Chapter 183: Book Three Chapter Forty Two: TT_TrapHouse

“Are they an Evil house?” Qube asked Sencha Bard. He considered this.

 

“To that I could not say but, without my lute, my life would not have been worth the living of it,” he said eventually.

 

Perversely, Qube really hoped there were skellies in the house. That way they would know for sure they were Evil. Although now she thought about it…

 

“In your memory, how did you get the lute?” she asked.

 

“I was given it by a kind, mysterious stranger,” Sencha Bard said. “I learned much from him, though I never learned his name.”

 

“Hah!” the Hero gave a bark of laughter.

 

Maybe they had travelled back in time and were now in the Bard’s actual memory! Qube felt overwhelmed with the possibilities. Now she understood why the Hero had wanted to determine this — maybe they could try and help the small Sencha with some of his strange views on how to speak to women, and help him become more comfortable in his role as a companion!

 

After all, there weren’t any mysterious strangers here helping the child except for themselves, so, pending the arrival of a newcomer, it had to be them.

 

“He should wait here while we go ask the owners if we can buy the lute from them,” Qube said to the Chosen One. She eyed the child. “And then maybe we could talk to him about the importance of not stealing?”

 

The party had exited the back alleyway and were now approaching the front of the manor. The urchin had followed them, and was politely asking Definitely Bad Guy about what his profession was.

 

“I was a researcher,” the Mage replied shortly. The child just looked even more curious.

 

“He is a lesson that all people, no matter the deeds they commit, can still be used for greater purpose,” Sencha Bard said to his younger self, but without the bite Qube would have expected.

 

“As this gentleman is a lesson that many people, no matter how useless and self-righteous they appear, may eventually learn to be sensible,” the Mage also told the urchin. There was the barest hint of affection in his voice which, for him, was a loud declaration of friendship.

 

The heartwarming episode was cut short when they spotted two guards standing out in front of the manor they wanted. They were magnificently dressed, with extremely tall, fuzzy black hats and, if they hadn’t had all the colour leeched out of them, what would have been bright red uniforms. Looking closer, Qube was sure the hats were made from bearskin. They both held long, golden spears. The only difference between them was that the male guard was slightly broader of shoulder than the female. The two of them looked grimly straight ahead, like their lives depended on it.

 

The Chosen One ignored them and went to knock on the front door, only to have the guards cross their spears to block his path. Neither of them looked at him.

 

“Hey, I wanna ask the owner if I can buy something from them,” the Hero said indignantly. “With money! My own, hard-earned gold!”

 

The guards, not knowing how impressive this was, refused to be moved.

 

“Maybe let them know who you are,” Qube helpfully suggested. She eyed the gorgeous front of the house, noting the large windows with suspicion. Many moons ago the Chosen One had told her that you could tell that there was Good stuff in such magnificent buildings, which meant either the owners (and therefore their guards) were Good and would instantly let in the Saviour of All Human and Human-Adjacent Beings, or had stolen items of Good, which meant they were probably Evil.

 

For all her increased understanding of the nuances involved in morality, stealing Good things was generally pretty Evil. Unless they had a really, really impressive reason.

 

“I’m the Chosen One!” the Chosen One said crossly, obeying her advice. “Lemme in!” Qube encouragingly gestured for him to continue. “I gotta save the world!”

 

They didn’t respond. The Chosen One looked at Qube.

 

“Tell them about the Golden Prophecy!” she suggested. He did.

 

They didn’t care about the Golden Prophecy.

 

“You know you’re gonna destroy the kingdom, right?” he asked the two after they continued to ignore his credentials. They still didn’t acknowledge him. “Kingdom-wreckers,” he informed the non-reactive pair.

 

The Chosen One stepped back, eyeing the two guards thoughtfully. He looked over his shoulder at Sencha Bard. “Hey, Sing-Song, you wanna try and tackle these two?” he asked. “See if you can diplom them.”

 

“I fear nothing we can say will move them,” the Bard said seriously. “For these are Royal Guards, and are forbidden to respond to any attempts to communicate with them. Even smiling will cause them to be reprimanded.” The Chosen One’s eyes lit up.

 

“So all we have to do is make them react?” he asked, before being interrupted by his companion.

 

“They’re Royal Guards?” Qube’s eyes widened, as if trying to contain all the emotion that just exploded within her. Why was a Royal in a manor rather than in the castle? Oh! It must have been after the coup, and they were hiding from the Evil Emperor! That meant there were Royals right near them! Maybe even the young versions of the Exiled Prince and Exiled Princess.

 

Just the idea of the amount of adorableness and authority packed into a child version of the prince or princess was enough to make her feel faint.

 

But then why weren’t the guards letting them in? They should understand how important the Chosen One was to the kingdom! Oh, of course! The Golden Prophecy hadn’t activated yet so they didn’t believe he was the real Chosen One. But why were uniformed Royal Guards on the street; surely that would make it incredibly obvious where the Exiled Prince and Exiled Princess were hiding?

 

Unless… come to think of it, she actually wasn’t sure how old Sencha Bard was. She’d thought he was a few years older than her, but she realised she’d never actually asked. Could they have travelled far enough back in time that the coup hadn’t yet occurred? Her understanding of the timeline of when the Evil Emperor had taken power was rather shaky. It had to have happened before the original Chosen One and herself had been born, and long enough prior that the Golden Prophecy could be established in their village.

 

The Chosen One gave Qube a sly look as she tried to parse timelines.

 

“We should probably test them and make sure they’re good at their jobs, shouldn’t we?” he asked the party directly in front of the two guards. “Although clearly they aren’t good enough to keep the king and queen safe if the Evil Emperor overthrew them.”

 

“Chosen One, you remembered some lore!” Qube said happily, diverted from her contemplation. The Hero looked caught out.

 

“Uh, no, that was just… aw man I totally absorbed some lore, didn’t I?”

 

Sencha Bard gained an arrested expression. “Something just occurred to me,” he said seriously. “Is the reason you dislike learning about ‘lore’ that you’re afraid of getting confused between your own realm’s political situation and ours?”

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“No,” the Hero said defensively. “That would be stupid.”

 

Qube looked at the Bard in admiration. The sheer defensiveness with which the Chosen One replied to the simple question was proof enough in her mind that the Bard had hit the mark.

 

“It’s fine to be worried about muddling this world and your own up,” Qube said supportively. The Bard nodded, while the Mage looked scornful. 

 

“Anyway, enough of this. Let’s just break in,” the Hero said, pivoting on a heel and walking next door. The guards, not responding to this direct threat, didn’t even follow the party with their eyes as the majority of the group walked away. Sexy Screamy Spider Briar didn’t immediately follow, instead studying the area just behind the Royal Guards with interest.

 

“Chosen One, we can’t just break into a Royal abode,” Qube said worriedly.

 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m thinking we can get Sencha Bard to get us into this unguarded house and then drop into their backyard. It’ll be easy,” the Hero reassured her.

 

“That’s not what I mean!” she protested as they mounted the steps next door. They were standing well within eyesight of the guards (had said guards managed to turn their heads just a little bit to the side). “I mean it’s not right.”

 

“Well, how do you suggest we meet up with them?” the Chosen One asked reasonably. “I even agreed to actually pay for the lute! What more could they want? Also, can you pick this lock?” he asked Sencha Bard.

 

“Stand aside and I shall do my best,” the Bard said grandly. As he crouched next to the ornate front door his mini self joined him, watching the older man’s work with interest.

 

Qube was stumped. There was something going on here that she didn’t understand. Even if the Royal Guards didn’t believe the Golden Prophecy had activated, why were they outside like that?

 

A thought clicked into place at the same time the lock to the front door they were breaking into clicked.

 

What had happened to the Royal Guards after the coup?

 

“Of course!” she exclaimed out loud. She looked at the others, who’d been startled by her comment. “Sencha Bard, were you born when the coup occurred?”

 

“It happened before my birth,” the Bard said. “Why do you ask?”

 

“They can’t be guarding Royalty, since the king and queen are in the dungeon and the Exiled Prince and Exiled Princess wouldn’t advertise their presence like that! Which means they have to be guarding either the Evil Emperor, or someone from his court!”

 

She trembled slightly at the thought that they might be about to break into the Evil Emperor’s personal retreat, but steeled her resolve. Or maybe it was the home of his Dark Prophecy Companion? Qube still didn’t have any proof that this person existed, especially with the Chosen One denying the existence of Evil Devs, but she had yet to fully let go of her pet theory.

 

If they truly had travelled back in time, then it was up to her to try and guide whoever was in that house away from Evil!

 

***

 

Their first step in their potential mission to rewrite history to turn someone away from the path of Evil was to finish breaking into the house next door. It didn’t take long before the adult Bard had picked the lock under the watchful eye of the child Bard.

 

The manor they illegally entered (for a greater cause, Qube kept reminding her uneasy conscience) looked remarkably similar to the manor they’d broken into and burned down so long ago. Even the flowers on an elegant side table were the same type. Most likely they used the same decorator. Given how lax people were in the wider world about construction, repairs, and anything house related, it was probably the only decorator who actually bothered to show up to work.

 

Sexy Screamy Spider Briar managed, with great concentration, to avoid flinging any of the decor around the room when she eventually followed them into the house. 

 

Squiggles, meanwhile, showed no such discretion.

 

After a few minutes full of Qube taking various traditionally inedible objects away from the omnivorous mascot, they made their way around the back of the house, and were staring at a wrought iron gate and hedge bush that separated the two back gardens from each other. It seemed odd that they valued their privacy so much that they invested in mason-work for the part of their property that backed onto the alleyway, but didn’t bother with it between each other’s private gardens.

 

She repeated this observation to the party. 

 

“Especially,” she added as Sencha Bard started picking the iron gate’s lock, “if the place belongs to Royalty! If this is a retreat of theirs from the rigours of court, surely they’d want to get as much privacy as possible?”

 

“Perhaps they wanted an easy and discreet way to visit each other,” the Hunter said wickedly from the doorway. She was now studying the backyard they were standing in with the same interest she’d displayed for the front of the Royal manor. “One where the public couldn’t observe their secret rendezvous.”

 

“But the whole row of houses have the same hedges and gates!” Qube protested, gesturing at the other backyards visible to them. 

 

“I’m not here to judge how many they rendezvoused with,” the arachnid said, diverting only part of her attention away from her study of the landscape to smirk at Qube. The half-elf turned bright red. She wasn’t entirely sure what the Hunter was implying, but it sounded scandalous.

 

“Your mistake is thinking that they would want privacy from all,” Definitely Bad Guy said sourly. “I have found that those of the upper class merely wish to insulate themselves from the people they rule, so they do not have to observe the consequences of their actions.”

 

There was a click as the iron gate between the gardens unlocked, and swung open. Qube looked at Sencha Bard, waiting for her fellow staunch loyalist of order and Royalty to spring to the defence of the upper crust. However, the Bard, though the look he shot the Mage proved he was listening to the conversation, instead focused on his younger self.

 

“It may not be safe for you to continue on,” he said to the child. “You had best stay behind in the back gardens, and ensure we have a safe escape route.”

 

“But I don’t want to stay in the gardens, I want to come inside with you!—” the child started to protest before Sencha Bard knelt next to him and put a heavy hand on the child’s right shoulder.

 

“A true gentleman knows when he’s outclassed,” he said to the urchin. “When you’re up against a potentially stronger opponent, you shouldn’t go rushing in. You’re not a Hero from some saga. You are a Bard. Which means you have to fight smart. You stay quiet, make sure you can always escape, you observe, and only when you are absolutely sure of success … do you strike.”

 

“Yes, sir,” the small Bard said, his eyes shining as he earnestly absorbed his lesson.

 

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