Shadow dove out of the way as the pig-tank tried to run him over. Immediately the group spread out in battle formation. "Oi! These machine-types can't take storm-damage! Use some familiars that can do a few wind techniques!" Drippy advised.

The beggar summoned Harper, as his familiar knew Whirly-Whirlies. However, it wasn't enough; thankfully Oliver and Esther had a couple familiars that could help out. Swaine summoned Gunther, sending him into the fight, but his familiar's attacks weren't working on the mechanical menace.

The tank tried to run them all down- Esther getting hit! Quickly, Oliver used a healing spell on her; however while he was tending to her, they didn't notice the tank had paused, about to use a Gannon-Cannon- aiming it at Gunther!

"Defend! Defend!" Swaine was calling to his familiar, but the Hurly was hesitating!

*POW!*

"Agh!" Swaine cried, feeling his familiar's pain. The tank revved, preparing to run him down.

Shadow quickly grabbed a gem out of his pocket; several creatures dropped them in battles. Normally they were used to feed to familiars to learn new abilities, but he had no time to feed one to his own- instead, he loaded it into his sling-shot and shot it at the tank.

A burst of wind exploded around it, and the tank turned in his direction. He summoned Harper again, hitting it with wind damage. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a blizzard formed around the tank! He looked, seeing Gogo had caught a golden glim and used her miracle move!

The tank ceased for a moment. "Now's our chance! All-Out Attack!" Oliver exclaimed, the group hitting the tank with everything they had.

Shadow shot another gem at it, this one causing water-damage. It wasn't enough, and he realized he was down to stones. Harper was low on energy, and he summoned Salem to use Arc-Fire. Drippy hopped in and used his 'Tidy Tears' technique to heal the group. Esther summoned a Beach-Head she had tamed to hit the tank with an electric current.

With one more shot, the tank finally gave in, collapsing as a tiny white flag popped out of the top!

The group panted. A paper appeared before Oliver, describing the tank—Porco Grosso. "Jeepers, this was the guardian?" he gasped.

"That makes sense," Drippy scoffed.

Swaine picked up a cog that rolled out of the machine, pocketing it. "Yeah, well, we need to get moving- all that commotion attracted the guards!" he said, hearing shouts echoing down the corridors.

Without hesitation, the group shot off down the corridor. Sure enough, some guards were on their tail! They ran down a short flight stairs, hiding behind a pillar (while Drippy made himself look like a discarded helmet) as guards ran by. They then shot down another corridor, this one longer than the rest.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Swaine looked ahead at the double doors, praying that they had been left unlocked. The royal chambers never had been locked in the past, and he hoped his brother hadn't changed that.

Luck was on their side as they burst into the room… seeing a pig-masked person in royal garb quickly composing himself. The group lightly gasped… though Swaine's was mortified rather than shocked. Oh for crying out loud…! Seriously?! He thought.

"Who are you?!" the pig-masked royal questioned, though from the sounds of his voice was trying to find his confidence.

"This must be the prince…" Oliver gasped.

"C-Correct. I am Prince Marcassin, the royal sage of Hamelin! Now, what are you doing here? …Well?"

The group hesitated out of awkwardness… and Swaine felt the most discomfort out of the entire group. What are YOU doing?! Have you lost your mind?! He wanted to shout.

Of course, before anyone could say anything, the mask came undone and slipped off! "Wha- Nooo!"

Everyone gasped… though Swaine was the most shocked. The young prince beneath the mask was pale—sure, he was pale himself, but compared to his brother he might as well have a suntan! The clothes around his pig-suit also looked familiar, and it had dawned on him that those were the clothes their father used to wear. Does he have no shame?! And when was the last time he saw daylight?

"You can't…! Don't…! Agh!" The prince then ran and covered his face, kneeling by the couch and waving them back. "Look away! Just go! Please, go away…!"

The thief was speechless, staring at the man he used to know as his little brother, now a scrawny pale-skinned mess of a human being. Marcassin… what HAPPENED to you?

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Shadow watched as the pig-costumed prince sobbed on the couch, shame on his face. What baffled the lad was why he was so embarrassed! Was it a custom in Hamelin to wear pig-masks at all times in front of company, and without so was to be frowned upon?

"So… this is the Great Sage?" Esther questioned, astounded.

"Got it in one," Swaine answered.

"Your highness? …We need to speak to you," Oliver spoke up. "We need a favor,"

"A favor?" The prince repeated, having quieting his sobs. He clenched his fists. "Oh, I see! Now that you know my secret, you mean to blackmail me!"

"No, that's not it! …We need the Great Sage's help,"

"Great… sage?" As if waking from a dream, the prince stood up, keeping his eyes on the ground. "I'm sorry… but your journey is in vain. The Great Sage you're looking for died 15 years ago,"

"But you inherited his powers, didn't you?" Swaine questioned, and Shadow wondered exactly how much more information the man could know!

"I'm sorry… but there's nothing I can do for you. I am no Great Sage…" He turned towards them, aggravation on his face. "Now, go! You have no business here!"

"But we came all this way…" Esther sighed.

Shadow scribbled a message: 'Does this mean the prince doesn't know magic or something?'

"Oi, c'mere a mo," Drippy whispered to the group. "Don't be fooled by his sorry state, that lad's got magic in him! Th' problem is he doesn't feel like it's there- lackin' Belief he is."

"You mean he's heartbroken?" Oliver guessed.

"That he is. Look at him- people can tell him he's beautiful 'til they're blue in th' face, but he won't listen! He can't bring himself to have faith in anyone, not even himself,"

Shadow scratched his head, handing Oliver a note. 'What do you mean he's heartbroken?'

"It means he's no use to us in this state," Swaine muttered, reading the note as well. "He's more trouble than he's worth…"

"What are you still doing here? I said go! Before I call the guards!" the prince snapped at them.

"Your highness… We're going to bring you something that may help. Just wait here!" Oliver assured him.

"Help…? I doubt anything will help me. Just go…"

The group turned to leave, letting out a few sighs. "Don't worry- all we have to do is find someone with enough Belief, and he'll be willing to help us!" Esther assured.

"Right… that is, if we can sneak out of the palace without getting caught," Swaine muttered as they entered the hall.

Shadow looked back at the prince a moment; Drippy said he was lacking belief in himself, and Oliver concurred it was because of heartbreak. From the way they were talking, it seemed they had to help the prince the same way they had helped Swaine.

Scribbling a note real quick, he went back into the room. "Wha…? What are you doing back here?" he demanded. Without hesitation, the beggar handed him the note, gave a quick nod, then hurried out to catch up with the others.

He may not know magic, but hopefully his gesture would help in some way.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Marcassin watched as the boy ran off to catch up with the group. As they walked down the corridor, he studied the tallest member. "I know that man from somewhere… but where?" he asked himself, trying to remember. The way he looked at him in annoyance triggered some memories… but he couldn't bring himself to clear his head.

He looked at the piece of paper in his hand. It was a note: 'I believe in you,'

The young sage squinted, sitting down and studying it as if it were an ancient scripture. "This message…" he whispered, as the rough lettering struck him familiar as well.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was quiet in the halls, Swaine noticed. Unless the guards left the palace in order to search for them, he had to keep his guard up in case of an ambush. He was a bit careless earlier- having been gone from home so long, he had forgotten which hallway led to the royal chambers… until Porco Grosso jogged his memory.

However he didn't expect for the entire indoor court to fill with fog the moment they entered. "Whoa! What's happening?" Oliver gasped. "Where's all this fog coming from?"

"Everyone stay close!" Swaine told them, and he felt someone grip his sleeve, knowing exactly who it was. "Not THAT close, Shadow!"

"Look!" Esther yelped, pointing at silhouettes in the fog.

The thief's eyes widened as the fog cleared, finding themselves surrounded by guards… only these guards weren't wearing bulky armor and pig-masks, but the same uniforms that they once had when he left home. "Halt! Who goes there?!" one of them shouted. "Stand your ground!"

"W-What's going on?" Oliver stammered.

"You're trespassing in the royal palace of Hamelin, that's what!" another guard shouted.

"Crikey… we're busted!" Drippy stammered.

"Hold your arms!" came a voice… a familiar voice that the thief had not heard in years.

Stepping forth was a man of tan skin, long dark hair, and a stone-cold gaze. Swaine felt his blood freeze and his heart stop, his complexion growing paler as he looked at the man before him.

Dad…?!

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

A/N: Special shout-out to technicallyoneofakind on Tumblr for a post that inspired some ideas for this chapter. :D