Chapter Text
It was a sunny afternoon in Amphibia, and the courtyard of the Newtopian Knight Guard Central Garrison was abuzz with activity. The sound of grunting echoed in the air as soldiers sparred with wooden weapons and trainers ran new recruits through vigorous exercises.
The Plantar family took in all of this as a squire led them along the south wall, out of everyone’s way. It had been a few days now since they had arrived in Newtopia, and Marcy had insisted on showing them the place where she had trained to become, as Anne had put it, an “Amazon warrior queen.” Marcy herself wasn’t with them; after spending the previous days catching up with her best friend, showing the Plantars the city and aiding King Andrias in his research into the mysterious music box, she had insisted on taking time to train and keep her skills sharp.
“Dang, these newts are hardcore,” Sprig said, looking out at all of warriors. He watched as two sparring newts went at each other, training swords flying as the wooden blades collided again and again.
“Well this is the capital of Amphibia,” Hop Pop remarked. “Only makes sense that they’d have some of the best soldiers around.”
“They’re so cool…” Polly said, eyes wide with wonder as she watched a burly newt ran a straw dummy through with a spear, lifted it high and slammed it into the ground.
“No kidding,” Anne said. Even with a few days to sink in, it still sort of blew her mind to think that Marcy, the same girl who used to trip over her own feet back home, had become this incredible warrior. Learning about the improvements she’d made to the city was one thing - she was practically a genius, after all - but all of this…
It was a lot to take in.
“Ooh! There’s Marcy now!” Sprig said with a point, bringing Anne back to reality.
The squire led them to a small dirt circle, bidding them adieu before scampering off. In the center of the circle, Marcy Wu held a wooden knife in one hand as she faced down a green-skinned newt in leather armor.
Without warning Marcy shot forward, knife swinging. The fake blade flashed through the air with lightning speed, forcing the newt to step back as he deftly dodged he swipe.
Then when Marcy stabbed instead of slashed, the newt’s hands came up, grabbing her wrist. He yanked her forward, causing her to stumble. She tried to recover, but it was too late: in one swift motion the newt turned, crouched, and threw Marcy over his shoulder with a grunt, slamming her down back-first onto the dirt with an “Oomph!”
“Ah… nice one!” Marcy said as she sat up. She brushed some pebbles from her shoulders and gave the newt a proud smile. “Your technique has really improved since the last time we sparred, Jenkins.”
“Thanks Chief,” Jenkins returned the smile as he helped Marcy to her feet. “Nice to know my hard work is paying off.”
Marcy nodded, then held the training blade out to him. “Okay, now it’s your turn to be the starving orphan with the knife.”
Jenkins took the knife, but frowned as he did so. “Don’t you think the name of this exercise is a little inappropriate?”
“Don’t you think you should be trying to stab me for food, you orphan?”
“Mar-Mar!”
Marcy looked up at the sound of her nickname, and beamed. “Anna-banana! Jenkins, we’ll pick this up later.”
Jenkins nodded, jogging off towards the garrison’s archery range while Marcy ran over to the Plantars. Anne smiled and opened her arms for a hug, which Marcy was happy to accept.
“Glad you guys could make it,” Marcy said when she pulled away. She waved one arm towards the bustling courtyard. “So, what do you think of the Newtopia Knight’s Garrison? Pretty sweet, huh?”
“It’s more than sweet, it’s amazing! ” Polly said, bouncing in place. “Look at all the weapons and armor and omigosh I love it!” She leaned forward with an eager smile. “Quick question: what’s your minimum age requirement to enroll here?”
Hop Pop sighed, rubbing his temples. “Polly sweetie, we’ve been over this. You gotta wait for your legs to come in, then you can start learnin’ how to kill folks.”
Polly frowned and crossed her arms. “Yeah yeah. Stupid biological limitations…”
“I still can’t believe you’re this great warrior now,” Anne said. “Feels like just yesterday I had to keep you from running face-first into a locker door.”
Marcy gave a proud smile as she leaned against the garrison walls with her arms crossed. “What can I say? I told you I leveled up while I was here.” She casually put one foot against the wall, only for the other to slide out from under her and send her falling to the ground. She quickly popped up with an embarrassed giggle. “Uh, I meant to do that.”
Anne just chuckled. Still the same old Marcy.
Marcy smoothed out her skirt, then looked up with bright eyes. “Oh! Since you guys are here, I’ve gotta introduce you to my crew. Follow me!”
With that Marcy turned and began marching south, the Plantars following close behind.
“So is everyone here a Ranger like you?” Sprig asked. Marcy shook her head.
“Oh no, just a few of them. You see, the Newtopian Knights are divided into four main groups.” Marcy began counting off on her fingers. “First there’s the Kingsmen, who guard the Royal Palace and personally answer to King Andrias himself. Then you’ve got the Vanguard, who patrol the city walls. There’s Enforcement, who police the streets of Newtopia.” Marcy smirked as she looked over her shoulder. “Finally you’ve got me and the Rangers, who handle any external threats to the city, like those barbari-ants we dealt with. And speaking of Rangers, here’s the entrance to our section of the garrison.”
She opened up a door in the wall marked with a stylized bow and arrow. It opened up into a spacious chamber well-lit by glow bulb mushrooms placed in sconces on the walls. Several newts of different colors garbed in gray cloaks were seated at the various tables and standing by wall-mounted weapon racks.
“What’s up, nerds!” Marcy called out as Anne and the others filed in behind her.
The newts all looked up and smiled. “Marcy!” they chorused.
“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Anne and the Plantars. They’re the ones I’ve been telling you about.” She then turned to Anne and the rest, motioning to the assembled newts. “Guys, these are my most trusted lieutenants, some of the best Rangers Newtopia has to offer.”
She pointed to each newt as she began listing names. “Meet Gary, Jerry, Larry, Harry, Mary, Terry and Finklestien.”
“ ‘Sup,” Anne said, unsure of what else to really say.
“So which of these poor saps is the one who almost got turned into ant food?” Terry asked with a chortle.
Sprig laughed awkwardly and raised a hand. “That’d be me, this poor sap over here.”
“How’d you save him again, Chief?” Asked Mary.
Marcy smirked, idly checking her fingernails. “Oh, you know. Just went in after him and gave the queen’s insides a little tickle. Nothing special.”
Finklestien gave a whistle and nod of approval. “Dang, wish I could’ve seen that for myself.”
“Hey Chief, did you tell ‘em about that time you fought off a pair of lovebirds armed with only a spear and a shoelace?” Gary asked.
“Or that time you took out a whole gang of toad marauders with a single crossbow bolt?” Terry added.
“Guys guys, come on,” Marcy said with a blush. “Yeah it was one bolt, but I shot it to trigger a rolling log trap. No big deal.”
Before long, all of the newts were chiming in with tales of Marcy’s exploits. The Plantars hung onto every word, awestruck. Anne herself hung back, glancing between the ground and her best friend. She struggled to juxtapose the memory of the clumsy, dorky Marcy she had known back home with the confident warrior Marcy who now stood before her. And Anne was happy for her, but at the same time she started to feel… discarded.
Does Marcy even need me anymore?
A knock at the door brought the conversation to a halt and snapped Anne out of her contemplation. A young newt entered, clad in the tunic of a squire.
“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” he said, holding up an envelope, “but a courier just dropped this off for Master Marcy.”
Marcy accepted the letter, examining the blue wax that sealed the envelope shut. The design displayed a tree bordered by a circle of flowering vines.
"Whoa, that's the seal of the Sycamores," Gary said. At the Plantars' confused looks, he added; "They're one of the most powerful noble families in the city."
"What could they want with the Chief?" Larry wondered aloud.
Marcy shrugged as she tore open the envelope. "Probably have a job they wanna hire me for."
"Another one already? You just took care of that barbari-ant incursion less than a week ago."
"Yeah well, this is what happens when you're Chief Ranger," Marcy said, smiling as she pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Don't worry about it; whatever the Sycamores have for me, I guarantee I can handle-"
Marcy froze.
"Oh no."
Her confident smile fell as her eyes travelled down the page. "Oh, no no no no no."
"What?" Anne asked.
Marcy ignored her, her face going pale. "Oh this is not good, this is so not good."
"Marcy, what's wrong?" Anne asked, concerned. When Marcy still didn't reply, Anne took the letter from her trembling hands and began to read aloud the flowery script.
“Dear Lady Marcy. In recognition of your services to the city of Newtopia, Lord Augustus Sycamore cordially invites you to the annual Midsummer Ball. You will find your invitation enclosed, good for you and a guest of your choosing. We sincerely hope you will grace us with your presence. Yours truly, the House of Sycamore.”
“Whoa, the Midsummer Ball?!” Harry asked, astonished.
“Uh, is that good?” Polly asked.
“The Midsummer Ball is one of the biggest events of the year,” Mary said. “The best food, the best drink, the best music, and only the most elite of the elite get invited.”
“For real?!” Anne looked up from the letter with a huge grin. “Marcy, that’s amazing!”
“Yeah, amazingly awful,” Marcy replied. She bit her bottom lip, gripping the edges of her cloak tight. “Anne, you know how bad I am with social situations, especially dances. I can’t make small talk, I start rambling about nothing when I’m nervous, I have trouble even making eye contact with people, and oh yeah I dance like a giraffe with a concussion!”
“Psst. What’s a giraffe?” Sprig whispered to Hop Pop, who shrugged in response.
“No, I’m gonna have to pass on this. Still, it’d be rude to refuse an invite to the Midsummer Ball without a good reason…” Marcy rubbed her chin, then snapped her fingers. “I know! I’ll tell them I broke my leg in a training accident!”
“But… your leg isn’t broken,” Jerry pointed out.
“Not yet it isn’t!” Marcy smiled as she walked over to one of the weapon racks and plucked a warhammer from its mounting. Everyone present cried out in shock as Marcy braced her leg against the wall and hefted the hammer overhead, only for Anne to run up and try to yank it away from her. “Anne, let go!”
“No way! Friends don’t let friends break their own legs,” Anne said. With a grunt she wrested the weapon from Marcy’s grip. “Got it - oh jeez this is heavy!”
She stumbled back and let the hammer fall, where it landed with a heavy thunk . Shaking her head, Anne grabbed Marcy’s shoulders. “Look, you don’t have to maim yourself to get out of going to this dance.”
“Well how else am I supposed to get out of going?”
“You won’t. Because I’m going to train you.” Anne beamed with pride. “Come on, socializing? Dancing? That’s like my whole thing!”
“Yeah,” Polly piped in, “Anne taught Hop Pop how to dance for a party back in Wartwood.”
“And you can’t possibly be as bad as he was when they started,” Sprig added.
“Yeah!” Hop Pop gave a thumbs-up and a supportive smile. A second passed, and he narrowed his eyes at his his grandson. “Hey!”
“I think you should go for it, Chief,” Finklestien said, with the rest of the newts voicing their support. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
Marcy looked around at everyone, then back to Anne. Confident, friendly, charismatic Anne, who could connect with people in ways Marcy never could. She looked Marcy right in the eyes, giving her a reassuring smile. Seeing that confident gaze, Marcy felt a sunbeam of hope on the frigid frost of doubt that enveloped her heart.
After all, if anyone could make Marcy into not a complete mess, it was Anne Boonchuy.
Marcy took a deep breath, smiled, and looked Anne in the eyes with a firm nod. “All right. Let’s do this.”
“Dearest Colleagues,
It seems an unexpected opportunity has presented itself. The human girl will be attending the Midsummer Ball in one week’s time. I understand some of you may have concerns, but I believe this is the moment we’ve been waiting for. Let us meet tomorrow at Rendezvous Point Charlie to debate and discuss a plan of action.
Sincerely,
X"