Editing Leape (section)

== '''10''' ==
''In which a bunny decides to give a heart attack''

Penn stared in shock at the mirror image of himself. “Who… ''are'' you?” he wondered aloud after a minute of surprise.

The boy in front of him broke into a grin—and this was where Penn noticed a difference. Penn had never needed braces—or, rather, he had never ''wanted'' them, and his two front teeth were perpetually slightly turned inwards, angled at each other. It was ever so slight, barely noticeable, but Penn could see that the other boy’s teeth were perfectly straight.

''Lucky duck…'' he thought, brushing a shock of hair out of his face. The boy in front of him stretched out his hand to Penn, friendly and open.

“I’m Finnian, son of Angus, Duke of Ebonshire. And it looks as if you’ve fooled ''everyone'' here into thinking you’re me. Got a secret?” This last part was said with a wink, and a snort of laughter sounded from behind Finnian, where Lethia popped up.

“Finn!” she cried with a smile, elbowing him. Finnian cast her a slightly surprised look, but returned the grin.

“What? It’s a valid question!” He turned his attention back to Penn. “On a more serious note, I’ve been informed you guys need some help—finding some sort of murderer?”

Penn slowly nodded, Lethia bobbling her head along. “Yes! Like I told you, the Queen’s life is in danger and—” she was cut off by a strict look from Finnian.

“Don’t mention that here. If the Queen really ''is'' in danger, I wouldn’t put it past a guard to be the one to be the threat. There’s been some… unrest in the Kingdom recently.” Finnian’s gaze flickered towards the shelves of books behind Penn, not focusing on any of them.

''Is he having a flashback!? Are we gonna go back in time or'' what*?* Penn wondered, watching Finnian closely. The Narrator’s voice echoed through his brain, a chortle and half-scold coming along with an explanation that, ''no'', this “incredible King Arthur book” would ''not'' have such a ''childish thing'' in it. The Narrator thought very highly of the author, whoever it was.

Finnian’s gaze cleared, and he locked eyes with Penn again. “What do you know about the people you saw in the garden? I was going to go out there last night, but my gut told me no—it’s unfortunate I wasn’t there to take down the murderers themselves.” He scowled down at the table, contemplating what could have happened.

Penn cleared his throat, somewhat apologetically. “Finnian—”

“Finn. Just call me Finn.”

“Finn, what if Lethia and I figured out who it was who was going to kill the Queen, and then you could go on with your normal civic duties?” Penn asked finally, gesturing at the last bit, trying to get the words out of his brain.

A violent headshake came from Finn. “Absolutely not—” he leaned forward, lacing his fingers together, a hardened look about the squire “—if there’s going to be some mystery solving, I plan to be helping with it. Especially if it’s involving the Queen.” Penn thought he heard his mirror murmur something about how “that’s what Sir Lancelot taught me, anyways”, but didn’t comment.

“So…” Lethia trailed off, an excited air slowly building up around her. “We’re gonna solve this mystery together? Who’s going to kill the Queen?”

Finn grinned, excitement swallowing up any fear or hesitation. “Let’s do it.” With that, he plunged his hand in the center of the table, Lethia putting hers on top of his before both of their gazes flitted to Penn.

''This could go really bad, really fast…'' he thought, trying to rationalize the whole situation still.

'''Hey! You remember what you said last time, right?!'''

… ''Last time?''

<nowiki>**</nowiki>In the steampunk world! You were all ‘I’m gonna bReAk ThE rUlEs” like an ''insane'' person. When’s that rule-breaking attitude gonna come back on, huh!? Where’s your courage? Your fight? Your spunk!? **

Penn’s eyes widened at the Narrator’s attitude. ''Courage? Fight? Spunk? You’re talking to a hockey player—not'' me.

A sound erupted from Lethia. “Penn-delum, you have to ''decide''. This or that. Fight or die. Remember what I told you earlier? About getting home soon?” This was the final straw.

With a sudden movement, Penn’s hand joined the other twos’, and he gave a final nod. “Let’s do it.”

Finn stood up, a somewhat joking air about him. “Aight, I’ll get the sword.”

Both Lethia and Penn started. “Sword!?” Penn cried, yanking his hand back from the table.

“Yes,” Finn said, sounding more like a question than an answer, giving the two a quizzical look. “Whenever one puts his hand into the middle, the hand is cut off, as a promise of what is to come to those who oppose said person.”

Penn shook his head with such violence, he was sure it looked as if it looked like he were a ragdoll. Finn burst out laughing. “Kidding! Kidding—wanted to see what you guys would say. I’ll go get some parchment.”

Lethia cast a small smile over her shoulder to Finn, who had left the room, sinking into a chair. “Imagine… having a huge supply of parchment, whenever you needed.”

“Imagine?” Penn asked, slight confusion wrought across his face. “Lethia, have you ever been to the twenty-first century?”

The fluffy-haired girl cast Penn a critical look. “Penn, I’m from the 1400s. It’s not like I could just time-travel back and forth.”

''That… would be actually pretty sick—'' Penn had time to think, before the Narrator interrupted his thoughts, her normally carefree and funny attitude replaced by an unusual stiffness.

'''That simply will not work, Leapus.'''

Penn swallowed, feeling a little bad for bringing up the topic of conversation, even though he had heard about her time period. At that moment, Finn rushed into the room, a huge rolled-up parchment in his arms, the type one might draw a map on in order to plan an attack strategy.

“You guys ready for battle strategy practice!?” he cried with excitement, throwing the parchment onto the table and lighting the candles and lanterns in the room.

When nobody exclaimed back with extreme excitement, Finn paused, looking between the two with confusion. “Sooo… the weather… eh?” He attempted a weak laugh, eyes still darting between the two.

Lethia waved her hand through the air dismissively. “Nothing, nothing, Finn. Let’s just—focus on what’s here right now. Eh?” Finnian nodded with excitement.

“Let’s do it! Okay, so here’s the deal. I’m going to give you both a crash course on everything that’s happened since…” he paused, scratching his head, considering from whence he would give a crash course. “Oh! Since I was born. And maybe a couple hundred years before that. We’ll see.”

With that, he spread out the paper, putting colorful rocks on the edges to hold the parchment’s furled-up edges down. He pulled a small bottle of ink from his pocket, beginning to speak. “Long ago, when I wasn’t even born, there was a sword in a stone. The legend goes that whoever pulled that sword from the stone would become king. Well, one day….”

⚇⚔⚇

By eleven o’clock, Penn was passed out from sheer exhaustion. He hadn’t had much time to rest the last week, and Finn stopped teaching about the history of Camelot soon afterward, he was told, due to Lethia’s always-returning yawns.

When he woke up, he found Lethia standing, brushing off her dress, with Finn leaning against a shelf, contemplating the mysteries of life.

“Mornin’,” Penn mumbled groggily, looking up from where he had collapsed on the floor.

“Good morning to you, as well,” Lethia said, giving him a nod. “Finnian, he’s awake, it’s time to go.”

Finn snapped out of his thoughts, straightening his blue tunic, before walking over to help Penn off the floor.

As Penn stood up, brushing himself off, trying to rid the dust of his clothes, he noticed they had finally changed to stay consistent with the time period. They didn’t flicker from blue to yellow, modern-er to medieval. They stayed the same, a yellow tunic and brown pants, with normal-looking shoes. Ish.

Penn ducked, barely missing an apple that was hurled his way. He looked at Lethia with surprise, eyes wide. 

Finn handed him the apple, brightly red as if in a picture book. “You could have killed me!?” Penn said finally, looking down at the apple in his hand.

Lethia gave a long sigh. “Penn Leape,” she began, starting up for a long lecture. “Honestly there’s not—” she was cut off by Finn.

“Guys? Let’s not fight? Please?” he asked, a pleading smile on his face, looking between the two. “I really wanna get to the bottom of this mystery, fast, ‘cause I care about the Queen… can you put off your fighting for now?”

Immediately, Lethia nodded, agreeing with him. “Right. The Queen should be saved—let us embark!” And with that, she fast-walked out the door. Penn picked up a bag he had been lent by Finnian, beginning out the door, followed closely by Finn.

The squire led them out into the bright afternoon sunlight and to the garden where Penn had been with Lethia, what seemed weeks ago.

“This is where you saw them?” Finn asked, looking around.

“Yup!  Right here,” proclaimed Lethia, walking over to a large, empty, courtyard bit in the garden.

“And you’re sure they were plotting to kill the Queen?” Finn asked, clarifying the small detail for the twelfth time,

Slowly nodding his head, Penn gave a quiet “mhm,” looking at the spot and remembering the painful tackle Lethia had given him upon finding him. He rubbed his shoulder, which had hurt for days afterwards.

Finn strode forward to ask Lethia more questions, such as what the men’s voices sounded like, about how yey high they were, and the like. Penn’s eyes, meanwhile, were drawn elsewhere.

At first, he thought it was a mirage; he stared and squinted at a small outcropping of carefully-trimmed bushes and flowers, beautifully modeled to look just so. When the thing didn’t disappear, Penn blinked once more, before his eyes fully focused on it.

A small, white, bunny—''no, a'' hare, *Penn’s mind informed him—*sat in front of the rose bushes, ears twitching as it seemed to listen in on Finn and Lethia’s conversation. Its large, brown, eyes locked with Penn’s, and it blinked, giving an inquisitive head tilt. Then, it charged at Penn, right at the swirling color vortex that was beginning to form around him.