The morning fog was still thick enough to shroud the Royal Capital from clear view, even this late in the morning. From her balcony overlooking the city a woman with forest green hair rested her hand against her chin over an empty breakfast plate. Later in the day there would be meetings with some merchants. She would need to attend to the treasurer to make sure that the funds were ready to be handed over for the weapons and ground dragons that were to be set aside.

With the Royal Selection under way there had been very little time for rest or relaxation these days, but Duchess Crusch Karsten still liked to keep her mornings at least a little less weighted down with work. She ran her finger along the rim of a mostly empty glass of orange juice that sat near her elbow, her Amber eyes focused on something in the distance and across the city.

Through the fog the Royal Palace was just visible as a hazy silhouette distorted by the fog. An apt metaphor for her current troubles. There was a knock at the door to the balcony, but before she could answer or say that it was okay to open the handle began to turn.

Ferris Argyle poked his head through the door, brown cat ears twitching as he gave a little wobble handed wave. "Lady Crusch. I have returned!" Ferris announced.

Crusch, obviously unfazed by Ferris's appearance lifted the glass to her lips and took a drink. "When they told me that there was Knight's business at that late hour I thought there had been some emergency," she said.

Ferris stepped out onto the balcony fully, shutting the door behind himself. "Meow," he said in a way that seemed to be meant as a dismissive no. "Well, there had been, come to think of it."

Crusch's amber eyes moved toward Ferris and the door.

"But the other Knights and I were too late for it. Reinhard did show up, but even he was gone by the time I got there."

"What happened?"

"Lady Emilia ran into some trouble in the slums," Ferris answered.

Crusch sat her glass down hard on the table, scooting her chair back so that it scraped across the tile.

"I thought that you'd find that interesting," Ferris said. "It's not all that clear what happened, but it involved that Bowel Hunter lady."

"Was she killed or apprehended?" Asked Crusch.

"Me-now," Ferris said shaking his head.

"Buuuut that's not the most interesting part," Ferris said, trying to tease out further interest from Crusch as he slid the chair across from the Duchess out with her foot and plopped down into it.

"Hm?"

"Lady Emilia had some help. This boy Peter and a big guy named Captain Steve and guess what they let spill while we were riding to the Mathers domain," as Ferris paused for dramatic effect Crusch stared at him. "They're both from that Earth country."

"Did you let on that we know about Earth?"

"Nope," Ferris said.

"Hmm," Crusch rested her chin in her hands again. "Could they have heard stories of the place? Perhaps their plan was to use rumors they heard to get in good with Miss Emilia or try to impress a Knight. Did they have any strange Metia?"

"Well, the Peter boy did have a suit that just seemed to appear on him out of nowhere. The other man was just real big and manly, not sure if that counts," Ferris said.

"No, I'm sure it doesn't."

"The Captain Steve guy did mention being from that Brook Land place and I thought that was pretty specific."

Crusch rose from her chair and stood looking out over the city.

"Are you thinking that this is some kind of invasion? What if more of them come here," Ferris said with a hiss.

"I don't think that's it. The time frames don't match up. If you were going to invade a place why do it months apart and in such small numbers?" Crusch asked. "Still, this is something we should keep a close eye on."

"Should I let anyone else know about this?" Asked Ferris.

"If asked directly then don't try to lie, but I would play this one close to the chest," Crusch said. "Also, Ferris, if you could avoid mentioning the involvement of Reinhard with any of these events with Wilhelm it would be for the best."

"Of course, Lady Crusch," Ferris said rising from his chair and giving a bow before leaving the balcony.

Two more travelers from this strange Earth land and all of this so close to the Royal Selection. Crusch didn't want to believe that it was something sinister, but maybe it was fate. At the very least she was glad that if one of the other candidates had to find these two. Lady Emilia, by all accounts, was at the very least an agreeable woman.

And she had little to no chance of actually being chosen to rule Lugunica.

Peter Parker stood in front of the long mirror at the side of his room, his hand pressed to the breast of his suit as he leaned back to better get a look at himself. The blue haired maid, Rem, stood odd to his side checking over the suit. Though he was somewhat preoccupied with making sure he looked his best to make a good impression, he had also noticed that the maid regarded him with some suspicion.

It made sense that she would be critical of anything that came into the house and wasn't within her control. She and her sister had a duty to oversee this whole place.

"Is the fit satisfactory?" Rem asked.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, though I have to say this is way too nice for me."

"Nonsense," Rem said, "we couldn't even match your shoe size so the overall effect is quite hampered by that."

"You really aren't going to cut me any slack, are you?" He asked.

"I suppose not."

Peter began to fidget with his tie, trying to straighten the knot. "Miss Rem, can I ask you a favor?"

"What is it Peter Parker?"

"I'm guessing being a maid and all you can, uh, read. Where I come from the language is quite different from what I've been seeing here and I was wondering if you could just tutor me a little." He didn't want to feel as if he were asking too much of her. This woman had to have a mountain of work to do around this huge place. He waved his hands out toward her pleading. "If it's too much or you have too much to do I will understand."

"I would have thought that you would be inclined to ask Lady Emilia," Rem said.

"Wha-why," Peter stumbled away from Rem to sit on the bed. He leaned back onto it, trying to look at ease. "Why do you say that?"

Rem stood, her hands pressed down against her apron at the lap. "Because you prefer to spend time with her." She pointed at the cuff of his pants-leg. "We will need to take in the pants leg if you're going to continue wearing these," she added.

Peter grimaced. "I prefer her?"

"Yes, some people prefer other people. Roswaal prefers my dear sister while Miss Beatrice prefers Puck," Rem said.

"And who do you prefer?" Asked Peter.

"I prefer not to be having this conversation," Rem stated in a dry voice that he would have mistaken for one of Ram's biting remarks if he hadn't seen her say it. "However, I will assist you with your tutoring. We can begin tonight?"

Peter sprung up out of the bed onto his feet. "Yeah tonight works. Should I meet you in that secret library or…"

"Due to Beatrice's Door Crossing Magic it would be almost impossible to locate the library. We shall meet here," Rem explained.

"Right, here. Alone in my room. With a girl." Peter swallowed loud enough that it could probably be heard out by the front gate of the mansion.

Rem was already on the way out. "I need to go make final preparations for breakfast," Rem said as she stepped through the threshold of the room. She turned back briefly and gave a curt bow.

Peter and Steve walked the long carpeted hallway headed for the dining rooms alone. It was more awkward than it should have been, but considering that their first meeting had been at an airport in Germany duking it out things were understandable. For most of the stroll from their rooms they had been silent until Steve looked over at him and gave a crooked smile.

"So there's something I've been wondering."

Peter glanced up at him.

"Where has Tony been hiding you all this time?"

"Oh, um I actually didn't know Mister Stark. Before he went to Germany to…fight you he dropped by my Aunt's place and made up this weird lie about an internship and asked me to help him," Peter explained.

"Wait, you didn't know him before that?"

Peter shrugged. "I'm just a kid from the boroughs, what business would I have know one of the most famous men to have ever lived."

Steve nodded. "I had seen some videos about this spider guy on the uh YouTube. I didn't even think back about that until just now," he said.

Peter threw his arms out to the side. "That's me." He turned back toward their destination and they were silent for a bit more.

"Man, YouTube. Gonna miss that, super helpful," Steve said.

"Oh yeah," Peter said, "The first time I was trying to solder I didn't even have my own iron. I learned to build one and use it all off of YouTube videos."

Steve looked over at him.

"Oh, oh, soldering is where you take this heated iron, like a screwdriver looking thing and—"

"I actually know what that is," Steve held his hand up in protest. "I spent enough time around Tony. And the eggheads at Shield."

"Do you think we'll ever get back?"

"Shield is as good as dead now. I think the US outgrew it, but if you mean do I think we'll get back home I would have to say yeah," Steve said.

They took the stairs down at a job and at the bottom Emilia was waiting in a purple dress with a long sleeved cardigan over it, though the cardigan only came down to her diaphragm. She waved to them, her silver hair whipping side to side from the movement.

"There you two are—oh, I'm sorry that I didn't send someone to come fetch you. Over here," she motioned for them to follow her.

Puck made a wide arc behind Emilia and clicked his teeth. "You two look snazzy."

Peter spotted the little tie that Puck wore now, but it was Steve that spoke up first. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

Steve was wearing a suit, though this one didn't fit him quite as well. It was black and there was some obvious tightness in the shoulders. Even then, Peter wondered where it had been found on such short notice. Who had it belonged to before?

They followed Emilia down the short hall through a large set of ornate white doors and over a tiled floor to a room guarded by another set of doors. As they approached the doors opened to a wooden floored dining room with a long white table set with silver lidded platters and candles.

"How many of us are there going to be?" Peter asked surveying the room. He found the blonde young girl from the night before, the one that had glared at him in the library, Miss Beatrice. She was standing against a wall looking sullen.

"Just those of us here and then Master Roswaal will be joining us," Emilia explained.

Rem and Ram stood to either side of the table with their hands pressed to their laps where they held large circular trays.

Steve pointed to Beatrice. "Now there's a new face," he said, moving over in the young girl's direction. Peter followed, eager to introduce himself properly this time.

As they approached Beatrice didn't look up or acknowledge them. Her blue and pink eyes were downturned toward the floor and she leaned back against the edge of a small serving table.

"You must be Miss Beatrice, nice to finally meet you," Steve said offering out his hand.

She looked up at him and momentary shock passed over her face. "You're a large one, in fact," Beatrice said, her voice sluggish and grumpy. Steve just cracked a smile.

Peter walked up. "Hi again."

"You! You're the one who burst in on me reading last night!"

Peter reached over his shoulder to rub the back of his neck. "Really sorry about that. I didn't know how your door thingy worked and Emilia told me that I could sleep in that room."

"It can't be helped, I suppose," Beatrice said.

"Good morning, Miss Beatrice," Emilia said as she approached the trio. "It's not often that I get the pleasure of your company outside of the library."

"Oh, it's you, I suppose. Good morning," Beatrice turned to face Emilia and spoke, just as she finished her face lit up and her smile grew to the point it threatened to engulf her other features. "Bubby!"

Puck rocketed through the air and into Beatrices arms. She spun the small cat spirit around, holding him up above her head. "After four days I have returned. Did you miss me?" Puck said.

"Betty did miss you, in fact," Beatrice's tone had risen about four octaves in the short time since she had laid eyes on Puck. "Are we going to have time to spend together?"

"You know it! Today you have me all to yourself."

With a cheer Beatrice ran off, making her way toward the table with Puck cuddled close.

"She must really love that cat," Steve said.

Emilia nodded. "Miss Beatrice simply can't get enough of Puck. They're thick as thieves!"

"Can't believe she used the phrase 'thick as thieves'—sounds like something May would say."

"Who's May?" Asked Emilia.

Just as Peter thought about his Aunt, who he hoped was okay and prepared himself to explain a tall figure appeared in the opened doors to the dining room. It was a man dressed in an exquisite suit with a top hat. Her carried in one hand a walking cane, though he didn't seem to need it and his face was white with makeup, almost like that of a clown. There were purple designs above his left eye and below and above the right one. Even then, probably the most striking thing about this man was his eyes, one blue and one gold.

Judging by the earlier reaction from Emilia when talking about the eccentrics of the Master of this place, Peter guessed that this must have been him.

He nudged Steve and jerked his head toward the doors indicating where he should look.

"Yeah, I see him." Steve said.

Peter rushed over, offering out his hand. "Lord Roswaal? I'm Peter Parker."

Steve followed close behind. "Steve Rogers."

Roswaal took a bow, letting his hand rest on his stomach. "Roswaal L Mathers, and what a pleasure it is to meet yoooooou both."

"Oooo, it's a pleasure to meet you too, sir," Peter said.

Roswaal may have looked the part of a clown, but his eyes seemed to be studying them and watching for hints of something. Whatever it was, Peter couldn't tell. But he figured that a big house like this attended to by only two maids with no formal guard or soldiers must have meant that Roswaal was more dangerous than his appearance would let on.

Steve shook Roswaal's hand. "Thank you for having us in your beautiful home," Steve said.

Roswaal threw his hands up in a flamboyant gesture as he walked between them. "Nonsense, I have plenty of room. Lady Emilia could have hid you here had she wanted and I probably would have been none the wiser."

"I would have known," Ram said from across the room. She stared daggers into Peter and for a moment he thought he saw her pink eyes glow—even the one hidden behind the curtain of her bangs.

Peter half excepted his tingle to start tingling at that gaze, but his apprehension subsided when he looked away from her.

"Come, come—let us talk and eat," Roswaal said waving for them to follow him over to the table. There were places laid out for them with the food sitting in the center. Puck remained with Beatrice, laying on his back in her arms as she fed him little nibbles and bites of her food. Emilia and Steve ended up seated on either side of Peter with Roswaal sitting directly across the table from them.

When the food was doled out, Peter tried some of his soup, or what he assumed was soup. It tasted vaguely of potatoes with something a little tangy and acidic that he couldn't place. "This is really good."

"Are you surprised? Rem made it," Ram said.

"Then she's a fabulous cook," Steve said.

Rem stopped over Roswaal's shoulder, her face reddening. "I was simply doing what was needed of me as the cooking expert."

"What's your expertise, Ram?" Peter asked, genuinely curious.

"Eat your soup, Peter," Ram said.

"Beatrice! I do love your company and treasure our time together! How joyous that you could join us for breakfast!" Roswaal bellowed.

"Hmph," Beatrice said, turning up her button nose at him, "Betty only came down here to spend time with Bubby!" She said the second part speaking in that high voice from before.

Roswaal smiled a closed lipped smile, resting his hands atop one another. Peter wondered if he had done something to the food since he hadn't touched it yet, but then again his tingle would have triggered.

"Dear guests, Peter and Steve," Roswaal started. "You've come to my little fiefdom during quite the precarious time for the Kingdom of Lugunica seeing as how we currently don't have a King."

Steve looked at Peter and then back at Roswaal. "Sir, Roswaal, sir—if you're going to tell us that only an outsider that's chosen through some kind of test can become the king then I think I can speak for both of us when I say," Peter paused, glancing down into his lap, "that I'm going to have to decline."

Roswaal burst into boisterous laughter, throwing his head back and letting his gloved hand rest on the breast of his cloak.

"You've quite the sense of humor, indeed. Miss Emilia tells me that you are from a distant land?"

Peter glanced at her, but couldn't read her expression. "Yeah, it would be pretty distant. Like lightyears."

Steve leaned over the table, taking another bite, but otherwise keeping his mouth shut.

"Then maybe you haven't heard: sometime ago an epidemic swept through the royal palace and the royal family were the victims. The King has gone into hiding and at this point the country is managed by a council of wise men. That council is who will select the new king."

Peter scratched at his chin. "So it's like an election, but for a new King. It seems like when the blood relation thing breaks down they would either move toward democracy or random people making claims for the throne, but I could see how both of those could be bad for those in power…"

Steve nudged Peter to get him to start talking and then turned to Roswaal. "With all due respect, sir—and we do owe you a lot for letting us bed down here for the night and offering us this delicious food prepared by your gracious maids, I'm not sure if this is the most relevant conversation to us since we have very little context of what's going on out there."

Roswaal seemed almost giddy at Steve's challenge. "The connection, Captain, is that you crossed paths with one of the people that is being considered for the role of King." When Roswaal spoke about crossing paths he walked his hands through the air on intersecting imaginary lines using his pointer and middle fingers as little legs.

"Who?" Peter asked leaning in.

Roswaal pointed his hand out toward Emilia as if presenting her.

Emilia gave a shy small, burying her hands in her lap and suddenly getting very fidgety. "As far as titles go I am Candidate for the Forty-Second Ruler of the Kingdom of Lugunica with the back of the Honorable Lord Margrave Roswaal—the insignia that you helped me recover last night was my proof of worthiness for the candidacy."

Steve looked at her and then looked to Roswaal. "How does it work, is it her birthright or some kind of lottery system or…"

"The stone at the center of the insignia will glow when a worthy candidate is holding it," Roswaal explained.

Emilia produced the insignia and held it up to show the glowing jewel at the center. She reached out, offering it to Peter and he opened his hand to accept it. The moment that the insignia dropped into his hand the stone dimmed to a dull, lightless red.

"See," Emilia said.

Peter handed it back to her.

"You two helped me out so very greatly," Emilia started. "I am forever in your debt."

Roswaal spread his arms wide, his cape flared out on either side of him. "Indeed, you helped my charge out of a dangerous situation. Had she been without her badge she would have been ostracized! Ousted! Disgraced!" He said.

"You may name your price, anything within my power, and I will do my best to help you acquire it!" Roswaal said.

Steve stood up from the table, sliding his chair back across the floor. He looked over at Peter, who quickly rose to join him. It was a bit odd with both of them towering over Emilia, looking at each other over the top of her head.

"Sir," Steve started. "The place where we're from is more than just across this continent or even across the water from here. It's an entirely different world and as far as we can tell there was some level of sorcery in whatever brought us here," Steve said.

Emilia was staring up at him, her mouth slightly agape. She turned to Margrave Roswaal. There was little to indicate that Beatrice was paying attention to the conversation at all. She and Puck were sharing a spoonful of potato soup and off in their own little world.

Roswaal's expression changed, becoming confused or contemplative. He touched his chin, his eyes scanning side to side. "That is quite an interesting set of circumstances, to say the least."

"Lord Roswaal is one of the most accomplished magic users in the Kingdom," Ram said.

"Master Roswaal is probably the best person you could go to with this situation," Rem said.

The two maids stood off to Roswaal's sides, their backs to the large window that loomed over the table.

Roswaal nodded. "Even without a debt, I would be lying to say that this prospect of other worlds doesn't seem thrilling and intriguing to meeeeeeee!" Roswaal said with a singsong voice.

Peter pressed his hands flat on the table. "So then you'll help us?"

"Yes," said Roswaal.

Steve and Peter shared a glance before sitting back down into their chairs. When he was finally seated, Peter's eyes found Emilia's and there was a deep concern there. Somehow he knew she couldn't say anything.

"There is one more thing," Roswaal said. "Given that I am busy running this territory and seeing to the other important matters it is simply not paaaause-ible for me to be with Emilia throughout all of the day and in all of her travels. The Great Spirit Puck is there during the day time hours and while Miss Emilia is more than capable of caring for herself I feel that it would behoove her to have someone to look after her. If you would do this for me I am sure that in her path to the throne we will be led to both our goals."

Steve took a drink of the glass of water in front of him. "I think between the two of us we can manage that."

"Gooood, I feel safer with her in your hands already," Roswaal said.

It was around midday when the merchant caravan consisting of three carts drawn by ground dragons pulled exited the stables in the village head toward the next town. It was a little ways from the capital to this point, but if they were lucky the next leg of the journey could be finished before night fell completely.

The village of Fleur was little more than a few houses, a tavern and inn with a stable for ground dragons. Its claim to to fame was the crossroads that bisected it on the way to Flugel's Tree and the slightly larger town of Hanumas, where the merchants were headed. Trade routes in the area that didn't pass through towns frequently had become less popular as they offered less protection from the dangers of the open road.

The merchants in their carts rode out of town a few miles, keeping a brisk pace until Fleur was behind them a good ways. A small bump on the horizon showed the grain storage for the town, which was the tallest thing for miles around. It had been maybe an hour or an hour and a half when the merchant driving the carriage, Morgol Winn, spotted a figure in a dank suede cloak walking down the side of the road.

Though the weather was agreeable and pleasant, this person was covered head to toe with only the bottom of their shoes barely peeking out. They staggered, stumbled down the roadside with their arms clutching the cloak tight in the front and the pitiful sight was enough to cause Morgol to lean out and wave a hand to the others driving behind him.

He slowed the carriage down and, seeing this wandering vagabond as no danger, invited them up. "Hoy, there. You look to be in need of a ride!"

The stranger turned, their face obscured by the cloak and then, encouraged on by the wave of Morgol's hand, they climbed up onto the carriage to sit at his side.

When things were settled, the strange let out grumble. "Gah, ugh. I was beginning to think no one would stop."

"You're quite welcome. We're headed to Hanumas, but we can drop you off anywhere you'd like before there," Morgol explained. "The name's Morgol by the way."

"Morgol—the Merchant?" The cloaked stranger asked. "Little bit of alliteration there. That's cute, something to keep the kids interested. Makes it memorable."

Morgol's expression twisted, it was as if he had to fight to keep the smile on his face. "Where are you headed, friend, or if that's too personal where are you coming from?"

The cloaked stranger sighed. "See, it's a long story Morgol. I've got a bit of a checkered past. Jilted lovers. Dead bodies. And a recurring nightmare where they try to offer me the part of the DILF-y dad in a Party of Five reboot on the CW."

The cloaked stranger raised something metallic and heavy from under his cloak. He pushed the stocky, cold object into Morgol's neck, letting the weight of it bore down into Morgol's skin.

"Wh-what?" Morgol asked.

"Jeez-us," the cloaked stranger pulled the object away, bashing his palms against his obscured face. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Morgol trembled, though he didn't make any move to signal to the other carriages. The stranger pushed the object against Morgol's cheek now.

"I've been here months and I still can't remember that you people don't know what a goddamn gun is," the stranger said, using his other hand, the one that wasn't holding the gun to pull the cloak off of his face revealing skin that was scarred and lumpy with grotesque discolorations in certain areas.

"This, the gun against your cheek, means stop the carriage, genius."

Morgol drew up on the ground dragon reigns until the creature came to an abrupt stop causing the wagons behind the lead to scrap and slide as they fought to stop in time. "What are you?" Morgol asked.

The stranger smirked, his blistered lips curling into a smile. "Me? I'm a Deadpool." Then he flicked his free hand absently in the air. "Eh, you wouldn't understand. Hey you got anything to drink in this thing—playing the bait has me parched."