AUTHOR'S NOTES

Any form of constructive criticism is appreciated!

Somewhere near the abandoned Butterfly Castle, a day before Cleaved.

"Nothing like a good day of pure despair..."

Sunrise was bestowed upon Mewni. It truly seemed it would be a quiet, morning to pass away without much notice in this world's everlasting history, when the very fabric of time would have slowed down momentarily for the land's people as they would embrace fruitful nature and wonder about life before they go about their lives. It truly would have been that type of day, weren't for the fact that the once united pieces of the dimension were now hanging lose, polarized, or either shattered.

The town, filled with life at one time, where once the administration of the Butterly Court operated flourishingly, could now only serve as a relic from a better era, for a few that wished to keep on maintaining the old world order. As like a plague, silence haunted these lands as the few remainders of the Mewmans in Butterfly Groundlands lived their naught but sorrow lives quietly, not to attract any ravaging beasts nor monsters. But it seemed there was nothing to be afraid of: non-Mewmans avoided going there religously ever since the dawn of time, given the warrior, expansionist nature of their former oppressors. Suffice to say, nature had no reason not to rest at this hour.

All that was disturbing the quiet, ironic peace of dissonance were two dozen Mewmans or so on a dire field a few miles south of Butterfly Groundlands, amongst a wild range of makeshift tents scattered all across, resembling a camp of some sort. But unlike the yurts where Queen Moon resided, this settlement wasn't as tantalizing or handled with care, where one would revel in joy. Half the tents were destroyed. There wasn't any children or women in sight, only ominous men gathered at the centre. Toward the outskirts, beside the wooden structions raised to keep intruders out, freshly dug and filled holes situated, serving as the final resting place for many. To add to this ferocious expanse, they were inured to this bleak, murky nature.

At that very moment, they were gearing up while one among them instructed what to do, readying their possessed chariots, blades, shields and uniforms, typically used by Royal Guards. Although they were quite reminiscent of the notorious vanguard of the Butterfly Castle, the equipment was worn down, ragged and rusty. The proud Mewman warrior's posture signifying pride and their indomitable spirit had all but remained. As if somehow, something broke their fervor, forcing banding together like cornered rats, opposed to the past's unwavering fellowship. Most if not all of them displayed a wide array of cuts and injuries, a few even suffering from black eye. Still, they had the guardsmen's signature physique, well known for inciting fear amongst their enemies' ranks. But that fear transcended to their own.

"I wouldn't even wish this upon my worst enemies."

"Alright, men!" Shouted a man, standing out as the fiercest of the dubious group. "Once you put on these armor, we shall make our way to the castle for our much deserved bounty!", raising his voice to get to everyone in the crowd. "Any questions?"

"Yeah, me. How come you get to be the leader of the soldiers, not me? Unlike you I was actually the Captain of the Royal Guard before all this happened, guarding the perimeters, most of these men serving under me!" A blonde, bearded person spoke up from his deep of thought. "What if someone's actually in there, and suspects something?

"I am well aware of that Henry, that's why your people are needed. And don't you worry, no one is there, other than some lousy peasant Mewmans to stop us from nicking everything movable from the treasury. Even so, we have the upper hand", the person retorted. After finishing, he took a good look at his gear. The bright golden markings on the armor and helmet were beginning to fade out, and rust was leaching on his sword. An additional warnicorn under him would have been more convincing, but that'll do. For now. It's not like they need to fear anyone confronting them.

"Wait. Are we really going with this guys? Defiling the almighty overlords just like this? What happened to our dignity? We were one of the fiercest force to be reckoned with under them for crying out loud!" A desperate voice broke out owned by a long haired man turning to face the rest of his peers.

"You can might as well just turn yourself in to that wretched Globgor and Eclipsa, to be thrown into the dungeons of the Monster Temple for desertion and what we did here, Nicholas!" , another voice spoke out. Then more of them began arguing, their voices turning into an incoherent, loud mess. Some even cocking their swords forming battle stances, ready to duel their former comrades to prove their point.

"I'll kill you, treacherous bastard!"

"Once this blows over, you'll pay the price!"

"ENOUGH!" The man once again exclaimend silencing the bloodlust. "It's been months. There is no 'Butterfly Dynasty' to defend anymore! The people you served under, the kingdom you have sworn allegiance to many years ago, your pride, is DEAD. All of it. You all are no longer Mewmans, rather a mere, hollow fraud! Turned into by the very same pseudo nobles you defend in your unfortunate plight, that forced us to do unspeakable things for survival and sustainment! Now is the time to get back at them! Then, we shall bid farewell to eachother, parting ways as free men! Away from this cruel land, away from all this humiliation! Anyone who disagrees with this may leave now, or otherwise be impaled on a stick by myself, else I won't be named Sebastian Høyer! Now, who's with me?"

A loud roar of reaffirmation came following, even from those two not too fond of their motive.

"Good! Then we shall be on our way then! And remember, if you dare oppose me, you wish you were dead yesterday", he said, getting on one of the chariots, holding the leash ready to control the warnicorn pulling, The rest got on the two equally. Shortly after, the convoy began driving to the destination in silence, in the warmth of the soothing warmth of the first rays of the bright sun.

After what felt like an hour of travelling, the former lair of the defunct kingdom began towering upwards before them. Along their way, the road had to be cleared of fallen down trees on numerous occasions. Everywhere they went were the signs of the tragedy of their people: abandoned cities, destroyed monuments, the sheer amount of empty refugee camps.

"Here lies the infamous Butterfly Castle, home of the eternal Butterfly Family" the leading man wheezed, mocking the once powerful body. Partially, he had a point: the torn apart buildings retained not even an ounce of pride. Coupled by their hollowness, it felt like walking on an empty ship's giant hull casted ashore, with the deceased crew's ghostly presence in the wind hinting about the days of glory, when they used to sail the seas triumphantly, albeit strictly in their mind.

And like not living but reanimated corpses, residents clinging to life there were drawn to the streets by the marching and the squeking of the carriages en masse to witness "the return" of authority. Despite the questionable appearance of these 'Royal Guards', they matched the rest of the town's state. After losing everything a person had of meaningful importance, one just succumbs to the depths of hollowness, depriving oneself from many aspirations or curiosity. And sure enough, most of these Mewman citizens deprived of vigour shared this tendency. But they definitely didn't lose the ability to feel resentment.

As expected, none of them were thrilled about seeing elements of a regime they absolutely loathed show up after months of fending off by themselves, keeping out raiders and refugees gone haywire by the sheer luck. As they went deeper and deeper into the town, more and more people crawled out from the very few intact houses. While some just quietly stared at them with disgust, other took the initiative to yell slurs at them.

"Traitors!"

"Get out of our town!"

"Thieves!"

"We don't take kindly to your kind here!"

Just to name a few.

Despite this, the "soldiers" rode to the palace with ease. They mostly ignored the insults thrown at them, but some of the deserters clentched their fists in anger. Not only they lost their families, now they'll be humiliated and possibly hanged for being thieves if they were to be apprehended. Either they inevitably lose their pride trying to make ends meet ambigously or get sent to some outpost in the middle of nowhere, away from their relatives, surrounded by monsters if they would have pledged allegiance to Globgor. It was a lose-lose situation. Not to mention having to be associated with monsters.

Atleast they get to have a way out. A privilege quite scarce amongst their ranks. Some simply just perished after Meteora's incursion, others became missing or succumbed to living in refugee camps, where everyone was for himself. Initially, the hatred against the world binded the expatriated Mewmans together, but peace was not perpetual. Some of the northern Royal Houses and kingdoms had a falling out with the south due to the regime change, and the remainder of the Butterflies in general. Not being able to withstand the scandals, the royals related closest to the "peasants" simply fled. Without having someone overseeing this charade, these houses turned against one another. Forts were overrun, soldiers mutineered, cities crumbled, prisons fell. As a result, the displaced had nowhere to go. But the power struggle did not stop most of the houses coming on top from disintegrating, as a series of infighting ensued everywhere for power over what little was left.

Quite ironically, the nest of the horsemen of this catastrophy, that purged everything north of its path, remained peaceful. And at the centre of it all, where the ruins stood, lived the adamant. Those who stood in favor of the old went on to live in the yurts. Whomever from the north made it past the Jagged Mountains flocked to these two, and then few joined the Solarian Army, as a last ditch effort to mitigate the cruel circumstances.

And as basic supplies dwindled as well for the folks that couldn't make it, the lowest turned against the other. Naturally having the upper hand, Henry's group came on top in this deleterious struggle of survival of the fittest. Unfortunately, most of their camp's innocent populace found itself in the middle of the crossfire, namely Henry's wife. But his past forged an unwavering alliance with his former subordinates. The outsiders who survived either fled or joined their clique, which later acquainted themselves with Sebastian and a few of his cronies stumbling into the camp near the Forest of Certain Death.

Most of the debree was already cleared out by the unruly dissidents, and conveniently, not a single soul set foot in the castle. Or atleast it seemed from the outside. Being sacred to them, or just fearing of ghosts or collapse, none of it mattered. The group got off the chariots, now holding bags to carry treasure. Stepping inside the torn frontal entrance, they got into the grand hall that was seemingly intact. Despite that, it felt different. Everything was so... eerie. Even the rays of the sun were litting up the place with reserve, as if they would be scared to do so. The floor and staircases were covered with a thick layer of dust. In it, a few paths of footsteps were laid out, but they were beginning to fade out. On a wall facing visitors directly, an obnoxious portrait of the ex royal family was hanging, tilted slightly. Overall, it was intact, but filthy. Quite oddly, other insignificant tapestries were cleaned and repaired by someone. After a few steps Sebastian ordered the men to come to a halt. Clearing his throat, he addressed them.

"Alright. You four are going with Henry to the throne room, to see if there's anything valuable. You, you, and you follow Axelsen to the kitchen, and check if there's anything edible", he commanded, pointing to random people who flocked to a wide bearded and scarred figure, who nodded. "The rest stays with me. We'll be meeting in the guards' mess hall in six hours for lunch. If you see someone, you knock them out without exceptions and bring it to me later on. Is that clear?"

The mob nodded in assent silently. A few moments later, they split up and went their way as instructed, their steps could be heard less and less.

Despite the dimly lit spaces, the crooked ceiling and the severely weakened floor, Henry's group were passing along the rooms easily, talking with eachother nonchalantly to speed up their journey.

"Me, Karl and Harlex had the pleasure of working together in the castle. How were you doing before the 'great doomsday' came, Gerat? What brought you here, to these damned lands?" Henry enquired to the person the farthest to him.

"My name is actually Komanor, but refer to me as Gerat", he began, closing space between the men in order to make the conversation flow naturally. "I did not really have much going for me in the before time. I was born in the Smith Kingdom, not knowing my father and my mother passing in childbirth. My childhood was spent with back-breaking shifts in a coal mine, grasping to whatever I could get from that torment. Eventually, I was able to save up enough to move away, to have a better life. So I guess you could say that I'm not really moved by the kingdom's' collapse.", he took a break to sigh and reflect on his experiences, quickly continuing.

"I was coursing aimlessly, streaming wherever Fate pulled the strings. One day, I get here in hopes of fixing my life just for all of it to crumble to dust! I couldn't even go back to Smith, there wasn't anything worth going back for. Feeling hopeless at that moment, I was lucky to find a place to sleep at that camp, stumbling into you and Sebastian.", he concluded.

Harlex was the first one to respond. "Oh, I feel terrible. My condolences."

"Don't worry about it. The mining town took after me so it wasn't all that bad. What about you?"

"I don't really have anyone either, except maybe my friends from my position. After that greatly devastating battle, some of us just weren't themselves anymore. Many lost their loved ones on that fateful day. And if that wasn't enough, all of us slowly dissolved into something... not Mewman in our refugee camp. Some chose to be loyal to the mere shadow of the past and left. Others simply vanished, like Sir Scarsguard, corn bless his soul wherever it is now. Few even 'opted out'. Eclipsa didn't give a hoot about it. As soon as she could sense herself grasping the Royal Wand, he took her monster lover and hybrid child to a dilapidated pile of rocks to live in! We were having none of that. Our superior, Henry, has helped a lot of us survive and come out of the agonizing numbness. For a while, our only means of sustainment was hunting and gathering in the wild. Without him, I'm sure I couldn't last a day. But we soldered through as we stayed together.", Harlex finished their bitter story.

"Woah. You are quite a man of honor" Garet said, glaring at Henry. "But enough talk about our damned fate! Let's rever our good part of our lives! Our women! Did you have anyone significant?" He continued, speaking nonchalantly.

A pregnant silence set in amongst the looters. Henry acted like he didn't hear anything, but when Garet was about to raise his voice, he finally answered, in a defeated tone. "I-... had a family. A beautiful wife, and the dearest daughter in the whole entire world. I mean... my daughter could be still out there. My beautiful Sophie, the love of my life, was slain in the midst of the upheaval following a famine. But she managed to get away. The last time I saw her when her figure disappeared in the woods. She's a clever girl, I'm sure I'll find her! Whatever it takes!

He wanted to continue, but found himself lost at words. Suddenly, he felt Karl patting him on his shoulders. "Don't give up, sir. We believe in you, and would do anything to help. Even so, there's no way of repaying what you have done to keep us in place."

"Thank you, Karl."

"No problem."

All the tree guardsmen kept on walking in silence. Even though the knights of Mewni outclassed them in every concievable way in the eyes of fundamentally anyone really, their bond was one hell of a kind. Whether it was happiness or grief, they signaled their brother's mood and tried to cheer him up or enjoy the momentary uplift of emotions. Even now, that bond had its fullest effect as the image of a broken family that will never be whole again flooded them with angst.

A few steps went by with each person resigning himself to their respective thoughts. Not so late, they approached a giant oak door, leading the their primary objective. Upon prying it open, the throne room, or atleast what that place was once, came to their sight. Suffice to say, being there now felt a lot more different than in their days servicing the crown. Gerat, despite not being there at Mewni's darkest hour, heard about the sheer destruction, but even his envisions fell short to the actual devastation.

The thrones up until then belonging to an undaunting Butterfly and a valiant but charming Johansen was now reduced to unrecognizable piles of wood. Armor stands were turned over, pieces of metal scattered everywhere. And to top it of as cherry on whipped cream, sat tiles of the collapsing dome, indicating to large holes in the ceiling, now letting in more audible clasps of thunder and large amounts of waterfall dripping down to the floor, courtesy of Mewni's whimsical weather in the early stages of summertime. Some of the supporting pillars have tumbled down as well. All in all, their surroundings indubitably retained the marks left as the byproduct of the fight following Meteora's demise, making the observers of the scenery rethink their bittersome experiences.

"We shall get to work now.", Henry told the trio before him still in their state of minds. "Should you find anything worthwhile, put in in your sacks."

And so work began. Everyone carried out the objective on mute, the tedious process of clearing out wood taking a large toll on their stamina, even for the erstwhile Captain, despite his looks still portraying the pinnacle of a foot soldier's physical readiness. Despite it being demanding, their efforts paid off: they were able to rip out large sums of rubies, emeralds and other precious stones embedded into pieces of royal furniture. Not even the coronational regalias were safe: Moon's scepter and crown, along with River's, coupled by ornate mantles of the finest silk out there were now in the hands of the less fortunate.

As the hours passed, Henry's mind began to wander. Feasting his eyes on possible places of treasure continously for hours, he started to recall every major point of his life he got to experience out of boredom. Out of all those years tenaciously spent protecting the royal family, practically raising an ungrateful princess throwing everything away, none of it worth anything in hindsight.

He no longer cared, as to shun away some of the grief. For their royalty yielding betrayal, all those grueling months in the camps, survival and infighting.

His attention then trailed off to the throne room itself. He was ordained a Captain after 15 years of service at this very place, after he was cited for his selfless actions. During a Stump Day Ball hosted for nobles, knights and officers, he met the love of his life, a servant named Sophie. Initially joyful, he was quickly shaken aback to the cruel reality of the present.

Months have passed without any sight of his daughter. He lost the battle they purpotedly won. Some of his friends were lost. Every single thing his life has amounted to has been turned to a pile of dust, to be swept afar. Suddenly, the memory of Sophie's lifeless body buried by him flashed before his eyes. He did not even show any emotions for the pain. There weren't any no more. The only elements remaining are his remaining men who could probably resonate with him. Speaking of the devil, one of them addressed him after the long silence.

"Henry, I think we're done here. We should get back to the barracks, just as Sebastian instructed.", Karl pleaded.

"I agree.", Harlex and Gerat eventually added.

Leaving him no other alternative, Henry followed suit with the sentiment, leading the others back to the meeting point. The journey back felt ten times as hard as getting there, accounting the heavy bags resting on their backs. And other things.

Henry, Harlex and Karl knew their way around this part of the castle the most. As they were going down to the lower levels of the central tower, through long halls, the decorated and colorful walls got replaced by plain patterns of large grey stone bricks. The marble floor soon turned into brute tiles of material carved straightout of the Jagged Mountains. Paintings depicting various Mewman nobles gave way to conquerors, generals and honorable soldiers, whose legacy was remembered by their successors for centuries to come. Windows became a rarer sight to see, the few that remained sporting thick bars of steel for reinforcing. As a result, the atmosphere got visibly darker, and creepy. And soon enough, they reached large rooms housing up to fifty bunk beds.

Despite the eerie nature, they felt a bit like they were back home upon reaching them. Considering they spent most of their lives there, this was no wonder. On the endless sea of repetitively guarding the walls, manning guard posts in the castle, providing protection for the queen and king, these rooms served as a flashy beacon of spending off-duty time meaningfully. Well, if gambling, drinking and sharing tales of wooing women counted as meaningful. But it was surely a loose definition for the common rankless soldier. But the officers did not bat an eye to these rather insubordinate activities most of the time, some of them even daring to join the enlisted in these leisures. Henry was one among these. On the contrary, whenever an entitled knight or an aristocrat came down from the puffy upper levels, these very same guards showed upmost discipline.

Upon entering the barracks, they suspected that they had company. Multiple rooms were busted open. From the dining area, bright light was seeping out of gap under the iron entrance. They were proven right upon entering the door. It seemed like most of the group was already back, with sacks filled to the brim with gold and silver sitting in a corner. Most of the men were situated around a large table, eating corn and other delectable meals brought from the kitchen, on silver plates. Indicating by their indulgement in eating, the fellow named Axelsen had great cooking skills. Standing up from his meal, Sebastian approached the four coyly.

"Ah, at last, you guys came back. And with outstanding success! Please, make yourselves free to join in, after dropping of the loot next to the rest." Henry quietly sat down, grabbing a plate of corn and some vegetables. In spite of being an avid meat eater, he didn't trust the months old steaks served, no matter how they were seasoned. Sebastian began to think in his seat. "If I sent four guys to the kitchen, how come only two came back? By now, they should have all returned. Unless... they are hiding something from the rest of us.", he thought to himself.

His thinking was cut short when the door, already being reasonably heavy for an ordinary individual to open alone, was burst open with glazing speeds, leaving huge cracks on the adjacent wall. From the outside, six wooden barrels came rolling into the room, followed by the two missing people in question dropping a comically large tower composing more of the stuff from their hands, amplifying the flow of the barrels. One of them did not even wait to enter the room to pull out the cork from one of the kegs above his head, causing the contents of it course into his mouth. It was the purest corn syrup, meticolously brewed by the Royal Brewery. As of course, high quality pairs with high alcoholic content in this universal beverage, drank by peasents and aristocrats alike.

What followed could be described best as total havoc and anarchy. People sitting at the table rushed to the barrels, knocking over the table as the food splattered all over the place. Unleashing their deeply enrooted barbaric customs, chairs were used to fight over the newly arrived refreshments. After what felt like ours, tensions dwindled as everyone got ahold of an intoxicating amount of liquid. Sometime later, the group formed a large spinning circle around the room intertwining arms on the shoulders, folk dancing in an unexpectedly synced way despite their alcohol levels able to tackle an elephant. Not even their singing skills were phased, as they sang the Royal Guard's marching chant, the few bandits eventually joining in as they learned the lyrics:

"We are Mewmans, we are free,

Tackling threats against thee,

Whether Monster, Lizard, any Fiend;

Our kind shall persevere!

Brotherhood is our greatest trait,

Coated in valor, coupled with merit.

May Mewni's enemies feel the smite

Of their bitter, inevitable demise!

Our pride and plight shan't be scorched,

Thus all of us must bear the torch!

So grab a sword and join us,

Glory to the Royal Guard!"

Time and time passed, hours and hours flown away. Elevating to sentience, Henry came to realization that the clock almost struck midnight. Most of his old friends and contemporaries have either fallen asleep or become as active as a log. There was no place on the floor free of the taint of sticky little ponds of corn syrup, fused with the filthy remains of the meals eliciting quite the noise-twisting scent. "Corn, I knew these meats concealed some sort of secret! Thank corn we hunted and never had the thought of going to the castle's kitchen!", he murmured to himself.

Looking around the dining room, he searched for Sebastian: but alas, he was nowhere to be seen. This last-resort scheme was taking too long for him. He wanted to nag his cut out of him, get out of here, and reunite with his family as soon as possible, even beyond death. The motive kept him breathing, easing his fatigue as nights became days and cries of pain turned to battlecries of the truly fearless. Leaving announced might lead to confrontation by his men, or worse, the people living in town gang up on him for walking alone, vulnerably with heavy bags under his shoulders. Both of these will lead to something fatal, with other unfavourable outcomes for him. And besides, he did not want to get taunted by elements of the past anymore. Sebastian was right: everything went under, and there was no point looking back.

There's no longer a morally ambigous or right path anymore: either way, all of them are tainted. "Except maybe those from the camp who still had the stomach to follow Mina to bring justice. But even so, why bother fighting? These people don't need the burdens of fighting against all odds, neither do me." he thought to himself. Escape is the only option. Although time was running out, he knew that the Captain leaves the sinking ship last.

He still absolutely admired Mina and her actions. Growing up, he was inspired by tales of her unmatched prowess and loyalty, which would inevitably elevate her to the forefront of the Solarian Army. However, he became sick of partaking in conflicts when things turned rough in the refugee camp. Unnecessary conflicts out of desperation, brother going up against brother. Thus he couldn't bring himself to spill more of his kin's blood, especially as colleteral for the greater good.

Having no longer the ability to take in the lovely odour of the air, and the hours of blackout taking his urge to sleep, he went on a stroll in the barracks. Despite the dominating defeatistic thoughts lurking in him throughout the day, he let himself rejoice in doing this silent, and ultimately, plain but fulfilling activity.

By letting each of his steps guide him without paying much attention to them, he trailed off to one of the windows busted open. There, he bent over, placed his very palms on the broken frame and looked out at the mesmerizing and versatile stars of Mewni. Although the ages of worshipping gods were long gone, he always found himself wondering while staring at this esoteric expanse about what's his life is really all about. Are we truly free, or is there something or someone behind everything? Why has fate been so whimsical these days? Will there ever be days reminiscent of the past? Why us? But it seemed that he was unable to come up with anything.

He really found himself enjoying stargazing: something he'd do with Sophie on a large number of their sacred dates. And as of now, he felt content with doing it alone too. His time may be running out, but the vastness of the universe is infinite and eternal compared to his plight. Truly a timeless beauty to look at. And someday, he'd reunite with all of his lost loved ones: either as living, or venturing on the uneasy path of the bittersweet afterlife. He couldn't help bit let a slight smile creep up his face.

It did not last long however, shattering as he heard the strange echoes of wailing screams begging for help from the town. The barracks didn't have a view to look down there, so he was oblivious of what would it be at this time.

Curious of what it was and somewhat alarmed, he quickly rushed down the halls, from the stars while grabbing a set of his old uniform and sword he found along the way. Upon reaching the main entrance, he stumbled on dozens of citizens in the hall, most of whom were children and women. The men were busy with trying to find whatever that could make the doors withstand the inevitable breach to the castle. Even from there, the sound of sheer plunder and suffering could be subtly heard, a soon-to-be haunting memory calling for self-deprecation for all those that had the luxury of making it to safety in time.

"Please! You gotta help us!" A weeping young girl emerged from the crowd, hugging Henry's thighs while resisting the urge to sob uncontrollably. "My family got stuck on the outside, with ravenous, merciless criminals!

Henry quickly came to his senses. He sprinted back to his subordinates for backup like never before, while adrenaline was rushing through his veins. Gradually, flashbacks from the last attack began cluttering his mind like fog: he felt a sudden feeling of déja vu. Although his mind was shut down, he now had the ability to rely on one of his greatest methods: instinct.

Sweeping throughout the barracks, he managed to wake up ten of his men and hastily get them into fighting shape. In spite of being severely hungover, they understood the magnitude of the situation they were in, or unlikely, they were still half-dreaming blindly following their commander's orders. These once gallant soldiers were extremely loyal. Not to the crown anymore, but rather, their brothers in arms and most importantly, to the people who needed their protection.

As they reached the displaced crowd, the makeshift blockades were quickly pushed away with the help of the latter. Breathing in the first amounts of the nightly sky's fresh air, the things that little girl said came to their vision. Somehow, it was more ferocious than what they'd endured back in their camp.

These were no ordinary Mewman outlaws: they were the lowliest of scum barely distinguishable from cockroaches. Prisoners broken out of neglected prisons, soldiers deserting their positions in protest, former civilians: no matter their background, they were all alike in their ferocious deeds. Their Mewmans selves have eroded, merging into unholy masses plundering everything they come across. Like in Henry's camp, but their roots of torrent were unable to be torn out by the rightous.

"We ought to split up. Deal with these deliquents one by one. If you see the rest of the group cornered, rush to relieve them as soon as possible." Henry demanded, his acquaintances quickly following on, leaving him alone. That did not deter him in the slightest, running quickly to the heart of destruction.

It was without a doubt that these miscreant monsters far outshined their tainted predicament. Much to his horror, he could clearly see the sheer destruction spanning hundreds of meters before him. torching houses and slaughtering the innocent fleeing into the open. There were few who took it upon themselves to fight back, but they were helding their last stand. But that was just the tip of the iceberg.

From about thirty meters from him stood a helpless family, cornered by a giant orc-like Mewman in armor eying them viciously. Without much hesitation, he began moving towards them, wielding his sword with intent. As he moved closer to the destruction of the fire, his shadow revealed the signature purple feathered visor and the yellow markings of a Mewman soldier. Fearing the death of his loved ones, the surrounded husband suddenly launched himself against the attacker with a small dagger hid behind his back.

The raider, having the physical advantage, quickly regained his balace, grabbed the man by his throat and lifted him up to the air.

"You idiot. We only came for your belongings, yet you foolishly stood up against our path. But now you gotta die, along with yours."

Next, he took his sword and swiftly pierced it through his stomach. Then, he lowered his blade soaked in blood to let the now deceased victim's skewered blody slowly slide off, onto the dirt. To finish off, he spear tackled the man's bodily remains, it landing five metres away. He did this in complete cold blood. The woman, along with her children let out a bitter and terrorizing scream upon seeing the worst possible crimes one would unveil upon an innocent mewman, her even falling back to the ground, failing to flee due to her grief and disbelief. He then tried to proceede, but had to postpone that unsalvagable act when Henry got to him to put him out of his unfortunate, not deserved life.

"Hey you, monster in uniform! Nice armor you got there, did you stole it from one of our dead? Show your puny face, so I can get it off of your forsaken body!" Henry shouted. He had no time to make the first move, as the person lunged forward rectracting his sword to cleave him in half. His effort was weak, as Henry deflected it by drawing his blade to his face.

The two sides clashed with an immense force. Both did not hesitate to exercise their fullest energy into making the other yield his position, and thus, meet his cruel demise. But none of their efforts came to fruition, as both attained quite a strong grip.

Shortly after the rendezvous, both melees were swung backwards by their respective parties to swipe back in different arcs on pair with the loud clanking sound of iron grinding against one another.

As an attempt to break the stalemate, Henry leaned to his right to avoid his foe's weapon smiting him down from a large but bold swing, making his opposition's sword go under his. Doubling down, he jousted it forward to deliver a devastating blow to his counterpart's chest. Realising his intentions in time, his enemy parried the attempt with ease. Now, he knew that he wasn't facing some nobody looter, but rather Mewni's best of best.

"Is that all you got? Surely you gotta have more to offer judging by your shiny armor, comrade!" he shouted to Henry taunting him. The mocked in question did not reply. He knew that a fight driven by fury is more favourable for that scum. Instead, he was eager to swing his sword vicously.

A couple of minutes went by with the stagnating duel not making any significant progress in favor of any of the partakers. They exchanged a few blows, but none were more impactful than giving a few minor bruises and cuts. The fight drew quite the attention, as more, lessly dressed buddies of the adversary emerged, forming a tight circle around the intense action. "Don't... do... anything... He's... MINE!" the man told his counterparts off while focusing on defending himself from the aggressive attacks of Henry. His strenght began to wear off, making fever and fever moves in response as Henry became more and more agile compared to him, overtaking as the catalyst of attacking.

Eventually, the thug made a grave mistake by attempting to drive his blade into the Captain's head from the side, bringing the tip of it to his side to gain momentum. Unfortunately for him, the time lost with this was more than enough for Henry, who at this point began to notice this fool's rather repetitive attack patterns.

Grasping his chance, Henry ducked under the sword, firmly grasped his and stabbed him on the right, piercing the iron torse, delivering a final deep gash, one that could one come from a person truly a master of swordsmanship. As the iron sunk deeper and deeper in the soaring beam of blood, he was able to grab a hold of his unfortunate opponent and launch him promptly to the ground, with junks of flesh and organ parts ripping outwards due to the momentum of his sharp melee.

He gave in three seconds later, letting out the last breath of his bruised and cut self. To make sure he may never rise back up, Henry made one more cut through his abdomen. A pond composed of body tissues and mostly blood began expanding around the wounded carcass. It carried the stench of unforgivable sins and apathy, belonging to none other than its former owner.

Dealing with one of the main perpetrators made completely lash out on the rest, whom were beginning to close the tight circle formed around Henry as the duel progressed. They couldn't just stab him in the back as it had the risk of killing his challenger, let alone the fact he told them not to intervene. But these people banded together like sheep.

Just as he was about to be turned into history, a thunderous battlecry washed over them from the direction of the castle.

It was the voice of seven soldiers running towards the battle, all geared up. Gerat and Karl were amongst the rescuing group. They quickly made their way to the bewildered thugs, wielding their arms like never before. Shortly thereafter, resistance upheld by them died down quickly, the bandits falling one by one. They simply couldn't face the wrath of the Royal Guard. But reinforcements came from the other as well, so their initial momentum began to wear off as they bogged down.

But then, the volunteer fighters all across the town started scurrying to the action, as they were no longer pinned down. Soon, the very last of the treacherous soldiers laid down his arms.

Following that, the dust settled. Except the widowed woman sobbing over his deceased husband with her children, every other noise died down. Coming to realisation that now they are safe, the Mewman citizens emerged from their hideout as to make sure that the invaders are truly gone. Seeing the soldiers standing triumphantly over them, they began cheering.

The fires had been put out and the remainder of the surviving plunderers lynched and locked up deep in the dungeons. The lost got buried: mass graves were dug out for the invaders and the fallen loved ones and revered martirs, such as Sebastian, honored. As the aftermath of the turbulent events came to their greatly awaited conclusions, curiosity arose.

"So... Captain, when can we expect more soldiers to arrive from Monster Town?" An old man spoke to Henry with an eyebrow raised.

"Who's going to take care of us now?"

"Yeah, and our houses burnt down! Where the hell are we supposed to go?" Another citizen burst out.

All eyes of the now massive crowd were locked on the befuddled Captain and those of his man who have just emerged from inside of the walls, waken up and perplexed by the obscure, loud noises disturbing the peace of their night's rest.

Now it was no secret for the public that something was quite off about the authenticity these men, as it would be an understatement that the recent feast and subsequent bender left a huge mark on them. Some had their armor stained with syrup and vomit, others left their equipment altogether, shivering shirtless in the breezing wind. Only a few could walk straight, shouldering the remainder of their comrades not to trip on the cold stone. People began to murmur upon the whole scene coming to their sight, some pointing fingets in disbelief at one particular individual who immediately lost his balance, falling head first onto the dirty surface. In some ways, it could have been holding almost comedical value, but the constantly taunted people weren't having it anymore. Suffice to say, tensions were becoming increasingly palpable.

"Sigh Settle down people. There's something I need to tell you. We-..." Henry took off his helmet, sighed and resumed divulging the reality to the crowd, with a sense of destitution and regret. "...We weren't sent by Eclipsa to facilitate you. Truth to be told, we are not even soldiers. Well, most of us aren't anymore. We are just no good thieves who helped you out of pity. There won't be any help from the queen coming. I'm sorry.

Even in the dark, he could feel the crowd's cold gaze.

Welp... this is it: the end of the line. Now comes the time for them to maul us. Very well... I won't hold anything back... I will die on this platform defending my true brothers in arms... this is how I die.

"-But you did help us!"

Henry turned around towards the direction of the voice to see who was talking. Much to his surprise, it was that little girl who was clutching his limbs, begging to help the townspeople.

"You helped us to survive, and admitted the truth. We could use people like that. Please, stay with us sir so that these people can rest in peace at night! Please!" The little girl pleaded, falling to her knees.

The townspeople softened upon witnessing this. The voice of the innocent was a great contender against their hatred, no matter what they have went through. And not to mention more, countless other upcoming possible incidents before Mina comes back. In the end, they did not really have a choice.

"And unlike that wicked Eclipsa, you are honest, brave and willing to stand up for mewmanity!" One person shouted amongst the crowd, which seemingly quite agreed with that, as more and more of them began persuading the fierce warriors not to leave them.

Henry began to contemplate upon the sudden shift of emotions towards his companions.

Instead of treating them as a leper like before, they now cherished their actions. No matter how hopeless the cause was, Mewmans craved a leader. One which would not turn a blind eye to their struggle, abandon them and have the audacity to succumb to the people's sworn enemies. Someone who knew the hearts of these people. Definitely not another incompetent queen, no. A person who's at the forefront of people, leading them through hardships, actually understanding the pain and makes rational decisions to better their conditions to come to fruition. A commander.

He then thought about his long lost family. The azure and teal irises and the fiery warmth of his wife and daughters' embrace. Closing his weary eyelids, he whispered to himself: "I'm sorry, darling. I'll find you, someday."

Then he exclaimed to the crowd vigourously:

"To hell with leaving, then! If no queen wants to take responsibility, then we ought to, as the servants of the people! Glory to the true children of our true queen, Solaria! Her spirit shall cast light onto our wretched lands, as our brothers and sisters fend off the sedatious traitors of the south! Death to the traitors! Glory to their sacrifice, and the new awakening! Long Live Mewni!"

An outstanding ovation of cheers and claps were elicited by the people, paired with the yellow sun dawning on them, casting the first lights of hope of a new awakening.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Welp, this took forever to make, but I did it. And during these few months, I've been outlaying the general direction of this story and develop the lore, so I wouldn't write out of whim, but rather in a more organised way. But still, I got a long way to go. I'm going to check on the past chapters to see if they're in need of improvement. The next chapter will likely release in late August, with more on their way in due course.

Anyways, thank you all who take interest in this story, by writing comments or favouriting/following. Have a blessed Sunday.