"What is the meaning of this?!" A red-faced Nicobar leaned so far out of his balcony that he almost fell. He bellowed for the guards. The actors were not actors at all, but the bandits all along!
The Prince had been slowly enjoying the performance less and less. It became quite clear to him that the performers were having fun at his expense. The guests, too, were enjoying themselves a bit too much, with each burst of laughter spiking his ire. When the curtain fell and exposed not only the princess, but Grimholt, flagrantly disobeying him the final straw shattered the camel's back.
"Sheriff!" He demanded in white hot rage. "Where are you, you worthless scrap metal?!"
The guards descended upon the makeshift stage, where a brawl had begun. Alarmed guests shrieked and ran from the pews, and props flew as actors scrambled away. Count Cinbran grabbed the priest and yanked him down behind the altar, just in time to miss a hurled boot. Nicobar sealed the doors as frightened attendees attempted to flee.
The Prince snapped open the front of his balcony, and the enchanted carpet unfurled into a descending staircase. He flew down the steps, nearly tripping over his heavy fur cape. At the bottom a guard waited with the Princess. Adora struggled in his arms and reached desperately for Grimholt.
"Princess!" The outlaw cried out, his voice raw and strangled. Another guard roughly restrained him. "Princess Adora!"
Nicobar drew symbols in the air with his hand, eerie light glowing from his palm. Slowly, like an eye opening, a portal appeared. Through it they could see the Sheriff was the stormy beach, engaged in a fight with Lady Hersillia and Hurricane
"Sheriff!" Nicobar shouted against the storm. Rain splashed through the portal, and wind whipped his hair. "What in God's name are you doing?!"
"Your majesty," said the Sheriff. "I was stop-"
"Do not give me excuses! Get back here, this instant!" Nicobar reached through the portal, grabbed the Sheriff's metal arm, and yanked, hard. As he did, the Sheriff ensnared Lady Hersillia who flew through after him.
"Yes you can!" She yelled to Hurricane. "Remember what I told you about magic! Anyone can do it!"
The Sheriff looked a bit unsteady as the portal sealed up in a blink, but Lady Hersillia looked frightfully pale and soaked to the bone. She nearly collapsed, but was quickly apprehended by the guard. Nicobar grabbed Adora and shoved her into the Sheriff's arms, then clapped his hands.
"There!" He said, exasperated. "Finally everyone is in attendance. Guards escort everyone back to their seats. We have a wedding to commence. Make sure this one has a special seat." He roughly poked Grimholt's chest. The pitiful outlaw was close to death, but his gaze burned with wrath. "Seat him right in the front, so he does not miss even a moment."
"The wedding is off!"Cried Count Cinbran, alarmed. "With all due respect."
"Come now, Cinbran," Nicobar responded jovially, clapping a hand on the Count's back. Then he took him roughly by the back of the neck, shaking him as he spoke. "We had a deal, my dear boy. Contracts have already been signed. Guards! Tie up the bride, the groom, and everyone save myself and the priest."
The priest yanked free from the guard that restrained him. "I won't be party to this, Your Majesty! The Lord would never desire these two young people be married against their will. I cannot, in good conscious, perform this ceremony. You ought to be ashamed-"
"Fine!" Nicobar interjected with a loud, weary sigh. "Tie up the priest too. I'll perform the blasted ceremony myself. Come hell or high water we are having a wedding! Sheriff, you walk the Princess down the aisle and ensure there is no more trouble."
With attention diverted, Count Cinbran cut through the ropes that restrained him. He had always found the ceremonial knife up the sleeve rather antiquated, but today he had never been more grateful. He was free quickly, and the priest noticed this, but not the guards beside Cinbran.
In a moment of divine inspiration, the priest collapsed, feigning a heart attack, capturing the guards' attention. Cinbran dipped his head in thanks to the old man melodramatically writhing on the ground and slipped away, unseen. Guests were rounded up and thrown down into their seats. Guard who disobeyed were beaten and tied up too. The rest followed in fear.
The Count dove into the first row of pews and used the knife to cut through Grimholt's ropes.
"What are you doing?" Asked an astonished, and obviously exhausted Grimholt.
"Helping you," Cinbran responded.
"I can see that. Why are you helping me?"
"It has recently occurred to me that I have been undervaluing marriage. I've grown a bit fond of Adora myself, but you obviously love one another. To the point of insanity. No money in the world is worth continuing this fight with you. You win." He sliced through the ropes and freed the bandit. "Besides, you've inspired me."
"How so?" Grimholt asked, rubbing his wrists.
"If love is so worth fighting for, it might behoove me to find a woman who loves me for me and not my money. I'm sorry, Sylven. This whole mess is my fault."
"No. It's Nicobar's fault." Grimholt tried to stand, but fell back into his seat. "It's too late now, Cinbran. I can't save her."
But it wasn't too late. It's never too late for a miracle! Who can stay sad at a wedding?
The Sheriff and Adora were at the end of the aisle, while Nicobar waited impatiently on the other end. The Sheriff held her in his metal arms, with no roughness in his grip. Unfortunately, he was far too strong for her to pry apart his arms. It was like a terrible hug, and one that she was desperate to escape.
"What are you waiting for?" Demanded Nicobar. The organ player trembled in her seat, and began to play only when a guard held his sword aloft. The Sheriff, surprised, changed his hold her and began to walk her down the aisle.
"Please, Sheriff," Adora pleaded desperately, quietly. "Please don't do this."
"I have been ordered to."
"I know you have a small part of Sylven in you. He told me what you did. That's why you've been so different of late. You are not the same Sheriff anymore. Sylven would be a hero and save the day. Couldn't you be a hero instead of the villain for once?"
The Sheriff stopped suddenly, halfway down the aisle. He looked down at her. With remorse in his cold voice he asked, "could you forgive me for all I've done?"
"Forgive you?" An icy hand gripped her heart. She never could have expected that.
"What is the bleeding problem now?" Yelled Nicobar, fumbling to rip off his cape.
The Sheriff ignored him, instead focusing the burning intensity of his gaze upon Adora. "I could not understand before, the things I've done to others, but now I do. I am not the same Sheriff. I have but a fraction of Sylven's life force within me, his emotions, his beliefs, and it is overwhelming. I want to be a hero, Adora, but I can not be brave enough to be one without someone's forgiveness. If there is anyone in this whole kingdom who might have it in their heart to forgive me, despite how little I deserve that, it would be you."
"Must I do everything myself?" Prince Nicobar roared. He unsheathed his own sword and stalked down the aisle. "Worthless garbage. Meaningless metal!"
She searched deep within herself. The Sheriff had been like a bad dream, a boogeyman haunting the shadows of Stormwatch for nearly her entire life, but he had not asked to do those things. He had not asked to be created, let alone to create evil.
Nicobar was fast approaching.
The only thing the Sheriff had ever asked for was her forgiveness. He had only sewn evil. What goodness might he strive for with her forgiveness granted?
"I forgive you, Sheriff," she said, feeling tears slip down her cheeks. "I forgive you."
The Prince swung his sword down hard on the Sheriff, but the metal man grabbed the blade and destroyed the, and threw it aside. Then swiftly he took Nicobar by the throat and hoisted him into the air.
He made that horrible undulating noise. The Sheriff was laughing.
"Thank you, Princess. I love you, Adora, because Sylven loves you. Oh, how headores you, my dear. If only you knew. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
With his free hand the Sheriff threw Adora up like she weighed nothing, and she landed precariously atop the grand chandelier. The magic flames did not burn, but made her ivory gown glow with color. Nicobar struggled under the Sheriff's crushing grasp, legs kicking uselessly.
"I forgive you, creator," the Sheriff said. "I love you too. Not because of Grimholt."
"I… don't… need it," Nicobar said with difficulty. Then he spit on the Sheriff.
In response, the Sheriff slammed Nicobar down and shoved him, hard, sending him sliding down the aisle and crashing to the alter. Then Sheriff began to vibrate furiously, his metal shell quickly becoming a blazing cherry red.
"I'm going to do the first good deed I've ever done."At last, he exploded.
The explosion was deafening and bright, shattering the windows all at once, and making the chandelier swing dangerously. The storm outside changed, but rain and wind whipped through the chapel. Statues of saints and angels trembled from the gale. Adora clung desperately to the chandelier.
When it was all over, latent sparks of magic rained down. The Sheriff was gone, just a scorch mark on the floor where he once stood.
Grimholt was thrown violently backward by an invisible hand, and flew to the ground. A palpable rush of magical force flew into him. He coughed and rolled onto his stomach. Pushing himself up the noise slowly changed until, at long last, he was finally laughing.
"Now that," he said brightly, stretching his hands, motion once again fluid. "Is one hell of an experience. Shall we, Nicobar?" He removed the cutlass from his hip, but with much less panache than normal. Swift, and ruthless. "Because I, for one, am not feeling particularly forgiving."
He flew forward with alarming speed, his sword low and ready. Nicobar scrabbled back against the alter, unarmed. He called for the guards, but with no threat of the Sheriff any longer, they refused his call. Instead they worked with the guests to get free of the chapel as Nicobar's magical barrier was slowly coming undone.
Grimholt dove at the Prince, just missing his head. Nicobar managed to roll away at the last second.
"Stop, don't do this," he groveled. "I'll give you whatever you want. You can marry the Princess!"
"All I want is for you to die." He dove again.
There was a flash, the shattering of a pocket spell by Nicobar. Gray smoke engulfed them, temporarily blinding the outlaw. Something powerful slammed into his chest and knocked him down.
"The feeling is mutual," growled the Prince somewhere within the magic fog.
Grimholt saw the magic blade a moment too late, it's sharp enchanted, metal cutting across his arm as he rolled out of the way of a worse wound. He stood, cutlass at the ready, searching for Nicobar.
Meanwhile, Cinbran made to free the outlaws. The Phantom, who had been bound exceptionally tightly, fought against her restraints. She looked up to the chandelier where Adora was struggling to maintain her hold on the crystal. It swung worryingly back and forth, her dress trailing with each swing.
"Adora!" Varena screamed. "Hold on!"
Grimholt looked around in alarm for Adora. He had lost track of her in the blast and had falsely assumed she was safe. There was creaking noise and a frightened yelp. Looking directly up, he saw the love of his life in peril above.
The smoke had cleared. Nicobar lunged at Grimholt with a yell, and the outlaw leapt back, a short hop and not a theatrical tumble, his jaw setting. He would never have an opportunity like this again. He might still be woozy, but if he played his cards right, fought ruthlessly, he could finally give Nicobar what he deserved.
What he had always deserved. No mercy.
"Varena, I'm slipping!" Adora cried, fear rising in her voice.
Stabbing forward Grimholt landed a blow against Nicobar, a rough cut into the meat of the Prince's chest. Nicobar bellowed in pain and rage, digging in his pockets for any more spells. Grimholt steeled himself, his own anger and outrage fueling him in return.
Almost too easily, he used the force of the oncoming Nicobar against him, and flipped the Prince onto his back. The monarch crashed into a pew and his enchanted sword went skidding across the marble floor. A brave guest snatched it to keep it away from Nicobar. Grimholt loomed over the Prince, miserably huddled on the ground.
"Please," Nicobar said, his voice high and tearful. "Please don't kill me. I'll give you whatever you want. Money, women, anything."
"I have had all of those things, and I never wanted them. I never wanted to be a pirate or an outlaw. I wanted to be a gardener like my father. I wanted to stay where he was buried, to not be thrown out of my only home before he was cold in the ground. I want you to pay for everything you have done to me and to all the people of Stormwatch. I. Want. You. To. Die."
The cutlass was just above Nicobar's throat, inches away from retribution. The Prince openly wept now.
The chandelier gave another loud groan and Adora shrieked in terror. It was coming undone from the ceiling.
"I can't hold on any longer!" Her grip gave out and she was falling, crying in fear.
Then, suddenly, she landed in strong arms. Grimholt collapsed under her, his body absorbing the shock. Her dress tangled them both in white, itchy lace.
"I told you," he said with a pained breath. "I could catch you from any height."
"Thank God for you." Tears in her eyes, the princess kissed her outlaw again and again and again.
Nicobar did not waste a moment to escape. He sprang up from his seat and made a dash for the door. Varena, now free, met him with a crowd. In a matter of moments the Prince was restrained, tied up, and thrown down into a pew.
Grimholt detangled himself from Adora, helping her stand. Then he turned to leave, to finish Nicobar off once and for all, but she caught him by his hand.
"Have mercy on him," she said softly, trembling. "Please."
He did not, could not, respond to such a request. Instead he kissed her hand, almost without thinking, and let it fall.
Down the aisle he walked, only stopping to pick up his cutlass. Around his sword was a somewhat intact stained glass window, dislodged during the Sheriff's final farewell. The eyes of an anguished mother looked imploringly up at him.
He took the sword regardless.
At long last, he towered over Nicobar. His cutlass waited, hungry. Grimholt urged himself to move the blade.
Instead he said something that surprised everyone.
"Apologize." His red hot rage was just barely contained, sword ready. "For everything you've done. To me, to Adora, to Stormwatch, to everyone."
"I am sorry," said Nicobar, shaking. "I am so, so, so sorry."
"I wish I could believe you." With a yell of frustration, Grimholt threw the cutlass down again. "Untie him, let him go. Get out of here. Run far, far, far away before I change my mind. You will find no home to welcome you in my kingdom."
The Phantom, Gristle, and Echo moved when the guards did not, and untied the Prince. Nicobar muttered thank you over and over again. Everyone else watched in disbelief as the bedraggled once ruler of Stormwatch scurried away like the rat he was.
Then there was a sudden shattering noise and smoke. A new set of wedding guests had arrived, fashionably late.
Nicobar ran smack into the chest of a tall, proud man with a barrel chest and graying beard. The Prince looked up and horror to see the face of his elder brother Finbar looking down at him. Surrounding him were a rain-soaked pirate crew, including Nolan, and an exhausted looking Hurricane.
The Good King had finally returned.