Chapter 133: Chapter One Hundred and Thirty: Opening Tomb Path

The instant Sewer Bard grabbed the golden crown, lights went off, the ground started shaking, and the seals carved into the tomb door started to glow, before flaking off.

 

“Oh,” Definitely Bad Guy said in a tiny voice. “That… was not something the runes had mentioned.”

 

“What did the runes say?” the Chosen One asked, sounding genuinely curious. “Like, is there actually a whole new rune language? That seems super unlikely, just in terms of effort.”

 

“It is not that they are a one to one language, as such,” Definitely Bad Guy started.

 

“Pharaoh!” Sewer Bard bellowed as the tomb door ground open. “We seek an audience with you!”

 

The music only Qube could hear blasted in her ears. It was a dark, terrible tune, not in the sense that it was terribly played, but rather as if the music itself was warning her that they had done a terrible thing.

 

Was the music judging the morality of her actions? That didn’t seem very polite. They’d had very sound reasoning for breaking the seals that they’d been warned would unleash a terrible tyrant over the land! The music just didn’t understand the nuance of the diplomatic situation they were dealing with!

 

Still, as clouds of dust billowed out from the opening doorway, Qube had to admit that she was starting to feel a little uneasy about what they’d just done. It probably didn’t help that Sewer Bard was laughing in a way that was starting to remind her of the Evil Emperor.

 

“Yes!” Sewer Bard shouted, holding the crown over his head with both hands. “We, and we alone, have decided to seek you out! Come, pharaoh, and parlay with us, so that we may determine your fate! That is the power we hold!”

 

“Um, Sewer Bard,” Qube said timidly from behind the man. “We don’t want to threaten the pharaoh; after all, he might be a victim of circumstances. And if he does happen to be Evil, well, we wouldn’t want to put him on his guard, would we?”

 

Sewer Bard coughed, although whether that was from the dust or embarrassment was hard to tell.

 

“Of course,” he said, lowering the crown slightly. “I don’t know what came over me. I think I must have been caught up in the moment. My apologies if I frightened you.”

 

Before Qube could reassure her dear friend that him starting to sound like one of the most reviled men in all the kingdom (who also happened to have murdered all those near and dear to her) hadn’t scared her, a deep voice boomed out from the now open door.

 

“Who dares approach the pharaoh?” The walls and floor, which had stopped shaking due to the door opening, started shaking again with the power of the voice. The Chosen One, standing directly behind Qube, grabbed onto her, and started looking slightly nauseated. 

 

“I swear, the motion sickness is getting worse,” he muttered to her.

 

“[Lesser Heal],” she whispered, wrapping him in the soothing spell. He squeezed her shoulder in thanks.

 

“We already told you that we wanted to talk to you,” Sexy Screamy Spider Lady reminded the powerful tyrant. “Because someone wanted to give you a chance to defend yourself before we decide whether or not to kill you.”

 

“Again!” Qube hissed. “Potential victim or foe! Please no threats!”

 

All the dust and dirt finally cleared away as Sewer Bard stepped towards the now-open entrance. Qube peered over his shoulder and gasped as she looked into the tomb.

 

Hundreds of golden pots littered the room, and torches ensconced to the walls flickered to life, the warm torchlight reflecting off the golden objects, creating a dazzling effect. A stone chest was open, golden coins spilling out of it and onto the floor in a way that seemed very untidy and impractical, and the walls were covered in mystical-looking pictures.

 

While Qube had never personally been inside the Royal Treasury, if she had ever thought to picture it, this would be what it would look like. Well, minus the giant golden coffin with someone’s face painted on it in the middle of the room that was resting on a slope for some reason. But, aside from the corpse-holder, the rest of the room was gorgeous. 

 

It was a bit hard to look past the whole “tomb” thing though.

 

The coffin itself was guarded by two golden statues with humanoid bodies and the heads of unfortunate-looking dogs. No. Not a coffin. Qube’s memory suddenly spat out a different word: a sarcophagus. The lid of the sarcophagus slid back, and, without having to haul himself upright or anything, a slim young figure rose up out of the box.

 

It was difficult to describe how he moved. It was like his feet were on hinges, and he was just being pushed upright. Maybe he couldn’t bend? That would explain why the sarcophagus was on a slope — it would be extraordinarily difficult for someone who couldn’t bend to get in and out of a coffin. He looked like his whole body had been dipped in gold, and he was wearing a strange helmet with a face painted on it.

 

For a second Qube thought that he was a construct, but he was clearly human (or elf) under the paint. Possibly the paint made it difficult for him to move?

 

“You have chosen wisely, mere mortals,” the pharaoh boomed, cutting an arm through the air. His voice was surprisingly deep for someone so small and fortunately wasn’t at all distorted by the full face covering he wore. “We shall reward your efforts, before we claim our long-awaited vengeance.”

 

The pharaoh was using the Royal we. Qube wasn’t sure how she felt about that. One of the things they would need to discuss with the pharaoh was the fact that he needed to understand that he wasn’t actually Royalty, and that the king and queen were going to be the ones ruling over the whole kingdom, including the desert section. But then, if the pharaoh was a Good, just man, he would naturally understand and sympathise with the need to remove him from power so his betters could rule over him. 

 

“We have questions that require answers,” Sewer Bard said, not using the Royal we. 

 

“Yeah, talk to him; he’s the questions guy,” the Chosen One, perhaps prompted by their experiences at the other Temples, helpfully piped up. He stepped up next to Sewer Bard and looked over the shoulder Qube wasn’t occupying, into the pharaoh’s tomb. Qube heard him inhale sharply as he spotted all the gold. 

 

“The first item we offer you is the infamous Pharaoh’s Flail,” the pharaoh continued, ignoring the Bard as had so many others before him and directing his mask-face towards the Chosen One, who was too busy marvelling at all the shiny objects to pay any attention to the pharaoh. It looked like, once again, Sewer Bard would be stuck trying to get important people to pay attention to him. 

 

This time, however, Sewer Bard had a different plan. 

 

“It appears that he cannot hear us,” the Bard said, swinging around and looking at the party. “As we’re directly in front of him, he must be under some kind of compulsion, or illusion. Everyone, cover your ears!” Sewer Bard glanced back at the group, and seemed slightly startled at how close Qube and the Chosen One were standing to him. Qube took a step or two back, but the Chosen One just kept staring at the loot. Sewer Bard turned to fully face the Hero.

 

“This includes you, Noble Patron,” he said. “Given this spell’s power, I wouldn’t wish for you to have any kind of reaction.”

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“The Pharaoh’s Flail will open the way between two walls,” the pharaoh continued pompously.

 

“I don’t think any spell you could do would actually affect me anymore,” the Chosen One argued. “Honestly, even me asking you not to use the [Siren’s Song] is just a precaution, really. Plus I dunno what illusion you think he’s specifically under, this is what they all do.”

 

Sewer Bard shot a look at Qube, who put her hand on the Chosen One’s arm. 

 

“Please, Chosen One,” she said earnestly. “This is our Temple.”

 

The Chosen One grimaced and took a few steps back. 

 

“Yeah, I did agree to that,” he said with a sigh. “All right Sing-Song, I’ll obey.” Still muttering to himself about something Qube couldn’t quite catch but sounded an awful lot like ‘can’t believe this’, he covered his ears and stared straight ahead. He started humming to himself.

 

Once everyone had safely covered their ears, Sewer Bard stepped forward and faced the pharaoh alone. It was a heroic tableau, the lone Bard standing in front of the gold-dipped pharaoh.

 

“The second item —”

 

Sewer Bard brought his hand down onto his lute, and Qube watched as the spell rippled outwards, the three colours twisting and twining through each other as the mana spread across the space. 

 

It hit the pharaoh. While it was impossible to tell if he’d stopped talking, since the mouth of his helmet didn’t move (which rather made Qube wonder why he even had a face painted on his helmet if he hadn’t been bothered to magic it to mimic his facial expressions underneath) he certainly stopped moving his arms about. The golden flail with the horse-hair on the end of it dropped to the ground, as did the gem he’d been about to offer the Chosen One.

 

Still Sewer Bard played on. Whether it was because he wanted to make absolutely sure that whatever spell was powerful enough to control a pharaoh was well and truly shattered, or he was annoyed about once again being ignored, Qube wasn’t sure. But he was playing passionately, faster and faster, the mana thickening until it suddenly stopped.

 

Sewer Bard, now gasping, fell back and turned to the party. Everyone except for the Chosen One removed their hands.

 

“It’s done,” Sewer Bard said.

 

“CAN I REMOVE MY HANDS YET?” the Chosen One yelled.

 

“Yes,” Sewer Bard said.

 

“WHAT?” the Chosen One replied at full volume.

 

“Noble Patron, you can remove your hands!” Sewer Bard shouted, exasperated.

 

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU, I’M COVERING MY EARS!” the Chosen One bellowed back.

 

Qube closed her eyes, and wished that, for just a moment, the world would end. Just a minute or two, to help her try and wrap her head around reality and how very, very silly it sometimes was.

 

Instead, she sucked in a deep breath, turned around, and gently tugged at the Chosen One’s hands. He grinned at her as he let her pull down her hands.

 

“I wasn’t sure it was safe,” he said mischievously.

 

“Don’t worry,” she said, hitting him full force with her Understanding Smile, “it’s safe now. I’ll make sure to ask Sewer Bard to give you a special signal, like a thumbs up, next time, though.”

 

He winced slightly at her smile’s impact.

 

“Okay, okay,” he said, “I won’t mess with him again. For now,” he added as an afterthought. “I make no promises for future me.”

 

Rather than continuing to indulge the Saviour of All, Qube turned to look at the potentially very powerful pharaoh they’d just cast a spell on, to see how he was coping with having all his illusions suddenly ripped away from him.

 

The pharaoh hadn’t moved. While it was impossible to tell where he was looking unless he turned his head, she had the feeling that he wasn’t looking around, or examining the space like the others had. Instead, he just stood there, taking in a steady breath every few minutes.

 

“Notable pharaoh,” Sewer Bard said grandly, having recovered from spending all his mana and having to interact with the Chosen One, “we have freed you of your compulsions and illusions. We seek to know what events occurred to place you in this tomb, sealed off from the world.”

 

This got the figure’s attention. His body shifted, so his unmoving face was turned towards the Bard. Could he see through the painted eyes? Was it similar to the magic that the Rockie constructs used to see using their own painted-on features? But then, why didn’t his features move?

 

There was something very eerie about that silent figure, with his eternally still expression, standing there in a glittering tomb. Then his gold-covered fists clenched.

 

“We were betrayed,” the pharaoh said to Sewer Bard. “And we will seek our vengeance. The sands will run red with the blood of those who turned against us.”

 

Oh dear. Somehow, Qube didn’t think the spell had made him less aggressive. This was going to get messy.

 

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