"So, how did things go with you guys?" Meryll asked. The five of us stood within the crowded marketplace, and based purely on our general expressions (and Dave's lack of expression), there was little need to ask. Still, someone had to start the conversation. I was just glad that it didn't have to be me.

"We'll receive no aid from the university." Samuel replied. "Hardly a surprise, seeing how they can barely take care of themselves. How about you? Any word?" he asked the scribe to his left, who happened to be me, just in case anyone had forgotten.

"Yes, I'm aware that your efforts didn't go well, as I've documented them accordingly. As for my own compatriots, I'm afraid they would rather engage in pretend battles than real ones." I replied, shaking my head. I wished that I could have given a more satisfying excuse, but honesty is a curse of this profession.

"I can see why. Imaginary battles tend to be a lot safer and a lot more simple than actual fights." Jeb said.

"Wait, wait, let's not gloss over this..." Samson said, turning to me. "You've already documented what happened during our efforts to recruit more soldiers, before we've even told you?"

"Well, yeah." I replied. "It's not too difficult. Most people can be broken down to familiar arch-types, which, when combined with a robust knowledge of the city and it's general social trends, made the encounters all pretty easy to predict. That's why I wrote them down, rather than waiting to hear from you. History tends to happen far too quickly to document in real time, so sometimes a little advance preparation is needed."

"So you're saying that we're all so predictable that you can accurately guess everything we'll say and do, even if you aren't there?" The one-eyed mouse said, narrowing an eyebrow. "That's ridiculous."

"Well, not everything, of course. Otherwise, I wouldn't even need to be here. This situation just happened to be particularly predictable." I answered. Based on Samson's expression, he was clearly less than convinced. "If you don't believe me, check the notes for yourself. If I made any mistakes, I'd be happy to correct them." I added, handing my pad over to the green clad magic user. He snatched it from my paws with an annoyed expression, while mine was one of confidence which grew all the more as he rapidly scanned through the detailed notes. Finally he grumbled, pushing it back into my hands, turning away. Were I a lesser mouse, now would have been a fine time to gloat, but I can't honestly fault others for underestimating my brilliance. Sometimes I astound even myself. Also, as usual, I don't want to get myself stabbed, which, while it's increasingly unlikely as we grow more and more acquainted with one another, is still not outside the realm of possibility. I had no desire to tempt fate.

"If you already knew how our efforts were going to turn out, why didn't you tell us earlier?" The magic user grumbled, "Why did you let us waste our time looking?"

I blink, caught completely off guard by the query. "Um... I hadn't even considered it, to be honest." I replied to them, before looking back to Jebediah, eager to change the subject, "As for the pretend fights being simpler, the way they do it? I'm not so sure. How did things go with you?"

"Great!" Jebediah said with a smile. I couldn't help but be surprised. I'm not a psychic, of course, but I was very much confident that his efforts, as well as Meryll's had been complete and utter failures. I only asked because it felt more polite to allow the farmer the opportunity to explain it in his own words.

"So you've actually found us some troops?" Samson asked, looking slightly optimistic but considerably more skeptical. The second clearly being an expression that the one-eyed mouse had significantly more experience with.

"Oh, no, I'm afraid not."

"How was it great then?" Samson growled.

"Fine weather, got to visit a part of town I rarely see, met some nice people." Jeb shrugged. "Sure, maybe things didn't go perfectly, and I didn't accomplish all of my goals, but hey, I like to look on the bright side of things."

Meryll was about to complain, not that she had fared any better, when the four of us found ourselves distracted by a loud beep, a sound very rarely heard within the mouse city.

"Yeah, I know. What a dump, right?" a feminine voice, a not quite natural one, said from behind us, clearly not speaking to our group.

We all turned at once to see two strange figures which could hardly stand out more among the general backdrop of the city if they tried. While neither of them were wearing clothes or carrying weapons of any sort, their appearance was far from plain. Both of them were mice, one pale-furred, and at first glance appeared to be armored, but on closer examination her limbs, along with significant portions of her torso were far too thin to be flesh covered in metal. Instead, all four of her legs were comprised of some manner of clockwork contraptions, with piston, gears and wires running along their surfaces and into her flesh, all combined into a shape resembling legs, hands and feet. One of her eyes was replaced with a broad red lens, more of the wiring joining it to assorted small mechanical boxes set within her chest and neck. With each motion, a faint whirring sound followed. As for the other mouse, from the neck down she looked rather ordinary, arms dangling limply to her sides, light gray fur short yet still unkempt. From the neck up, however, instead of the usual mouse-like head, there was, instead, a metallic box, almost featureless aside from a pair of thin metal antennae poking up from either side, where the ears would normally be found, and a perfectly round black plastic grid-screen set within the center of the cube, facing forwards.

The pair realized they were being watched and turned towards us. Not that it was entirely clear where the strange box-headed mouse was looking, of course. The seven of us all stood in silence for a moment before the half-mechanical mouse smiled and raised a clawed, cybernetic hand.

"Excuse me. Is that the only working ballista?" she asked Jebediah, pointing up to the device suspended from the overhead catwalks.

"Well, there used to be a couple more but they were destroyed in a dark lord attack."

"Really? So you lack the defenses to defeat a dark lord, huh? Interesting, interesting..." she said, nodding her head.

"Don't tell her that! Ugh... who are you?" Samson grumbled to the farmer before turning his attention to the strange pair.

"Oh, hey there! Don't mind us. We're just agents of the glorious Shadow King Mollenoch, sent to gather information about any potential weaknesses of your city and its forces." she said, her voice high pitched, but with the faintest hint of electrical static to it.

"Enemy spies!" Meryll snarled, drawing a long, transparent plastic blade from her hip.

Beep. The sound clearly came from the strange box-head of the second mouse.

"Yeah, I agree. We're not really 'spies', as I figure that involves more of a stealth element." she hmmed, resting her metal paw under her chin, thinking, before looking back up to the tall mouse warrior. "We're more like enemy... tourists?"

"So, his forces have already arrived." Samson said, looking between the two, trying to make sense of either of them. In his previous position as royal magician, he did have access to some of the reports from the front-lines of the conflict, but they were all frustratingly vague, namely due to the lack of mice who had managed to return alive. He'd heard of their strange weaponry, but this certainly wasn't what he had anticipated. While not wanting to show any signs of concern, he was similarly very hesitant to make a move, having absolutely no idea of what they were capable.

The cyborg mouse chuckled. "Oh, no, the bulk of the army is still a few weeks away. We just scouted ahead to gather information and run a few other necessary errands." she paused, looking from one of our small group to the other, finally stopping at Jebediah. "Ah, and you must be the Reaper, the so-called hero. I suppose these other four are your fellow generals?"

"Pardon me... the what?" Jeb asked.

"The Reaper. Our intelligence network says that's what your people are calling you."

"Huh, I didn't know that... wow, your information gathering must be mighty impressive. Knows me better than I know myself!" he smiled, rubbing under his chin. "Wonder why they'd call me that?"

"Please stop praising our arch enemies." Samson grumbled. He considered pointing the obvious answer that the scythe he held was virtually his only notable identifying characteristic, but ultimately decided against it. It would have done nothing to improve the situation.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. I am the platinum angel, Gwendolynne..." she gave a quick curtsy. "And this here is my sister, Vania the Obliteratrix!"

Beep. The half-mouse turned to the headless one.

"What do you mean you don't like that name anymore? I've already introduced you! It's too late to change it!"

Beep. Our group looked on with confusion. Samson listened closely to determine whether there was any difference at all between the noises, either in length or tone, and I did the same. We couldn't detect any. Despite this, the other woman, Gwendolynne clearly had no difficulties in understanding them.

"Okay, let's hear the new one..."

Beep.

The half-mouse shook her head. "Ugh, no, that's much worse. No, no, we're sticking with this one. You had all day to decide on another name if you really wanted one. You shouldn't have waited until the last possible moment."

"Um, sorry to interrupt." Jebediah said, raising a paw to get the attention of the two women. All the while I remained silent, frantically taking down notes. You'll be pleased to know that the notes were documenting the current situation, rather than writing out my last rites, even though I had the strong suspicion that death may well have been imminent. "So, you're saying that you two are part of the enemy force which has come to destroy us, correct?"

"Yes, that's about the sum of it." she turned back to him.

"Well, could you perhaps... not?" the scythe wielding hero asked. After a brief pause all around he clarified. "What I mean to say is that you and your... sister?" to which they both nodded, even if Vania lacked a prominent neck to make that clear. "Both seem to be fine young ladies, and we don't mean you any harm or anything. Could you maybe just, I don't know... go home and tell your king to just call this whole thing off?" he paused once more before suddenly remembering something. "Oh, I don't mean to send you two off right away, that would be terribly rude. Feel free to take advantage of our cities hospitality all you want, but I must warn that we don't take kindly to violent invaders around here. I suspect that the shopkeepers will dramatically overcharge you, if nothing else."

Both Samson and Meryll slumped their shoulders, just for a moment hoping that their 'leader' would offer a somewhat more intimidating speech.

Beep.

"Now, now, there's no need for that sort of language." Gwen replied to her sister. "His position is understandable. There's nothing wrong with seeking a more diplomatic solution when faced with complete annihilation. Similarly, I'm sure he wishes to lose as few of his soldiers as possible." she added, looking about, with mild confusion. "Speaking of which, where are your soldiers exactly?"

"Well, you sort of caught us in the middle of recruiting, so we don't exactly have any at the moment." Jeb said. The other two fighters looked on, stunned by his blunt honesty. Meanwhile, I continued to excitedly scribble down more notes, not knowing how much longer I would have the chance to.

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"Oh, um... wow..." the half mouse said, her voice no longer sounding as perky or content. "To be honest, I was about to give some big speech about how you were all going to fall beneath the will of the mighty Shadow King, and that your days were numbered. I mean all that stuff is still true, but I feel kind of bad about it now. I wasn't expecting our opposition to be quite so pathetic."

"We'll see who's pathetic!" Meryll bursts in, growling, her blade raised. "We've still got you outnumbered, five to two!"

"Four. I'm not really a fighter." the farmer said.

"Three. I'm just a scribe. We've been over this. Repeatedly." I interjected for the first time since the conflict had begun. I assumed based on Dave's nodding that he was further clarifying that the number was actually two.

"Ugh, whatever! Just... ugh!" the heavily armed woman said, no triumphant battle cry coming to mind as she rushed the half-mechanical rodent. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. The woman might look like a lumbering oaf, but it was clear that she was skilled at fighting, if nothing else. It was not just the precision of the strike, which seemed flawless to my admittedly untrained eyes, but the speed that she moved that oversized body, especially considering the non-trivial amount of weight in weapons and armor that she carried. She went in low, swinging the blade through the seemingly fleshy portion of the torso of the so-called platinum angel, striking as she ran past her. "Ha! Huh?"

She looked down in confusion at the half-sword still held in her grip, turning back towards her opponent who similarly looked down curiously at the blade held within her metal fingers. A quite familiar one to Meryll, of course, it being the other half of her own sword. Considering how quickly the armored had mouse struck, I could only imagine the sort of reflexes required to block and break the sword with her bare hand (well, it's made of metal but still technically bare), all without seeming to have moved an inch.

Beep. "I agree." the cyborg mouse replied to Vania's remark, tossing the broken plastic blade aside. "Very shoddy craftsmanship."

Meryll leapt back, turning to Samson. "Well? You're supposed to be a fighter... aren't you going to do something?"

The one-eyed mouse sighed. He clearly had no intention of attacking, hoping to gather a little bit more information first. Still, he had to admit, he didn't have much of a choice. He raised his open palm, muttered a series of arcane incantations under his breath, and a fierce gust of wind was launched towards the pair, tendrils of yellow electricity interwoven within. It pushed harmlessly past them, causing a faint tingle, along with making their fur stand slightly on end.

"Huh. Is this the mouse magic I've heard so much about? Somewhat interesting, but not exactly practical." the mechanical mouse mused.

"Yeah, I get that a lot." Samson grumbled. A not unexpected response from the pair, the sort which most mice offer upon experiencing mouse sorcery. While far from an expert when it comes to magic, I did know enough to sympathize with the fact that conjuring arcane energies from nothing wasn't exactly a small feat. If it were, everyone would do it. It required intense training and focus to manage even the smallest amounts, and as with physical labor, the more one wishes to accomplish, the greater amounts of energy were required. Creating even a tiny ball of visible energy was a feat comparable to lifting a mouse-sized hunk of iron over your head with one hand. The problem is that it is results, not effort which are ultimately what's important. No matter how impressive a feat it may be, an offensive spell which can't defeat an opponent isn't of much use to anyone.

"I guess that means it's my turn to attack? Guess I'll target the leader. Sorry, I know you said that you weren't a fighter, and I have nothing against you, personally, but you are still an enemy." she said, but while she may have expressed sympathy with her words, her eyes were cold and a small smile danced on her lips, as she raised her fist towards the scythe wielding mouse. Neither Samson nor Meryll had a chance to try to protect him, both anticipating some sort of spell attack. Instead, the metal fist launched from her wrist with a burst of steam, hurling through the air, striking the rather confused farmer square in the chest, knocking him from his feet.

"No! Umm..." Meryll cried, her expression going from one of concern to confusion as she crouched over the collapsed mouse. "Uh... what's your name again?" she asked with an embarrassed expression.

"Jebediah..." he said, panting, rubbing the sore spot on his chest, still on the ground, but very much alive, on the bright side.

"Eww, really? That's your name?" Meryll replied, scrunching up her nose. I hope that I wasn't the only one stunned by the fact that it had taken this long for her to learn the champion's name. Then again, it was unclear whether or not Samson had known it either. It hadn't yet come up in conversation. As for Dave, who could say if he even recognized his own name, let alone that of anyone else.

"Sure is. Papa always said that a proper name should have at least four syllables. Hard work breeds strong character, and saying your name aloud should require at least some degree of effort." he huffed, sitting up.

"Still alive, huh? Maybe I didn't use enough fuel..." Gwendolynne said, looking down at her wrist, clearly disappointed. "Well, I suppose we can let you go this time. I was planning on taking more notes on potential vulnerabilities of this city, but to be honest, I ran out of paper long ago, what with there being so many. I suppose that it's time we've taken our leave." she grinned, and began spinning the winch set at her wrist, slowly retracting the thick tether connected to the metal hand which currently rested in a puddle. It was gradually pulled towards her, at one point getting caught on a rock, but was yanked free with some effort, before finally being picked up and screwed back onto the wrist. "Good day to all of you." she grinned, frowning as the hand fell to the ground once more. She grumbled, picking it up, simply holding it in her free paw.

As the pair walked away, the strange faceless sibling of hers let out another beep and a dozen mice standing around our own group all raised their hooded heads. Within the shadows of the hoods, shining glass eyes were visible and in unison all of them turned to follow the strange pair. I don't know why I hadn't noticed it before. Of course two lone soldiers wouldn't enter an enemy stronghold on their own. We weren't seen as worth killing, but what if our efforts to rally more troops had been successful? what if we had just a slightly larger force, enough to be seen as a legitimate threat? I couldn't tell what sort of armaments the strange hooded soldiers had under their robes, but I trust that they were quite lethal. Had all of them struck from the shadows at once, would any of us survived?

Several lengths away at this point, the platinum angel turned to the still prone farmer, her formerly warm expression abandoned, her blue eye cold, staring straight through him. "Pray that we never meet again. I don't care how weak or non-threatening you and your forces may be. Next time I won't be so merciful."

Vania gave a final beep before she turned and, along with the remainder of their soldiers, continued on their way. The five of us all watched the group, a considerably larger one than we had first realized, leave. The skirmish had attracted a little attention from the locals, but not a great deal, as fights within the marketplace were not uncommon, even if they more often took place between the shopkeepers than the customers. Admittedly, very few of those fights involve rocket punches, but one learns at an early age that it's best to not involve yourself in the conflicts of others. If anything, the fact that rocket punches were involved would help to validate that philosophy.

Meryll looked down at her broken blade and growled. "Damn it! That was my fifth favorite sword! She's going to pay for that! You, uh... Jeb?" she said, looking down at our leader.

"I really prefer Jebediah."

"Yeah, yeah... say something to inspire the troops!"

"Um... that really hurt?" he replied, dusting himself off and rising to his feet.

"Ugh, alright, fine! I'll say something! Okay, I'll admit it, things look kind of bad right now, but they made a fatal mistake in underestimating us! We'll get stronger, gather more allies and defeat those two once and for all!" she smiled, head raised triumphantly.

"Yeah, that's just great. Only one little problem. Those two are just... I don't even know what they are, but they're only two soldiers. They are just a tiny part of a huge army." Samson said.

"Fine, fine! We'll defeat them and then defeat the army!"

"...and then there's still the shadow king himself..."

"Okay, I get it! We'll defeat them, and then the army and then the shadow king!" Meryll exclaimed, "There, are you happy?" she paused, glaring over at me. "And you... couldn't you have done something?"

"Hey, I did plenty! I took a lot of detailed notes so future generations, you know, assuming that there are any future generations and the shadow king doesn't just kill everyone, will know exactly how this battle went." I paused, turning to Jebediah who was still rubbing the painful looking bruise at the center of his chest. "Do you think that 'humiliating defeat' or 'crushing defeat' would be a better term to describe it?"

"Oh, personally, I'd go with 'crushing'. I figure from that, the 'humiliating' is already implied." the farmer replied. I nod in agreement, appreciating the advice. Such emotive language would be both improper and unnecessary. It should be up to the reader to recognize how thoroughly humiliating that defeat was. I worked to update my notes. Dave nodded as well. It said a lot that she had expected more aid from me than she had from him.

"Pardon me..." an unknown, feminine voice said, "You wouldn't happen to be the hero, the one they call 'the reaper', would you?"

The voice came from a rather rotund mouse woman, dressed in a long, white robe covered in crudely sewn on star shapes of varying sizes, materials and quality. She stared at him with unusually large eyes, further amplified by unusually small pupils, wearing a smile that was both gentle and unsettling in equal parts. Her age was indeterminate, and could have been anywhere from adolescent to a senior citizen, where every time one tried to make an internal judgement based on one quality, another revealed itself to make second guess their assumption. If forced to, I would say that she was on the older side, but carried it quite well.

"Yeah, I suppose so. Though I've gotta be honest, I'm still not sure who exactly is calling me that." Jeb said, still rubbing his sore chest.

"Oh, excellent!" the woman beamed, tenting her thick, pink fingers under her chin. "It's an honor to meet you. My name is Sellas, and I am the head of the Starman order. It would be a great pleasure if you would allow us to join your crusade against the agents of the Devourer."

"I... don't know who that is." the farmer said, wearing a slight frown. "Or if it's even a 'who'. Are you sure I'm the one you're looking for?"

"Of course, there can be no doubt. We witnessed your parties humiliating defeat..."

"I'm pretty sure we decided to go with 'crushing' instead of 'humiliating'." I interjected.

"Of course." she said. At this point, Jebediah had noticed the two dozen or so other mice standing behind her, heads lowered each wearing rather similar garments of varying colors, most quite simplistic. She appeared to be the only one that was dressed in white. "And there can be no mistake. We saw the opponent that you faced: an abomination which favors metal and gears over flesh and blood. The hallmark of our most hated of enemies, the adversary of all that is good and pure. We wish to lend our services to you, and more importantly, to the services of the mighty Starman."

"I don't know about this. She seems kind of strange." Meryll took Jeb by the upper arm to whisper into his ear. "Do we really want to be outnumbered by a bunch of religious fanatics? Hell, look at her! She hasn't blinked once since the conversation started!"

In truth, it had been quite a while before she approached the hero since she had last blinked. Such is the nature of a true believer: one grows hesitant to look away for even a moment, lest some miracle be missed. Since, of course, virtually everything is considered a miracle, missing out on one one proves to be surprisingly plausible.

"We don't exactly have a lot of options here. Plus, religious fanatics with no fear of death are a solid basis for any army." Samson said in response, "...Especially an army which we can't exactly afford to pay."

"Huh? How did you hear me? I was whispering!" Meryll asked him.

"You don't seem the type who's capable of doing anything quietly. We can all easily hear you." the one-eyed mouse again replied.

She blinked, looking over to Sellas, who simply nodded in response.

"Oh, uh... sorry for that whole 'fanatic' comment." Meryll said sheepishly.

"No offense is taken. Fanaticism merely means unwavering devotion, something which we have in abundance. It's only a negative quality when you are wrong in holding such devotion." the robed woman said. "Our beliefs, on the other hand, are entirely correct."

Jeb hmmed to himself, momentarily lost in thought. "But... don't all religious people, of every belief think that they are correct?"

"Of course they do. But the key difference between them and ourselves, is that their belief that they are correct is mistaken."

Jebediah shrugged. "Works for me. Welcome aboard!" he turned towards his other allies. "So, what's the plan now? Head towards the shadow king?"

"What? No! Sure, this is better than nothing..." Samson said before quickly scanning the potential new recruits, armed with simple staves and clubs, and clearly barely knowing which end of them they were supposed to hold. Their robes would similarly offer little protection, and not one among their numbers appeared to be particularly large or intimidating, "...barely, but it's still nowhere close to a proper army. We'll need more soldiers. A lot more."

"That's a relief. To be honest, I was pretty hesitant to do that myself. Alright, then. Seeing as how we've exhausted our recruiting options in the city, I suppose our only choice is to look for allies beyond the walls."

"I, certainly don't have any better ideas." Samson said. "There are several villages still outside of the city walls, but none of them are heavily populated. I'm not sure how we'll be able to convince them to join our fight either, but it's something."

"I believe there is another option. I sense a light to the east, another kingdom far from here. It is a land in turmoil, but filled with powerful fighters." Sellas said. "I have no doubt than many would lend their aid to the service to the Starman."

"You 'sense' it?" Meryll asked, skeptically.

"Indeed. The all-seeing eye ever lights the path of the devoted."

"Sounds good to me. Some fresh air also sounds nice." Jebediah said, "Oh, unless there's any objections? I figure this is a team effort, and if anyone else has any suggestions, I'd like to hear them."

Nobody else did, of course. This wasn't to imply that we were all entirely pleased with the plan, but even for all our varying beliefs and ideals, no members of the party, myself included, had any ideas that were even marginally less unpleasant. Presumably Dave didn't either, or if he did, he was keeping them to himself. Plus, we had to admit that it would be good to finally get moving, especially since we would be moving in the opposite direction of the approaching force of the mad king, Mollenoch. That small group of soldiers that we had encountered was intimidating enough. It was quite clear that, even with bolstered numbers, we were in no shape to face an entire army of them.