Meanwhile, beyond the veil of eternity, atop the ethereal pillars we find the lair of the sinister Frank and Edna Ex Mortis.

"What are you doing with your life? Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain to all my friends at the seniors center why I'm the only one without grand-kids?" the elderly raven asked, clucking her tongue.

~Leave me alone, mom.

Dark overlord Ahnyma was still looking rather banged up from the hundreds of punches, but would have happily chosen to be right there again, if only it had meant escaping this conversation.

"Oh, don't you take that tone with me, young lady! How about Margret's boy? I hear he's studying to become a lawyer." Edna Ex Mortis said, looking with beady red eyes through her spectacles, a grey haired wig set atop her head. Ravens had considerably less fashion sense than mice, relying entirely upon found items. In this case, those items served the expected purposes: they demonstrated wisdom and age, the second quality being particularly important, so that nobody would ever expect them to assist with manual labor. Exactly how the great black bird had happened to come upon a grey wig designed to fit avian proportions was anyone's guess, however.

"Fuh! Lawyers! Who needs em? Now, that young Thomas lad, he's got a good head on his shoulders, and strong wings to carry it. He's the one you should marry!" the faded feathered male replied. There was only one set of glasses, which the elderly avian couple were forced to share, ownership switching between them on alternate days. Beyond that, he instead opted for a fake beard which tied around the back of his neck. Apparently that was also a recognizable symbol of age amongst their kind, for some reason.

~God, I don't want to get married!

"Oh, what, would that interrupt your important work of, what was it? Playing with some mice, oh 'dark overlord'?" Edna asked.

~It's not playing! It's serious! It's my job and who I am! Why can't you accept that?

The bird woman sighed. "Where did we go wrong with you? I get it, all kids go through a rebellious phase, but enough is enough..." she paused, turning to her husband. "Really? Thomas? That empty headed lunk?"

"What? He's a strong boy! Focused and traditional! That's just what Melanie needs to get her head on straight."

~How many times do I have to tell you? It's Overlord Ahnyma! Nobody is going to be afraid of 'Melanie Ex Mortis'!

"Sure, sure, you wanna be scary huh? Try getting a real job! That'd shock me more than any ghost or goblin!" he continued, waving a wing to her dismissively before returning his focus to his wife "And what, you want her with that thin-legged wind-bag, who's never done an honest days work in his life? This nest is crowded enough! The last thing we need is a bunch more squawking mouths to feed, who'll never move out!"

"Oh, here we go..." the grey wigged raven rolled her eyes.

"It's true! It's all because of you and that liberal arts degree of yours! We don't have directionless slackers on my side of the family!" Frank said to her.

"Psychiatry isn't liberal arts!"

"It's all the same! Impractical gibberish that teaches young people that working with their mind is better than working with their feet! Why, back in my day, we didn't need none of this 'education', and we got along just fine."

"Yeah, it shows. Hey, remember last week when you tried to swallow a shoe-lace?" Edna asked, her red eyes narrowed.

"It looked like a worm!"

~Enough! Ugh, you two are just impossible! I'm going to my room!

And so, the mice were spared the wrath of the terrible Ahnyma Ex Mortis who instead teleported to her inner sanctum. There, surrounded by an audience of her floating minions of dark energy, she angrily ranted about how unfair life was, and how nobody understood her, to which the silent mouse-like entities would regularly and obediently nod in response.

The transition had been an odd one, but not nearly as unpleasant as the former king had feared. He had expected mockery following his fall from grace, but in reality, nobody really seemed to care all that much. In truth, not much had changed in practice, either. He was still mostly in charge of policy, along with Myriandas, the Divider. He sighed, shaking his head. That awful, wonderful woman. On one hand, she was an endless pain, and the pair had already gotten into countless, often very public shouting matches over economic policy, leading to a potential compromise which would lead to a sort of paper currency, more consistent than crumbs, yet still edible in a pinch. Like many compromises, it had pleased neither of them.

On the other hand, she was also someone that he actually could argue with, unlike most of the now greatly expanded royal staff, and especially that brother of his, who, the prince had to admit had opened his mind greatly these days, but was still incredibly clueless. Sure, during his rule, he may have had plenty of experience when it came to yelling and arguing with people, but virtually never with a true equal, someone actually capable of solid reasoning. Those debates, as regularly unproductive as they were, inspired passions within both of them that bordered on intoxicating. The pair were soon to be wed, a decision that both agreed just made good economic sense, even it did lead to another issue: Myriandas had no desire to become a princess. In her mind they were vain, air-headed, and got themselves kidnapped with alarming frequency. She was, thankfully far more flexible in that regard than Jerin (he shuddered at the idea that he had almost ended up spending the rest of his life with that annoying child), and even he had to admit that the third point did represent a legitimate concern. That was, indeed, the sort of thing that happened to princess' very often. Increased security would need to be considered.

Now, for the first time in who knows how long, he actually found himself walking among the citizenry. Nobody seemed to recognize the prince, his name much better known than his face, especially considering that unlike his brother, he didn't exactly have the most distinctive look about him. This suited him just fine. Not so long ago, the very idea of being out of the public eye had seemed like the worst fate imaginable, but it was actually nice nice to not have everyone's eyes on you, eager to catch you in a mistake. That sense of peace, however, as enjoyable as it was, would do nothing to solve the problem of his grumbling stomach.

Johanas had returned to his position of royal chef. There was no question that the mouse was passionate and, in his own way, highly skilled. Still, was it really so much to ask to want a meal that wasn't covered in blood and scabs? Fortunately, he'd recently discovered a new method of food preparation, cooking things over a flame. The results of this were mixed, and would require a lot more experimentation. Right now, the only real known method was putting something, anything over heat until the color and texture had dramatically changed. Still, the chef had appreciated the fact that it offered a whole new sort of wound to collect, trophies of his battles with newer and more dangerous dishes. As for the prince, he had liked that these sorts of wounds, as ugly as they are, were far less likely to drip onto his plate. Still, the prince had found himself craving something, anything, that wasn't charred black.

He couldn't help but notice just how crowded the street was, and soon discovered why. The general store had finally re-opened, and there was a line stretching as far as the prince could see, made up of mice eager to purchase the new "Warriors of Amaroosh" action figures. This title was, of course, meaningless gibberish, but adventuring parties needed some sort of title like that to keep them distinct from one another. The store itself had seen much better days, even if not many recently, barely standing upright, little more than a jumbled ruin. The inside was similarly a jumbled ruin, but that was hardly a change. For a little while there, Miss Mayweather had found herself in serious financial trouble. The prototypes for the new figures had represented a major investment, and just after she had sunk a large portion of her wealth into designing the Jerin version two figurine, she found herself needing to completely change her weapon and appearance!

It turned out this had also lead to a valuable opportunity, as the older models did not go to waste. Most children may have only wanted the newest version of their heroes, of course, but adult collectors? They were more than happy to shell out extra money for minor variations on their favorite characters. If anything, they would pay extra for these 'specialty' models. This was always an existing market, but one that she was now able to properly capitalize upon, which, between the increased sales and the fact that Aaron was giving her half of his paycheck for the foreseeable future in order to cover the repairs to her shop (fortunately, captain of the guards happened to be a very well paying position), she found herself quickly becoming one of the wealthiest mice in the city. She had even considered moving to the palace district, but in the end was considered unwelcome by the upper class, due to her having actual liquid assets.

Riccard, the scavenger was among those in line. He was feeling a lot better these days, awakening the morning of the battle with the dark overlord with a sudden weight off of his back. For the longest time, he had sensed the presence of the black beast with green eyes over his shoulder, ready to cut him down. He couldn't see it, of course, nor could anyone else, or even feel its presence in a strictly tangible sense, but nonetheless, it was always there. It haunted his dreams, giving him no sense of peace, only the overwhelming sensation that at any possible moment that he could die horribly, and that there was nothing that could to be done to prevent it. Then, it was simply gone without explanation. The dark presence was no more.

Despite his renewed sense of spirit and lust for life, he had vowed to never again leave the city, abandoning his life as a scavenger, which included giving up his treasure hoard. He was planning to sell the location of it to the owner of the general store in exchange for twenty crumbs and a complete collection of mint-condition Warriors of Amaroosh action figures. A worthwhile exchange, in his mind.

The prince continued past the impatient crowd, venturing onward towards the market district.

Within a nearby alley, a familiar figure looked out upon the wandering prince. He had rightfully decided that it was best to not make his appearance known. This just isn't fair, Samuel thought to himself. He stood against a wall between two houses, watching the citizens stroll back and forth. It wasn't his defeat, although that in itself he also considered to be somewhat unfair. The injustice was, of course, the loss of his outfit.

He had copies, naturally, as clothing represented an important part of ones brand, but what good were they to him now? Now that that girl was wandering around in them, how could he possibly wear them? If only he hadn't kept such a low profile before. He had his reasons, of course, and very good ones, but had more people seen him around in the outfit, they would realize that he had worn it first, whereas now if he even tried to, everyone would simply assume that he was some sort of Jerin cosplayer. A truly terrible injustice.

The mouse had other clothes of course, currently wearing a green outfit which most would consider pretty sharp, but it just wasn't the same. He no longer had his mask, either, but that represented a considerably less significant loss, seeing as how it didn't really match his current attire anyways, instead opting for a simple eye patch. His eye could have been much worse looking, simply closed with a visible scar over top it, his mouth more recognizably damaged, but unfortunately, mouth-patches weren't really a thing.

Even aside from issues of wardrobe, as urgent as they were, there was still the question of where to go from here. Returning to the castle wasn't even close to an option. Resuming his studies in the university? Nearly as bad. That was when he turned around to see a trio passing before his eyes, the young scythe wielding farmer with brown spotted fur, what looked like a bodyguard, and a third smaller mouse whose eyes were locked upon his notebook.

Samuel shrugged. It was not as though there was much work out there for magicians these days, and he was fortunate enough to have been able to keep his old sword after his defeat atop the hand of god. Might as well see how the other side lives, he thought to himself, as he stepped out from the alley, approaching the adventuring band in order to introduce himself.

Leon looked more like a tourist than a citizen, taking in all of the sights and sounds. He'd seen it all before, of course, but it was much different being a part of it, rather than simply looking down from above. Repairs were going well, both to the lower level and the overcity above. The many destroyed homes were not only being replaced, but were constructed with far more efficiency than many of the older structures, which were simple crudely laid overtop one another as needed. The more efficient constructions would do a lot to assist with the ever present issue of housing the always expanding populations. It wouldn't solve the issue entirely, of course, but even a temporary solution was far better than none at all.

The small white mouse passed by the university. Things seemed to have calmed down there, for now. With the departure of Rowan, best known among the citizens as one of Jerin's comrades, a man Leon wasn't certain that he had even spoken a single word to, the lowest chamber was now left vacant. A highly sought after place, this let to intense argument among the denizens lower levels, tensions rising until eventually erupting into a massive brawl. Thankfully, the university mice lacked the upper body strength to actually injure one another, but the city guards still needed to be called in in order to resolve the dispute. Rather than pressing any sort of criminal charges, however, King Theos instead offered the university a significant financial grant saying, in his own words, that it was nice to see them finally devoting their energies to something useful. Leon didn't entirely disagree. Nobody was hurt, and it was good to see them get a little bit of exercise.

As for the university itself, it had several new vacancies, as some of the older residents had taken to the so-called Makers tunnels. It was an odd transition for them, going from being gloomy loners to the center of attention, and, for the first time in their lives, finding themselves the most attractive mice in the room. As for the ruined mice themselves, these new arrivals weren't quite as entertaining as Jerin and her friends, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

The tavern stood nearby, and beyond it were the predictable sounds of activity. It seemed that Leon wasn't the only member of the royal family taking a break from his duties. Unlike Leon, Theos was considerably more recognizable to the average mouse, even at a casual glance, with that silly little eye-mask he started to wear doing nothing to disguise him. He never would realize that, however, as the local mice were polite enough to pretend to not recognize him.

Leon had to admit that his brother did have a certain way with the people, not only able to get them to like and agree with him, but also an ability to shut down bad ideas and opposition, something which the former king had always struggled with, in a swift and decisive manner. He wasn't entirely a figurehead, and did enact some policies, which were as popular as they were inefficient, but none of them, thus far, had proven to be too destructive. There had been a few which would have turned out truly horrific, but the new king had relatively little interest in policy, and even if he did get a particularly terrible idea into his head, it was never long before he was distracted by a newer, slightly less bad idea which could be put into place and leave the new king quite placated.

Right now, Theos, also known as the mysterious masked drunkard, was happily pummeling one of the tavern patrons, who, themselves, were endlessly proud to be beaten up by such a prominent and respectable figure.

At last prince Leon had reached the marketplace, and not a moment too soon. He munched on some large crumbs of pastry, which he had traded in exchange for smaller but somehow more valuable crumbs of pastry. He didn't care what his bride to be said, the current economic model made absolutely no sense. This was also part of the reason that they had decided to wed: to raise children knowledgeable in economic policy, which could act as a tie-breaker and settle this debate once and for all. It was a long term plan, but he suspected that it would pay off down the line. Oh, and having a bunch of tiny little mice running around which looked just like him seemed nice, too, he supposed. Even though he considered the current system to be completely ridiculous, the idea of simply eating the previous crumbs had legitimately never occurred to him.

The Starman cultist saw Leon pass by, but even at a glance recognized him as the non-spiritual type. Had he recognized the mouse as royalty, he would have risked it, and worked hard to try to convert him, but these days he picked his battles more carefully. Recruiting wasn't going well. Most people just had no interest in the Starman, much less the rituals and ceremonies involved in praising his name.

It was a real shame that he had never met Mathias, who he was the unwilling co-conspirator to, face-to-face. The former thief wasn't exactly the religious type either, but something about the idea of the god beneath the earth who expanded the minds of the mice above would have strangely appealed to him. He would have quickly raised in the ranks as well, perhaps even been among the few to occasionally hear the voice of the divine being. Very few listened, however, and far, far beneath the earth the great eye, suspended from organic purple tethers in the small cavern gazed ever upwards, towards the cosmos, and into the trillions of other eyes, much different from its own, which stared right back, and drew ever closer. It wasn't the eyes that were the problem, however. It was the mouths, and more specifically, their endless hunger.

While the prince had no intention of buying anything aside from food, he couldn't help checking out the local merchandise. None of it was of much use to him, the castle offering ample amounts of clothing, weaponry and any sort of tool that one could imagine, in far higher quality than, well, anything that could be found here. Still, it was interesting to see the sorts of things that the citizens made. He passed by another two booths, both run by mice who bared more than a passing resemblance to Jerin, but the prince newer made the connection. A lot of mice look similar to one another, after all. By sheer coincidence, he himself resembled to the young heroine. He had felt a faint twinge of guilt upon noticing the similarity of the two shopkeepers, and for not the first time, had considered going to the home of the young girl to apologize to her in person. Similarly, for not the first time, he had decided against it. She just bothered him, in a way that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Darren was more than a little bit disappointed. He thought he had come up with a great idea, a sort of artificial third leg, with which to take the strain off of the hind limbs, and others agreed with the premise. The only problem was that the only people who bought the clever new invention were the old and infirm, those who could hardly walk on their own. Sure, it wasn't a complete violation of the principle, but it was intended to be for everyone, not simply those who required it to get by. They may have been selling well, but nobody wants their prized invention to be associated entirely with weakness, injury and disease.

Fortunately, he had a new invention in mind, one which was certain to appeal to the entire populace, not just the disabled, and was a dramatic improvement over the old walking stick. It was a chair that one sat upon, but rather than being built into the ground, or even having legs, it instead had wheels, so one wouldn't need to use their own legs at all! He couldn't wait to see the faces of peoples once the new prototype was unveiled. He had no doubt that it would appeal to a far greater demographic than his past invention had.

Marrun was doing somewhat better with her own shop. She had continued to knit tails, ears and the like, but not only for the corrupted mice of the Makers tunnels. There was a growing demand among common citizens who felt that their own ears weren't quite large or round enough, tails not quite long enough. These accessories essentially were worn over top of ones originals, and while some had made the mistake of calling these items 'clothing', they were quick to realize the error of their ways. One never truly retires from the career of 'berserker' after all, they simply take extended breaks from it. Many of the mice made the error of mislabeling such things as clothing once. None did so twice.

Meanwhile, far off in the distance, the vampire clan enjoyed their daily rest. While XxHellMoonX and FromPassionPain had lamented not engaging in proper adventures, or having a significant end to their character arcs worthy of the epilogue, Lilith found herself quite content. She had met someone who had caught her fancy, and eagerly waited for a chance to visit him within his dreams tonight. As for Aaron, he had no particularly memory of these upon awakening, but couldn't help noticing that he was having a far more difficult time sleeping these days. As for Grant, he had simply continued to gather his power and bide his time.

Leon continued to pass by the many shops. For a time there was a sense of camaraderie among the merchants, in response to the attack by the dark lord, Fury. Everyone came together, helping to repair the damaged stalls, restock merchandise, and work to get everything back in order. For a while, they were even polite and civil with one another, but it didn't take long before they were back to shouting obscenities and threats across the street at their competition. While this did end the brief period of quality customer service, the customers as a whole were generally relieved to have things back to normal.

Beyond the shops, however, the prince stopped in his tracks, to watch the spectacle up ahead.

Two city guards stood over the lifeless bodies of Leonard and Gabriella.

"What do you think?" the first guard asked.

"Never seen anything like this. Multiple stab wounds, clear signs of resistance, but no trace of a murder weapon or witnesses. Do we have any suspects?" the second replied.

"Who isn't a suspect? Those two had a lot of enemies. I don't see how we could possibly solve this case."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"That's right! This is a job for the ace detectives, King Theos, and Prince Leon!"

"Duh..." the prince puppet entered, stage left, followed by the larger representation of the king.

"Oy! Quiet, youz!" Theos responded.

This is met with thunderous applause from the crowd. Gabriella was less than pleased with the change of format, not really getting why her and Leonard's characters had to be killed off, but at the same time understanding that simply ignoring them and writing them out of the show wasn't an option. Narrative consistency was very important among mouse plays. Leonard didn't really care. His attentions, as always, were focused on the one true love of his life, the wall, something which he had hoped would always require the devotion of the mouse. Whenever one portion was made taller and stronger, that meant that the others were weaker in comparison, which in turn required further attentions. He did secretly wonder if one day he would wake up in the morning, only to find that all of the walls were exactly as tall and perfectly secure, and thus in no more need of work. These were the sorts of ideas which kept the carpenter mouse up at night.

Those watching the play couldn't help but notice that the clothing for the puppets wasn't quite as distinct and vibrant as it once was. Apparently the anonymous donations of puppet attire had mysteriously ceased with the change in format.

"Whoah, all this blood sure is slippery! Eeek!" Detective Leon said, falling onto his back.

"Yeahs, dis sure is done by a real sicko. We'zes best finds some clues, n' catch thats killer before e' strikes again!" Inspector Theos exclaimed, before turning back to Leon, who was now back on his feet, and covered in white powder. "Wha? What'ses yous doin'?"

"I'm gathering evidence, like you always say!" Detective Leon proudly stated. "I'm dusting for prince!"

"I's sposda be finga-prints! Whys, I's otta!"

"Duh!" Detective Leon said, as the puppet representation of Inspector Theos clumsily flailed and punched at him.

The whole crowd roared with laughter and applause, one mouse near the back, which nobody seemed to recognize, laughing the hardest of all, slapping at his knee. Dusting for prince, Leon thought to himself, shaking his head, and wiping away a tear as his laughter slowly subsided. That's pretty good!