Chapter 97: Chapter Ninety Six: Money Sink

Stepping out of the doorway, they arrived at the front of the Shadow Temple. It must have been a portal, Qube reasoned.

 

As soon as they stepped off of the staircase, Scaly-waley appeared.

 

“Oh, now you show up,” the Chosen One grumbled at his noble steed. “Where were you when we wanted to climb all those stairs?”

 

Scaly-waley, perhaps picking up on the Hero’s less-than-pleased tone, hung his head in shame.

 

“That's right, you think about what you did,” the Chosen One chastised the giant wyvern. “Now crouch down so I can get up. My legs hurt.”

 

“Chosen One, there weren’t that many stairs,” Qube said with a tinge of worry. “Do you require [Heal]ing?”

 

“Nah, I’m just feeling lazy,” the Chosen One confided. “My legs do get tired sometimes though, which is interesting.”

 

“Well, we do a lot of running around,” Qube justified his mortality.

 

“Nah, but like, I mean that I actually get physically tired.” Qube tried to figure out what the Chosen One was getting at.

 

“Maybe we should rest when we get back to Cobbletown?” she offered. “It’s been a few days since we’ve eaten or slept, so it would probably be wise. In fact, from a health perspective, I would have to insist.”

 

“Whatever you say, boss,” the Chosen One said, and grinned at Qube’s indignant exclamations that she wasn’t a boss and she didn’t have any employees or Temples!

 

---

 

Having teased Qube most of the way back to Cobbletown, the Chosen One was in a very good mood by the time he unsummoned Scaley-waley and walked in through the big gates, brushing past the city guards.

 

“Okay,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “What’s first on the agenda?”

 

“We need to give Zaroka the — oh, he’s already walking,” Qube hurried to catch up with the Hero.

 

“There’s something about a new upgrade?” he said while marching ahead, looking in the distance. “Aurora Abode? What on earth is —” this time it was the Chosen One who was cut off as the party reached the home that they had been tricked into receiving by the maybe-ghost.

 

“Oh yeah,” the Chosen One said, staring up at Qube’s greatest failure. “I guess we get upgrades each time we complete a Temple?”

 

“From whom?” Qube asked. “Upgrades? To a house? Is that like adding a wing? Who told you about this?” Had she missed something the city guards had said? Granted, she hadn’t exactly been paying attention to them or anything they’d been saying once she’d realised just how disconnected they were from Cobbletown’s politics, but she would have noticed them telling the Chosen One about an upgrade.

 

...Right?

 

“Yeah, we can probably buy new furniture and stuff,” the Chosen One said. 

 

“The old woman did mention that,” Sexy Screamy Spider Lady interjected. “She said that we could buy it from someone.”

 

The Chosen One ran his tongue over his teeth as he looked off into the distance. Qube followed his gaze, and realised that he was looking in the exact direction of…

 

Oh no.

 

---

 

“So how many rooms can I add?” the Chosen One asked Mr. Igma.

 

“Four,” Mr. Igma said with his characteristic gregariousness. 

 

“Can I get a half and half room? Like, half alchemy, half bedroom?”

 

“No.”

 

“Can I put a bed in the alchemy room?”

 

“I can’t stop you,” Mr. Igma said in a tone that indicated he really wished he could.

 

“So if you build a bedroom, and I take everything out, can I then get you to build an alchemy room where the bedroom was?”

 

“Yes,” Mr. Igma replied.

 

“And will the furniture disappear?”

 

“...Yes,” Mr. Igma said.

 

“Ah, but you didn’t sound certain about that!” the Chosen One crowed. “You don’t actually know, do you? Wait, are you lying to me? Can you lie to me?”

 

“I’m a shopkeeper,” Mr. Igma said, as if that explained everything. The Chosen One looked at him for a moment.

 

“Fair enough,” he said eventually. “Fine, we’ll start with the alchemy upgrade, then. How much is that?”

 

“Two hundred gold,” Mr. Igma instantly replied.

 

The Chosen One made a strange gurgling sound, like someone had just kicked him in the stomach.

 

“This had better be worth it,” he growled, as he slammed a handful of gold onto the counter.

 

“Not my fault if it isn’t,” Mr. Igma said peacefully.

 

“Isn’t it?” the Chosen One asked, eyes narrowed.

 

“No.”

 

“Yeah, probably not,” the Chosen One said, snapping back to normal. After a beat he added: “You’re a weird dude, egg-man.”

 

Qube decided to retreat towards the exit, just in case.

 

“What else can I do? Paint? Sweet. Can I get it in green?”

 

“That will be twenty five gold,” Mr. Igma said. The Chosen One flinched.

 

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

 

“Chosen One, is it worth it?” Qube asked worriedly. The Chosen One instantly stopped acting wounded.

 

“Yeah, I don’t actually care,” he said breezily. “Is there anything you wanted to get?”

 

Qube glanced over at the bookshelf, where two more books had been added.

 

“No,” she lied. The Chosen One followed where she had looked, and grinned.

 

“You can definitely lie to me,” he said approvingly.

 

“I’m not lying!” Qube protested. “I just don’t want anything enough to buy right now!”

 

“Yeah we’ll get the books,” the Chosen One said. “Anything else you want?”

 

Qube desperately looked around, but the rest of the party had decided to stay outside. Even Definitely Bad Guy had chosen to avoid once again setting fire to Mr. Igma’s store.

 

“Maybe you should try asking the others if they want something?” she asked, desperate to avoid having to inflict more monetary pain on her best friend.

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The Chosen One slapped his forehead.

 

“Right, totally forgot about doing that. Thanks for the reminder,” he said and stepped out of the shop. Once again Qube felt the warmth of his praise permeate through her. It was like the opposite of the Golden Prophecy’s painful punishments when she acted against its ideals.

 

This also left Qube alone with Mr. Igma.

 

“Did Mr. Clockwork get my letter?” she asked him quietly, in case he could subconsciously hear her. “Where do you keep your mail?” She frowned. She hadn’t really thought this through when she’d given the Mr. Igma in the Fire Temple her letter. Maybe Mr. Clockwork would return any reply to the same Mr. Igma?

 

How would the Igma brothers (cousins?) even communicate with each other about such matters? Maybe she should ask the Chosen One to find out their first names, so she could be a bit more direct with any future letters. Although the idea of Mr. Igma having a first name or, worse, her attempting to call him by his first name, filled her with dread. But how else was she supposed to tell them apart? They even looked identical!

 

Maybe they were all twins.

 

Qube had a sudden, vivid mental image of Mr. Igma birthing a twin, a Healer pulling them apart like she had with so many objects.

 

The Chosen One returned to the shop to find Qube curled up in a little ball in the corner.

 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked worriedly. “Did that weirdo hurt you? Can he even see you? What happened?”

 

“I’m fine, Chosen One,” Qube said, trying to erase the horrifying picture from her mind. “I just — I just accidentally imagined something.”

 

The Chosen One helped her up.

 

“You imagined something?” he asked, awestruck. “You imagined something?”

 

“Something terrible,” Qube said solemnly. “Something I never want to think of again.”

 

“Dude,” the Chosen One said. “You imagined something. Crazy. What was it?”

 

Qube put her hand on his forearm.

 

“No,” she said. “This must be my burden, Chosen One.”

 

“Come on, tell me,” the Chosen One said. Qube started walking out of the shop. “Tell me,” he said, following her out of the shop.

 

“Did you get my lute strings?” Sewer Bard asked the Chosen One, who just continued following Qube as she started power-walking back to Aurora Abode.

 

“Tell me.”

 

“No.”

 

“Tell meeeee.”

 

“No.”

 

“Pretty please?”

 

“Never!”

 

---

 

Running into Aurora Abode ahead of the nagging Chosen One, the first thing that struck Qube was the very bright wallpaper. The Chosen One, hot on her heels, recoiled as he entered the front room.

 

“Why is it so green?” the Chosen One shielded his eyes.

 

“How did Mr. Igma manage that so fast?” Qube gasped.

 

“Why is our house green?” Sewer Bard asked.

 

“A good colour,” Definitely Bad Guy said with approval. “Any stains will show up well on it.”

 

“What kind of stains —” Chosen One stopped himself. “Don’t want to know,” he said.

 

“Reminds me of home,” Sexy Screamy Spider Lady said wistfully.

 

“Really? Eye-searingly bright green reminds you of the jungle?” the Chosen One asked her sceptically.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sexy Screamy Spider Lady asked the Chosen One playfully.

 

“Yes,” the Chosen One replied bluntly. “Oh hey, I wonder where the alchemy room is?”

 

As he raced off deeper into the house, Qube reflected that trying to keep him on track was perhaps the greatest challenge of their whole quest.

 

“Chosen One,” she called, trailing after him, “do you know how Mr. Igma was able to… paint…” she trailed off as she walked into what she could only imagine was the alchemy room.

 

In the middle of the room there was a cauldron, covered in complex runes. To the side was a small stone pedestal with a well in the middle of it, and a pestle. Clearly it was designed to allow the user to stand comfortably while they ground up various ingredients. There was also a drying rack, blank scrolls, quills, pots of ink, and shelves filled with empty bottles of various shapes.

 

It was a Healer’s paradise.

 

Qube twirled around in place, trying to take it all in.

 

“It’s — beautiful!” she said at last, her eyes shimmering with emotion. The Chosen One grinned at her.

 

“You want to organise this room?” he asked her.

 

“Of course! All the herbs we’ve… been… collecting…” Qube trailed off as the Chosen One started pulling things out of his backpack. First herbs, berries, leaves, jars, books… how much did he have in there?

 

“Hey, get over here and empty out your stuff!” he called to the rest of the party.

 

“Here you go,” he said cheerfully. “Now, all this can probably go in the alchemy room…” he started tossing all of his carefully collected goods over to the corner of the room. Mushrooms, salves, anything that looked like it could conceivably belong in a place dedicated to alchemy.

 

“Actually, this is probably not the right way to do it,” the Chosen One said as the other party members attempted to squeeze themselves into the small space.

 

“I agree, Chosen One,” Qube said, relieved that he was seeing the flaws with his current plan.

 

“Let’s go back into the main room and dump everything there. I can’t be bothered going through everything one on one,” the Chosen One continued obliviously.

 

The others, having just arrived, all trooped back to the main room where Sexy Screamy Spider Lady and Qube had given the ghost lady the golden sword.

 

What happened next was absolute chaos.

 

Without any hesitation, all of the party members except for Qube overturned their various backpacks, satchels, and holders and started pouring everything onto the ground. Horseshoes, banners, candlesticks — when had they even bought half of this mess? The Chosen One was the worst — he still had the jam jars he’d taken from Alderman’s house and —

 

“Why do you have a broomstick in your pocket?” Qube asked, aghast. She was pretty sure that was the broomstick he’d taken from his house, the day he'd been Chosen.

 

“You never know,” the Chosen One replied mysteriously. That was his response to most of her enquiries. Even when he pulled out the still-warm dinners he’d taken from the Exiled Prince and Exiled Princess and dumped them on the well-made but clearly worn table in the middle of the room.

 

Soon, there was a massive pile of objects all jittering about the front room of the house, made to look somewhat sickly by the green hue cast from the wallpaper.

 

“Okay,” the Chosen One said, clapping his hands together. “Time to decorate!”

 

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