Frodo is still recovering from the huge fucking shock that Jonathan was not really dead–and the realization that he can score good pipeweed in Duck Village–but he finally restates Kidd’s assertion that this was never a murder case. “Yes,” Kidd replies, “the guilty person is whoever declared it a murder case by simply looking at the scene.” And then, naturally, the game deeply insults us by having the innkeeper flash back to Kidd’s introductory scene, where he does exactly that, and makes the entire ordeal about himself in the process.

All of the ducks in the room decide this is time-wasting nonsense and either leave or, in Jonathan’s case, contort back into the “gnarled root position.” I don’t want to think about some duck’s gnarled root, thanks. This leaves Kidd and Frodo to wrap up the denouement, which I will spare myself the further wasted time of recapping in full, because Kidd is a bit on the long-winded side. In short, Frodo tells him to take his talents to South Beach Buttfuck Castle. “But please don’t start another case,” Frodo adds, obviously in vain. Kidd goes, no kidding, “What? Do you think I’d make up a case just to get attention? Not my style, sorry.” Yes, I think we’ve demonstrated Kidd’s desire to remain out of the spotlight.

Good God, that took forever. At last, it’s time to return to Buttfuck and get on with the “plot” component of this chapter. But on the way back, Frodo runs into one more lame-ass, useless recruit. As Frodo runs through the Yaza Plain toward home, he comes across a man stretching on the side of the road, wearing a wife beater (on which I am probably imagining large pit stains) and green running pants. It’s pretty suggestive stretching, too, with a lot of bending over and wiggling his ass in the air. I’m surprised he’s not spritzing himself with water and rubbing his nipples. The man, named Kenji, immediately starts in on Frodo about whether he gets enough exercise. Kenji himself seems more stocky than stacked, which I assumed was due to the game’s character models, but also extends to his official artwork. Whatever. He also has a curly almost-mullet and squinty eyes, so it’s not like Frodo was super interested anyway. If he wants a potbellied lover he already has Cogsworth, and Cogs won’t nag him about going jogging.

*hides box of donuts*

I’m getting ahead of myself. Kenji notes Frodo’s scrawny, weak frame and offers to help him “work out.” Uh huh. It starts out innocently enough, with Kenji leading Frodo in some arm stretches, but a Black Screen of “Working Out” leads to Frodo standing ragged and bent in front of Kenji’s crotch. “Well?” Kenji asks, hands on his hips. “Feels good working up a sweat, huh?” Yeah, we all know what just happened here. Frodo even says, “This isn’t exercise…” and seems ready to stagger home to his rotund butler boyfriend who will do all the work or just cuddle if Frodo’s too tired, but Kenji seizes on this and shouts, “What?! This isn’t enough exercise for you? Hahahaha. All right, then!” Jesus. Frodo doesn’t have the stamina for that many times in a row! And he’s probably getting a sunburn! Frodo begs for Kenji to hear him out for a second, but this just leads to another round of vigorous “exercise.”

The scene repeats, and this time Frodo begs for water. “Water? There’s no water here!” Kenji roars in response. He doesn’t bring water with him on his jogs? In this heat? That’s just dangerous. But he adds, almost threateningly, “You can have some if you go to [Buttfuck] Castle.” Frodo manages to blurt out that that’s where he lives and “Join my group” and so on. “You’re pooped already!” Kenji says, disappointed. Wow, I think I know what his business will be at the castle, and I do not mean fitness instructor. “I’ve got just the thing to get you in tip-top shape when we get to [Buttfuck] Castle! We can start by running there! Get your feet moving! Don’t fall behind!” Kenji takes a moment to stretch and then runs off toward the castle, not even looking back as Frodo collapses in an exhausted, dehydrated heap.

Before heading home, where Kenji is probably already making a batch of strangely salty “protein shakes,” Frodo makes a quick stop in Iksay Village. The village is not yet a burnt husk reeking of Nash’s Axe body spray, so clearly this is before the attack by the Lizard Clan. As Frodo enters the town, he finds armor-clad Zexen soldiers searching around under order of a prissy nobleman in a purple beret. Frodo doesn’t even have time to be paranoid about this, because the man immediately spots Frodo and demands, “Hey, you! Come here! Take me to a castle called [Buttfuck]. It’s supposedly nearby.” This man does not deserve to find and shut down Buttfuck Castle if he can’t even find it from here. Incidentally, I have entirely lost track of which members of the Zexen Council of Dickheads our heroes have met and for all I know they all look like this chubby douche, but he does look exactly like Babyface Official, the one who was a jerk to Hugo all the way back in part 3. Frodo is a frightened, easily cowed child, so he immediately agrees to help Babyface Official ruin his life.

The party, plus Babyface Official and his knights, return to Buttfuck, where the knights waste no time in calling it a dank pit. “What do you expect?” BO asks. “This land was left behind by those savages.” Ugh, brown people! And lizards! They have no concept of landscaping. Where are the hydrangeas?! BO is just about to seek out the master of the castle–it’s funny because he’s right here!–when Cogsworth runs panting toward the group. I see Kenji already got to him. “Thank goodness you’re here!” he cries. “I received word that a Zexen Councilor’s coming to our castle!” Awkward! Cogs, too late, takes notice of BO, and BO picks up on the fact that he was led here by the very castle master he was looking for. Frodo looks back and forth between them, trying to figure out what Jack Tripper would do in this situation.

‘So…three-way?’

Cut to the manor’s dimly lit meeting hall, where, as with Chris in her last chapter, the Buttfuck Castle principals stand around and stare with naked anxiety at the Zexen official they’re terrified will make them all homeless. Unlike with Chris, though, this guy is totally going to do that. First, he asks them if the reason the castle is such a dump is that they are constantly under attack from “savages.” This gets Martha’s hackles up and BO realizes the full truth: “Not only are you carrying out business without proper approval of the Council, you’re also allowing savages to profit from it!” He adds with a fart-sniffing expression, “This is shocking, indeed.” His supper club chums at the Vinay del Sexay Yachting Society are going to be scandalized!

Frodo finally grows a spine and demands that BO stop being a racist fucking tool, because they have a “mixed community” at Buttfuck, thanks to their Rainbow Coalition Treaty. BO actually already knows about that, but counters, “Your ‘arrangement’ is over a decade old. Meanwhile, you’ve received funding from us, so we have certain rights and rules that must be obeyed.” Uh, isn’t it like 50 years old? Same difference, I guess. Samwise points out, “What you call funding wouldn’t shoe a horse, let alone support an entire community.” She’s probably correct, but I am left wondering what responsibilities Zexen would actually have here in terms of funding. Like, I imagine Frodo, Sam, and maybe Cogs would be covered, but what about all the other assholes who have been living here from the beginning, like Juan and Muto? Are they considered necessary employees who require funding? Is everyone else going to be furloughed? I am probably thinking about this way more than the designers did.

Anyway, Samwise looks like she’s about to stab Babyface Official with her spear, so Cogsworth jumps between them and tells BO how right he is about everything. God, he is a jellyfish. Maybe Frodo should give Kenji another shot. Not that he’ll have much of a chance, because BO announces, “Well, then, by the authority of the Council, I hereby give notice. Any business carried out here that is not controlled by the Guild is subject to the laws of the Zexen. All business is to cease, and business establishments are to be closed immediately. This order is also retroactive to all businesses previously established.” Piccolo requires that BO spell this out further: it means that he and Martha won’t be exempt from the GUBMINT SHUTDOWN even though they opened their semi-legal businesses years ago. I obviously squandered a great opportunity to nickname BO John Boehner.

“Y-You have no right to do this!” Frodo squeaks. “Our document is valid and proves this is common land. You’d be sentencing everyone to death!” Normally I don’t have much patience for the “Why don’t you just move?” argument, because in the real world the financial and emotional costs of uprooting and starting over somewhere else are higher than a lot of rich old white geezer fucks seem to think. But this isn’t the real world, it’s Suikoden, and I’m sorry, there is nothing keeping Martha from trucking it over to the Great Hollow to hang out with the other Karayans, or Cogsworth from being some other milquetoast lord’s prissy butler. Nobody has to live here! It takes five fucking minutes to get to another village! It’s a goddamn dump anyway!

But lest I forget, Buttfuck Castle is unique and special and has the calming sounds of flowing water or whatever the fuck, so Frodo is ready to die on this hill. BO reminds him that he’s not even a citizen of Zexen, and that “You may cause a lot of trouble for your father by being such a spoiled brat. As you are his illegitimate child, your mere presence here is putting him in a tenuous position.” Frodo pulls up short at this and looks emo as the scene fades to black. So five seconds ago Frodo was ready to cry “Damn the torpedoes!” and do anything in defense of his precious shanty town, but all it took to get him to back off was the mere mention that he’s an inconvenience to the prick of a negligent father that sent him here in the first place? Please.

Outside, BO threatens again, “I believe I’ve made myself clear. You’ll not be allowed to trouble your father any more than you already have.” Frodo, rather than thrusting his crotch at BO and screaming, “Fuck my stupid dad!” insists that he never intended to cause any trouble. Jesus. BO, of course, doesn’t care, because intentions aside he is making his daddy look bad and costing some privileged shitheads money, and we can’t have that. Cogs tries to intervene and mentions the treaty again, but BO replies, “That parchment isn’t worth the dust it’s covered in.” But that’s a lot of dust! Furthermore, Frodo is super fired and is ordered to be ready to leave with BO when he comes back, presumably to be shipped off to a monastery where pipeweed is banned and he doesn’t get thrice-daily sexy massages from Cogsworth.

NO. BAD.

Back in the foyer, Samwise yells at Frodo to snap out of his daddy issues funk so they can think of a plan, while everyone else whines a lot. The more things change. Frodo promises them, “I won’t let them get away with this!” but it’s ringing pretty hollow right now. If this truly sucks for anyone–again, it doesn’t really–it’s all the people Frodo just convinced to move here. At least the longtime inhabitants of Buttfuck have had some time to prepare for this inevitability, and weren’t sweet talked into setting up shop by a shifty hobbit in a tattered coat right before the hammer came down on the place.

‘Meaning my private crying corner.’

To take his mind off how dozens of people now blame him for their lives being ruined, Frodo takes a spin around the grounds. When he wanders into the inn, he finds some familiar (to us) faces: Hugo, Lilly, and their entourage. They’re just sitting around drinking wine like it ain’t no thing, though I’m guessing Lilly isn’t sharing with anyone. When Frodo welcomes them, Lilly replies, “Thank you. Are you that portly fellow’s son?” Ha! She is the best. Frodo averts his eyes as he tells them he’s not, with an unmistakable look that says, “Oh, if only you knew.” Duckman and Lilly ramble on about the Zexen architecture while Frodo, newly prickly about this, insists the Zexen influence here is only superficial. For now, he leaves them to Lilly’s wine.

For now, he has nothing better to do than return to his bedroom and sob into a pillow, but he finds sweet, dumb Muto waiting in his room. Muto seemingly is only there to wish Frodo a pleasant night’s sleep–I’m sure he’ll be sleeping like a log, buddy!–but Frodo asks him if there is something else on his mind. Muto goes, “Uh…” and it seems like he genuinely doesn’t remember why he’s there, but then he goes on, “I’m worried sick. I really love it here, and all the people too. I can’t bear to think of all of us forced out into the wilds, penniless.” The wilds? Little melodramatic there, dude. Frodo promises that Babyface Official is “full of it” and that his bluff is nothing to worry about. I did not take Frodo for such a good liar, but it’s not like Muto is hard to convince. “You think?” Muto asks, smiling again. “Oh, my, that’s a relief! Thank goodness! Whew! Maybe I can sleep now. Good night.” He’s going to go gnaw on his Nylabone for a while–that always helps him destress. Frodo smiles at Muto until the door clicks closed, and only then allows his face back into its default worried frown mode.