The Law of Fae danced in the air, watching. The re-sealment of the Shadow Warbler had created power. Power...but who should claim it? Would it be the tool, or the one the who used it?

The Game, blessedly, was far away, had no influence now. So the Law of Fae was able to swirl and just observe, curious about what was about to take place.

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Marrin looked exhausted. His too wide smile had narrowed slightly, and his left hand wielding the Sword was low, almost dragging the blade behind himself. Small favors, all in all. His green hat had fallen partially over his eyes, but Daniel could tell that Marrin wasn't seeing out of his eyes currently. His eyes were becoming bloodshot.

But with the spinning wind now ceased, it meant that much of the Sword's concentrated power was focused directly on them.

It was also not a good sign as instead of walking around the debris, gusts of wind were blowing it out of the way from the huge fae.

Marrin lifted his sword, as though it was as heavy as a mountain, toward Daniel. "Now we fight." his lips were so pale.

"The good news..." Said Esra, with more nervousness than Daniel was used to "...Is that you have a plan for this. Right, Spikes?"

Daniel stood up, pulling out all the stops of his power. His increased his output drastically. He spun out the Song of the Red Sword again, the most competitive notes, the most joyful strains. The moonlight from outside even took on a reddish hue, as it came down through the ruined windows.

Marrin's face visibly relaxed.

So it was a playful Sword after all. It hummed almost happily.

"You are too tired." Daniel said, in his finest Lordling voice. "You would be ill sport!"

Marrin's face became cloudy and he started coughing. He moved his injured right arm to claw at his throat, instinctually searching for anything to free his breathing. It was a doomed struggle, as Daniel assumed the power of the Sword itself was too rich for the Middling to move correctly, and it was the authority itself blocking Marrin's airways. "Fight. Fight. We...If we fight I can breath. Heirling. Elswith. Lordling. Sir. Branch. I can breath if we fight." he said. More tears fell.

Daniel took easy, lazy strides forward, but in such a way not to walk over any debris. He was certainly not strong enough to move debris from his path.

Also...how exactly would the Red Sword move something, even if he had it? It was clearly more abstract in nature than Marrin's playful Sword. How does an abstract concept move a destroyed pallet and crate? Any way that was accomplished would be disturbing...Would the obstacles turn to blood and wash away? Besides, it was a mute point. The Red Sword was with the Red Lord. And furthermore, Elswith had been the Heirling, and the name Elswith was basically completely dead.

"Do you think competition cheap? Something to be shown for the masses?" Daniel said, his voice booming. He wanted to weep over how much gathered authority he was throwing away to maintain this charade, but he knew better than to let up.

Marrin blinked rapidly, and Daniel could feel the moment the tall Middling fae saw through his own eyes again, though it lasted just a moment.

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"What does your Sword think is the purpose of competition?" He asked Marrin directly, standing in front of the same Middling he had bested this morning in the Sky Court.

Because he could not command a Sword.

But Marrin may be another story

"Improvement. Fun. Loyalty. Companionship."

It was a playful Sword! Excellent. "How can one improve if they are exhausted?"

Marrin did not say anything.

"Marrin, son of Castor, you speak of Loyalty. Did you forget who you are?"

Marrin shook his head, causing his hat to fall down to the ground. He almost dropped the Sword in his panic to try to catch it, and Daniel had to stop a laugh. The simple love of a silly green hat had almost been enough for Marrin to let go of this powerful Sword. The tall Fae knelt and started rifling his right hand over the ground, searching.

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His hat. His hat. That was his lucky hat. That was the last thing he had of his grandfather, and the last thing his mother had entrusted to him. He knelt and started searching the ground. There was so much debris and...junk, everywhere. At first he thought it must have been blown away, but not he realized that he couldn't see it because he didn't know what it looked like when he 'saw without seeing'.

There was color here, but they weren't the same colors that he knew with his eyes.

The Red Heirling made a small, polite noise.

Marrin saw without turning his head, that Heirling/Branch was holding something. The Sword was correct; that Heirling was scarred in terrible ways. Old scars and new scars. The humming of old power, and the jingle jangle of new.

And in the Heirling/Branch's hand was Marrin's hat.

It didn't look like his hat. His hat looked old and almost tattered. Almost castaway. And almost a silly shade of green.

But with his seeing without seeing, the hat looked...different. Noble. Elegant. Proud.

"What is your position, Marrin?" Asked the Heirling/Squire.

Marrin managed to answer, "I am a subcommander in Lord Fredar's Enforcer Squadron of the Sky Court."

"I swore that would not abandon you. That as a Squire with superior battle experience, I would take command. So what does that make me, right now?"

Marrin blinked. He felt his fingers twitch around the hilt. He wanted to test himself against the Heirling. He knew that the other would be superior, but even losing would give valuable lessons...

"I don't want to stop." Said Marrin, with tears. "I don't want to be powerless, anymore."

"Subcommander Marrin, what role do I hold?"

"I just want to fight. I just want to see..." Marrin muttered, but felt destressed when he realized he wasn't sure if that was him or the sword...

"Marrin. As this conflict is over, falling back on the words of your Lord Fredar, of the Sky Court of Hue of Green, the emergency is over. And once the emergency is over..."

An old order sprang to life. Marrin gasped as something came over him. He wanted to hold onto the sword. Pain and all. With the Sword, Fredar could not bother his family anymore.

But while he hated and disregarded the oversight and headship of the traitious family members who had ousted the direct linage from control of the Sky Court...

He loved the Sky Court.

His heart beat for it. The simple things that drove him.

"Am I not your benefactor?" Said the Heirling. "Am I not your battlefield guide?"

And Marrin remembered that he had said all those things. And meant them.

"Did you forget the great order given you from Lord Fredar?" said the Heirling.

Dizziness swarmed Marrin again, as just the thought of the liar and miscreant who had apparently made it his mission to belittle and devast the Sky Court's Enforcers. He had been forbidden to use his left hand.

If he could not test himself against Heirling/Battle Guide...

Marrin's green hat was placed on his head, as the song and rhythm of the Red Sword was ended. "As your temporary battlefield guide, when you were weakened, it was your duty to survive. Therefore, it was only logical to use your left hand until this action was completed, over your Lord's order. I charge you, now, Subcommander Marrin of the Sky Court's Enforcers, that the duty is ended."

There was a command to not wield a blade in his left hand.

And, despite having the power to overcome it, Marrin....

Marrin yielded.

And then the song of the sword in his life hand died abruptly, as the blade tumbled out from his hand.

At first he thought he was blind, until he realized it was night.

And the power fled Marrin's body.