After their impressive performance in the arena, Melly and Clemiticus were escorted by the corrupt guards out of the Coliseum and through a throng of eager fans. Despite the meagre audience in the stands, Melly was amazed at how quickly a sizeable crowd had gathered.

"Keep moving, you two," one of the guards barked, shoving Melly through the crowd. "This way, to your right—don’t stop."

As they turned down the main street, a large, foreboding tower loomed in the centre of town, casting a shadow over their path. The crowd of fans followed, whispering in hushed tones about the bravery of the one they called "Clemiticus."

Oh, if only they knew, Melly thought, both mentally and physically exhausted. To her dismay, the crowd was growing.

"Oh, look! It's the hero of the arena,” said a girl’s voice. “He’s so brave and handsome!"

Melly turned to see a simpering young girl. She was fanning her face and giving the fictitious hero the eye. Clemiticus turned to the youthful maiden and gave her an all too knowing wink but kept walking, now with a bit of a swagger in his step. Melly pictured herself rushing up to the woman and shaking some sense into the idiot. However, she sighed and decided to ignore the poor ignorant child.

Each step they took brought them closer to the large ominous tower and to their supposed prize.

Ahead, the strange, bulbous mayor from the arena stood waiting for them in front of a wooden door. But instead of greeting them, he was distracted, fussing with his white cape while his herald struggled to hold up a heavy full-length mirror. "Who’s a handsome mayor?" he asked, twirling to admire his bright red outfit in the reflection.

“You are sir,” said the herald, sounding dog-tired and desperate.

Melly’s brow shot up as she watched the mayor prance about, wondering why everyone wasn’t pointing at the fool and laughing, but she guessed the crowd's attention was fixed solely on the victorious hero walking beside her. This place it nuts, she thought.

Clemiticus whistled. “That’s one enormous tower. Must be full of loot.”

For such an imposing structure, the doorway to the tower was unreasonably small. And yet, there weren’t any windows she could see, which only caused her rising feeling of dread to deepen.

As they came to a stop, they waited for a time for the mayor to finish preening himself. Clemiticus, the ever inpatient, cleared his throat, catching the bald man's attention.

"Ah! Champions, you’ve finally arrived! Welcome!" the mayor sneered. "Now, come inside and claim your just reward!"

"Why, thank you," Clemiticus said cheerfully, unaware of their potentially dire situation.

Melly looked around furtively and noticed that the friendly and admiring faces of their new fans all turned grim. Obviously, they, too, sensed the ill intent of the self-obsessed man.

"Come, come!" the mayor beckoned, his voice sharp and impatient as he gestured toward a narrow passageway. With a flick of his hand, he ushered them forward, the corrupt guards trailing closely, their heavy boots echoing off the stone walls.

As they moved, the bright sunlight from outside faded, leaving the herald and the crowd of fans bathed in the warmth while the small group plunged into the cool, eerie darkness of the passage. The air grew colder, and the light dwindled until it was swallowed by the shadows, leaving only the faint sound of their footsteps in the oppressive gloom.

“This way, follow me. It’s not a trap,” said the mayor.

Melly paused in her step instantly colliding with Clemiticus in the dark.

“Ow!” cried Clemiticus. “Why you stop?”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby, and didn’t you hear him?” she spat.

“I did!” he said defensively. “He said it wasn’t a trap!”

Melly was rethinking her entire life and was just about to turn and run when she felt the sharp point of a weapon at her back.

“Keep moving,” snarled a voice in the dark.

She gritted her teeth and continued to follow the mayor as she swore under her breath. “Stupid Clem, idiot! Ass-brain!”

“I wonder what kind of loot is in this place,” said Clemiticus cheerfully.

"I can't see a thing," Melly complained, squinting down the hall as the darkness deepened. The bald man ahead was barely visible now, his face lost in the shadows, leaving Melly unable to gauge his next move.

"Where are we going exactly?" Melly asked. She could have sworn she'd spotted a glint of armour moving as they passed down an adjacent passage to her left. The corridor was becoming narrower by the second.

"Oh, yes. I am escorting you to our, um, the treasure room," the mayor replied with an all too obvious air of treachery.

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“Um, Clem…” Melly whispered, “are you sure we shouldn’t get out of here?”

"Nonsense," Clemiticus said, then asked the bald man, "good sir… would you happen to have any boots?"

"Really, Clem?" Melly groaned. "Can’t you, for once, forget about your damn boots?"

"What? Ouch!" a voice cried out in the dark.

She had stomped on Clemiticuses foot—or at least she hoped she had.

In the narrow passageway, it was impossible to see anything, and Melly's other senses were on high alert. She could hear the faint, ominous sounds of armoured soldiers marching through unseen corridors. The air was thick with the pungent scent of torch oil, its heavy odour hanging in the darkness.

"Okay, we're almost there," the mayor said gleefully as they finally emerged into a vast, empty chamber with just one tiny candle flickering in the corner. He hurried them along, positioning them carefully. "Good, good! Now, could you please stand right about... there? Yes, perfect!"

"So, where's this treasure, then?" Clemiticus asked.

The mayor moved in the shadows toward the outline of a long wooden shape—it might have been a broom handle or something similar.

"AHAHAHAHAH! Did you really think we'd let you live after your performance today? Your insubordination will not be tolerated in my town!" the mayor shrieked. "GUARDS! PUSH THEM INTO THE PIT!"

Armoured footsteps echoed as hidden soldiers closed in, their presence revealed by the sharp snap of flint and the sudden flare of torches. The guards lined up in formation, pushing Clemiticus and Melly forward.

“Uh oh!” said Clemiticus.

They were caught between a row of corrupt guards and a steel lattice trapdoor. Melly's eyes glanced downward, catching sight of the deep, dark pit below—a pit with no return. A shiver ran down her spine as vertigo threatened to overtake her footing.

She looked up sharply and saw the bald man on the other side of the room with a wicked smirk and a lever in his hand.

Each soldier hefted a large square shield behind them and took a step forward as one. The wall of armour edged forwards as the two criminals were pressed slowly towards their doom.

Melly glanced down again. They were standing directly on the trapdoor. She peered frantically through the gaps in the lattice, but all she saw was darkness—no bottom in sight. It had to be impossibly deep.

"Seriously?" Clemiticus asked, his voice full of disbelief. Melly was startled by the hurt in his tone—he was genuinely upset by the betrayal. "Not cool, bro!"

The mayor laughed. "Are you an idiot? Wasn't it obvious I would double-cross you?"

"Not to me!" Clemiticus yelled and turned to Melly in defence. "Was it?"

At that moment, his normally cocksure face looked a bit like that of a five-year-old who had his ice-cream taken away.

"Come on, it was super obvious," Melly said, breaking the news.

Clemiticus shelved his pride and turned back to the odd man. "You won't get away with this! The loot will be mine!"

The mayor rolled his eyes. "There is no loot, lad! I'm tired of this! Goodbye!" he laughed once more and pulled on the lever.

Melly shut her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable fall.

But nothing happened.

The old man scowled. He pulled the lever again.

Nothing.

"Ooohh! Who's an idiot now? Embarrassed much?" Clemiticus laughed as he treated his captors with an over-the-top celebration dance. "Should've just given me my loot! Now face the wrath of my luck stats!”

The mayor’s face screwed up with rage as he pulled the lever again and again.

"Damn bloody thing! Work, damn you work!”

Clemiticus nodded to Melly, and they both stepped off the trapdoor to stand beside the desperate bald man. Melly sighed in relief, glancing down at the pit, thankful to be off the deathtrap.

"It was a good plan!" Clemiticus said truthfully. "However, you might want to check your trap door once in a while."

"Guards!" the mayor barked, his voice cutting through the air. The soldiers reacted instantly, drawing their weapons with a metallic hiss. With grim determination etched on their faces, they charged forward, the glint of steel flashing as they closed in on Melly and Clemiticus, their eyes locked on their targets.

"Oh, look!" Clemiticus pointed to the lever. The torches of the guardsmen had moved close enough and had illuminated the shape of the mechanical device. Melly looked down at the cogs and gears of the lever. With all the time she had spent in her father's workshop, she could clearly see there was something not right with the device.

"You need to slot in this part here," Clemiticus instructed, as he flicked a cog into place.

Click!

The device whirred to life, and a chorus of screams erupted behind them. Melly had only a second to glance back and see the group of soldiers collapse into the pit, scrambling frantically on top of each other. Even those who should have been safe on the sides were dragged in by their desperate comrades, who clung to anything within reach—even each other.

The mass of flames, shields, and steel plunged into the abyss with blood-curdling screams echoing from the dark hole. "Noooooo!"

"Whoops," Clem muttered as the room plunged into darkness.

"You damned fools!" the mayor screamed, lunging for Clemiticuses throat.

Time seemed to slow as Melly watched the scene unfold, even in the darkness. She saw the crazed bald man lunging toward Clemiticus. If she didn’t act fast, both men would tumble into the pit, lost forever.

Quickly, Melly weighed her options.

Pro, the two men would both be in the pit. Pro, freedom. Pro, no more of Clemiticus and his absurd quests for boots. Con, no cure from Fredreek’s curse quest. Con, no financial compensation for her destroyed home. Con, probable outcome of getting lost in these damn dark halls.

"Ugh!" Melly grumbled as her ranger skills kicked in. She had made up her mind. With a swift cat like agility, she kicked Clemiticus out of harm's way, her boot connecting with his side as she lunged forward. Her hand shot out, gripping the bald narcist by his robes, yanking him away from the edge.

Both men let out muffled groans as they crashed to the ground, narrowly avoiding the pit. Thunk! They hit the cold, hard floor, the sound echoing in the chamber.

“Ow!”

Breathing heavily, Melly scrambled to her feet and kicked the lever back into place. The trapdoor clanged shut with an audible clunk, and the chaotic scene settled into an uneasy silence.

For some bizarre reason, this crazed, self-obsessed mayor had singled them out for execution, and she didn’t even know why—or who he was. Anger boiled in her chest as she demanded answers. "Who the hell are you, and what is your problem?" Melly shouted, slapping the face in front of her.

"Ow! I'm Clemiticus. What was that for?"

She turned and scrambled over to the other shape in the darkness. She repeated her question and slapped the other face hard.

"Ow, still me!" Clemiticus cried. "Why do you keep slapping me?" he continued as he grabbed her hands.

"Mwahahaha!" the mayor laughed as he scrambled to his feet and raced off to the side of the chamber.

"Grab him!" Melly yelled, struggling with Clemiticus as they tried to chase after the fleeing mayor.

A secret door had swung open, flooding the room with blinding sunlight. Melly caught a glimpse of stairs as the bald man's white cape vanished through the door, his maniacal laughter echoing behind him.

"Go! Go! Go!" she shouted.