Time does not pass the same under the dim light of a lantern. Only the jailor’s slop run indicated it was morning. My mood was as bleak as the porridge and nearly meatless chicken bone that the jailor had so kindly pushed into the cell I shared with Rose. The chicken wasn’t even salted.

If I was a Morrakian Mole person, I’d see more than a silhouette of Rose who sat against the opposite wall of the cell. I’d see tears and an ugly scrunched up face of a girl hunched over in the same way that goblins hunch over when smelling dirt. And maybe if I saw that, I’d realize how selfish I was for giving up: that I was resigned to my fate of dying as a forgotten nobody who accomplished absolutely nothing. I would be a footnote in the ledgers of Mudville’s history and that was my choice to make.

The girl sitting within the cells sitting across from me didn’t get that choice, or, at the very least, had that choice thrust open her. Because she wasn’t even born in Mudville, she’d be lucky to even get a passing mention in one of the footnotes of the footnotes. It was my devilish silver tongue that had tempted her to join the heist.

Even the most valiant of villains succumb to a little bit of stress from time to time. But the best villains know how to pick themselves back up and make an impact on the world. I was neither a villain nor was I particularly valiant. I didn’t pick myself up from the cold floor, but I decided to speak. It was a start.

“How’s your chicken bone?” I asked Rose.

“Bland. I think I cracked my tooth trying to suck out the bone marrow. The porridge leaves a lot to be desired.” Rose sniffled.

“It sure does.”

An awkward silence permeated throughout the cold dungeon air. The lingering pressure became too much, so I decided to speak again.

“Say Rose, I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess. I’m sure your family will miss you for the entirety of the eternity we’re down here.”

“I. Don’t. Have. Family. Not anymore at least.”

“Well, erm, that’s good. It’s probably a bit easier knowing no one will miss you as we rot away down here.”

“Do you have family, Arthur? You haven’t told me anything about your personal life.”

“I have a mother. But she probably thinks that I moved to a neighboring village and found success as a cobbler or something. It’s better that she doesn’t find out what I do for a living.”

“So you take her for granted? If my mother was still alive, I’d tell her every little detail, every little aspect about my life. We’d be so close and happy. We’d be so happy.” croaked Rose.

“I’m sure your mother is looking down from the heavens proud of what you’ve become. If you don’t mind me asking, how’d she meet her fate?”

Rose broke down wailing and sobbing. The question I had asked was callous. I concluded that being locked within Alric’s Catacombs had done a number on my social skills. Eventually, Rose calmed down before speaking.

“Five years old. I was five years old when I was escorted from the Manor to go on a playdate with Duke Herrington’s little brat. I was so excited to see the city, to explore outside the well-kept gates of my parent’s palace. What five year old doesn’t want to become an adventurer?”

“The kind of five year old that has seen countless adventurers. They’re drunkards, violent men that have no respect for the local farmers, shopkeepers, and street peddlers. They start brawls and kill each other like life doesn’t matter.” I interjected.

“But that wasn’t the type of adventurers I was meeting. I was meeting the adventurers who stood like statues as they were honored for protecting the kingdom, slaying disruptive beasts that brought destruction, and jump-starting innovation through the artifacts they recovered. These were kind men who sacrificed themselves to better the world.”

“The world would be a lot better without them.”

“Hey, shut it, this is my story! Anyways, we had just left the gates in our carriage. I remember looking out the window and seeing a dozen or so robed men. I had no experience of the outside world so I just thought their chanting was normal. I even enjoyed their melodic humming like foreign music, as they drew into the dirt surrounding the palace. Then it happened.”

Rose stopped talking, her lips pursed.

“What happened? You can’t leave me on a cliffhanger.”

“Nothing happened. My eyes deceived me so it doesn’t matter.”

“Magic?” I asked.

“No. No. It couldn’t have been. My eyes witnessed the palace get enveloped in a torrent of blue wistful energy. I blinked and the entire building was gone: my father, my mother, my little brother. There was no one left, no palace, just the dirt that land was built on. No one remembered my family, no one remembered me. I was thrown to the streets.”

“So you are claiming to be an actual Princess? What was like living in a Palace where you had food on the table? What was like having some respect?” I peppered her with questions.

“I was young so I don’t remember much. I remember playing in the gardens, and having the butlers follow me around so I didn’t get hurt. Master Cliff always made sure I didn’t stick myself on the thorns of the pretty rose bushes. My family was great. I loved them dearly.”

“Did you eat the pigeon that was stuffed inside a chicken that was stuffed inside a turkey?”

“Ah, Turducken was a holiday food. Also, they stuff duck into the chicken. Anyways, at first I resented the amenities that had been stolen from me. I cried as I wandered the city streets, begging for food, claiming to be a princess. No one ever believed me. But I came to appreciate the freedom. That’s why I traveled to Nosturdam for a fresh start.”

“Well, I believe you. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but I’ll raise your family from the dead if I ever learn how to. That way you can tell all those uptight Dukes and Lords and whatever to eat dirt.”

“You plan on raising my family into zombies! Like hell you’ll defile my family like that!”

“There is nothing wrong with zombies. In fact, the reason I’m here is to save my friend George, a zombie.”

“So we’re locked up in this dungeon for a dead corpse?” Rose asked, anger evident in her tone. She clenched her fist as if she was going to punch me. “All of this, all of this work for that stupid artifact to save someone who isn’t even alive?”

“George might not be alive but he’s more unalive than any other mindless corpse I know. It wouldn't feel right leaving him to die for a second time when it's my fault he’s dead.”

“It sounds like he was already dead. You can’t kill someone who's already died.”

“Oh, but you can. It isn’t like that matters anymore. I can’t save him now that I’ll live out my life down here.”

“You seriously are going to give up? After all of this, you’re just done?”

“I suppose so. I tried wiggling the iron bars but I don’t have the strength to bend them. Maybe if Azog was here it would be possible.”

“Verse four point two-two of the princess program guide states that one should never give up in the face of adversity. We haven’t even gone over our skills and devised a plan.”

“Why are you so reliant on this princess program guide all of a sudden? Seems like optimistic propaganda.” I grumbled.

“I realized that if I want to be the best tour guide this city has ever seen, I’ve got to play by the book. I’ll work my way back to being a princess in no time. This is just a small hiccup on the road to success.”

“Back to being an actual princess or a tour guide princess?”

“Every good princess starts somewhere. Trust me, I know it’ll be a long climb to get back to where I was. But this time I won’t take the large palace and carriage rides for granted.”