After Mimi's dire warnings about Martin Relen and the expression on Peter's face—he looked like he was guiding Philip to his funeral—Philip had expected Martin to look like a devil or worse. What he was not expecting was for Martin to look like was a short, scrawny teenage boy with tousled black hair and deep black eyes. The boy sprang to his feet in the small but well-furnished sitting room, greeting Philip with a quick and easy smile. Philip, however, was drawn to how the boy's clothes seem to hang off of him. Didn't he eat anything? "Hello!" Martin Relen said blithely in a British accent.

"Err," Philip said. "Hello." It seemed the safest way to go.

Mimi stayed close to Philip, her hand hovering just above his arm. She seemed awfully nervous in front of the cheerful boy. Martin absently pulled the sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt up from where it was covering his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he went on. Philip was distracted by the fact that he'd determined Martin was only fourteen, maybe fifteen. "I suppose you're Philip Andric, right?"

"Um ... yeah. And this is my friend, Mimi Winthrop," Philip said, finding his voice at last.

"Miriam," she corrected him sharply, sending him a glare.

Martin's smile widened. "As I'm sure you've guessed, I'm Martin Relen. Peter!" he added as the Russian tried to slip from the room. "Won't you stay for tea?"

"Nyet." Peter shook his head and hurried from the room like a frightened puppy—not normally something that could apply to the burly Guardian.

Martin's smile faded and he stared after Peter with an unreadable expression. Silence fell over them for a long moment before he turned back to Philip. "You're famous, you know," Martin commented. "All the Guardians look up to you."

"They do?" Philip questioned with a frown.

Martin nodded. "I don't mean to embarrass you," he said hastily, "but your constant attempts to make The Story better for its occupants is a worthy cause. A lot of us think so."

"Well, I don't," Mimi interrupted flatly. Martin looked at her, his eyes widening. "They aren't people. They're simply characters in a book. They no more control their fates than a fish can prevent itself from being hooked eventually. Saying they're people is like saying a dog is a person, or a cat."

"Well, there are some dogs and cats in The Story," Philip pointed out. "Like the musicians of—"

"I don't care!" Mimi snapped. "They aren't people. End of story!"

"Forgive me, Miss Winthrop," Martin said quietly. "But I believe you're wrong. How many people in The Story have you interacted with?"

Mimi blinked, obviously not expecting Martin to cross her. Normally, people tried to steer clear of Mimi's quick temper. Either Martin didn't care or just hadn't heard of Mimi's terrible anger. Her bravado was back in a moment. "I beg your pardon!" she snapped. "I—I don't interact with many members of The Story. It's simpler that way. Far less to change if you don't interact with anybody."

Martin spread his hands in a "there-you-have-it" gesture. "If you haven't interacted with any of the members of The Story, then how do you know that they're not people? You can't convince someone you know something if you don't really know it."

Mimi straightened her shoulders and glared at him. "And what do you know? It's no secret your parents kept you out of The Story. You've never even been inside."

Martin grinned. "That's going to change today, isn't it?" he said, looking at Philip. "We're going into the Camelot Story to fix your latest mistake."

"My latest mistake?" Philip said, frowning. "I don't make that many, Martin."

"Could've fooled me," Martin replied. "Will you be coming with us, Miss Winthrop?"

Mimi glowered at them both, as if Martin's challenge of her was somehow Philip's fault. "After this conversation? I don't think I'm going to let you two out of my sight," she replied. "You'll manage to ruin everything."

"That's not very nice," Martin said. "We could figure it out with or without you."

Although Philip could have warned Martin that he was essentially poking the bear, Mimi didn't react the way he expected. She looked at Martin with a peculiar expression on her face, a mixture of confusion and sadness. "You'll have to figure it out with me," was all she said. "Whenever the two of you are ready." Then she marched out of the room.

Philip sighed. "You realize I intend to marry that girl one day, right?" he said to Martin. "You don't need to make her hate me any more than she already does."

Martin smiled apologetically. "Sorry. It's just I keep thinking that all of us could end up in The Story someday, and what would being superior over them gain us then? We'd be one of them."

"I don't really think that—" Philip began.

Martin stopped him. "Honestly, Philip, do you believe that? That you'll never become one of The Story? It's where we're all destined, mark my words. It's only a matter of how we go. With dignity, or kicking and screaming."

Philip concealed a shudder at Martin's dire warning. Although he'd previously been thinking of him as a boy, speaking with him now made Philip realize that Martin had wisdom beyond his years. His cold black eyes fixed on Philip's face, no expression evident. It was as if Martin didn't feel any emotion at that point. "That's ... cheery," Philip managed at last.

Without warning, Martin smiled again. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be such a downer. My mum and dad always told me I tended to be too dark and sarcastic." A thoughtful expression came over his face, and he started chewing his lip.

"I'm sorry about your parents," Philip ventured to say. "I understand your pain."

Martin glanced at him before shrugging. "Not many of the Guardians were probably very sad to hear of it," he said.

"Were they written in?"

"Possibly. I don't know. I just received a letter telling me my parents wouldn't be coming home," Martin admitted. "Not exactly a very personal farewell to the people I owe my existence to. Have you ever considered what character you'd like to be in The Story, if you ever got written in?"

"I keep telling you, I'm not going to get written in," Philip said, losing patience with Martin. "And if I do, it's not like they're going to let me pick! Besides, there are a lot of things keeping me out of The Story."

"Miriam, you mean."

Philip shrugged, trying to ignore the blush that rose to his cheeks. "I think that she thinks I like to annoy her because I dislike her," he confessed. "But that's not the case. That's not the case at all."

"I've never fallen in love," Martin commented. "What's it like?"

Philip sighed. "If this is what having a protégé is like, I'd rather get written in," he groaned.

"Sorry," Martin said.

"Not your fault," Philip answered. "I'm not so good with mentoring and stuff. I like to forge my own path, as Mimi says. Following the rules gets boring. Of course, now I have the 'responsibility' that if I get written in, the same will be done to you just for being my protégé."

Martin shrugged. "What will be, will be," he replied. "If I am to be written in, what better person to enter The Story with but my mentor?"

Philip stared at Martin, his eyes widening. "Whoa, whoa. I haven't even been your mentor for five minutes yet, and you're all ready to enter The Story as a character with me?"

"I've looked up to you for a long time," Martin explained, but Philip sensed there was something more to Martin's desire than just his "mentor". Perhaps he harbored the hope of being able to see his parents again. Or maybe his reasons were more sinister ... It took Philip a moment to realize Martin was speaking to him again. "Shall we go?"

Philip nodded. "We'd better not keep Mimi waiting. She can be a real bear if we're not fast."

Martin laughed. "I can see that. She's a real bear a lot of the time, isn't she?"

Philip shifted awkwardly. He didn't want to Martin to think that Mimi was a monster. She had more reason than anyone to despise The Story. It had claimed the lives of not only her parents, but her two older brothers as well. As the only surviving member of the Winthrop Guardian family, she had a lot on her shoulders, having to make up for the lack of three Guardians who had been wiped out in one go. "Just ... give her some space," was all Philip said. There was no way he was airing Mimi's dirty laundry with someone he barely knew, protégé or not. "She's got a lot on her plate. Which is why we definitely shouldn't keep her waiting."

Martin inclined his head to Philip. "Agreed. My apologies for hastily judging Miss Winthrop. I can only hope that she warms to me, and that you do as well. I understand I can be a bit ... difficult to work with, but I'm sure we'll get along famously. As long as you don't start singing."

As Philip went to turn the knob, Martin's words sunk in and he turned around. "Singing?" he repeated.

Martin looked embarrassed. "I can't abide music," he explained sheepishly. "It drives me to the point of insanity and beyond."

Philip blinked. "I'll bear that in mind," he managed, finding Martin to be extraordinarily confusing. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find something to say. Absently, he hoped that he wouldn't get stuck with Martin for too long. Maybe the Guardians would think he had reformed at some point and send the boy away. "Shall we go?"

"Yes, let's," Martin agreed, and he and his new mentor went out the door after Mimi.