They stepped into the castle’s shadow as they entered Cobbletown. It was carved into the side of a mountain, and dominated the small town that dwelt at its feet. Thick stone walls encircled it, ending only when the mountain peaks became too harsh to make it practical. It was a place built to last.

The wide wooden gates were open as Qube and the Chosen One approached, and it looked straight into the town plaza where colourful mosaics were picked out in tiles. Shops with black timbre and whitewash lined the walkways, colourful flags and signs flapping madly in the wind.

Qube felt like her eyeballs were on stalks as she swiveled this way and that, trying to take in as many details as she could. So many new sights! So many people! She’d never seen so many strangers before in her life! Granted, she’d never met a stranger before, but so many! There were five whole strangers in the plaza in front of them!

Two guards exited from the wooden guard hut next to the gate. The blue-clad officers approached them briskly but before they could speak, the Chosen One sidestepped them.

“Shops, then chatter,” the Chosen One said to Qube. The guards stood, rotating in place as they watched the Chosen One approach the first shop.

“Shouldn’t we greet them?” Qube asked quietly, overawed by everything.

“Nah, they’ll still be there when we get back. I want to try something first,” the Chosen One said casually, opening the first shop’s door. “Come on.”

Still trying to take in as much as she could Qube neglected to look at the sign above the store. So she had absolutely no warning for what she was about to face.

There, behind a scarred counter, stood…

“Mr. Igma?” Qube gasped.

Yup. Same uncompromising expression. Same dim lighting. Same items on display. At her words Mr. Igma stirred, but he kept his focus on the Hero.

“How did you get here?” the Hero asked then, with a worried glance at Qube, cut himself off. “You know what? Never mind. Don’t care. What items do you have for sale?”

“Everything’s for sale,” Mr. Igma said.

“Even this bookshelf?” the Chosen One said snidely.

“Everything’s for sale,” Mr. Igma repeated evenly.

“What about you, are you for sale?” the Chosen One snarked.

“...Everything’s for sale,” Mr. Igma said.

“I… really don’t want to think about the implications of that,” the Hero confessed eventually. “Anyway. How much for a healing potion?”

“Five silver,” Mr Igma said instantaneously.

“What?” The Chosen one bellowed. “But in the village it was only three silver!”

“Rent. Transport. Meeting market prices.” Mr. Igma shrugged. “It is what it is.”

The Chosen One scowled, before suddenly perking up again.

“Sure thing, too easy,” he said. “You don’t mind if I pick up this item, do you?”

“As long as you don’t try and leave without paying for it,” Mr. Igma said, a thread of wariness in his voice. “Or try and do anything magical to it. I object to magic in my shop.”

“Of course, of course,” the Hero said soothingly. He picked up a healing potion, turned it over in his hands, and carefully put it back on the counter. He drummed his fingers on the scarred surface of the counter, contemplating Qube with narrowed eyes.

“I would like to buy a wooden bucket,” he said eventually.

“One copper,” Mr. Igma said, and from behind his counter he pulled out a large wooden bucket. The Hero took it, and carefully placed it on the ground.

“Hey, you,” he said, gesturing at Qube. “come here.” Qube left the safety of her corner and stood next to the bucket. The Hero pointed at her, then the healing potion, and then at the bucket.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Qube almost started to question what he was doing before she stopped herself. He was the Hero. He had proven to her time and again that he knew what he was doing. If he wanted to mime, then she would believe it was for a good reason. She nodded enthusiastically to show him that she understood and picked up the healing potion and dropped it in the bucket. It made a loud thunk! noise.

The Hero then pointed at the bucket, and gestured to outside. She tilted her head and he gestured again, his attention now back on Mr. Igma who hadn’t looked away from the Hero the entire time. Shrugging, she picked up the bucket with the potion in it and put down the bucket outside. The two guards were still standing there, watching the Hero as he joined her outside.

“Put it in your satchel,” he said quietly.

As she picked up the potion bottle the two guards’ attention suddenly zeroed in on it.

“Hey, that looks like it doesn’t belong here - “ One of the guards started to say before she slipped the potion into her satchel. The instant she did their attention suddenly snapped back to the Chosen One.

“Hail and well met, traveller!” One of the guards declared.

The Hero ignored them as he gave a shout of victory and started dancing around on the spot.

“It worked!” he cried, “It worked, it worked, I can’t believe it!” He danced in a circle around Qube, who was still utterly lost. “You!” he said, still dancing around her, “You are the best! Oh we are going to wreck this economy! Come!” He stopped dancing and grabbed her wrist. “We’re going shopping!”

---

One by one, item by item, Qube emptied out Mr. Igma’s shop. After the first few items the Chosen One had caved and bought her a backpack, as it turned out she couldn’t fit anything larger than a potion bottle in her satchel. She shouldn’t have been able to fit too many of those in either, but it seemed the pocket magic had struck again. In a way she was grateful to the Hero for buying her a backpack: now she could study it for clues to the nature of this terrifyingly powerful pocket magic.

Mr. Igma hadn’t had anything particularly special in his shop, mostly odds and ends, a few weapons and some basic potions, but by the way the Chosen One was acting it was like they’d looted a dragon’s hoard.

Mr. Igma also hadn’t looked at Qube the entire time she was carefully transferring his items out of his store. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. Either he secretly wanted to help out the Hero but his pride was so great that he couldn’t admit to giving items away for free, or he too was following the Evil Prophecy.

Not wanting to think of a man she had known since she was born as being Evil, she decided instead that he was secretly a soft touch, and being forced to leave his store behind at the village had changed his internal attitude, if not his external. After all, if he’d been following the Evil Prophecy, he still would have objected to his objects disappearing. Therefore, he was simply trying to save face.

Qube felt tears well up in her eyes at Mr. Igma’s unchanging expression as she stole everything he owned. So noble! She thought. Truly, it paid to not judge based off of appearances! His sour expression and brusque speech hide a heart of gold!

Just as she was trying to think about what tragic event in his past could have caused him to hide his soft soul so thoroughly, they were interrupted by two cloaked figures.

“Are you the Chosen One?” the shorter, curvier figure asked. Their voice was feminine, pitched low and rather breathy.

“The guards told us of your arrival,” the taller, broader cloak said. This one sounded male, his voice gravelly and deep.

Qube felt herself shiver. The Chosen One, who had been ignoring the repeated welcome speech from the guards, looked over the two figures.

“Looks like the main’s here,” he said, and rubbed his hands together with glee. “Time to get some epic loot.”

“Please, Hero! If that be who you are in truth! We have urgent need of you!” the female said in that same breathy voice.

“Money and loot, eh? Now that’s the kind of thinking I like,” the male said, somehow even deeper.

“Meet us in the private room at the inn!” the female said, turning away. “There is much to discuss.”

“Yes,” drawled the male, “blood and intrigue, Hero.” He sneered the last word. “Let us see what you are made of.”

The two figures ran across the town square and into a large inn, completely ignored by the remaining three people in the plaza and the two guards, who were welcoming the Chosen One again.

The Hero ignored them, and turned back to Qube.

“Right. Back to clearing the shop,” he said, shoving Qube back into the store.

“They seemed really important,” she said, but continued carrying out everything.

“Steal now. Plot later,” he said. So she did.

Once they’d cleared out Mr. Igma of all his possessions Qube automatically started walking towards the Tavern the two mysterious figures had gone in.

“This way,” the Chosen One said, heading into the nearest alleyway.

“Shouldn’t we go and see what they wanted? They seemed really important.”

“They’ll still be there when we’re done.”

Qube chewed on one of her fingernails. She supposed the Chosen One was the most important living being in the entire world. Those two mysterious people would have to wait. If he thought there was something they needed to do first then it would have to be urgent.

Popping out of the alleyway he carefully looked around. Seeing the street deserted he crouched and squat-walked towards the closest house. Scuttling up the stairs he reached out and grasped the door handle, grunting as he pulled on it.

The door handle didn’t move. Scowling, the Hero stood up and pulled on it harder, jiggling it.

“Why won’t this open?” He growled, pulling with all his might.

“It’s probably locked,” Qube whispered. She looked around but no one was paying any attention to them. There was only a stranger swathed in a soft grey hooded cape, standing over some kind of grate.

“Why would someone lock their front door?” he asked incredulously.

“To stop people from stealing their stuff?” Qube replied cautiously. The stranger was now looking at them from underneath their hood. A lot of hooded people in Cobbletown, she thought to herself.

The Chosen One turned and looked at her very seriously.

“But I want their stuff,” he said, and pouted.

The Saviour of All Living Creatures was pouting. He was pouting at her like a giant golden baby with cheekbones that could cut glass and a jawline you could use as a shovel. It was extremely disturbing.

Horrified, Qube deployed her most powerful Companion ability: her Understanding Smile.

“I’m sure people will be more than happy to give you items and supplies if you just help them out a bit,” she said, not actually sure of anything of the sort. That had been how it worked in their village though, so surely these townsfolk couldn’t be so different?

“Urgh.” The Chosen One threw back his head. “I was hoping to avoid starting anything until I’d looted the place but… fine. You’re right. I need to at least find a Rogue or something if we’re going to be dealing with urban environments.”

Qube turned her Understanding Smile up another notch.

“There we go! I knew you would think of a solution, teehee!”

Argh! No! She thought she’d been free of the teehees! How had they followed her here?

She would destroy these teehees, she silently vowed as the Hero and her walked back to the main gate. Find whatever birthed them in her and pull it out by the roots. And when she was done, she would have cleansed the world of teehees so thoroughly that no one would ever be able to teehee again.

The Chosen One, unaware of his Companion swearing terrible oaths next to him, walked up to the gate guards.

“Hi there,” he said, talking over the guard’s greeting. “Do you know where I can find a thief?”