about it, Lavabo's life could have been a lot different if he was allowed to look into and pursue other interests, instead of being tethered to the Wash by Sir Hanger. It was kind of sad when you thought about it.

But... no! Marco shouldn't think of it that way! Lavabo was never forced to stay in the Wash for the rest of his life! Sir Hanger may have been pushy, sure, but ultimately it was the laundry knight's sense of honor and duty that kept him in the Wash. Right?

“It's the most peculiar thing, Marco Diaz,” Lavabo began. “Based on past experiences, I always assumed the Wash lacked a certain something to those with means of dimensional travel, not that I could blame them. Yet, here you are, with your own pair of scissors. You could go anywhere in the universe, and yet, you choose to spend your time here. I… am greatly honored.”

Marco couldn't help but get a little flustered at that.

“There’s nowhere else I'd rather be, Sir.” the Squire said, feeling even more confident about the decision he had made back on the morning of this incredibly long day.

Marco would prove Janna wrong. He was in Mewni, not to escape from his problems and go on an adventure, but to embrace his new duties, to serve the kingdom, and to do good by its people.

Which only begged the question: Higgs’ plan… which one was it?

Was it his duty to the people of Mewni to help those who lived in the Rat’s End, no matter the means? Was it a selfish adventure and a betrayal of his duties to the Wash if he willingly committed a crime, even against a deserving target, even for a good cause? The decision to stay had been the right one, but his other choice seemed far less clear.

He looked up, to Sir Lavabo, still beaming proudly at his squire’s response. As much as the old knight had trusted him with that family story, Marco still couldn’t quite bring himself to ask him in return for guidance with his other choice.

There was only one person he could trust with something like that...

----

Hey Star. Oh man, talk about a crazy day I just had. A lot went on. It’s actually a little overwhelming trying to process it all, but I guess the main thing is that I got to see a lot of friends I haven’t seen in a while, in addition to a few new faces. Being a replacement Delivery Mewman for a day does that to you, I guess.

He stared at the full moon through his bedroom ceiling for a moment as he thought of what to say first. It probably wouldn’t do to jump straight to the issue. Would it? A lot of things had indeed happened that day. Maybe he ought to start with some of those, and then transition into the complicated stuff?

So, let's see... Well, you already saw Janna before you sent your letter this morning, so of course she swung by the Wash to basically mess with me for half an hour. The reunion ended on a bit of a sour note, actually. Turns out Janna misses us on Earth more than I reasonably expected, and she didn’t take kindly to the fact I was serious about becoming a knight and staying here for the whole year. I’m sure she’ll get over it eventually, but man was she not happy about it! I also ran into Ruberiot during my deliveries. Is him still working in the castle just something completely out of your control? Nah, just kidding! That was a joke, obviously. I don't think you'd be petty enough to fire him over that stuff he pulled for your Song Day. You were never the type to hold a grudge that badly, for most people anyway... I saw Tom too. I guess you also know that by now, and it’s not like it lasted that long but it was still nice to talk to him again. Hope things are going well between you two. Speaking of ‘talking to people again,’ I tried calling you a few hours ago and apparently you switched your mirror number? You never gave me your new number. So, could you remedy that, please? I was kind of in an emergency tonight and could have really used some help! Also being able to call you again will make planning a meet up a lot more feasible. Something to consider, I guess.

Ugh, Marco didn’t know how to make it better, but that paragraph was just dripping with desperation. Though he couldn’t be blamed for being a little peeved at Star. He really was in the middle of an emergency when he called her! Um, moving on...

I digress. I finally got to meet Eclipsa for the first time. Nice lady. Very weird, but she also had a lot of good qualities. She’s very charming, funny and also… surprisingly not racist? Okay, that last one is less a compliment and more something you’d expect from any decent person, but I guess there’s something refreshing about her position on certain topics. I definitely see why you’d put your trust in her while the rest of your family wouldn’t. Like, crap, I also met your grand-aunt Etheria again, can’t imagine what her opinion is on monsters, not would I want to…

Marco struck-out that last sentence, then blotted it out completely with ink. He had no love for that woman, but he also wasn’t sure he wanted to go off on a mean-spirited written rant to Star about someone who was, after all, family. Besides, he had more urgent things he wanted to write to his best friend about tonight.

Anyway, Star, I have something serious I need to discuss. I'd prefer doing this over the phone with you or, God forbid, in person, but I'm working with what I got. If you get this before going to bed I won't mind if you wait til tomorrow to respond like always.

Marco took a deep breath and began writing his scattered thoughts.

So there’s this place in Mewni I went to called Rat’s End. Suffice to say, it’s a neighborhood that has seen better days. It received a good chunk of the damage during the weeks Ludo took over the kingdom, and the buildings there never really recovered from that time. Have you been there? These aren’t just random businesses either, Star. These are people’s entire homes, and a lot of them are barely standing or were destroyed entirely. Now look, I know you’re doing your part to help your kingdom, and I understand that you're only one person, and are doing the best you can. You have limited time and resources, and I can’t really offer anything that proves Rat’s End should be a higher priority than the districts you’ve already restored. There might even be a few neighborhoods that are worse off. I don’t know. But, from what I saw, there’s a lot of people in Rat’s End that don’t believe in you, or the Queen, for that matter. They’ve given up on waiting for the throne to help them in their time of need, and are either in a state of giving up, or are planning to make things better on their own terms. There’s this person that you may have heard of. They own their own castle, and haven’t worked in a very long time. They’re considered a hero, but that’s apparently a lie. This person never was who they claimed to be, and has been living off of stolen valor for over fifteen years. Some of the people in Rat’s End have decided to steal from this phony, in order to pay for repairs to people’s homes, and to make things more complicated: they’re also squires! People who have dedicated their lives to defending the laws of Mewni are preparing to disregard them, so they can steal from a person they deem unworthy of their wealth. And they’re doing this not because they’re evil, but because they think it’s the only conceivable way most mewmans can survive winter in Rat’s End. This whole situation is messed up, and I’m constantly struggling to decide if what my fellow squires are doing *is* the right thing. They certainly picked someone who is, well, deserving of losing a few gems and gold bars, and it’s not like it would destroy their livelihood. But if he really didn’t slay that dragon, then let’s bring him to trial instead!

Shit! Marco just realized he forgot to use ‘they’ and ‘them’ in that last sentence, and had accidentally referenced the dragon! Whatever. He could always edit that later.

I do think the squires are doing what they think is right, but does that really matter? Everyone thinks they’re doing the right thing all the time. Even Toffee, in his own fucked-up head, probably thought he was doing the right thing by trying to destroy magic and your kingdom. I guess I’m just upset this is happening to begin with. People should be able to have faith in their rulers, especially squires! They shouldn’t feel the need to resort to stealing from each other. I see a lot of potential in these squires, too. One in particular I begrudgingly look up to, and I don’t want them to make a mistake that may possibly ruin their life. So, I don’t know, could you make it so they don’t have a reason to steal in the first place? I know I’m asking a lot, but all you have to do is come to Western Rat’s End tomorrow, give a little speech or two, and then use your new house magic to reconstruct the buildings that have fallen. I’ll even gather all the wood that’s been scattered around so you have materials to work with. I’ll

Marco stopped writing.

What was he doing!?

Was he really in the process of begging Star via written letter to fix a bunch of buildings on the grounds that it may prevent a robbery by his peers?

Going into the letter, Marco assumed that as long as he explained himself, Star would help him no matter what. But... was that really the case?

Even if he intentionally opted to leave out names, what if Star demanded that he spill the beans afterwards? After all, if stopping a robbery from happening was the main concern, then why not just arrest the traitorous mewmans instead of jump starting a whole new construction project? It was a simple solution that she could reasonably come up with. It wasn’t even, necessarily, wrong.

Star was the future queen of Mewni, and had her own way of doing things. She didn’t need someone to intrude on her life again, and dictate how she should do things. Marco wasn’t asking his best friend for help, he was a squire making demands to the Princess of Mewni (who was now, at best, a distant pen pal!).

And what about Higgs? Even if Star decided to help out in Rat’s End, was it really worth the risk of destroying the trust the other squire had given him. He had promised not to say a word. As to the conceit that he was writing, rather than speaking? That was still basically riding a freaking warnicorn through the spirit of that promise!

With a final, exhausted, sigh, Marco used his scissors to open a portal, and threw the unfinished incriminating letter through the swirling gateway. He heard the distinct sound of paper burning to smoke almost instantly, as it fell to the lava in the middle of Quest Buy’s tropical volcano feature, the same one from which he had eventually failed to rescue Star’s palm tree costume. As soon as he was certain the letter was gone, he closed back the portal..

The squire got up from his desk and fell on his bed. As he drifted into sleep, he reminded himself how he still had three days. Three days to figure this all out. Three days to make sure he knew right from wrong.

It was harder than he would have thought.