The village was a cosy little place built into the side of a smaller cliff than the one they’d come from. Some houses hugged the rock, and overall, the place had an endearing verticality to it, with a little river running through the centre at the lowest point.

On the way here, Lostina had fallen mostly silent, and Theora could guess she was hard at work in her brain to try and find a way out despite everything. She seemed despondent. It was apparently not going well.

The settlement was lively. They were setting up some kind of festival or celebration. Lanterns hung on threads between the street lamps, at doors and rafters and from trees. It was closing in on the evening, and yet, for such a small place, the streets were buzzing with activity.

Lostina was slowly pacing a few steps behind as Theora surveyed the location for a place they could stay at. Inns weren’t extremely common in her home world; often, she’d find shelter with other people, such as the nice man they’d stayed with on their search for the Devil of Truth, or Hell and Balinth in Hallmark. But, with her experience from the main city of this story, Theora could totally see being turned down at every door. Thus, an inn would be preferable, even though she preferred the idea of getting Lostina into a location that offered a bit more familiarity and hospitality than a simple room they’d pay for. Especially since Lostina probably wouldn’t feel all too comfortable sharing a room with someone she’d only just met.

So, maybe instead of searching an inn first, she’d try to get them into a tavern, to hopefully find some people to talk to. Theora herself wasn’t necessarily social, but that also meant she had no idea on how to cheer this poor girl up. Just as she was weighing her options, they hit upon the long street next to the river. It was filled with dozens, seemingly temporary stands with little games.

In front of one of them was a little table, at which sat a few children who were trying to break a small form out of a frame of cookie dough.

Theora went up to the manager of the store; a blue-skinned demon-like person, although she didn’t have any horns. She was bulky, had a little pair of glasses on her nose, and sat right next to a few boxes filled with frames, wearing a pretty purple dress.

“Hello there!” she greeted Theora with a warm smile. “Wanna try? If you break out the picture without any faults, you can choose a prize.” She gestured to the back of the little stand. It was decorated with lots of ribbons and frills that framed a few different items hanging on the wall. Little sentences described the rules of the game; How many faults were allowed for which tier of reward, how much it cost to play, and that you could eat the frame of cookie once you had your price.

Without really thinking about it, Theora paid a generous amount, fetched a frame, placed Lostina down next to the children, and told her to do the thing.

“I— I’m busy,” Lostina protested, but upon seeing Theora’s stare, she relented, and started breaking out the form.

“Done!” the child next to her shouted, jumped up while accidentally knocking over his stool, and ran up to the owner. Meanwhile, he tripped, and broke his carved out dolphin shape, and started crying. The owner looked at him rather pitifully, and picked up her cane to get up. One of her legs had been replaced by a wooden one.

Theora made a step towards the child to help him up, and gathered the little pieces of dolphin cookie. At this moment, she really wished she’d already spent more time with her [Baker] class. Would it eventually allow her to fix things like this with a Skill?

And, if so, would she keep these abilities even after leaving this world? It was unlikely; sounded rather too good to be true. But, maybe being a [Baker] only in this reality was enough.

“I saw it,” Theora told the manager. “It was flawless, before it broke.”

The owner gave a warm smile. “You hear that, Fanna? She says it was perfect, so you get the biggest prize. No need to cry. Did you hurt yourself?”

Fanna cleared his eyes, shook his head, and looked up at the wall. He eventually pointed towards a big plush lion. Theora gave the manager a look, silently asking if she could fetch it, and upon receiving a nod, she went behind the store, and took it down.

It was so soft. The seams were neat and tidy. Did seamster Classes exist in this world, or had someone done this completely by hand? Were these the work of the manager herself?

After receiving it, the child happily ran off with the spirit in his arms, even though it was much larger than himself. The manager chuckled as he left. “Adorable. His parents are on guard-duty today, but everyone agreed to keep an eye on him while he explores the market. And thank you. My daughter was supposed to help me out, but she went off to meet her boyfriend…” She sighed. “I’m Amala.”

“Theora,” she said. “We arrived at this village today—” because of an inbound plague of Errata we wish to help fight off—

ERROR.

Action restricted. Cannot deviate from original author outline.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“… Because we heard a festival would take place here,” Theora lied. “What is it about?”

“Twenty years of peace,” Amala answered. She knocked on her wooden leg. “Twenty years since this village was last attacked.”

“By…”

The woman nodded. “Errata. ’Course, we still run guard duty, just in case. Haven’t forgotten. But, this valley is relatively safe, because the lifeforce fluctuations are low. And this is the only settlement. Little reason to attack, especially with larger groups.”

“I see,” Theora said.

“The on-and-off straggler we can take care of. Have some competent folk here.” She smiled. “Also helps that we are on the edge of the Kingdom, so we sometimes get forgotten by tax-collectors. Well ‘forgotten’… They don’t consider it worth it to go out of their way to come here, I suppose. Darn lazy asses, but it’s good for us! As long as they don’t come here one day expecting to collect past years too…”

Kingdom… Tax collectors. That’s right, they lived in that sort of world.

Theora sat down on the chair next to Amala, after being gestured towards it. Lostina was absent-mindedly picking at her frame, looking comically large, surrounded by children, sitting on her little stool at the little desk.

“Is there a place we can sleep tonight?” she asked. “An inn, of sorts?”

“Nah, nothing like that,” Amala said. “Really not enough visitors to run one. Most folk who come here know someone who knows someone.” She hummed. “Say what, if you help me out for a bit, you can crash at my daughter’s place. She’s gonna be out tonight anyway, considering what she’s up to.”

Theora blinked. “Is that really alright?”

“Big chance she’s never gonna know you were there. Also, it’s just the second floor of my house, so even if she got home, she’d know you didn’t get there without my permission. I’ll explain to her when I see her.”

Theora nodded. “Thank you. My companion is having a tough time. I wouldn’t mind sleeping outside, but if she can have a bed for tonight, that would make me happy.”

“There’s space for the both of ya.”

Theora fell in thought for a moment, and then said, “I’m happy to help out. I am somewhat strong, so I can help with carrying things, in case that comes up. Ah. I can also brew tea, if you would like some.”

“Oh! Sure! Don’t have any utensils here, but I won’t say no to a cup when we’re done.”

“I have the utensils with me,” Theora said, got up, and proceeded to pull things out of her cloak again. She made a little spot in a niche next to the stand to not be in the way, and fetched some fresh water from the river.

She really wished she had lava. Now that the time dilation device was in her cloak, she might be able to keep fresh lava for longer… Maybe there was a volcano in this world too? If they truly had seven months until the story would end, then maybe…

Theora looked up at Amala’s curious gaze.

“Yer a summoned one, right? Don’t see any of the common Classes do stuff like this.”

“I am,” Theora confirmed. “Was brought here three days ago.”

“Ah. Considering you found yourself here and are not still at a training camp, can’t have been too pleasant an experience.”

“We somehow made it through.”

“Oh. Your companion too? Darn that king. No wonder she’s a mess.”

Seven months. Maybe she’d find lava during that time, and make tea from it again. But, would she get another chance to have Amala drink it? Or was this the last time Amala would ever drink tea?

When she was done, Theora placed the cup of freshly brewed mix of cherry and birchwood into the woman’s warm hands.

“Thank you.”

The evening was one of the cosiest ones Theora had ever experienced. She helped out with giving frames to children and the occasional adult, hung up new prizes from the boxes when the old ones were chosen, and chatted with Amala, children’s parents, and other villagers every now and then, brewing tea for whoever she could convince to take it. Meanwhile, Lostina was still apathetic. Theora made her work on frame after frame. Maybe, one time she’d succeed.

However, by the time they were packing up the stand, every single shape Lostina had tried to excavate had broken.

Later, at Amala’s home, Lostina sat on an armchair, legs pulled up to her chest, staring at Theora as she was setting sheets on their beds.

“I think this story might be a tragedy,” Lostina finally murmured.

Theora stopped for a second, looked at her, then broke eye contact and continued fluffing the pillow.

By now, she mostly understood what was going on, having pieced it together from Lostina’s accounts.

A flurry of Errata would break through the cracks and rain down on these people. Gonell, who was to arrive tomorrow, would try to hold the creatures off, but accidentally kill the residents in the process. This would traumatise her, and set off a chain reaction that would ultimately lead to her death — a death that was necessary for the original main character of the story, Wallace, to save the world instead of her.

From his point of view, Gonell’s death would be a tragic event he’d witness in passing. He was the protagonist of an empowering narrative. A tale of becoming strong through dedication, and sheer force of will.

And if Theora or Lostina interfered, they’d be punished, and their actions reverted. The author would make something up on the spot in order to preserve the original story.

Theora clenched her fists.

None of this was acceptable.

If Lostina didn’t find a solution, Theora would not accept this fate. She would not allow a single one of these people to die. She’d wipe out the Errata, no matter how many of them the author decided to throw at her. Whatever twist the author would invent, she’d stop it. Any obstacle, she’d [Obliterate].

This village was under her protection. If the author decided to force the issue, then the only question was how much of this reality would remain in the aftermath.

Of course, that way, she wouldn’t find the Fragment of Time, and she wouldn’t get to see the story play out the way it was supposed to. She was breaking Dema’s rule, too, and that hurt. And yet, the only way Theora would allow the author to turn this into a tragedy was through her own dead body.

Unless Lostina was to find another way after all.

Theora gave her a calm gaze.

“Let’s see what happens. First, it’s time to sleep.”