Diaz Plan Chapter 23

In the courtyard, the castle guard of Mewni assembled beneath a rapidly darkening sky, forming up by company, in groups of twenty, with their sergeant standing at attention in front of each platoon. The Queen was a nimbus of blue light, fluttering in the sky high above the castle, casting protective spells as quickly as she could. The King was decked out in brutal, barbaric, thick steel armor, holding a club nearly the size of himself, mounted on a war unicorn similarly covered in dark steel.

Captain TickTock marched back and forth in front of his men, briefly talking with each sergeant, giving orders for the coming battle. One particular sergeant, a burly brute with scars across his face and a small beard, seized him by the arm as he stopped to make his rounds. "Cap'n," he growled, "Put us on the front lines. I watched Star grow up. I taught her how to break necks, how to fight, and this bastard warlock kills her. LET ME CRUSH HIS SPINE!"

Captain TickTock gingerly removed the man's hand from his arm. "I understand your pain," he said quietly, "But you and your company will be bringing up the rear."

"The rear?! Cap'n, my platoon's the most loyal one you've got left. Why the rear?!"

Captain TickTock stepped back. "Because, sergeant, I am sure you know that there is a certain amount of unrest in the land. There is only so much you men can do against the warlock. I want my most loyal platoon protecting the Queen from any surprise attacks from the rear."

"But Cap'n, wouldn't it be better if we were right by the Queen, to protect her-"

"Soldier," said Captain TickTock coldly, "You have your orders. I don't need your opinion, I need your obedience. Now carry them out."

The sergeant watched as the robot marched away, then whistled. A tall, thin, sneaky-looking soldier broke ranks and appeared at his side. "What do you think of that, Corporal?"

"Somehow I am unsurprised, Sarge."

Both soldiers had been with the castle guard for a long time, since well before Star had been born. Captain TickTock had been their commander the entire time, and they had always thought he had done his best in the position. Hell, he had developed a reputation for really caring for the men under his command, for protecting them from the apathy and sometimes brutal commands of the Queen. But ever since the warlock arrived, they couldn't help but notice that all the men most loyal to the Queen were the ones sent on pointless, doomed attacks against the warlock. They couldn't help but notice that the remaining men, when they were not openly hostile and resentful towards the monarchs, were much more loyal to Captain TickTock than anyone else.

And there was much else that made little sense. When Star had first gone to live with the Diaz's, the sergeant, being her former babysitter, had done as much of a background check on them as he could. And, true, while that had failed to unearth Mr. Diaz's past as a warlock, nothing about him - or his son - seemed to be bloodthirsty or murderous. In fact, the sergeant had once overheard the Princess on a call to her father, the King, talking about Marco. The way she had described him, he thought that she might be getting a bit of a crush on the boy, so the sergeant had taken it upon himself to do some extra-careful observation of Marco. Everything about the boy had seemed genuine.

And if Mr. Diaz was a warlock bent on the destruction of Mewni, why had he waited until his family was arrested to pursue this goal? Surely he had to know the power of the wand Star held. He must have had a thousand opportunities, while she was living there, to kill her and take the wand, if he really wanted to. Then he could have gone on a rampage across the dimensions that the universe would remember for eons. But he hadn't done anything of the sort. So why would he kill Star NOW?

"You know," said the Corporal, interrupting the sergeant's thoughts, "After that mess in the throne room, I saw Captain TickTock sneaking off with the boy. Went into a little secret passage, he did. I know where it leads, though. Down into the dungeons."

The sergeant pondered this. "Now, that is odd. If I were Captain TickTock, and a ruthless bastard - and you know he is - then I would have that boy right out on the field with a sword to his neck. Let the warlock know that if he attacks, his son bites it." The sergeant spat. "Very odd indeed." He grabbed his corporal by the arm. "Here's what I want you to do, soldier. You make your way down into those dungeons and get that boy. You keep his face covered, and you bring him to me."

"What are you going to do, Sarge?"

The sergeant considered, snorted, spat, and pulled his helmet down onto his head. "I'm going to be bringing my platoon right up next to the King and Queen. Fuck what the robot says."

From just outside the city walls, an orange glow was growing ever-brighter. The wind was howling, and the skies had grown completely dark. The warlock was almost upon them. "MARCH!" cried the King, and the assembled army began making their way towards the castle gates.

"Hurry, corporal," said the sergeant, as he began maneuvering his men into position.

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The King led the march through the streets to the city gates. As soon as he left the sanctuary of the castle, he was shocked by the throngs of dirty peasants that rushed forward, screaming obscenities. The burning eye in the sky cast odd shadows, their faces seemed contorted into something inhuman by their rage. They pelted him with rocks, and if it weren't for the guards around him, might have pulled him from his steed.

The King was by no means an arrogant sort of monarch, but his daughter's death left him with little patience for this sort of thing, especially as a warlock was about to descend upon the city. He raised his club and began bludgeoning the peasants that crowded around him. "OUT OF THE WAY!" he roared. "OUT OF THE WAY OR I'LL KILL YOU MYSELF!"

The crowd thinned, some fled, but most stayed to harass them. The screams were already almost as loud as battle. There were people on the rooftops of buildings, pelting the procession with rocks and worse. The King noticed, with some fear, that more than a few of the peasants were carrying weapons. "Sire," said a guard next to him, a giant brute with two scars across his face, "This...this is bad. We should fall back to the castle. Make the warlock come to us there."

"NO!" roared the King, bloodlust taking him. "This man killed my daughter. I will see him SUFFER!"

The King pressed forward, trampling through the crowd, towards the city gates. Above the streets, the Queen flew, glowing blue wings framed against a black sky.

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Mr. Diaz bore down on the city like a dark meteor. Beneath him, an army of undead marched, walking impervious among the flames he summoned.

Queen Butterfly watched as he roared closer and closer. She had left behind the soldiers and her husband, flitting forward to perch upon the city wall, careless of who or what was around her. None of it mattered, anyway. The battle would be between her and this warlock. "So, this is the monster that killed my daughter," she said, coldly. As Mr. Diaz drew close, a giant roaring shadow bearing down upon her like death from the sky, she raised her wand and, in a flash of blue light, summoned a huge magical barrier in front of him.

Mr. Diaz crashed into it. There was a massive explosion of blue sparks and flame. When they cleared, Mr. Diaz was still coming, though he had slowed down a bit. There was no sign of the magical barrier. The Queen raised her eyebrows as the gigantic shadow, from somewhere within its depths, shot forth a green beam of light; she just managed to dodge it by taking off into the air. Instead, it hit the wall beneath her, blowing a massive hole into the city's defenses.

Darkness fell as Mr. Diaz roared into the air above the city, complete darkness, the darkest night. No stars lit the sky. The only light came from the gigantic burning eye, and the flames that roared beneath him. The Queen paid no attention to this. She had dealt with warlocks before. Her husband and soldiers could handle the undead. She wanted only one thing.

Suddenly, she saw him. He was a dark shadow, framed against the giant burning eye, two golden whirlpools of light for eyes, carrying a green wand that glowed with brilliant green magical energy. He was aiming the wand directly at her.

Snarling, the Queen raised her wand as well, blue light pouring from it, bright as the sun.

The dark sky lit up with blinding green and blue explosions as the two joined battle.

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Marco, with a quiet industriousness, had found a jagged corner of rock along the wall of his cell, and, keeping his movements as small as possible, had sawed through the ropes binding his hands and feet.

At some point, he had begun hearing the distant sound of explosions, echoing through the castle, strong enough to shake the walls of the dungeons, though they were certainly far underground. The two guards were nervous, Marco could tell. They kept glancing about themselves after each explosion and muttering nervously.

Suddenly, though he had made no sound approaching, there was a third guard there. This one was tall, thin, and shifty-looking, and strolled up to Marco's cell with a nonchalant confidence. "I'll be taking the prisoner, boys," he said. "Captain's orders."

"What?" said one of the guards. "Captain said he's to stay here."

"Captain changed his mind," said the thin guard simply.

"You got orders?"

The thin guard gave a theatrical sigh of exasperation. "The Captain is a bit busy to be writing out every single order he gives right now. Open the cell."

The two dungeon guards exchanged looks with each other. "No...look at him. He's one of the babysitter's boys," said one with contempt.

"Well, no one can say I didn't try," said the tall, thin guard. In a flash, he clubbed one of the dungeon guards over the head. The other dungeon guard had managed to draw his sword when the tall, thin man grabbed his head and slammed it repeatedly against the wall.

"Who are you?" asked Marco, as the tall guard grabbed the cell keys from the belt of one of the unconscious soldiers.

"I'm Corporal Stout. I know, name doesn't really fit me, does it?" Stout stood up, swinging the keyring around one of his long, slender fingers, studying Marco. "You know, Sarge told me all about you. You never struck me as a killer."

"I'm NOT," shouted Marco. "I don't know what's going on, but your captain is lying about everything. Star isn't even dead! At least...that's what he told me."

"That so?" said Corporal Stout. "That's very, very interesting." Corporal Stout continued talking as he unlocked the cell. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to bring you out there where the battle is. I'm willing to bet your pa will stop as soon as he sees me with a sword to your neck. Then we can-"

Here, Corporal Stout slid open the cell doors. Marco had been holding his hands and feet together with the ropes over them, feigning that he was still bound. As soon as the door open, he burst forth with a sudden surge of adrenaline, flying past the soldier. "HEY!" cried Stout, in shock, grabbing in vain at the empty air behind Marco.

Marco sprinted as fast as he could, heading for the stairs. He looked behind him. Stout might be tall and thin, but he was also wearing full armor, and Marco was easily leaving him behind. Marco's eyes widened as Stout suddenly pulled out a dagger from his belt and flung it at him. He cried out in pain as the dagger sliced open his shoulder, but then he was bounding up the stairs, into the darkness, leaving Stout behind.