Marrin blinked rapidly, coughing desperately. He didn't see the Heirling of the Red Sword anymore. Potential rival. Enemy. Sparring partner. Battle guide.

Instead he saw a very tired appearing Servant Branch, wearing a dull and slightly ill fighting hall attendant outfit.

There was no glorious conflict or battle.

Just a Fae, like himself, nearly to the breaking point.

"Branch?" he whispered, as sensation returned to his body.

"I'm here." Said the former Lordling.

Suddenly the idiot poked into view like a weed springing from a crack. "I'm here too. I'm Ezra. Do you remember me? Are you better? You got all crazy. Why didn't you say you had exman powers?"

"Ezra, shut up." commanded Branch, in a tone too authoritative and tired, and Marrin felt it much more believable that Branch was/is a powerful Heirling.

Ezra did shut up, however.

"So...that's one of the Swords." said Marrin, looking at the discarded blade, laying so innocently on the floor.

"Yes. I even think I know which one." Said the former Heirling. "The Sword of the Storm. According to the Library Records, it is still in use today. So someone has been using a fake all this time."

"Help me stand up." Marrin asked, feeling his muscles scream as their cramped up.

It took both Branch and Ezra to work together to pull Marrin up. He felt heavier than before too, like his bones were filled with mud and his muscles weighed down with soil. "That will pass." Said Branch, knowingly. "It's just residue. Reality doesn't quite know how to treat you at this moment."

"You've done this before." Marrin said, still blinking. His chest felt free, and air came in and out easily.

"Yes."

"Was it...So bad for you?"

Branch made a complicated face, that made Marrin wonder if...impossibly, it had been much worse than Marrin could imagine.

But Marrin's savior graciously shrugged, "Every Sword is different. I have never seen a Sword so..." his voice dropped away, lost in thought.

"Evil?" Interjected the crazy mage. "Corruptive? Evilly corruptive?"

"I don't think it was evil." said Marrin. "But...vicious? And perhaps...angry?" He tried to sort out his feeling on the matter.

Branch chuckled, as if finding both Marrin's and Ezra's answers silly.

"We need to get moving. Before the King's Enforcers arrive."

"Why?"

"Because we need to figure out what we are going to do about Marrin's little problem."

Marrin looked around the room. He hadn't been in there before, and honestly he had been so overwrought before that he hadn't paid much attention as he entered. But it was clear some great battle had taken place. The evidence of a much larger Golem ripping up the floor to create projectiles. There was so much debris. Nearly all of the stain glass windows were broken now. Ezra's various gravity assaults have even more wounds on the old space. The damage from the Shadow Warbler left deep groves into the floor. And somehow worse still was the small rent through the room, caused by that Sword. The Sword Marrin would never again pick up...

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"Pick up your Sword and let's go down the back way." Said Branch.

"Spikes, it's totally evil." Objected the Gravity Mage.

"I don't want to agree with the Gravity Mage, but...I don't want to pick it up again."

The Squire Branch chuckled. "Who has been an Heirling longest? You or me?"

"I am older than you..." Said Marrin.

"Doesn't matter. You are not an Heirling until you hold the Sword and it awakens. So you have been an Heirling all of...fifteen minutes?"

Sounds were coming back, as people felt the danger was gone.

"So, as your battle field guide, pick up your Sword and follow me."

So Marrin...did.

And nothing happened.

"Good." Said Branch, and for that moment, he looked as crafty and calculating as any of the upper echelon of the Fae, his eyes gleaming softly. "Now...put it your scabbard and follow me."

Marrin felt hopeful that nothing strange had happened. Branch and the tall lanky Mage had already started moving away. "Why are you helping me?" Marrin asked when he caught up, wanting to take off his hat just to make sure it was still there.

Branch tilted his head, as if the question confused him. "Why? Because I promised I will not abandon you. Leaving a baby Heirling alone would not be a kind fate."

The Law of Fae...shimmered. Marrin could see the Law of Fae still?

"Wait...What happened to Frank? I...did I..."

"Oh, he's up there." Esra said, and pointed.

Marrin looked up, and up, and up, until he was looking on the ceiling.

There, beaten and bruised and unconscious but still very much alive, was the Middling Frank. Gravity inverted so that he was snoozing on the ceiling above.

"Seemed the best place for a scumbag like him. The gravity distortion will wear off sooner or later. And if not, the King's Enforcers can figure it out."

The relief that washed over Marrin was massive.

"And Vye?" he

"I don't know." Said Branch, and turned away. "I hope she is alive. But...I don't know." there was more to that story, but Marrin recognized that Elswith was not willing to share more. "Let's make haste, now." And they slipped away.

Quiet settled back into the O'Tell estate. In fact, for the next ten minutes, no one would be making any noise in that room, except the soft snoring of Frank.

Of course, all the King's Enforcers would soon descend onto the scene of conflict. From there, the Surmount Butler would eventually be found hiding in his office. Worst of all, since the Shadow Warbler was put back...the Servant Branch would not be held liable for any of the incidents of this night.

But that would be a story for another time.

So away Branch led Marrin and Ezra, down twisting stone pathways and earthen caves.

He had a small fear that the Lordling was going to betray him...Lead him astray and then...

"So." Said Branch, as though he had traveled through these passageways all his life. "You are the direct descendant of the original head of the Sky Court. And no one thought to check your sword?"

Marrin almost touched his sheathed sword, but thought better of it and held back his hand. The scabbard rattled against his leg as he walked. "It was just a sword. My grandfather used it, my dad used it, no one ever had...that happen to them. What a crazy, evil sword." Marrin said, feeling sick thinking about it. He wanted to throw it away, but had the strange idea that Branch would chastise him should he try.

Branch made a small noise of disagreement.

Had Marrin ever been that observant before? He was normally bad at missing subtle social clues.

"Why...did you make the unhappy grunt sound?" Marrin hated how thick his question sounded. He was not skilled at speaking, and just knew he was going to mess up.

Branch's attention was suddenly much sharper. Marrin could feel it. He could also feel the Mage's attention, and perhaps the rampant tidal flow of never ending conversation that was only being held in place temporarily.

"Is my sword...truly wicked?"

"Did it feel evil?" Asked Branch, pausing in front of section of passageway where vines and roots had broken through the dirt.

"Well...no...But I couldn't breath. So it must be wicked and depraved."

The former Heirling laughed, almost sounding merry. His laughter filled the damp underground passageway.

"Your sword was perhaps one of the nicest one's I've ever seen. I have met several Heirling before, and have been allowed to observe several other Great Swords. The worst I have seen is used only in great need. No one can master it. The one who uses it will die within the next full moon. I have seen Swords that eat the language of the one who uses it, so they are constantly relearning their own dialect. Your sword was friendly. And happy. You couldn't breath because it was trying, and failing, to be helpful."

"What?"

"Somehow...you have acquired one of the only...what I can only bafflingly and seemingly impossibly call...a nice Swords."