Hello everyone, I'm back.

Anyway, I should probably tell all of you that I had this ready to go for about a month now. The reason I didn't post this then was because I'm trying something I call a 'batch'. Where I work on about four projects at once and try to post them together. I originally did it back in January and I wanted to do it again.

But I decided I was tired of waiting.

So I posted this along with the other chapter I had ready to go. Yeah I should've waited, but lets be honest here.

What's a better date to publish something than on April fools day?

Enjoy-

The hero's reward

Chapter 1- The Pilot

"Finally".

The lord breathed, his gaze strong and steadfast as his thorough bread warnicorn beneath him. His noble, azure scarf and matching, sapphire hood covered his face, identity, and most importantly- his hair. Before the lord stood none other than the grand capital to the great kingdom of Mewni. At its center was the spectacular royal palace. Its magnificent splendor stared back at the lord. Its diamond-decorated, oval towers built into the island-jagged mountain. The shining palace stood there like a fortress of spectacle as it proudly stood over the mud huts and worn-down shacks of the large town below it that made the capital being surrounded by a magic-made moat. Its water had been redirected through Monarchical magic from a nearby river. To the lord, there was no better metaphor. The proud and polished nobility that lived in those towers standing above the unwashed commons and the uppity merchants.

In the middle of that wonder was the grand jewel. The Butterfly private royal tower. It was built the widest and stood the tallest. So polished and refined that it would make a diamond blush. There it stood on the mountain's tip, mocking the lord as much as it begged him to take it. For the lord, there could be no more tantalizing a torture for all the years it had been denied to him.

But after this day, that would change.

It would all change.

"Finally…" The lord mumbled as he held back an eager giggle, that part would have to wait for now. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew by. It was mild enough that the lord barely felt it, but it was more than strong enough to blow back his hood. The lord yelped in panic as he scrambled to keep his hood up and his perfect hair protected. Thankfully, the lord managed to catch it in time and sighed in relief. "Lousy, corn blasted wind".

"Lord Mildew!" A voice of pride and strength announced.

"Gah!" Lord Mildew shrieked as he all but fell off his warnicorn from the surprise. Rage replaced the surprise as Lord Mildew sneered behind his noble scarf and straightened himself up the best that he could while he turned his warnicorn around. Lord Mildew burned in a rage that he felt his cheeks heating up. "Sir Stabby! Do-Don't startle me like that!".

"Apologies, Lord Mildew," Sir Stabby announced as he and two of his men marched up to their settlement on the hill, overlooking the palace.

The soldiers themselves were tugging along a captive between them, bound and hooded, with a rope wrapped around him. Mildew smiled at that as he turned his gaze back at the Mewni soldiers. Both of them were in full royal army garb. Their armor consisted of one layer of chain-mail over a turquoise tunic. The only true steel of their uniform was their face-obscuring helmet, arm guards, and their knee pads. All of it unpolished with a faintly silver look to it. More than a bit of red and rust popping up in the metal with stains of all sorts dotted throughout everything else. The only weapons for this lowly duo being the standard Mewni army short sword on their backs and a small dagger at their hips. Their rank marked on their uniforms, showing the two were just above the lowest of the common soldier.

Sir Stabby, the true knight that he was, stood there in full plate armor. The sigil of his house, three, bloody, bronze daggers, were painted on his breastplate. The scarlet-stained, tanned bronze contrasted distinctly from the azure blue and polished silver of his knightly uniform. Ironically, he wore no helmet. The one piece of the knightly attire that personified chivalry best.

Clan Stabby became nobility in the first place by being the hired sellswords to kill the leaders of the losing side from a succession crisis three hundred years ago. The family of upstart cut-throats had long been infamous before then, serving who knows how long in many mercenary companies and assassin guilds. The cheap, bronze daggers being their infamous weapon of choice. Equally replaceable as useful.

'Fitting'. Lord Mildew thought as he remembered the second thing Clan Stabby had always been infamous for. One way or another, they were always on the winning side. That fact alone filled Lord Mildew with confidence. 'Loyalty is a luxury; it's better to win'.

Sir Svetovid Stabby himself lived up to his family name. A big, burly man with dull, red hair and a darker complexion. The man carried a broadsword and a shield on his back. The front of his breastplate was covered in his families signature daggers, not just the painted ones of his house sigil. All of the daggers were bronze and carried in blood-red sheaths.

"Ah, yes. Pleasantries," Lord Mildew sighed, doing his best to keep his surprise hidden as the ill-bred knight finally reached his settlement. The proud noble could hardly believe how this scion of sell-swords nearly matched the height of Lord Mildew, even as he sat on his warnicorn. "Tell me about the status of the troops".

"Half the men are still getting ready. Painting themselves and putting on rotten garb over their chain-mail," Sir Stabby promptly informed, pointing back to the forest behind them. Looking past the knight and into the woods, Lord Mildew saw plenty of unwashed commoners covering themselves in rotted green and moth-eaten cloth. Piles of armor wearing the colors and sigils of houses that Mildew and Stabby laid next to them. "In less than an hour, the monster disguises will be ready, and we will begin our assault. The other half of our men are where we need them to be inside the city and palace garrison to make sure no alarms are raised until we give the signal".

"Excellent!" This time, Lord Mildew did allow himself to laugh, wringing his hands as he did. "Hahaha! Everything that has been denied to us in the past is now within our grasp!".

"Uh, excuse me," The faceless soldier to the left asked. "What are we doing?".

"Quiet, peasant," Sir Stabby glared. "Or expect to be flogged".

"Sir Stabby," Lord Mildew waved his hand. "While you should pick less jabbering small folk, we can afford to be magnanimous".

"Indeed, we can, but for now, it's time for war!".

"A bit blunt, but yes," Lord Mildew concurred. "Our queen, bless her heart, has become complacent".

"She's too comfortable with peace," Sir Stabby shook his head, disgusted. "It's time for change and opportunity!".

"Agreed. Both are best achieved through war," Lord Mildew grew a giddy grin. Almost like it was his turn to ride the circus beasts. "And the best wars are waged against monsters. No one will object to conflict against those deformed mutts".

"Especially if they raid the blessed royal corn field! Hahaha!" Sir Stabby laughed as he pointed across the forest-shrouded hill, the open valley, the city moat, and said field.

"Why that corn field? Why now?" The same faceless soldier asked. "Why are we dressed like the monsters or even that one breed of monster?".

'Hmmm? Who is this talkity peasant?' Lord Mildew thought to himself, looking past Sir Stabby to the soldier to the left. There wasn't much more to see from the quick glance from before. The only piece of note was that what wasn't covered by the cloth or armor showed the soldier's copper-colored skin, and while he was just as muscular as Sir Stabby, he was a head shorter. This would still be quite an impressive man if he wasn't wearing the standard hand-me-down chain-mail and blunted short sword of a Mewni grunt. Lord Mildew barely stopped himself from snorting. Even if this fool was a true knight, he wouldn't dream of touching him... though if he was a proper noble-no.

Lord Mildew shook his head as he figured that he was worried over nothing. There was something strange though. The peasant had an accent that Lord Mildew had never heard before. It was gruff, deep, and more than a bit of twang than what he had ever heard before. Regardless, Lord Mildew shrugged. ''That unwashed commoner must be drunk'.

"It's the anniversary of the last great siege, and when the current queen truly came into her throne…" Sir Stabby explained as he pointed to the valley. "...I was just a squire then, but I remember it happening there".

"Quite right. It's the best time to start another war. Besides…" Lord Mildew snarled. "I cannot stand for that lumbering oaf to remain king any longer. Did you know that the unwashed barbarian's only duty as king is to watch over the palace's private corn field? He doesn't even do that right! Once it's shown how thoroughly incompetent the Johansen is, the nobles of Mewni will denounce him as king. Thus, forcing the good-hearted but naive Queen to pick another as her consort".

"That's why a good chunk of my men are keeping the Garrison on duty distracted and drunk for tonight," Sir Stabby smiled mischievously as he flipped one of his bronze daggers in the air, catching it, and flipping it again.

Seeing this, the equally faceless soldier to the right looked at Lord Mildew, who was back to wringing his hands at the palace again. Switching over to Sir Stabby, the faceless soldier whispered to his commander, his voice spicy and smooth. "Captain, why are we doing this? Shouldn't we be loyal to the crown over our liege lord?".

"Normally, yes," Sir Stabby shrugged at the soldier before snarling himself and spitting at the soldier's feet. His aim was too low, the captain of the guard hit his own foot. "A spot just opened in the kingsguard. Do you know who it was given to? Not a true knight, like myself, but rather that upstart, mop boy, Sir Lavabo".

"I do believe that mop boy is leading the palace garrison tonight," Lord Mildew's giddy smile turned into a wolfish grin. "The kings-guard must protect the king, but if they fail so spectacularly…Hahaha! What a shame. With the both of them deposed, Queen Butterfly will have no choice but to dismiss them both and choose us as their replacements. The true heroes of Mewni!".

"Repelling a monster raid on the royal cornfield that those two fools were too drunk or too weak to stop?" Sir Stabby's grin matched his lord's. "We're the only choice left".

The 'True' knight and the 'Noble' lord laughed at that, cackling actually. The soldiers looked at each other; their faces were obscured but not their vision.

"How would this raid work?" The soldier on the left asked curiously, his voice gruff and deep. "There's a giant moat surrounding the city, including the palace".

"That part of the moat behind the palace is the shallowest. Knee deep, at worst," Lord Mildew calmly explained. "It was made that way as a hidden escape route in case the high town and the palace were attacked. All nobles know this".

"Which is stupid," Sir Stabby calmly added in annoyance while he waved his hand, only to put it back down as he noticed Lord Mildew's glare. "Apologies, my lord. But from the eye of a true knight, putting a golden garden at the end of such a narrow weakness, right behind the palace no less, is so convenient of a target. It reminds me of a mouse trap with the garden as the cheese. There should be archers at the ready, traps of all sorts hidden in the only bits of water that a man can run across. Yet, there isn't. Truly, we should've done something like this ages ago".

"It hasn't been since that fateful siege that anyone has been so foolish as to attack the capital. Though after tonight, those would make excellent suggestions for a fresh king and his faithful new kings-guard," The two of "noble" birth laughed again before Lord Mildew pointed at the soldier's escort. "Bring me the prisoner!".

The faceless soldiers brought up their captive to their mounted lord. The hooded prisoner tried to follow but wasn't fast enough for the guards escorting him, tugging the captive and all before hauling him forward and tossing him at their captain's feet. The hooded and bound figure never even resisted. The prisoner laid there, the ropes clearly chafing where they held him. The noble and the knight looked at the captive.

He was a larger figure, hefty with an impressive belly that would make most cauldrons blush. The prisoner's only piece of clothing appeared to be little more than a burlap sack or a similar material and a strap of leather as a belt. The opening of the bag reached down to nearly his knees. Holes were cut at the top and at the sides for his head. What material that wasn't covered by the sack or the ropes showed that the prisoner had dark, swampy, green skin which was rubbery and moist with a thin layer of mucus.

His hands and feet were webbed and enlarged. The prisoner's arms and legs were bare and open to the world, aside from the ropes. Both were large, perhaps not muscular, but even the big and burly Sir Stabby and the left guardsman could not compete with the arms and legs of the bound captive. To a thinking man, it was a wonder how this slime-covered man of strength was bound by such simple rope.

Sir Stabby and Lord Mildew looked at each other again and smiled sinisterly, satisfied as the former bent over and pulled off the bag, revealing the prisoner to be nothing more than a monster. The beast man's head was large, bulbous even. Not a hair to be seen. Sickly yellow eyes with wavey, bar-like pupils which are large and to the side of his head. There was no nose to speak of, or if there was, it was too hidden by all the warts and bumps of thick, swampy, green skin. The prisoner's mouth was wide, stretching out to the full length of his head. The lips were thick, banana thick. If the prisoner had opened his mouth, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he would've swallowed a cannon ball with no trouble.

With the bag gone, it was shown that the prisoner was gagged by a large cloth. Though even with it wrapped several times around his head, it barely covered his mouth.

"May I introduce the 'true' leader of the monsters," Lord Mildew announced, gesturing to the captive as Sir Stabby cut the cloth around his mouth. "Bugbrog, the fishman".

"Buffrog of the frog folk, you inbred ponce," Buffrog spat at the lord, the loogie was the size of a human hand, thick and sickly green.

The noble lord shrieked in terror as the ball of spit landed home, knocking Lord Mildew off his warnicorn and onto the ground. The noble continued his shriek as he laid there, flailing his arms and legs around. Clearly, trying to do... something. The two guards looked at each other, snickering under their obscuring helmets. Sir Stabby himself simply stood there, sighing and doing his best not to roll his eyes as he walked over to his lord. To anyone with ears, it sounded like a little girl just stubbed her toe. Grabbing Lord Mildew by his arm, Sir Stabby hoisted his liege lord up to his feet. The goop of the ball of spit trailed behind him from the cape on his back to the ground like a rope of snot and slime. Seeing this, the lord shrieked again but much louder this time. So much that even Sir Stabby flinched at his lord's wailing before pulling out a waterskin and dousing the noble Mildew. The lord stopped, blinked for a moment before glaring at the knight.

"Apologies, my lord," Sir Stabby apologized dully in a very practiced tone. The lord's look of rage turned into fear as he pulled out a small circular mirror and looked at his face. There were streaks of runny colors going down Lord Mildew's face, showing that the noble's face was much duller, his eyes less blue, and his eyelashes less long than before…among other things. The lord shrieked again, thankfully only for a moment before he pointed at his messy face.

"Stabby, do you know what you've just done?! How long the servants spent applying the make-up! And you!" Lord Mildew turned around to his prisoner as he held up his cape with the slime still dripping off of it. Even bound and recently gagged, he smiled smugly at the Mewni noble. "My cape! This is worth more than I pay my personal attendant in a year! Ruined! It's all ruined!".

"My lord?" Sir Stabby asked.

"It's all ruined!" Lord Mildew spat, unclasping the cape and leaving it there in a pile of slime. "Pack it up! The raid is called off!".

"Lord Mildew, stop!" Sir Stabby pleaded, though the two soldiers and the prisoner behind him couldn't help but notice that the 'true' knight was grabbing a hidden, bronze dagger latched behind his back. "We won't have a better chance at this. You want to be king, don't you?".

"But I'm supposed to look perfect! My makeup is a mess, and my cape is ruined!" Lord Mildew whined. "I look almost as ugly as you!".

"Trust me. A crown will make you look better than any cape or amount of make-up could ever could, my lord," Sir Stabby pleaded calmly except for the last part as he said it through clenched teeth.

"I suppose that you're right," Lord Mildew sighed tiredly before pointing at his head. "At least, my hair is still great".

The captive Buffrog of the frog folk spat again. This time, the ball of slime hit Lord Mildew square on the head, engulfing it completely. The great high lord began shrieking yet again, running around with his arms flailing around like a headless chicken. Thankfully, his cries were muffled by the slime. The two, faceless guards saw this and did their best not to laugh as they held it in the best that they could. But it was too much as some chuckles got out. Buffrog himself had no reason to hold in anything as he laughed bitterly.

"Shut it, you two, or I'll have you guys flogged!" Sir Stabby threatened irritably while he punched the captive monster in the gut with a mailed fist. Buffrog coughed out a breath before hunching over and falling to the side. Immediately, the laughter ceased. "Well, what are you waiting for? Pull the gunk off your future king".

The two guards did as ordered and chased after their panicking lord as he raced around in circles, shrieking in a bubble of snot all the way. The two were forced to tackle the pristine noble to get him to stop moving. The faceless soldiers held down Lord Mildew, the larger one to the left more than the thinner one to the right. The guard to the right himself reached out to try and pull the ball of snot off the lord, but the soldier to the left stopped him. The right soldier gave the left soldier a look before the latter pulled out something from a pouch to his side and held it over the lord's head. Suddenly, white powder fluttered and fell onto the ball of snot. The slime fizzled and fizzled, shrinking smaller by the second until it was gone. Leaving only one, angry noble sitting under two, faceless, Mewni grunt nobodies.

"Get off of me, you dirty plebeians! You're muddying up my robes!" The lord whined loudly in a pathetic way. The soldiers hopped off the man with the legal right to chop off their heads. Lord Mildew soon sat up, grimacing at his now dirty attire. "Ruined! It's all ruined!".

"My lord. My lord. Think of this as a blessing in disguise," Sir Stabby calmly pleaded, rushing to his lord before gently hauling him to his feet. As the two, would-be usurpers talked, the two guards walked back to their prisoner, eyeing each other while also doing their best to hold in their laughter. Getting back to Buffrog, the two guards and the captive exchanged a nod.

"You there!" Sir Stabby announced sharply, walking back to the three of them. The two guards turned around to their captain.

"Me, sir?" The guard to the left asked in confusion, the larger one with the gruff voice and full of twang.

"Yes, you," Sir Stabby spat, figuratively. The knight a foot behind his lord was busy wiping off the last of the gunk from the noble's face. "What was that powder you just used? Was it magical?".

"No... sir," The left guard answered calmly yet awkwardly. "It was just salt".

"You just happen to be carrying salt with you? Salt can dissolve frogman slime?" Sir Stabby asked, raising an eyebrow at the soldier.

"I just... eat with it, sir," The left guard shrugged at his captain. "I didn't know that it would do that".

"They don't keep salt in the barracks mess hall!" Sir Stabby glared, his eyes narrowed.

"Actually, they do, captain," The guard to the right calmly corrected. "They have for a while now. How long has it been since you've stayed at the barracks?".

"Don't you talk to me like tha-".

"Oh, who cares about that, Stabby?" Lord Mildew rolled his eyes as he turned to his captive. "You!".

"I know your plan, Mewman," Buffrog glared at the noble. "You dress up as my people. Play fight. Frame me for this ruckus, and I'll be executed the next morning".

"Yesss!" Lord Mildew hissed in rage as he pulled his hood down. The anger turned to sadness as he pulled at his hair. His usual, long, golden, curly locks were now covered in grimy, green slime. "And when you die, the corn will be willing-No! I'll be the one to swing the sword!".

"Hmph. So the mutt can think," Sir Stabby joked teasingly.

"But it'll not be for much longer once I mount his head in my new throne room!" Lord Mildew joked himself; both the noble and the knight laughed at that. "Hahaha! Oh, sure. The good queen will be disappointed about not bringing in the raider's leader alive, but she'll get over it".

"Should be around the time of your coronation, my king," Sir Stabby grinned at Lord Mildew.

"And your promotion to Kings-guard, I see a bright future for you- Lord commander," Lord Mildew grinned back; the two were about to laugh again before one of the soldiers spoke up.

"Pardon me, I don't mean to interrupt," The soldier to the right interjected, his voice thick and spicy. "But I do believe that you have forgotten something".

"We will try to remember the little people in our acceptance speeches," Lord Mildew snorted at the faceless, lowly grunt. "Don't worry".

"Haha! I guess that we should ask for these 'little peoples' names," Sir Stabby chuckled, gesturing to the faceless soldiers.

The two guards looked at each other and nodded in agreement before turning to their prisoner and nodding again. Both left and right took off their helmets. One had long, white hair, a thin mustache, and a matching patch on his chin for a beard with dark, grey eyes. The other had dark, brown hair, copper, brown eyes, and a rough, short beard with a cute mole on the side of his face.

"N-No…" Sir Stabby mumbled as his eyes went wide.

"What are you two doing?" Lord Mildew asked indignantly. "We're about to do something. Put your helmets back on!".

"Fool! They're-!".

"Hi, I'm Marco." The left guard smirked calmly, cracking his knuckles. "I'm from Earth."

"And I am Sir Lavabo of the Kingsguard!" The right guard announced boldly, pulling out his short sword and pointing it at the two, would-be usurpers. "And you two have been caught red-handed... which was what I was referring to earlier with the whole forgotten thing".

"H-How?" Lord Mildew stuttered in shock.

"Guards!" Sir Stabby shouted in panic. "Guards!".

"Oh, calling your men? We've already put'em to bed. Shush, don't wake'em," Marco hushed. "It's rude".

"No. No. No," Lord Mildew panicked, taking a step back.

"Yes!" Sir Stabby pulled out a couple of bronze daggers and pointed them at Lavabo and Marco. "We can still go through with the plan! Are you ready to fight, my lord?! My lord?".

"You do it, commoner!" Lord Mildew shouted as he ran back to his warnicorn, hopping up onto the horned steed only to nearly fall off to the side. The lord managed to stay on by gripping onto the saddle before swatting the beast of battle's behind. The annoyed warnicorn stormed off to the valley with its master barely hanging on.

"Ugh, I'm gonna kill him," Sir Stabby grumbled at his fleeing liege lord before turning back to the Earthling and the upstart mop boy, only to immediately have his bronze daggers swatted away by the blunted, grunt, short sword and punched in the face with a mailed fist. The wannabe kings-guard had no protection as he flew through the air before falling to the ground with his eyes swirling around in defeat.

"Huh. That was easier than I thought it would be." Buffrog gave a lopsided frown as he sat back up and slid his hands free from the ropes. The thin mucus that covered his body is now slathered over the rope. As he did the same for his ankles, Sir Lavabo pulled out his own rope from his side and started hogtying the unconscious Sir Stabby. "Do we have what we need?".

"Oh, yeah," Marco nodded as he tapped his side pocket.

"Lord Mildew is getting away," Sir Lavabo announced, tying one final knot on the disgraced knight before pointing at the field beyond the hill that they were standing on. The disgraced lord was nearly at his wit's end as well as close to the water of the city's moat. "Where is he running to? He has to know that he can't hide from this".

"This lord…is not too bright," Buffrog shrugged, standing up and spitting at the running noble. The slimey green ball bopped over the hill and splattered on the ground beyond it.

"I got this," Marco smiled before he put two fingers to his lips and whistled.

Soon enough, a screech erupted from the skies followed by a dragon, the winged beast glided down from the trees and landed to the ground in front of the earth man who called him. The dragon itself wasn't too different in size from the horned steed of the rushing noble. Marco gave one last look at Lord Mildew, judging his distance and speed as he hopped on his own mount and took to the skies. Best bred stallion of the kingdom or not, no legged creature could outrace a dragon. Before anyone could blink, Marco was on him just as Mildew got to the moat.

He needn't have bothered.

Turns out that the shallowest bit of water around the city and more importantly the royal palace was indeed protected. The warnicorn itself quickly found all four of its legs trapped knee deep in mud. With his mount unable to move, Lord Mildew dropped off his very expensive beast of battle and ended up falling face-first into the mud himself. Climbing or crawling to his feet, Lord Mildew fled as fast he could across the water as his mud-laden legs would carry him. He didn't get far. Not even ten steps into the moat that the fleeing lord yelped as he fell and all but disappeared into the murky water below him. Marco himself hovered above the moat, a smug grin on his face; his dragon's wings fluttering like a hummingbird or a butterfly to keep them both in place.

"Long live the Queen!" Marco shouted boldly in victory. A moment later, the ground was raised, and the water of the moat below him dissipated. The warnicorn itself was free, pulling its legs out of the mud and wandering off to the field behind the moat before it started chewing on its grass. Lord Mildew himself was flat on his back, covered more in mud than fine, expensive, noble robes as he coughed out a lot of water. Marco himself pointed to the ground before snapping his fingers. His dragon landed soon after. After getting off his mighty, winged steed and walking up to the fallen noble, Marco grabbed Lord Mildew."Yeah, this is actually the deepest part of the moat. You gotta say the password. Can you guess what it is?".

"D-Don't touch me!" Lord Mildew stammered, swatting at the man who just saved his life from the noble's own stupidity. "I-I will n-not be manhandled by some unwashed c-commoner! You have no r-right to m-mistreat a standing l-lord such as myself!".

"Uh, I'm pretty sure that nobility lose their titles when they turn traitor," Marco shook his head as he smacked the soon-to-be former Lord Mildew's hand away.

"I-I am no t-traitor!" Mildew stammered like a toddler who just got caught doing something wrong.

"Come on, man. I heard everything," Marco rolled his eyes.

"You have no proof!"

"Actually..." Marco smirked cheekily as he pulled out what looked to be a red brick from his side. The front of it lit up like a torch, a triangle pointed to its side was at its center. The earth boy smile turned wolfish as he pressed the triangle on the so-called brick. Instantly, the words of both Sir Stabby and Lord Mildew played out for them both to hear; their plans for usurpation revealed and ruined. After the playback finished, Marco kissed his glowing, thin, red brick, "Thank you, modern technology. Thank you, Smart phones.".

"B-B-But I-! S-Stabby-! R-River-!" Mildew stuttered madly, his face a shattered mess of mud and disbelief. "I-I-I-! The king-!".

Marco smacked the would-be usurper before he could blabber more. Turns out the earth boy didn't even need a mailed fist to do it. Just a quick jab to the nose. Marco shook his head a final time as he pulled out his own rope and tied up the 'Lord' Mildew before he dropped him on the small dragon. It didn't take long for Marco and his cargo to return to the hill. Buffrog waved at the human as Sir Lavabo lit a blue torch. As Marco landed, he could see the same blue light as the torch appear in window after window of the royal palace.

"Ah, good," Sir Lavabo sighed in relief. "Sir Stabby's forces have failed and have been apprehended".

"Then that's my cue to leave," Buffrog announced calmly, waving to the knight and the man from earth before heading back into the forest.

"We'll split the reward with you later, Buff," Marco waved back at his friend with one hand as he dropped the unconscious lord to the ground next to the equally unconscious knight with the other.

"No, that's alright," Buffrog shook his head, a small smile on his face as he disappeared in the trees with his voice still carried to them. "I am simply happy to be owed a favor by the legendary Marco of Earth and Sir Lavabo of the Kings-guard".

The two in the Mewni grunt garb shrugged at each other as they tied the ropes of their prisoners to their steeds. Lord Mildew to Marco's dragon while Sir Stabby was tied to the commandeered warnicorn of the disgraced Mewni noble. The duo headed towards the kingdom's palace with their rewards, their bounties, dragging behind them in the mud.