When Philip's vision cleared, he and Miriam were no longer standing in the Story room at his mansion. Instead, they were in a grey-stone room with a single door. The only furnishing in the sparse and dull room was a pedestal, housing the Guardians' Story Book. The heavy wooden door was locked, but not for much longer. It swung open and one of the Guardians came in. "Hey, Peter," Philip said to the Russian Guardian. "Having fun yet?"

Peter narrowed his dark eyes at him. "Da," was his quiet answer. "Are you prepared to be written into The Story?"

Philip grinned. "They like me too much to do that."

Peter turned to Mimi. "I would have hoped some of your common sense would have rubbed off on him," the burly Russian said.

Mimi sighed. "Don't hold your breath. He's too stubborn."

"If you're ready, then," Peter replied, dismissing the subject of Philip actually gaining some sense. The two followed the Russian Guardian through the door and into the wide hallways. The plush red rug always felt cushy beneath Philip's feet, illuminated by crystal chandeliers on the vaulted ceilings. Massive windows looked out over the green, expansive gardens filled with plants from all around the world. Guardians paced the halls, some reading, others hurrying as if they had somewhere to go. There was a strange mixture of modern clothes and clothes from The Story, including some from the Arabian Stories and Greek Stories.

Peter seemed to have little interest in any of these. He walked purposefully, and Guardians scampered out of his way. Many of them were sending Philip glares, probably assuming he was the cause of all their problems. That was unfair of them to assume; he hadn't caused all the problems in The Story. Just some.

"Byli zdes," Peter interrupted Philip's train of thought. They had stopped in front of a nondescript wooden door that Philip knew housed the most powerful Guardians of all. Two were a father and son, descendants of the Brothers Grimm. The father was called Dmitri Grimm and the son, Ernst Grimm. The other two were the descendants of Hans Christian Andersen, siblings Noah and Emma Andersen. As the most powerful German and Danish Guardians respectively, they were the rulers of the Guardians with Dmitri as their leader.

Standing outside of the room with those four Guardians, Philip felt a dry spot in the back of his throat. Bravado or not, he still got anxious when he was summoned before them. There was always a chance, no matter how small, that they would decide to eliminate him. Faking a confidence he certainly didn't feel, Philip gave Mimi a thumbs-up before putting his hand on the knob. "Well, here we go; I'm going to get written in."

"Don't even joke about that!" Mimi scolded him. "Just ... come back out, alright?"

He gave her a grin before going inside. He heard Mimi's last words before he went inside, not directed at him, but spoken to Peter. "He's going to die," she said.

On that positive note, he closed the door and faced the room beyond. Seated at a circular table were the four Guardians. The Andersens Emma and Noah were whispering to each other. They were nearly impossible to tell apart, aside from the fact that Emma had long blonde hair and Noah's was short. They fixed Philip with their watery blue eyes, like beacons from their milky-white skin. Beside them was Ernst, thirty-years-old, about the same age as the Andersens, with light brown hair, pale skin, and dark eyes. Both he and his father Dmitri were thinner than sticks, their clothes hanging off of them like they were hangers. Dmitri had white hair, but his shiny white scalp was visible through his numerous bald spots. Philip stood in front of them, straightening his shoulders unconsciously. "Philip Andric," Dmitri Grimm said in his strong German accent. "We meet again. How long has it been this time? A week?"

"A week and two days, sir," Philip said, smiling weakly.

"Again, Herr Andric?" Emma added, her eyes flashing disapprovingly. "This is becoming a bad habit."

"Maybe I just like seeing you guys," Philip suggested.

Noah laid his chin on his knuckles thoughtfully. "You don't seem to realize the enormity of your actions, Herr Philip. By willfully interfering with The Story's natural course, you have committed a great travesty, punishable by getting written into The Story or even execution."

"Whoa, hold on!" Philip said, his voice breaking in surprise. "E-execution? You've got to be kidding me. It's not like I killed anybody, or saved anybody, or anything like that!"

"Oh, really?" Ernst said. "I would direct your attention to the King Arthur Story, where you let it slip to Sir Lancelot du Lac that Arthur was the one fighting in the tournament. With Arthur's identity known to Lancelot, there is a distinct possibility that Lancelot will win his fight against Arthur, stripping him of his chance to become king."

Philip stared at his feet. He hadn't thought that one through. "I didn't mean anything by it," he stammered.

"Whether you meant anything by it or not, the fact remains that you continue to flagrantly ignore the rules of the Guardians," Dmitri interrupted Philip. "What will it take for you to actually do as you're told? You do good work for the Guardians, but that can only take you so far. There will come a time, Andric, when your actions will create more work for the Guardians than you perform, and I shall have to exact a punishment for you. Already, many of your peers are calling for me to punish you."

"I really didn't mean any harm," Philip said desperately. Never before had the leaders of the Guardians seemed so serious when addressing him. Something was most definitely different this time around. "Please. I won't do it again!"

"We all know that is a falsity, Herr Andric," Emma told him crossly. "I think we should write him in. No amount of work he can do for us is worth the trouble."

"Perhaps a more suitable punishment," Dmitri replied, sending Emma a look that clearly was intended to silence her. "Philip Andric. There is a new Guardian who has recently joined our ranks. I am placing him in your care. If you should lead him astray or should lose him, I will hold you responsible. Let it be known to you that the boy's parents perished in the line of duty, making you a suitable companion to him as well as mentor."

Philip squirmed at the reminder, but if it was being some trainee's mentor or dying that were his only choices, he guessed that he'd have to choose the former. "Okay," he said. "I'll work with that. So, umm ... when do I meet the kid?"

"As soon as possible," was Dmitri's answer. "Peter will take you to him. Then, once you're finished meeting Martin, you'll be free to go to Camelot and eliminate the danger of Lancelot defeating Arthur."

Philip scratched his head idly. "I have to fix it?"

"It is your mistake, Herr Andric," Emma reminded him coolly.

"Right," Philip mumbled. "Just checking. Alright. Thanks, guys. You won't regret it."

"See that we do not," Dmitri said, and waved a hand at Philip, dismissing him.

Philip walked out of the room, feeling dazed and relieved. He hadn't realized his life had been on such a thin wire; how could they suspect him of doing everything for the purpose of ruining The Story? They weren't anything more than simple jokes on his part. He almost didn't notice Mimi laying her hand on his. "Everything alright, Phil?" she asked with a concerned frown.

He blinked, running his hand over his hair. "I guess so. I didn't realize they were so close to getting rid of me. I didn't even really do anything wrong!"

"You broke the rules," she reminded him. "I'm surprised it hasn't come this far a lot sooner. What was their sentence?"

"I'm getting a protégé," Philip answered, running his hand through his hair again. It was a habit he had when he got nervous or confused. "His name is Martin."

An unreadable expression seemed to pass over Mimi's face. "Martin Relen?" she questioned.

Philip shrugged. "They just said Martin. And that his parents died in action."

Mimi chewed on her thumbnail briefly before fixing him with a serious look. "The Relens had a bad reputation," she warned him. "Some wonder if they really died in The Story."

"What do you mean?"

She glanced back at the door, where Peter had gone in to speak with the senior Guardians. "Some people think they were written into The Story in secret."

"Why bother?" Philip asked with a shrug. "It's not like they've ever been secretive about who they've written in before, and it's getting more common with each day."

Mimi still looked uncomfortable. "Some of them say that the Relens dabbled in sorcery. Dark magic."

"That's ridiculous," Philip protested, though a cold hand seemed to clutch his heart. "Why bother using dark magic? It's not like we Guardians don't have a special brand of sorcery ourselves."

Mimi gave a little shrug. "How should I know? Just be careful around their son. I don't ... I don't want to see you getting hurt."

Before Philip could tease her about caring for his welfare so much, the door to the audience chamber opened and Peter came out. He fixed Philip with a grim stare, like he was taking him to a funeral—possibly even Philip's own funeral. "Davai," Peter said. "I am to take you to Martin Relen."

"I'm going with him," Mimi said instantly.

Peter shrugged. "They expected you to. You will enter Camelot with him, da?"

"Yes."

"Then let us go," Peter said, and they followed him through the stone hallways to meet Martin Relen.