Archive of Our Own

[WARNING: The following footage is part of an ongoing investigation by the Neo-Guardian Council, and is meant for archival purposes only. The unauthorized reproduction, distribution, or public broadcast of this archived work is illegal. Participating in said illegal activities is considered a criminal offense by the Neo-Guardian Council, and is punishable by up to 10 years in prison, in addition to fines starting at $1,000,000.]

~*~

“Damn, how does this stupid thing work?”

Static crackled on an old-fashioned television screen, blurring the picture into nothing more than a chaotic mess of black and white lines. Though the sound of the crackles and pops were not loud, a listener would have to strain to hear a quiet click of a switch being flipped into place.

“Oh, there we go.”

After a few moments, the static faded away from the screen, being replaced by a crystal-clear view of the generic talk-show set in front of the camera. An over-sized mahogany desk sat in the center of the raised wooden platform, its surface tastefully covered with papers and blank-covered books. On either side of the desk were obviously fake decorative plants, the kind which anyone could recognize but no one could name what species they were suppose to represent. The background wall was also covered with screens, which passively cycled through pictures of city skylines and urban landscapes.

The main focus of the scene though was a slightly taller than average man, who currently sat behind the desk in a plain gray chair. Facing away from the camera, only the back of his head and flawlessly pressed black velvet suit was visible at the current moment. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked down so firmly to his head that it could have been mistaken for a plastic helmet, yet the man still tried to fuss with it while holding a mirror in front of his face.

“Sir.”

The man turned his head slightly to acknowledge the voice, looking at a spot somewhere above the camera. From this angle, his clean-shaven face was visible, with oddly stretched and smooth skin that hinted at the man having plastic surgery at some point in his life. His mouth twitched in a slight frown, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

“We're about to start recording.”

The man sighed heavily, rolling his piercing gray eyes, but opened a hidden drawer in the desk and tossed the mirror inside.

“I suppose that's the best I'm going to get tonight,” he lamented. He turned back around and made a noncommittal gesture over his shoulder with his hand. “Well, let's get started then.”

“Recording starts in three, two, one...Action!”

On cue, the man turned his chair around fully, gracing the camera with a dazzling smile of porcelain white teeth. His demeanor now radiated warm happiness, as though the camera was an old and beloved friend.

“Hello all you wonderful watchers and welcome to another episode of ‘The Cold Hard Truth’! Where we take a deep dive into the indisputable facts of recent news events, cutting through the bluffs and fluff of the media. I'm your host Mister Chatterbox, and it's great to be seeing your lovely faces again!”

Mister Chatterbox paused as the sound of a recorded cheering audience track played over hidden speakers. As the track faded away, he clasped a hand to his heart, as though he was touched by a real audience's enthusiasm. “Thank you, thank you. Let's get right to it, shall we? Today we're going to be covering a very intriguing topic, and one that I'm sure you've all heard about by now.”

He reached into another desk drawer and held up a simple white card between two fingers. When he flipped the card around, the other side was adorned with a symbol of a willow tree bisected by two interlocking swords.

“That's right, we're going to be discussing the recent scandal regarding the mysterious Guardian Order, the self-proclaimed followers of the mystifying Chosen Hero. As many of you might know, the Guardian Order is a small, yet powerful organization that has established multiple strongholds across Caspia for the past five hundred years. They came into power shortly after the first documented appearance of the figure known as the Chosen Hero.”

He flipped the card around again, but the previously blank surface now had a stylized illustration of a noble hero pointing a glowing sword in the air. “Throughout history, the Chosen Hero has been a beloved symbol of justice and mercy, responsible for saving countless lives and spearheading many of the comforts of life we enjoy today. However, the Guardian Order has always been viewed more controversially, due to their often brutal methods and obsession with perfection and secrecy. With their need to keep everyone outside the Order on their toes, they have frequently butted heads with communities and governments alike.”

Mister Chatterbox loosened his fingers slightly, letting the card fall gently to the desk's surface. “Though with this latest scandal, they might have bitten off more than they can chew. Let's see if any of you can pierce together what happened from the following news-clips from a little over a week ago.”

With a flourish he gestured to one of the screens behind him, which immediately switched to a clip of a news broadcast, though it was unknown which channel due to the identifying logo being removed. The young reporter on camera stood in front of a pair of ornate locked gates, nervously adjusting the over-sized microphone in her hand. In the background, the road that was blocked by the gates wound its way up a large hill, on top of which a grand manor could be seen. After realizing that the camera was now live, the reporter jolted to life and began to speak, though it was obvious that she was simply reading from a teleprompter.

“Today the Guardian Order has announced that sixteen year-old Horace Brightheart, the fifty-second incarnation of the Hero's vessel who suddenly vanished from the public eye two weeks ago, has returned from his journey and is now the full embodiment of the Chosen Hero. This announcement comes in the wake of a public outcry after online super-fans devoted to tracking the young heir's movements on his journey were unable to find any trace of him in the world after his departure.

The eldest son of Albert and Lillian Brightheart, Horace's online following exploded four years ago after his first win in a national fencing competition. Known as an avid fencer, he remained undefeated through eleven additional consecutive events, earning him a world record title. Horace also garnered praise after becoming the youngest ever captain of his private school's Scholastic team and leading them to victory at Nationals using his intelligence and quick wit. Recent polls have revealed though that his fans were most impressed by his compassion and his dedication to his community.

The heir had previously announced to his fans that he would be providing semi-frequent updates on his adventures in a 'travel blog' format, though he would not post photographs to protect his and others' privacy. Suspicions were first raised three days after the alleged start of Horace's journey, when perceptive followers noticed that the heir's grammar style had changed slightly in his ten most recent posts. Online sleuths were further disturbed by how 'Horace' had listed several general areas that he had visited during his alleged travels, but there was no evidence of him ever being spotted at those locations.

After the Guardian Order declined to comment, theories quickly spread across the Internet about how the heir was being held hostage, or had even been murdered. The later theory gained ground when an unidentified hand was found in the Winewater Lake, a body of water twenty miles from an Order-owned estate, which some decided had to belong to the missing heir. Fanning the flames further, the Brightheart family made a statement one week ago offering rewards beginning at $100,000 for anyone who could provide information on Horace's whereabouts. Horace's fanbase took this statement as definitive proof that harm had come to their idol, flooding multiple Order channels with cries for answers.

In a shocking turn of events, two days ago a local quarry suddenly announced that Horace had been found, and was recuperating in their onsite barracks. The quarry's social media account posted pictures of the heir posing with workers as proof, with fans quickly noticing that he was now wielding the Hallowed Blade, which was rumored to have been lost underground. It is believed that Horace was recovering this blade in the quarry, even if this theory has not yet been confirmed. Though the Order again declined to comment at the time, it was confirmed by bystanders that Horace was swiftly retrieved and brought back to a nearby stronghold. The following day, the Order announced a private press conference scheduled for today, where they released an official timeline of Horace's journey and confirmed that he was now a full vessel of the Chosen Hero.

With the release of this information, many fans have now backed off from their hostility towards the Guardian Order. However, some people have questioned why the Order waited so long to make a public statement if everything was under control, as well as why the announcement of Horace's reappearance was made from a unaffiliated third party. While the Order's reluctance to communicate with individuals outside their circle, this is the longest that they've ever waited to respond to a prompt for clarification.

In other news, the Brightheart family is happy to announce that for the first time in history, the Hero's Binding Ceremony will be televised on three public broadcast channels. Although by this point, the Hero's spirit has fully integrated with his vessel, the Binding Ceremony is a symbolic final step in his journey towards rebirth. In the past, this ceremony has been performed behind closed doors, but the family has stated that they wished to use this opportunity to ease recent public tensions. Physical attendance is still limited to family members and trusted officials of the Order, including Horace's three younger siblings and twenty cousins.”

The clip ended abruptly, with the footage immediately switching to an overhead helicopter view of what seemed to be the remnants of that same manor. However, the once grand building had now been reduced to nothing more than a burning pile of rubble. Scattered within the wreckage was what appeared to be bottomless holes, where the manor's foundation had fallen into the depths below. If it wasn't for the small army of fire fighters and emergency services surrounding the bonfire, desperately attempting to calm the roaring flames, the nearby forest might have been set alight as well. Other than the sounds of the helicopter blades whirring and the crackling of burning timber, the video was silent, forcing the viewer to focus on nothing else but the shown devastation.

Once again the footage abruptly changed, returning to the original scene in front of the same ornate gates, with even the news reporter being the same as before. This time though, the reporter looked extremely frantic, gesturing widely towards the smog-filled sky and pillar of smoke that was all that could be seen of the manor as she talked.

We have just arrived on the scene of the horrific devastation of Magnolia Manor, the cause of which is still currently unknown. As you can see even from this distance, the manor is now completely destroyed, with emergency services urgently trying to save as much of the surrounding landscape as they can. Hundreds of high profile guests were in attendance at the manor tonight for their first glimpse in person of the newly returned Chosen Hero, including local Senator John Burns and supermodel Cherry Blossom. Multiple explosions were first reported four hours ago, but search and rescue efforts were delayed for over an hour while emergency services attempted to bypass the manor's automatic security measures.

A loud bang suddenly echoed through the air, causing the reporter to leap slightly into the air out of fright. In the distance, a slightly larger ball of smoke billowed out from the pillar, as though it had been discharged by the source of the new explosion. Now looking even more frantic, the reporter continued with her speech.

The only information that we have received from our contacts on the scene so far is that there have been over fifty confirmed causalities, with no survivors found. More than two hundred guests remain unaccounted for, including the newly appointed Chosen Hero himself. As of now, the Guardian Order has remained silent, despite increasing calls by law enforcement for statements. This is all that is known at this time, though we are hoping that more information will be revealed soon...

With a final click, the screen switched to black for a moment, before returning to its previous idle display. The camera refocused on Mister Chatterbox's sympathetically frowning face.

“Confused?” he asked. “I don't blame you. Everyone in the world is currently asking themselves, how could have such a momentous occasion have turned into such a convoluted tragedy? Was the destruction of Magnolia Manor motivated by the recent disappearance of the Chosen Hero, his reappearance, or just a horrible coincidence?” He folded his hands dramatically under his chin.

“Until now, the Guardian Order has refused to answer any of these questions. However, we have managed to invite two very special guests from the Order tonight, who claim to have survived the events of Magnolia Manor. While their survival has been kept secret until now, they have agreed to this interview to share their account of what exactly happened on that fateful night.”

Mister Chatterbox smoothly rolled his chair from out behind his desk, guiding the camera towards a previously unseen piece of furniture on the set, which appeared to be a pristine white couch. He gestured to the couch with a welcoming expression.

“I am very pleased to introduce our two guests, Arnold and Constance of the Zeta Knight Division.”

On the couch sat the aforementioned guests, a man and woman who were both dressed in the traditional armor of the Guardian Order Knights. The black steel was polished so well that every bit of the set pieces could be seen in it, and yet the metal reflected nothing from the blinding studio lights above. Both of the knights also carried two sheathed swords each at their sides, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. Normally such a sight would look intimidating, but the baby-faces of the knights themselves, neither of which appeared older than nineteen, diminished the effect somewhat.

On the left end of the couch, the male knight Arnold sat stiffly with perfect posture, his hands folded tightly in his lap. The knight's hair, which was the exact shade as his armor, was similarly perfectly styled except for one small strand that had fallen against the side of his face. Every few seconds, his fingers would twitch slightly upwards, as though aching to fix the one errant strand, before forcibly stilling themselves.

“Thank you for having us Mister Chatterbox,” he said, his voice level despite his obvious discomfort. “We are honored to represent the Guardian Order for this important matter.”

To his right sat his companion Constance, who was sprawled carelessly across the remaining couch area. Though her armor looked identical to her partner's, she was also wearing a wrinkled purple suit jacket over it in a somewhat bizarre fashion statement. Adding to her rumpled appearance was her long ash-brown hair, which was haphazardly pulled into a loose ponytail and gave the impression that she had rolled herself straight out of bed onto the set. Resting her head against an arm perched on the armrest with an unconcerned expression, she threw up a peace sign with her remaining hand.

“Happy to be here,” she drawled, flashing a wide smile to the host.

“Before we begin with the main interview, do you mind if I ask a few personal questions? Just so the audience can get a sense of your characters,” Mister Chatterbox asked.

“That is fine,” Arnold said.

“Ask away,” Constance agreed.

“Wonderful!” Mister Chatterbox reached into a suit pocket and pulled out several flashcards. “First off, why did you two decide to pursue a knight apprenticeship with the Order?”

“As blood relatives to the Hero's vessel, we are required to take a position that directly contributes to the betterment of the Order and its members,” Arnold explained. “We both independently felt that our personal talents would be best suited in the field as knights rather than in politics or archival work.”

“How interesting, I wasn't aware that you two were part of the Brightheart family,” Mister Chatterbox interjected.

“Yes well, it's not something we like to advertise,” Arnold responded a bit testily. “We prefer for our skills and accomplishments to build our reputations rather than to who we are related.”

“Besides, Arnold's only a second cousin, and I don't even know which of the Hero's uncles is my father,” Constance added. “So it's not like we share that much blood with the Hero in the end.”

“Understandable, moving on then...” Mister Chatterbox flipped through a few of the flashcards. “Let's see, I've also been told that you were personally scouted to act in several recent films produced by the Order's entertainment studio. Would you mind telling us a little about that experience?”

“Oh uh, I'll take this one I guess,” Constance said, raising her hand. “The first film that we were scouted for was The Hero Ascends XIV. I don't remember the director's name— ”

“Ryan Reelsburg,” Arnold added. Constance flashed him a briefly annoyed look before continuing.

“Yeah that guy. Anyways, he was specifically looking for apprentices with javelin experience for a particular scene, and we were among the top of our class in distance weaponry. So our masters recommended us, we played our assigned roles, and Mr. Reelsburg must have liked our performances because we were given roles in his next two films.”

“Ah, how lovely!” the host gushed dramatically. “You two must have been the little celebrities of your class then!”

“Eh, not really,” Constance shrugged. “Peer favoritism is one of the things our masters tried to discourage. That's why they didn't let anyone from the Zeta Division watch the films we starred in. We got a week off regular training while we were filming our scenes, plus free snacks, but that was the only special treatment we ever got.”

“Not that we accepted the roles for special treatment of course,” Arnold chimed in again. “We simply hoped that our performances would help inspire other children of the Order to become apprentices as well.”

“I'm sure the Order must be thrilled to have such selfless disciples,” Mister Chatterbox murmured. He took a moment to flip through the flashcards again. “One more question before we move on. What are your favorite films featuring the Chosen Hero? Oh and don't worry, no one will judge if you name the films that you acted in.”

“Whichever one's the movie where the Hero defeated a rampaging firedrake,” Constance immediately answered.

“There are at least five films with that plot,” Arnold sighed. “Six if you count the one with the supposed firedrake that was actually a mutated wyvern.” Constance thought for a moment, then shrugged again.

“Then all of those are my favorite.”

“Personally, I've always been more of a reader,” Arnold admitted. “But if I had to pick one, then I would say The Hero Arrives XIX. I appreciate the historical accuracy of the battle sequence between the Midnight Hordes and the Hero's army.”

Mister Chatterbox laughed. “Well, I've always been partial to The Hero Saves The Day III myself.”

“I believe that is the first film to include Eclipse as the villain, correct?” Arnold asked. The host smiled, pleasantly surprised.

“I'm surprised you know of it, it's not very popular these days with your generation.”

“Only because Eclipse is a super lame villain.”

“Constance!” Arnold looked horrified, turning to the host and frantically trying to apologize. “I'm sorry, that was quite rude of us to say.”

“It's alright,” Mister Chatterbox laughed, though his voice had a bit of a tense edge to it. He turned to Constance, who seemed unconcerned about being confronted. “Any particular reason why you think that?”

“Well, he was so predictable, you know?” The young knight yawned exaggeratedly, ignoring the subtle eye-twitch of her companion. “All he'd ever do was disguise himself as some important public figure, get caught by the Hero right before his plan succeeded, and then get thrown in imprisonment again. It's super easy to tell who's playing him too, because they always make his actor wear these dumb looking contacts.”

“Due to his inability to replicate eyes correctly,” Arnold explained. “Which was always the thing that revealed him to the Hero again.”

“Yes, I am aware.” The host cleared his throat, straightening his white tie while subtly eyeing his script notes. “Well, I think that's enough of introductions for now. Why don't you start from the beginning of the story and we can unravel this mystery together?”

“Yeah okay,” Constance clicked her tongue thoughtfully. “I guess the place to start would be two weeks ago, which was three days before the party. We hadn't been promoted yet, so we were still apprentices then.” She turned to her companion. “Oh, did you wanna tell the first part?” Arnold shook his head.

“No, you can begin. I can add clarifying details when necessary.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Constance sat up fully on the couch, cracking her neck in the process. “You see, we had gotten a last minute summons to a private meeting with the Council. Which we thought was super weird at the time, since usually they'll call for your masters, not the apprentices themselves. Also nobody could or would tell us why we were being summoned in the first place, which was even more weird. Anyways, we spent a super long time in the waiting room...”

~*~

“Stop fidgeting,” Arnold hissed at Constance, directing a nervous glance back towards the closed door. Several strands of his black hair fell into his eyes from the movement, forcing him to brush them out of the way with a huff. “Knights aren't supposed to fidget.”

“But we've been sitting here for forever,” Constance whined as she slumped dramatically in her chair. She desperately glanced over once again at the ornate oak doors that sealed away the Council from prying eyes, but to her obvious dismay they remained stubbornly closed. In despair, Constance groaned and slumped even further down into her seat, to the point where she was practically parallel to the floor. Her partner was not amused by this display.

“Can you not act like a child for five seconds?” Arnold demanded. “Any second now, someone could walk through those doors, and I'd like for them to think that they've called for apprentices who are capable of being professional.”

“Please, you just like telling me what to do,” Constance scoffed. “Sit up straight Constance, don't drag your feet Constance, quit putting the younger apprentices in the medical ward when they ask to spar Constance,” she mocked, in a purposefully insulting imitation of the other knight's voice. “We've only had three years of training, they aren't going to be expecting us to be experts or anything.”

“Well, I'd like to make a good first impression,” Arnold sniffed, tossing his head haughtily, which had the unfortunate effect of jostling more hair into his eyes. “...and also I don't sound like that.”

Constance snorted but didn't continue the argument further. After five long minutes of heavy silence, she sighed and finally shifted back properly into her chair.

“What was the point of showing up thirty minutes early to the summons if the Council was gonna make us wait twenty minutes anyways?” she lamented.

“Because the Council's time is more important than our own, so it's better that we wait for them than the other way around,” Arnold sighed, though his patience was also obviously wearing thin. He bit his lip, nervously looking around the room for silent observers before leaning towards his partner and lowering his voice. “Though, I must admit I am curious about what they are taking so long to discuss, and why we were summoned in the first place.”

“Right?!” Constance whisper-yelled. “Like, if they wanted to talk about a job, why didn't they call for one of our mentors instead? You know, like Master Copper or Master Steel? Oh wait, maybe not Master Steel, I think he's still in the tropics.” She scrunched up her face, trying to think of anyone else that might have been summoned in their place.

“You don't think they're angry about our performance in The Hero Rises XXVII, do you?” Arnold asked, his eyes widening with sudden anxiety. “Remember how I did a back-flip during the final battle instead of simply jumping backwards? I knew I was showboating too much, a real knight would never be that inefficient.” Constance shook her head.

“That can't be it, you were fucking awesome in that scene,” She slapped her hands against her thighs as in excitement as an idea came to mind. “I bet we're gonna be asked to fight a sphinx to the death!”

“Don't be silly Constance,” Arnold sniffed. “Sphinxes have been a protected species for the past thirty years.”

The other knight was about to retort when the oak doors finally started to swing open with a bellowing groan. In a practiced motion, the pair flattened their expressions into emotionless masks, sitting so straight and still that they could have been mistaken for statues.

“Apprentices, you may now enter,” a voice called from inside the room.

Before the voice had even stopped speaking, the apprentices were already scrambling (but in a professional way) out of their seats and into the meeting room. Inexperienced as they were with Council business, they instinctively knew that the number one rule was to never keep the Council waiting. As soon as they were inside, the doors immediately slammed shut behind them—

~*~

“You know, I've always been curious about what the Grand Guardian Hall looks like,” Mister Chatterbox interrupted. “Do you think you could give a quick description of what it looked like?” Arnold paused mid-sentence, taken a bit by surprise by the interruption.

“I suppose?” he said cautiously. “Although I'm not sure how relevant it is to the interview.”

“That would be lovely.”

~*~

While the room itself was relatively small, the ceiling was at least fifteen feet high, with each wall adorned with historical banners and paintings. The walls themselves were constructed from a blend of the finest woods in Caspia, projecting a lustrous shine unique to the administrative buildings of the Order. Although at the moment the shine was a bit muted, as the multiple ornate light fixtures found throughout the room were surprisingly dim, giving the room a bit of a tense atmosphere. Scattered in a semi-circle around the room were the twenty members of the Council, towering above the apprentices in ornately decorated chairs on raised platforms. With each platform being twice the height of an average person, it gave the impression that the apprentices were standing in an arena, moments away from being judged. Each Council member wore serious expressions made even more severe by the harsh wrinkles of age on their faces. But even more intimidating was the beautiful woman dressed in flowing silk robes standing in an opera box, which was placed in the middle of the semi-circle. With her serene yet serious expression and aura of complete authority, this woman could have been none other than Lady Brightheart, the mother of the Hero's vessel.

~*~

Arnold paused, looking at Mister Chatterbox with an unsure expression.

“Was that adequate?” he asked.

“That was perfect, thank you,” Mister Chatterbox complimented. “You know, I've always said that one of the best ways to judge a person's character is by how they describe a room.” He discreetly adjusted the height of his chair so that he was a millimeter taller than before. “I would like to backtrack a little bit though, what exactly were you two feeling when you first entered the Grand Guardian Hall? Were you nervous at all?”

“Well of course we were nervous, they're the Council,” Constance snorted. “The only reason why we'd ever be in front of them under normal circumstances would be if we had done something really stupid. And up until that point we had only done relatively stupid things.”

“She's joking of course,” Arnold laughed nervously. “But ah, I can admit that considering the situation was more unorthodox than what we were accustomed to, feeling nervous might have been a bit of an understatement. But naturally as apprentice knights, we were trained on how to remain professional even when emotionally compromised.”

“I see,” Mister Chatterbox mused. “In that case, mind walking me through what the Council wanted to discuss with you that warranted so much secrecy?” Constance and Arnold exchanged a quick silent conversation, their expressions suddenly uncomfortable. After a few moments, Constance leaned forward on the couch, apparently having decided that she would be the one talking.

“Well, technically we can't tell you. We kinda swore a blood oath to ultimate secrecy, so if we even breath a word of what was discussed in that room then we'd probably be imprisoned for life.” As the host opened his mouth, a confused look on his face, she held up a hand. “Before you say anything, I'm pretty sure Arnold and I figured out a work around though.” Her partner somehow reached into his armor and pulled out an old-fashioned looking scroll.

“This is a copy of the official minutes of our meeting with the Council,” Arnold explained. “We were given explicit permission by the Head Archivist for use during the interview today. Since technically we wouldn't be breaking our oaths if you were the one to read the events out loud sir.” He held out the scroll to the host, who eagerly took it from his grasp.

“How very clever!” he exclaimed. Reaching into another pocket, he pulled out a pair of reading glasses, opening the scroll as he put them on his nose. “Let's see here,” he mused as he began to read through the document. “Opening statements, how long have you been in training for, do you have any blights on your records, are your licenses up to date...”

“You can skip ahead a bit, those are just the same questions that all our clients ask,” Constance said. “The Council already knows all that junk anyways, it's all a test to see how honest you are. Normal procedure stuff.”

“Alright then.” Mister Chatterbox's eyes, magnified slightly by the glasses, flickered back and forth as he scanned through the scroll. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, staring intently at something on the page. He squinted, as though in disbelief from what he was reading, then looked up incredulously at the embarrassed knights.

“The Council claimed that the Chosen Hero was actually an impostor?” he practically shouted. A bit too loudly perhaps, considering the way both knights immediately winced.

“They didn't claim, they knew,” Arnold corrected. “The Council had concrete evidence that the Chosen Hero had been replaced, including, er— ” He forcibly stopped himself from saying anything further and breaking his blood oath. “If you read a bit further down in the scroll, it should explain everything.” Mister Chatterbox did so, noticeably faster than before.

“So Lady Brightheart noticed that there were some inconsistencies in the Hero's behavior, which didn't align with her son's personality or that of the previous incarnations. And when they sent knights to check the Hero's resting place, they found that the seal was unbroken, signifying that the Hero had not yet bonded with his vessel. Meaning that whoever the person wearing Horace's face was, they were not actually the Chosen Hero.” Both knights nodded in confirmation. Mister Chatterbox slumped in his chair slightly as he attempted to process this information. “How on earth could such a thing have happened?” he lamented. “Surely the Order must have safeguards against this sort of trickery?”

“Probably why no one's tried to impersonate the Grand Wizard before,” Constance offered. “Only a complete low-life would dare mess with a sacred figure.”

“...good point.” The host paused, considering the two knights for a moment. “How did you two handle hearing this news? I'm sure that it must have been quite a shock to you at the time.”

“Well, it certainly was upsetting,” Arnold admitted, his voice a bit strained. “But naturally we stayed calm and professional under the pressure.”

(Note: They did not. Arnold in particular had looked like he was going to faint, while it seemed like Constance's brain had left the building entirely. After a few seconds, the pair somehow remembered to pull their faces back into a vaguely professional expression. Or at least Arnold did, as Constance's brain awkwardly walked back into the room, but couldn't quite find the entrance yet to get back into her head.)

Momentarily satisfied by this answer, Mister Chatterbox suddenly paused as another thought occurred to him. “Wait, what about the unidentified hand that was discovered before the Hero's reappearance? You don't think that the impostor would have...?” He trailed off, but the implied question was obvious.

“Of course not,” Arnold scoffed.

“How can you be certain? Did the Council tell you?” the host pressed.

“Ah right, you are not familiar with the reincarnation ritual,” Arnold realized. “That's something I can actually share with you. When the vessel comes of age, he or she is cut into twenty pieces, then sealed in the Hero's resting place while the Hero's spirit and the vessel's body bind themselves together.” Mister Chatterbox blanched.

“Are you saying that the Order itself is responsible for Horace's murder?!”

“Well, I suppose that's one way of looking at it,” Arnold said defensively. “While the vessel does technically die, it's the only way of ensuring that the Hero is able to be reborn completely. The ritual has been successful for thousands of years after all...until now.”

“Yeah the knights in charge of transporting the vessel to the Hero's resting place totally bungled it, that's how the hand ended up in the lake in the first place.” She snapped her fingers. “I bet that's how the impostor knew it was the perfect time to impersonate the Chosen Hero. Too bad they didn't count on the Council actually checking for proof, otherwise they might have gotten away with it.”

“This is a lot of information to process,” the host muttered, looking a bit ill. He visibly collected himself, then continued reading through the scroll. “...it also says here that the Eldest Sister, the first daughter of the Brighthearts, was suspected as being an accomplice to the impostor?”

“That is correct,” Arnold affirmed.

“It was believed that due to her ambition, and jealousy of her brother's status, she conspired with the impostor to take his place to promote her into a position of great power as well,” the host read. “While she fled the Brightheart summer estate before she could be questioned, there was a chance that she would be attending the first Sunrise Soiree in secret. So your mission then was to both dispose of the impostor and capture the Eldest Sister if possible.”

“Also correct.”

“Goodness, I'm exhausted and I was just reading about this meeting,” Mister Chatterbox sighed. “After that matter was settled, I assume the meeting was over then?”

“Not by a long shot, they kept us there for two more hours. Honestly, I kind of zoned out during that bit,” Constance laughed sheepishly. “It was a lot to process, you know? All of the important stuff had already been covered anyways.”

“Don't listen to her, every part of that meeting was important,” Arnold snapped. “Though I must admit, the rest of the discussion is not that relevant to the current interview. Mostly travel guidelines, reaffirmations of loyalty, and the like. In the interest of time, we can skip ahead to when we actually arrived at Magnolia Manor on the day of the party, when we started reconnaissance...”

~*~

On the roof of a nearby warehouse, which stood just outside the borders of Magnolia Manor and housed various gardening and landscaping equipment, the two apprentices had a perfect view to observe the party that was in full swing. The rooftop also had multiple smokestacks which provided ample cover for the apprentices to hide behind. Not that there was anyone currently on the watch for unwanted guests, but Arnold had insisted on being cautious.

“Can I look now?” Constance huffed, her arms crossed behind her head as she impatiently tapped one of her feet against the polished shingles. A display which her partner was obviously ignoring, instead making a point to focus his attention on the regal-looking figure through his binoculars. Though the Hero was surrounded by a crowd of accomplished Guardian elites, important government officials, and wealthy investors, there was no mistaking him for anyone else in the crowd.

(Note: In the past, the Hero would not have been seen by anyone except his most loyal attendants until the Coronation Ceremony, but previous Councils had eventually decided that it was important for the Hero to be seen as not only infallible but approachable. Their solution was the creation of the Sunrise Soirees, bi-weekly parties that would start three months before the Coronation Ceremony, and gave anyone who was anyone in the order the chance to meet their beloved Hero in the flesh.)

“Seriously Arnold, when is it my turn? You've been hogging those binoculars since the moment you got them,” Constance whined again. Arnold growled, whipping the binoculars away from his face and glaring fiercely at the other apprentice.

“If I let you take a look, will you be quiet?” he snapped. “I'm trying to concentrate and you are not helping.”

“Maybe,” Constance responded snidely. Arnold growled again but reluctantly tossed the binoculars over to her. Constance's expression immediately brightened, rushing over to the edge of the roof to observe the crowd below.

“Is the 'Hero' supposed to look so...unassuming?” she asked after a moment.

“Unassuming?” Arnold scoffed. “Their uniform is shining so brightly in the sun that they could be spotted from space. The impostor clearly has no sense of humility.”

“Well yeah, but if they're supposed to be a perfect copy of the Hero, shouldn't they also have the same aura or something? The Lady had such an intimidating presence, but I'm not feeling anything when I look at them. If they weren't wearing that fancy getup, I might have mistaken them for a regular guy.” Arnold clicked his tongue thoughtfully, hopping down from his perch to join the other apprentice at the roof's edge.

“Give me the binoculars back so I can take another look.” Constance handed the binoculars back to Arnold. As he studied the Hero's face again for any hint at irregularities, he subconsciously began leaning further and further over into open air. Thankfully, a well-placed arm from Constance stopped him from plummeting down to the ground below.

“You might have a point,” Arnold finally admitted. “Perhaps we are too far away to feel the full effects?” Even though he proposed the theory, he didn't seem fully convinced by what he was saying.

Constance scratched her head, not looking fully convinced either. “Maybe.” She paused. “Or maybe it's because of how weird this whole situation is? Seeing the Hero in person like this, without permission, even if they are an impostor.”

“Perhaps,” Arnold murmured.

“I dunno, maybe if we had seen more pictures of the Hero when we were growing up, then it wouldn't be so weird,” Constance wondered. Then immediately winced as her shoulder was whacked by an incensed Arnold.

“We were honored to see anything at all! There are people out there who would kill for the opportunity to even a glimpse of the Hero's face!”

“I'm totally grateful for that!” Constance whined defensively. “I'm just saying, it might be a bit easier to tell if the impostor's made any mistakes with their appearance if we got more than one picture update every two years.”

“Well, if you read the file like I told you to do, you would know that the first thing they did after the 'Hero' returned to the manor was conduct a very through inspection. And according to their inspection, there was no detail that was overlooked or improperly duplicated. The impostor was even able to replicate the Hero's birthmark perfectly, and was wearing a prosthetic in place of Horace's missing hand.”

“Wait, how would they have faked a birthmark?” Constance asked, tilting her head. “They couldn't have used makeup, it would have gone all smeary by now.”

“They could have tattooed it,” her partner suggested. “Or used a laser to burn the birthmark's shape into their skin.”

“That stuff's permanent though, why would they go through all that trouble if they were planning on disappearing after the ceremony?”

“Why indeed...” Arnold muttered fretfully, turning his attention back to the binoculars. For a moment, they returned to their silent arrangement, though of course that didn't last long with Constance around.

“So uh, if we can't use the birthmark, how are we supposed to prove the Hero's not the Hero to the rest of the crowd? Since there's no way that they'll let us near the impostor without a real reason, much less do our job?” Constance suddenly asked. Arnold opened his mouth, then shut it again while he tried to think of an answer.

“We shouldn't waste time trying to prove anything to anyone else,” he finally decided. “The Lady and the Council has given us our orders, and worrying about the fallout was not one of them.” Though this statement was for his partner's benefit, he also seemed to be trying to convince himself to calm his rapidly rising nerves. “Which means that we'll need to find a way to dispatch our target quickly and discreetly before anyone at the party catches on.”

“Yeah, okay.” Constance exhaled heavily, looking down at the crowd in the distance. From their current height, the bodies blended together into blurry shapes and colors, yet somehow it was still obvious exactly where the Hero was standing. She turned to Arnold.

“What did you have in mind?”

~*~

“As the apprentice with a better performance in stealth, my job was to enter and scout out the manor while remaining undetected,” Arnold explained. “From there, I would locate an area where we could both lure and dispose of the impostor unnoticed. If I also happened to find the Eldest Sister during the search, then I would find a way to detain her until they escaped the manor grounds.”

“What was Constance's role?” Mister Chatterbox asked.

“I was um, getting to that,” Arnold responded, with a tinge of annoyance in his voice. “Constance was on surveillance duty, keeping close to the impostor's side until she saw the torn flag that I would hang as our signal. Personally I would have preferred to use our mobile communicators, but the Council thought we would look suspicious talking into a device rather than mingling with the rest of the crowd. This was the riskier of the two roles, but I had faith that Constance could handle the pressure. Also, the natural chaos of the crowd should have been enough to keep the impostor distracted.”

“In hindsight, our plan was kinda dumb,” Constance admitted. The knight had returned to her previous sprawling position, having slowly slouched further down the couch as the interview progressed. It was unclear how intentional of a decision this was by the young knight, but it did allow her to more easily ignore the scathing look that her partner gave.

“Considering the time and method constraints of the assignment, I think it was perfectly adequate,” Arnold said flatly.

“Only because you came up with it,” the other knight countered.

“You're only saying that because I banned you from starting a fight unless there was an actual emergency!” Arnold sputtered. “And that I also banned you from purposefully creating an emergency!”

“If you weren't on board with the plan, why didn't you suggest something else?” Mister Chatterbox chimed in.

“Eh, I'm not really that good at the whole 'making a plan' thing,” Constance shrugged. “Plus, Arnold always commissions me a new set of blades with his share of the reward money if I go along with his ideas.”

“How generous of him! Especially considering the prices of quality weaponry nowadays.” Mister Chatterbox turned to Arnold with a smile. “Hopefully your bank account isn't too empty with such an expensive habit.”

“A small price to pay for a successful mission,” Arnold simply said. “And up until the day of the party, our mission record was flawless.”

(Note: Technically, the two apprentices had successfully completed their five previous assignments, all of which involved package retrievals and deliveries. However, the collateral damage of these missions included two forest fires, three destroyed bridges, and six bodies still undiscovered to this day. In hindsight, Arnold's bribery might have been part of the problem, as a Constance with access to superior weaponry became overconfident and easy to provoke to violence. An Arnold who had to deal with such a Constance likewise became neurotic and argumentative, leading to stupid decisions and easily avoidable explosions. Like a famous author once said, “Once is a happenstance, twice is a coincidence, the third time it's enemy action.” Unfortunately for the aspiring knights, pattern recognition was not one of the skills they were taught during training, otherwise the following events at the party might have been avoided.)

“What was so different about this particular mission then?” Mister Chatterbox asked. Arnold winced.

“Well for starters, it was laughably easy to sneak into the party itself, which never happens. We didn't even need to show an invitation or credentials to the security team at the entrance, who by the way were definitely drunk off champagne. Though it worked out in our favor, I'm honestly shocked that the Order would have hired such incompetent guards.” Judging by Arnold's distraught expression as he spoke, he was still upset by this encounter. Constance on the other hand looked like she couldn't care less, and cut the other knight off before he could say anything else.

“Mister Chatterbox doesn't need to hear the rant, and once was already enough for me,” she sighed.

“Fine,” Arnold snapped. “Then I will skip ahead to when we had reached the manor courtyard. Our goal was to dispatch of the impostor before they performed the traditional speech, as it would be impossible to get them alone after then. We had briefly split up to do some individual reconnaissance, but briefly reconnected before we embarked on our mission tasks...”

~*~

“And just where have you been?” Arnold hissed as Constance casually sauntered over to his side. “The Hero's speech is in two hours, we're running out of time. It can't have taken that long to patrol the perimeter of the manor.” Constance just shrugged, leaning against the banister railing that lined the platform overlooking the manor courtyard. Below, the courtyard itself was completely packed with party guests, to the point where the ground wasn't even visible anymore.

“Don't worry about it.” She took a moment to observe the mass of bodies. “So the 'Hero' is probably somewhere in that crowd there, huh?”

“Obviously,” Arnold responded. “Do you think that you'll be able to locate him?”

“Yeah I got this. Give me one second though, there's something else I wanna try.”

“What?”

After quickly scanning the courtyard to make sure that she wasn't being observed, Constance grabbed an unattended champagne glass off the banister, then dumped half its contents into the decorative fountain below. She then repeated the process with a second glass.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Arnold hissed out of the side of his mouth, glancing frantically around to see if anyone saw. Thankfully, no one below them seemed to be paying much attention to anything other than their own conversations or glasses.

“If people see us carrying a half-empty glass around, then they'll think that we're drunk, or at least tipsy. Drunk people tend to wander into places that they aren't supposed to be, so I figure it'll be a good excuse if we get caught by security or something.” Constance smirked confidently at her unimpressed partner. “Plus, it's always fun smashing an opponent in the face with a glass.”

“That is the worst plan that you've ever come up with,” Arnold said flatly, then paused and amended. “This week.”

Constance tilted her head. “You got a better idea?” The pair had a silent standoff for a few moments before Arnold caved, gritting his teeth and folding his arms petulantly.

“Just give me the glass.” The other apprentice bared her teeth in a half-smirk, which only widened when her partner snatched the offered glass from her hand.

Drinks in tow, the pair split in different directions, with Constance weaving her way back into the main crowd while Arnold made his way around the outskirts towards the empty manor. Though with how packed the courtyard was, he found himself carefully hopping railings and swinging from hanging decorations to avoid being swept into the fray. Once again, nobody noticed his odd behavior, or if they were, they simply dismissed it as a drunken hallucination. So far, the Eldest Sister was nowhere to be found, which was expected. If she was going to be anywhere in the party, it would be in the manor.

Like at the gates to the manor grounds, the entrance to the manor itself was guarded by several security guards. Unlike the previous guards however, the ones posted here were not only sober but vigilantly watching the bustling crowd. Clearly, these guards actually took their jobs seriously. Arnold carefully made his way around to the back of the manor, keeping a close eye on the guards to ensure he wasn't spotted. Thankfully, the guards' attention was soon focused on handling a drunk guest insisting that they enter to use the bathroom, so Arnold was able to slip by unnoticed. After a few minutes of inspecting the back of the manor, he spotted a promising entry point: a window on the third floor. Using the cobblestone bricks as handholds, he easily scaled the side of the manor, and to his further delight found the window unlocked. Slipping inside, he found himself in an extravagantly decorated guest bedroom, which was impressive but not what he was hoping for.

Silently, Arnold slipped into the hallway and poked his head into every room he found, each looking practically identical to the last. Though the décor was practically dripping with money and class, it was also oddly devoid of personality, like something from a display house in a newly built neighborhood. Occasionally, another drunken guest would stumble their way through the halls, somehow having made their way past the security guards as well. When this happened, the apprentice would instantly flatten himself against the wall on instinct, his head bowed downwards in a show of respect. Thankfully, each of these guests were too drunk to notice him, merrily wandering their way through the manor without a care in the world. Unlike them, the poor apprentice was becoming more and more stressed by the minute as he was unable to find a suitable room. All he needed was a plain storage room with minimal furniture to get in the way, and yet each room he looked at seemed to be more over-decorated than the last.

“This can't be going any worse,” he thought to himself as he opened yet another door, only to freeze as he realized that this room was occupied.

In a plush red armchair in the corner of the room sat none other than the Eldest Sister. Dripping in gold and silver jewelry and a very expensive looking ballgown, the girl was extremely overdressed for someone with an half-opened book in her lap. Still, the look of scorn on her face was practically identical to that of her mother's, causing Arnold to instinctively straighten his shoulders in attention.

“And just who might you be?” she asked disdainfully.

“Oh dear,” Arnold muttered fretfully.

~*~

Meanwhile, Constance slowly moved closer and closer to her main target. It was easy to tell which spot in the crowd the 'Hero' was in, as the wall of bodies gradually became so tightly clustered together that they seemed to be fused into one singular mass. But every so often there would be a momentary crack that Constance would take advantage of, carefully squeezing her way into every tight space that she could find. The process was quickly draining her patience though, not to mention the way that every drunken shriek and howl of laughter grated through her ears. Although most of it was just meaningless noise, occasionally she would catch fragments of various conversations.

“Well, I've never technically met the Hero in person, but a month ago, I did have the honor of seeing him through the window of his limousine while he was visiting the capital building. That's more than anyone else in this place can say, ha!”

“Oh isn't the Hero just a darling boy? He looks exactly like his portrait in the monthly newsletter, except even grander!”

“What a presence our Hero has! I wonder if he would agree to make an appearance on my podcast?”

Although everyone had a lot to say about the Hero, it was all hollow compliments and meaningless chatter. Nobody had any idea that the man before them was an impostor, which really didn't give Constance a lot of faith in her supposed superiors.

“Animals,” she thought irritably as yet another so-called socialite carelessly shoved into her side, her empty hand twitching wistfully towards her hidden weapons. “And they dare to call themselves Guardians.” It was no wonder that they were able to be fooled so easily by an impostor if this was the way they conducted themselves in private.

Suddenly, a particularly hard jostle of the crowd launched Constance slightly forward, causing her to knock her shoulder into the nearest person. Both her and the other victim grunted in discomfort, though the bystander sounded a bit more pained due to receiving the brunt of the impact. Constance raised her head to apologize, only to be near blinded by the other's shining uniform. A very familiar uniform. As she met the eyes of the 'Hero', visions of her life began flashing before her eyes as she realized that her cover might be blown. Ah well, might as well commit.

“Your radiance— sir,” she stammered out in a pretend meek manner. “I am so sorry— ”

“Ah, no harm done.” The 'Hero's' gaze absentmindedly scanned over her, before suddenly snapping back with a subtle double-take.

“Wait a minute, I know you...” The impostor narrowed their eyes as they looked Constance up and down. A bead of sweat started to pool at the back of her neck, but she held her ground under the other's scrutiny. After a long moment, the impostor's expression brightened, and they snapped their fingers. “You were in the latest movie production, weren't you? Loyal Knight #2, correct?”

“Yes sir,” Constance choked out, trying not to slump over with relief.

“I thought so,” the impostor said smugly. “I doubt I would have misremembered someone whose performance I quite enjoyed.” Constance did a double take.

“Wait, you liked my acting?”

“Oh yes.” The impostor swirled their glass in their hand. “Of course it was inexperienced and sloppy...”

“Oh,” Constance muttered, her face falling slightly.

“...but considering I doubt you received any kind of acting training, you do have a fair bit of potential.”

“Um, thanks.” Constance wasn't actually sure if she was actually being complimented, but it was probably better for the impostor to believe that she was grateful. “That really means a lot, coming from you sir. I didn't even think that the Hero would be interested in non-important things like movies.”

“Even someone like me needs to take a break from his duties every once in a while, and I've always had a fondness for the cinema and the stage,” the 'Hero' laughed. They leaned in conspiratorially to the apprentice. “Between you and me, in my youth I actually considered joining an acting group. I would have done it too, if my schedule hadn't been so packed between training, schooling, and community service.”

“Wow, how interesting,” Constance said, taking a quick glance to observe the surrounding crowd, which was in turn shamelessly eyeing the conversing pair.

“Don't tell anyone though,” they said with a wink. An odd expression on the Hero's face, though Constance couldn't quite place what was wrong about it. Come to think of it, there was something off about their eyes in that moment as well. It was like they were trying to bare a piece of their soul to her, which admittedly was something that the real Hero was known for. And it wasn't a half bad look either, in fact it looked completely natural. But something in her brain was nagging at her, saying that it wasn't how the Hero was supposed to look.

And then suddenly, she remembered.

(Note: One of Constance's most well-kept secrets, something that Arnold didn't even know about her, was that she had met Horace Brightheart once before. She was barely over ten years old at the time, that awkward age when she was too old to stay in the nursery with her younger relatives, but too young to become an official apprentice. It was a bit of a miracle that she could remember the moment to begin with, considering most of her early childhood memories had been lost to time and several head injuries. But she did remember a young boy, with dirty blond hair and several holes in his smile where he had recently lost baby teeth. Something that he had been obviously self-conscious about, as he always hid his mouth behind his hand when he talked to shield the imperfections from sight. Young Constance had thought this was stupider than showing the holes in the first place, and told the boy that to his face as well. To this day, the look of shock on his face was so vivid in her mind, as though this was the first time that he had ever been insulted before. He must have not been that insulted though, because her next fragmented memory was of sprinting through the tall grass outside the holding house, trying to maintain a slight lead over the cackling boy to her right. There was a wild look in his eyes as he heaved, as though his very being was bursting into roaring flames. That was what the Hero looked like when his soul was bared.)

(Note: There is only one villain from the Hero's past who is capable of disguise magic. The only thing that he is unable to replicate perfectly is the eye.)

The impostor continued to babble about something else, but Constance was only half-listening now, too busy reeling from her realization. She had to find Arnold and quickly.

“Sir, I really do appreciate speaking to you, but— ”

“Yes, yes, you are excused,” the 'Hero' waved their hand dismissively. “I do hope that you enjoy yourself for the rest of the night.” They winked again, and Constance was hit with a sudden wave of revulsion.

“Yes sir, thank you sir,” she said as she inched her way out of the crowd, letting the rabid followers around her ooze into the empty space. Pushing her way through the crowd, now uncaring of the bodies she trampled in her wake, she eventually managed to crawl her way to the manor. Surprisingly, the security guards were nowhere to be found, though they were likely setting up for the Hero's upcoming speech. Rushing around the back of the manor, Constance hissed in frustration. Like a proper knight, Arnold had left no tracks or other signs that he had been trespassing. Unfortunately, this also meant that Constance had no idea where her partner had gone.

“The one time I actually need him to be punctual about something, and he's late”, she thought furiously. Scouring the manor for anything that she could use, she finally noticed that one of the windows was slightly ajar. Clambering up the side of the manor, she pushed the window open fully and slipped inside, not bothering to close it behind her. Noting the empty room, she opened the door and peaked out into the empty hallway.

“Arnold,” she hissed. “Arnold, are you there? We have a situation!” No response, so she continued into the hallway, opening every door and hissing the same question into the empty rooms. After what felt like a lifetime, she finally caught the sound of muffled voices from one of the unchecked rooms. Sprinting to the door, she immediately pulled it open with a loud bang, startling the occupants which included Arnold as she thought.

“Constance, are you out of your mind?” he snapped. “What part of a discreet operation don't you understand?!” Constance ignored him, moving further into the room.

“Arnold, there's something I need to tell you, and you're not gonna believe it but— ” She stopped in her tracks as she realized who the other person in the room was. “Wait, is that the Eldest Sister? Why isn't she in handcuffs yet?”

“Charming,” the Eldest Sister sneered. “I see your side of the family didn't inherit any manners.”

“Hey, I don't wanna hear anything from you traitor,” Constance snapped. She took a step towards the other girl, only to be stopped by an arm across her front by her partner.

“She's not actually a traitor,” Arnold said awkwardly. “Apparently the Eldest Sister has been investigating the impostor herself, not working with them. The Council just discovered that she had contacts in the administrative offices and assumed she was using them as moles to leak information to the impostor.”

“And you believed her?” Constance demanded.

“The evidence was quite compelling,” Arnold coughed. Constance glared at her smug cousin but ultimately deflated from her combative stance.

“Ugh whatever.” She brushed Arnold's arm away. “Listen, I really need to tell you something about the impostor— ”

Suddenly, the sound of a melodic bell started to echo through the room. Both Arnold and Constance froze at the noise, the former's face paling as he came to a sudden realization.

“The speech is starting, we need to get into position!” He ran out of the room without a second thought, leaving the other two women behind. Constance paused for a moment to give the Eldest Sister a threatening glare.

“If you know what's good for you, you'll stay seated in that chair until we get back.”

“I don't take orders from the likes of you,” sniffed the Eldest Sister. Constance snarled but didn't try to intimidate her cousin further, instead running out the door after her partner. As she followed him down the hallway towards the room that they both entered through, she desperately tried to get his attention.

“Arnold listen, there's something I really need to— ”

“Not now Constance, we're running out of time!”

“But— ”

“I said not now!” Finally reaching the first room, Arnold leapt through the open window in a graceful dive, once again leaving his partner behind.

“Whatever, I tried,” Constance muttered as she quickly followed. As the two apprentices dashed around the side of the manor, the courtyard was startlingly empty, containing only scattered trash and the occasional lost clothing item. Given its earlier state, it was frankly a miracle that the crowd was able to funnel into the manor so fast. Turning on a dime, the apprentices burst through the front doors of the manor, following the signs on the walls and the deafening roar of the crowd until they finally entered the ballroom. As extravagantly decorated as the rest of the house, the theme of the ballroom seemed to be glass, with blown glass art hung on every wall and occupying every empty corner. Even the stage itself was lit by an ornate antique glass chandelier. Though this room was just as packed as the courtyard had been, most of the crowd was frantically trying to push their way onto the stage, where the 'Hero' was currently standing with a microphone in their hand. On either side of them, the security guards from earlier stood at attention, as still as statues. With the majority of the crowd occupied, the pair was able to somewhat easily navigate into the room to get as close to the stage as possible. In the nick of time too, as the impostor began tapping their microphone to begin the speech.

“First of all, I would just like to say how honored I am that so many people have attended this party tonight. I am truly grateful to have such wonderfully devoted followers.” The audience erupted in cheers, loudly applauding the patiently waiting figure on the stage.

“We can still salvage this,” Arnold hissed in Constance's ear, speaking over the impostor's words. “We just need to intercept the impostor somehow after they're leaving the stage. Maybe if we say that's there's a sudden call from the Council, or we're from the Ceremony committee, or...”

“Yeah, I don't think we're going to need to worry about that in a second,” Constance said, fidgeting nervously. Her partner paused, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“...what did you do?”

Suddenly, the sound of shrieking metal suddenly filled the air. The impostor paused mid-speech, looking upwards at the ceiling, but it was already too late. With a loud crash, the chandelier was suddenly shattered to pieces over the floor. Both the impostor's and the security guards' broken bodies were crushed underneath, their limbs intertwined with metal and glass. For one long moment, the crowd was stunned into horrified silence. A final shard of glass fell to the ground with a quiet tap. That was when everyone started screaming.

“Constance, what did you do?!” Arnold repeated, his voice a shrill shriek. Constance scowled defensively, instinctively throwing back her shoulders to make herself a bit taller.

“That's what I was doing when I was patrolling earlier. I loosened the chains holding the chandelier up a bit, as a final resort just in case.”

“In case of what!? You do realize that having a chandelier crush the 'Hero's' skull in is the exact opposite of a discreet operation?!?” By this point, Arnold had turned an ugly shade of putrid red.

“That's why it was a last resort! I thought we would have taken care of them by now! Besides, the 'Hero's' getting up now, so it's fine...wait a minute.” The apprentice squinted at the stage as the impostor was indeed pulling themselves out from under the ruins of the chandelier. Something that should have been impossible due to their broken body and definitely cracked skull. The security guards were also making a valiant effort to pull themselves out, but were somehow having more trouble.

“What— How?!” Arnold screeched hysterically. The rest of the crowd somehow hadn't noticed this impossible feat, too busy scream-crying or running around like headless chickens. By this point, the impostor had fully pulled themselves to their feet, every inch of them covered in either glass or blood.

“SILENCE!” they bellowed. Instantly, the ballroom fell deathly silent, every guest freezing in place.

“Who did this,” the impostor hissed, their once serene face contorted with rage. With a sickening pop, the dent in their head popped back into place, like a rubber toy that was suddenly reinflated. “Which one of you worthless insects dared.” Silence. “Well, speak up! Your Hero is asking you a question!” They stomped their foot for emphasis, cracking a hole into the already damaged stage. So much for their perfect impression, though the chandelier probably ruined any chance of that.

Arnold and Constance exchanged glances. As one, they leapt onto the stage as well, pointing their fingers at the impostor.

“Fellow Order members!” Constance yelled dramatically. “This person has just proved that they are not our beloved Chosen Hero, but is in fact an impostor. Not just any impostor in fact, but the nefarious shapeshifter from legend Eclipse!” Arnold's expression faltered for a second with doubt upon hearing the reveal, but immediately hardened again as he decided to wait it out.

“What say you Eclipse?” he yelled just as dramatically. “Do you deny this?” Eclipse sneered.

“Whatever, the performance is already ruined anyways.” He spread his arms dramatically, letting the illusion drop to reveal his true form. Though it was a bit hard to tell what exactly his true form was, considering how blurry it seemed to be. “Yes, I am Eclipse!” The crowd devolved into incredulous whispers, though one glare from the shapeshifter quickly put a stop to that.

“Eclipse, by order of the Council, you are under arrest for conspiracy, fraud, and impersonation. Surrender now or face judgment by our blades.” Eclipse smiled, sickly sweet.

“Is that so? Well, I have someone on my side that I think will object to that. Servants, reveal your true form!”

Unearthly howls ripped from the security guards' throats as they began to convulse and writhe under the chandelier. Clothes and flesh alike disintegrated away from their bodies like peeling paint, to reveal rough gray clay underneath. Once freed from its prison, the clay pooled into one singular pile, which quickly reformed and hardened into a hulking creature with massive arms and feet. The monster's only features, a pair of dully glowing yellow eyes, glared down at the terrified crowd.

“That's a golem!” Arnold gasped.

“I told you they weren't just made up for the movies,” Constance said.

“Kill them!” Eclipse commanded. The golem raised its arms and roared out a fierce battle-cry, which resonated against the background screams of panic from its intended victims. Far from intimidated, Constance smiled with manic delight as she swiped her tongue against the front of her teeth.

“Finally, some action!” With a battle-cry of her own, Constance drew her blades and leapt towards the raging golem. Her swords clashed against one of the golem's arms with an ugly clang, chipping a small piece of the clay away. Enraged, the golem wildly swung its other arm towards the apprentice, smashing a hole into the floor when she barely managed to dodge in time. Arnold sidestepped a screaming bystander as he also drew his swords, hanging back for the moment to look for an opening. When the golem pivoted its back to him as it missed another swing at the maniacally laughing Constance, he made his move, lunging forward with a powerful strike. Yet again, only a small piece of clay was chipped away, but the force of the strike knocked the monster off balance.

In the background, the panicking guests ran to each corner of the ballroom, trying desperately to find a way out.

“The doors, someone open the doors!” one guest cried as they were being crushed against the oak paneling.

“How strong are these windows, they won't break!” shrieked another as they uselessly banged against the glass.

(Note: As with most of the Order's older strongholds, this manor was designed with a locking security system which sealed shut every possible entry point. An extremely useful security measure in the event of a siege, as once the system was activated, even a tank couldn't blast its way through the magic force-field. Unfortunately, this system operates under the assumption that the threat hasn't already found a way inside the house, which is one of its biggest flaws.)

“To the escape tunnels!” one person finally yelled, triggering a small stampede as the crowd rushed out of the ballroom and further into the manor. None of the guests seemed to care that they were abandoning the two apprentices to a possible grisly fate. To be fair though, the apprentices weren't exactly paying attention enough at the moment to be offended, too focused on their current battle. If anything, they were pleased at the sharp increase in room to maneuver around their massive opponent.

The pair battled the golem for what seemed like an eternity, taking turns dealing blows while the monster's attention was drawn to their partner. With each successful hit, the golem's clay slowly softened, allowing more and more of the golem's mass to melt away. Finally, Constance managed to swipe her blade through the golem's torso, cutting it completely in half. With a final roar, the golem fully melted into liquid clay, splattering the apprentices with reddish-brown muck.

“Ugh, why,” Constance complained as she caught her breath with her hands on her knees. To her side, Arnold grimaced as he wiped as much of the clay off of his face as he could. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when the sudden sound of applause filled the air. Off to the side, Eclipse leaned against one of the pillars, unbothered by the weapons that were now pointed at him.

“Hmph, not bad,” he said dryly. “I suppose there are still a few decent knights in this era after all.”

“Save it for the judge,” Constance snarled.

“Oh?” Eclipse asked casually. “I thought I was going to be executed on the spot.”

“Someone has to explain what happened here today,” Arnold responded flatly, “And it'll be a lot easier to prove our case with you on trial. So we're taking you in.”

“Foolish child,” Eclipse laughed darkly. “Did you think the golem was my only insurance?” He pulled a small device from his pocket, showing it to the puzzled apprentices. “I assume you know what this is?”

“...a voice recorder?” Constance tried.

“Why would he threaten us with a voice recorder?” Arnold asked exasperatedly.

“I don't know, for blackmail reasons? I'm not a mind reader Arnold— ”

“It's a detonator,” Eclipse interrupted. “Specifically a detonator to the explosives I had my servants plant in the escape tunnels underneath the manor. If I press this button, or if any of the fleeing guests disturb the explosives, then Magnolia Manor will be destroyed. Unless you let me go of course.” The pair looked around for a moment, as if finally realizing that they were the only ones left in the room.

“Oh please,” Constance finally scoffed. “Those guests are some of the smartest and most important people associated with the Order. There's no way that they would be stupid enough to mess with obvious explosives.” BOOM. A loud explosion suddenly rocked the manor walls, causing both apprentices to stumble on their feet. Arnold directed a disgusted look at Constance.

“You just had to say something, didn't you.”

“Shut up Arnold.”

“It seems that the decision has been made for me then. As I have no intention of being imprisoned once more, or being crushed twice in one day, I believe this is where we say adieu. Good luck and goodbye.” Eclipse suddenly threw something down onto the floor, creating a small explosion of white smoke. Constance stumbled backwards, coughing and sputtering as she attempted to wave the smoke away from her face. It only took a moment for the smoke to clear, but when it did, Eclipse seemed to have vanished along with it.

“Damn,” Arnold snarled. “He can't have gotten far, we need to search the— ” BOOM. As another explosion wracked the manor, the floor started to crack beneath their feet. “Never mind, we need to leave, now!”

“Yeah no shit!” Without missing a beat, Constance grabbed her partner and threw him over her shoulder. Just in time too, as the spot where he had been standing suddenly collapsed entirely and fell down into the chasm below. As if things couldn't get any worse, the ceiling started to crumble as well, signaling that the entire manor was about to come down. Constance frantically scanned the room, looking for any spot where they could escape. Answering her prayers, the same pillar that Eclipse was leaning against crashed into a neighboring wall, creating a small hole to freedom.

“Hold on, I've got this!” Constance yelled in Arnold's ear as she sprinted towards the hole. Definitely a bit louder than necessary, but between the pieces of over-sized rubble continuing to fall all around them and the floor beginning to cave beneath her feet, the knight was beyond the point of caring about unimportant things like volume control.

Her partner only shrieked as a piece of the ceiling came dangerously close to shaving off the end of his nose. Constance hissed as a different piece of rubble smacked against her shoulder and increased her pace. In a feat of superhuman strength, she leapt through the crumbling hole just as the floor gave way entirely, narrowly escaping a grisly fall. Still, she didn't stop running until she reached the treeline of the surrounding forest, just to make sure that she and Arnold were completely out of harm's way. Panting heavily, she dropped her partner on the ground before flopping to join him, staring at the now sky that was now filled with smoke and dust.

“We are sooo fired...” she whined.

“We're going to be lucky if we aren't executed for this mess,” Arnold snapped between heaving breaths. “Which I'm blaming you for by the way.”

“Me!? How is this my fault?!” Constance shrieked, furious. If she wasn't so exhausted, she might have started another brawl, but in her current state all she could manage was an angry swipe in Arnold's direction. Her partner, equally exhausted, brushed off the hit and slowly pulled himself to his knees with a groan.

“When the burning settles down, we should look for survivors.” As soon as Arnold said that, the last remaining walls of the manor gave out, sending the entire building crashing down to the ground. The earth rumbled with a mighty thud, and the faint sound of collapsing tunnels could be heard as smoky air was expelled out of the open holes on the surface. Arnold immediately cringed, instinctively hunching into himself as Constance winced.

“Yeah there's no way anyone else survived that.” The two apprentices stared solemnly out at the burning rubble, taking a moment of silence for all of the other guests who had perished that night.

“...so what do we do now?”

Suddenly, the sound of a cracking branch cut through the air. Before either of the apprentices could reach for their blades, the Eldest Sister fell out of a nearby tree with a piercing shriek. For a few seconds, the trio stared at each other, too taken aback to say anything.

“Wait a minute, how did you make it out alive?” Constance finally yelled. The Eldest Sister sneered, tossing her ruffled curls over her shoulder in a huff.

“What do you take me for, an idiot? I live in this manor three months out of the year, of course I would know another escape route.” She brushed some leaves off her dress, which was a bit futile considering its tattered and ruined state. “Honestly, it's just my luck that I was stuck with you two boors again.”

“Well why are you sticking around then?” Constance sneered. The Eldest Sister looked away, her face a mixture of irritation and disgust.

“Unfortunately, it appears that I am in need of new bodyguards until I'm able to reach the nearest stronghold. So I will have need of your services for a while longer.” The two apprentices just blinked at her.

“Hold on, are you offering us a job?” Constance asked once she got over her surprise. The Eldest Sister clicked her tongue, looking annoyed that her offer wasn't immediately accepted. She was clearly attempting a look similar to her mother, but the effect was somewhat diminished by her disheveled clothing and the way her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, considering my protection detail was just crushed in the ruins of the manor, I suppose I am. Personally, I would prefer actual knights, but you idiots will have to do for the time being.” She sniffed haughtily. “Besides, I'm doing you a favor giving you an offer at all, instead of leaving you to my mother's ire. You'll be lucky if you're only executed for this mess once they catch you.”

“Told you,” Arnold muttered.

“With all due respect miss,” Constance drawled, causing the young heir's eye to twitch slightly, “That's an empty threat and you know it. You wouldn't make it through a day hiking through the wilderness yourself, especially now that the sun has started to set.”

“We didn't say we wouldn't take the job,” Arnold added. “We would just appreciate a little more clarification on what the position entails. Considering the circumstances and all.”

“We can discuss terms once we get moving,” the Eldest Sister grit out through her teeth. “Which I think we should do immediately.” On cue, a chorus of sirens began softly echoing out from the distance, signaling the horde of emergency responders that were certainly on their way. An expected horde, if not welcomed by the trio of new outlaws. Even a small disturbance at the manor would have summoned panicked medical professionals and authorities, and the recent explosion had been a very large one indeed. Still, Constance looked to Arnold for confirmation, who squinted out into the horizon with a considering expression on his face.

“Yes, I believe that would be wise,” Arnold responded after a moment. He pushed himself to his feet, hurriedly brushing the dirt off his legs. Constance did the same, stretching out her back with a loud pop.

“Stick close to us ma'am,” Arnold said as he started briskly walking into the forest. “It'll be hard to see in the dark but if you stay by our sides, we won't lose track of you.”

“Probably,” Constance added.

“Probably?!” the Eldest Sister shrieked as she hurriedly followed the pair into the trees. The ensuing argument quickly faded as fast as the setting sun as the group hiked further out of sight. By the time that the first ambulances and fire trucks started arriving on the scene, it was like there had never been anyone there at all.

~*~

“Naturally, we escorted the Eldest Sister to the northern stronghold without any further issues,” Constance bragged. “Though the stronghold keepers were acting a bit weird when we first showed up.”

“Apparently while we were hiking through the wilderness, there was a minor coup in the Order after a whistle-blower leaked what the Council had done to the public,” Arnold explained. “They managed to arrest a few of the Council members, but most high-ranking Order members managed to escape, including the rest of the Brightheart family. Which was unfortunate, considering a good portion of the archives and other important documents were locked behind DNA verification, specifically that of the Brightheart line. So you can imagine that the new leadership was very excited to find the Eldest Sister again and that she was willing to cooperate.” Constance nodded along as Arnold spoke, before chiming in again at the end.

“Anyways, she was offered the position of Head of the Archives, which she seemed happy about. She even managed to talk the new leadership into giving us our promotion to official Knights! Although we are also banned from getting within fifty feet of her, which personally I think is a little harsh.”

“We forced her to walk through that rotting swamp, we're lucky that we weren't executed the moment we set foot on Order territory again,” Arnold scoffed. “But I suppose that brings us to the end of our story.”

“And what an interesting story it was!” Mister Chatterbox loudly clapped his hands to his knees, pushing himself out of the chair to his feet. He held out his hand to Arnold for an enthusiastic handshake, then repeated the process with Constance. “Once again, thank you two for taking the time to tell your story on our wonderful show.”

“It was no trouble at all,” Arnold responded.

“Yeah, it was kinda nice getting to talk about everything,” Constance added.

“I must admit though, I certainly have a lot more questions about this scandal than when we started this episode,” Mister Chatterbox sighed. “Especially considering how a mythical legend like Eclipse was behind it all. I'm sure that you must be feeling so disappointed that you were unable to capture him in the end.” Arnold and Constance exchanged a glance, their expressions suddenly screaming that they had a secret that they were itching to share. The change did not go unnoticed by Mister Chatterbox, whose eyes narrowed as he studied the two knights.

“Unless, there's something else that you would like to share with the audience?” His voice was oddly soft, much different than the high-energy bellow that he had been using the entire time.

“Actually sir, now that you mention that, we are happy to report that we know exactly where Eclipse is hiding.”

Mister Chatterbox immediately stiffened, his already strained smile straining even further across his face. “Oh really. Care to enlighten us?”

“That's right folks,” Constance said with a smile, talking directly to the camera for some reason. “Eclipse is right here in this very room, sitting in the exact spot as our host right now. Isn't that right 'Mister Chatterbox', or should I say, Eclipse?” 'Mister Chatterbox's' smile dropped entirely into a flat expression. “Oh and before you try and escape, all of the crew members were replaced by Order knights while the interview was being filmed,” Constance added casually. The camera quickly swiveled around to reveal at least twenty knights in the same armor as the pair on the couch, before returning to its original angle.

With a sigh, 'Mister Chatterbox' dropped his disguise to reveal that he was indeed Eclipse.

“So then, how did you fools discover my ruse this time? Let me guess, my eyes gave me away?” Eclipse asked snidely.

“Actually, Arnold was the one to clock you this time,” Constance said. “He saw you change your shape into the Chatterbox guy when we were trying to figure out how to pay the parking meter.”

“Even if I hadn't though, it would have been obvious the moment you pulled out the mirror before the show,” Arnold added. “The real Mister Chatterbox always slightly crosses his index finger over his middle finger, but you crossed the middle over the index.”

“What can I say?” Constance shrugged. “He's really good at noticing stupid details like that.” Behind her, the knight in question was trying (and failing miserably) to hide a smug smile. It was obvious how much he was touched by the compliment, considering he didn't even take offense at how “stupid” was attached to it.

“Ah,” Eclipse simply said, an expression of extreme displeasure on his face. He glared disdainfully in the direction of the camera, presumably attempting to stare down the other knights around the set.

“Before we hand you over, there's one thing I would like to know, why didn't you dispose of the Council while you had the chance?” Arnold suddenly asked. “While in the guise of the Chosen Hero, you would have had direct access and an airtight alibi. Then no one would be able to stand in your way to commit whatever scheme you wanted.” Constance raised a hand.

“I would also like to know this.”

“Typical Guardians, always thinking in the short term,” Eclipse scoffed. “The original Council would be dead yes, but another band of the Hero's devoted followers would quickly take their place. To fully destroy the Guardian Order, I needed to lay waste to the Hero's reputation. Once my status as the Hero was legitimized after the ceremony, I would have turned the perception of the Hero into a cruel tyrant, creating a civil war and driving all of his loyal supporters away from his side. Without their aid, the Hero would never be reborn again, and then I would truly be free to do whatever I desire!” The two knights were quiet for a moment as they considered this plan.

“You know,” Constance finally said. “That's the exact kind of drawn-out and convoluted scheme that made me think you were lame.” Eclipse slumped slightly in his seat.

“Why I do I keep bothering to explain anything to simpletons?” he muttered.

“You'll have plenty of time to think about that in prison,” Arnold said, pulling a pair of handcuffs from a hidden pocket in his armor. “Now hold out your hands, we're taking you in.”

“Are you sure about that?” With a flick of his wrist, Eclipse tossed something akin to a pellet offscreen, roughly in the direction of where the other knights stood. Instantly, a loud thud could be heard, with the camera rattling violently for a moment as though it had been knocked by another object. Arnold and Constance gawped in surprise for a moment at whatever had happened before furiously leaping to their feet and drawing their swords.

“How did you knock all of the other knights unconscious? What spell did you cast on them?” Constance demanded.

“Relax,” Eclipse waved his hand dismissively. “It's nothing more than a simple paralytic gas. It won't cause any permanent damage, though they might experience some moderate muscle pain once the effect wears off.” He inspected his nails casually, completely unconcerned by the growing rage on the two knights' faces. “I'm surprised none of these experienced knights thought to search the set beforehand for any...surprises I might have installed. Knight training isn't what it's cracked up to me I suppose. Though I must admit, you two are proving much more interesting rivals than the Hero ever was. At the very least, you're less predictable.”

“Wait, really?” Constance's face immediately brightened from the perceived compliment, with her swords lowering a bit as well.

“Don't be flattered by that! He's our enemy!” Arnold yelled. Taking advantage of the distraction, Eclipse leapt out of his chair and out of range of the sharp blades.

“I'm sorry to disappoint you once more, but I believe this is where our show must end. Do not despair, we shall meet again soon enough!” Throwing another pellet to the ground, the laughing villain disappeared yet again into a small pillar of white smoke. Neither knight bothered to swipe their swords through the smoke, remembering from the manor that he was already gone the moment he left their sight.

“Not again!” Constance complained, stomping her foot angrily. “I was so sure that we had him this time.”

“We really should have cuffed him the moment that we revealed we knew his true identity,” Arnold sighed. “ Or maybe even before then just to make sure. Which is something that I'm sure the Eldest Sister will be happy to lecture us over when she reads our report.” The knight shuddered, clearly imagining what the irate woman would say.

“How's she gonna yell at us with that restraining order dummy?” Constance scoffed, reluctantly sheathing her swords. “I doubt she'd cancel and refile the paperwork just so she can give us a dressing down.”

“Video calls exist Constance!” Arnold snapped, leaning into the other knight's personal space to poke her in the chest accusingly. “And don't underestimate what the Eldest Sister is willing to do either! She is the daughter of the former Lady you know.”

Constance started walking to the camera with an annoyed look on her face. “Don't get snippy with me!” she called over her shoulder. “It's not my fault that Eclipse got away again.”

“Are you saying that its my fault?!” Arnold shrieked, incensed.

“What— That isn't what I said!”

“Well that's what you're implying!”

The pair continued to bicker as Constance fussed with the controls on the side of the camera. As she haphazardly pressed buttons and flipped switches, the image quickly devolved into multicolored static. Eventually, she found the right switch, as the screen suddenly shut off entirely into darkness.