The Chosen One, with a rare display of tact, had wandered into the inn and asked Sencha Bard to go get Definitely Bad Guy from his tower rather than just asking Qube to go fetch the Mage who was supposed to be looking to remove his curse but was also probably busy having complicated feelings about the Healer and the Evil Emperor.

To everyone’s surprise, Sexy Screamy Spider Lady had offered to go instead.

“I find these quarters are rather cramping my style,” she said, as various chickens marched past her. Some of them passed harmlessly through her body, while others were flung across the room the second they came into contact with her. She ignored the birds with a poise that showcased her Royal lineage. “Plus, he’s enjoying himself, I wouldn’t want to ruin his fun, the poor dear.”

Sencha Bard was, in fact, visibly enjoying himself. He was standing on one of the inn’s wooden tables, regaling all the patrons with the story of their trip to the Light Temple.

“But it was not to be! The pharaoh, tho’ given a new lease on life, could ne’er break himself from the tyranny of hatred, and he turned against us, his saviours, and his people, his duty! That freedom came with a price, my good folk, but it was one I would gladly see paid a hundred times o’er before I agreed to let us remain, stagnant and trapped!”

He waved his hat about, the feather stuck in it drifting dangerously close to the chandelier. Everybody continued to sit, listening to his story with polite interest. Even the Inn Bard had fallen silent, and sat down on the rickety chair in her corner.

“That’s a shame, that is,” one of the patrons, a gnarled old man with a pipe permanently jammed in his mouth, said. “And him a pharaoh and all.”

“They don’t make ‘em like they used to,” the old man who had first spoken to them when they arrived agreed somberly. He looked like a sailor, despite the fact they weren’t anywhere near an ocean.

Sencha Bard must be attempting to rouse the group into leaving with a rallying story of the pharaoh being trapped in his tomb. Despite the people clearly being emotionally moved by his tale, none of them were physically moving.

The chickens, however, had no problem moving. Somehow Squiggles had organised the hens, who were now all marching out of the inn in an (admittedly rather scraggly) single line. They were even doing the chicken equivalent of marching, which was impressive. Squiggles led them out to the centre of the plaza, where they strutted into a parade formation.

“For if a ruler has not the best interest of their people at heart, then what right have they to rule?” Sencha Bard was clearly trying a different tactic. Qube would have gone with just nicely asking everyone to move, but he’d probably already tried that. It was difficult to think of a way to move an entire group of people from where they were comfortable without panicking them by telling them they were all about to die.

“Yo,” the Chosen One said to Zakora, who still had a chicken on her shoulder. “You need to leave before this place blows up. Evil Emperor dude is coming and he knows you’ve got the Temple gems so he’s about to explodey everything. Dunno if he’s gonna murdernate everyone here but probably best to get out anyway.”

Clearly the social diplomacy the Chosen One had employed earlier had used up his daily allotted amount. Qube stepped forward, a little disconcerted when both Zakora and her chicken swivelled to stare directly at her.

“Please,” she said, her voice deliberately calm to try and stop any inner panic the half-orc might be feeling, “we have a plan to try and stop him but we don’t know if it’ll work and we don’t want anyone to get hurt. If you leave the Temple gems here, we might have a way of tracking them, and he’ll hopefully lead us directly to the other gems he stole from the Exiled Prince and Exiled Princess, so there’s no need to further risk your life in protecting them.”

The half-orc was still polishing a glass.

“Yeah, all right,” she said eventually.

“So flee, my good people, flee and be free!” Sencha Bard reached the crescendo of whatever rousing speech he’d been giving.

Everyone applauded, even Zakora gave an approving nod.

But none of them moved.

“Um, could everyone please leave?” Qube asked, raising her voice to be heard over the inn music playing in her head.

Everyone turned and looked at her, several of the patrons made agreeing sounds, but still nobody moved.

“Chosen One,” Qube hissed, “what’s going on? Why isn’t anybody leaving?” The Chosen One pulled a face, but didn’t answer.

Maybe the patrons were scared? Given she’d never seen Zakora leave her post at the inn, despite acquiring several tokens, maybe she was frightened to? She could understand that. While Qube had always wanted to leave the village and start her adventure, there had been a part of her that had been trepidated about it.

“Zakora…” Qube said softly. The half-orc looked at her. Her chicken did too. “It’s okay. It’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Cobbletown is a safe place, full of regular people.” Qube was maybe slightly exaggerating there, but compared to the rest of the kingdom she was mostly correct. Regular, after all, was a relative term.

“I’ll be using the tokens to go to the Royal areas,” Zakora said. On the surface she sounded her same gravelly, solemn self but, now she was listening for it, Qube could hear an undercurrent of fear.

“You will,” Qube said resolutely. “You, and everyone here, will go to the Royal areas, and you’ll see all the wonderful sights, and have lots of fun together.”

“We get to go to the Royal areas?” the initial patron who’d responded to Sencha Bard’s story mumbled around his pipe, sounding wistful. “I always wanted to see the beasties.”

In a weird way everyone inside the inn reminded Qube of the automatons at Construct Crossroads. They’d spent ages yelling at each other, declaring that they were going to go to war over those two annoying sighing lovers, but in the end had happily walked home side by side.

It didn’t make a lot of sense, but then people rarely did.

Was this kind of fear what kept Mr. Igma and his brothers/cousins inside their shops, day and night? Should she be trying to free him as well?

… Maybe she should leave Mr. Igma to figure out his own fears. He certainly inspired enough of them in her.

“This is your chance,” Qube said, keeping her voice encouraging. “You can go to all the Royal places we gave you tokens for! You’ll have to get Zakora to show you which ones she’s got,” she added cunningly. “But you can’t go to any of the fun places unless you start walking!”

Qube gave Zakora a soft, genuinely understanding smile, and reached out a hand to her.

“Come on,” she said, still holding out her hand. “It’s time for you to take your patrons, and go on your own adventure.”

Realistically speaking, wandering around Cobbletown looking at various shops wasn’t much of an adventure, but Qube still felt her heart tighten as Zakora sucked in a deep breath, took her outstretched hand, and finally left the bar.

She dropped the Temple gems on the counter, let go of Qube’s hand, and nodded at the Chosen One as she walked past him.

“I’ve updated your map with the final Temple location,” Zakora said roughly. “I don’t think you’ll need me for anything else. Goodbye, Hero. Don’t forget your promise.”

As the half-orc left, the rest followed, all streaming out behind their bartender as she set off towards the Royal Bestiary. It was only once they’d disappeared out of sight that Qube realised she’d forgotten to ask for the Royal Library token, the entire reason they’d gone to the inn in the first place.

“Oh, Prophecy curse it!” she swore.

---

The memories from the future that once was were even more tangled than Qube had thought. The Evil Emperor had yet to show up, even though it was hours after her memory told her he should be there. Unless— of course! He must have been waiting for them to leave the inn before he attacked! With his flair for the dramatic, he no doubt had wanted to make a grand entrance, and had deliberately timed it with them receiving the information about the final Temple from Zakora. He probably had some listening spell, or one of the patrons was a spy, so he could really hammer home how hopeless their quest to collect all the gems was.

The petty part of Qube was extremely pleased to picture the Evil Emperor impatiently waiting for them to exit the inn so he could have his big moment. He probably didn’t even care that everyone else had left the inn; he was more interested in making a statement to the Chosen One.

For someone who claimed that the Hero was pathetic and false and tried to act like the Fighter was beneath him, he sure cared a lot about messing with the Chosen One.

Before Qube could tell the Chosen One about her theory regarding the theatrical nature of the Evil Emperor and how it could maybe be exploited, she heard Sexy Screamy Spider Lady’s voice float towards them.

“Of course I know how hard it must be, trying to sort out your feelings, but you simply must make the effort, darling. You’ve probably confused the poor girl to no end, treating her like she’d even give the time of day to that brute. You really owe it to her to clear your own mind.”

Qube had a sudden horrid suspicion about the Hunter’s motives for offering to go fetch the Mage.

The pair entered the inn, Definitely Bad Guy looking a little stunned, and Sexy Screamy Spider Lady earnest. Sencha Bard hadn’t said anything since Qube had persuaded Zakora to leave. Instead he was sitting next to the fireplace where the Inn Bard normally performed and was staring into the dancing flames. He idly plucked at his lute.

“Gang’s all here,” the Chosen One said, glancing at Qube. She gave him an encouraging smile. The Hero steeled himself, and turned to Definitely Bad Guy.

“Well, Sparky,” he said, “I think it’s time you told the other two about your history with Mr. Big ‘n’ Bad.”

Once the Chosen One had explained who that was, and had been told off by Qube for attempting to change the Evil Emperor’s name to “Baddie Daddy”, Definitely Bad Guy haltingly told the remaining two party members about how he’d been taken from an orphanage, placed in the Wizard’s Academy, then taken from that and forced into the employ of the Evil Emperor.

He’d skimmed over why he thought Qube was, of all absurd things, the concubine of the Evil Emperor, and instead had focused on how he’d thought that the Exiled Prince and Exiled Princess were doomed to failure, and that his only chance of survival was by making himself indispensable to the tyrant.

The duo took the information a lot better than they had the last time. They’d still exclaimed and been upset about learning their fellow party member had been committing high treason against the very saviours of the kingdom, but their negative emotions seemed much more geared towards the Evil Emperor, rather than the Mage.

Sencha Bard had still been generally displeased, and Sexy Screamy Spider Lady more interested in the emotional reasoning behind the why rather than anything else, but she’d expressed a great deal of sympathy for the amount of pressure the Mage Advisor must have been under to conform and even Sencha Bard had agreed that it must have been difficult for the Mage.

It was a serious conversation affecting some of the people closest to her but, once she realised just how similarly it was going even without her input, Qube still felt the appeal to tune it all out, or skip to the part where she told them about what was coming next. Especially when she thought about how, if they failed in this [Heal] plan, they might have to go through all this again.

She looked at the Chosen One, who was watching the group with a slightly detached expression. She wanted to ask him if it was ever equally frustrating to talk to her, when she was repeating lines he’d heard before, but she suppressed the question. She suspected the answer was yes, and she didn’t want to be embarrassed about something she had no control over.

Although…

“Chosen One,” she said quietly as the trio in front of them replayed their drama. “If I ever don’t notice you rolling back time and I’m saying the same thing I already had, can you please tell me? I don’t ever want to accidentally keep saying or doing the same thing over and over until you feel bored with me.”

The Hero looked at her, his face inscrutable. Then he smiled, and ruffled her hair.

“You never bore me, my student,” he said, making her swell in indignation. “But if you do, don’t worry, I’ll just tell you to skip it. After all, what else are friends for? Now, if you’re all ready, let’s get this place blown up!”