“Hail and well met, traveler!” the gate guard said determinedly.

“Thief,” the Chosen One said.

“What brings you to our cursed land?” The other guard refused to be shaken.

“Where thief,” the Chosen One tried.

“Much has-”

“Skip.”

“-will you?”

The Hero sighed. “Yes. Thief. Where?”

“I see you’ve heard about our problem with the Thieves' Guild,” the original gate guard said eventually.

“Yes!” the Chosen One said. “Where is it? Them. I mean them.”

“I don’t know what they’ve been feeding those rats, but they’re massive. If you can clear the rats out and let us know we’d be grateful to you. Thieves are bad enough, I draw the line at giant mutant rats.”

“Cool,” the Chosen One said and instantly turned and walked away, cutting off whatever the guard had been about to say.

“Wait,” Qube said, hurrying after him. “He didn’t say where the rats or Thieves Guild were.”

“In the sewers, of course,” the Hero scoffed. “Where else would you find them?”

“In warehouses? Or the docks? Basements in general? Lots of places have rats,” Qube said, confused.

“Trust me. They’re in the sewers,” the Hero said as they exited the alleyway they’d wandered through earlier and approached the grey hooded figure standing over the grate.

“You’ll want to move along,” it said as soon as the Chosen One looked at it.

“What do you want, target?” the figure hissed as the Chosen One approached it. The Hero ignored it, instead walking directly into it and slowly pushing it off the grate with his body.

“You’re in the wrong neighbourhood, pal. Why don’t you keep walking?” the figure said, ignoring the fact that it was slowly skating backwards due to the persistent pressure of the Chosen One rubbing against said figure.

“Lift that, will you?” the Chosen One asked Qube, pointing at the grate. Qube grabbed the grate and pulled. She wasn’t able to lift it even an inch. Digging her heels in she pulled even harder, cutting her fingers on the metal.

“I think maybe it’s locked?” she said, slightly embarrassed by her inability to rip apart solid metal on the Chosen One’s command. The Chosen One clicked his tongue in irritation, then pointed at the figure’s pockets. The figure was now attempting to walk around to resume its place on top of the grate, but was stymied by the Hero stepping to the side every time the figure tried to get past him.

“Come a little closer, if you dare,” the figure snarled at the Chosen One.

“He’s got the key,” the Chosen One said.

“Can we please have the key?” Qube asked the figure, wondering how the Chosen One knew it was a male. The figure honestly sounded more like an angry snake on legs. “He’s the Chosen One and we are on a quest to save the whole world, so it’s really quite important.”

“I never take my hands off my knives, target.” It was hard to tell whether the figure was addressing her or the Chosen One. That was one of the downsides of wearing a hood.

“Oh,” Qube said, frowning in confusion. “Is that because of a Sacred Oath?” She’d heard of particularly devout people taking Sacred Oaths in order to gain access to power beyond that of mere mortals. Generally they involved not marrying, or never speaking again, but it made sense that a thief, especially a thief in charge of guarding, might make a vow to never release their weapon.

It seemed terribly inconvenient, but then that seemed to be the point of Sacred Oaths. The gods were only interested in helping you out if you made your life as much of a pain as possible.

“Scram,” the figure hissed in the Hero’s face, sounding even more snakelike.

“Sorry,” Qube apologised, “I didn’t mean to offend you. I know religion is a very personal thing.” It must be a restriction while only on the job, she decided. That was the only thing that made sense.

The Chosen One looked at her in exasperation. “He’s not … look just take the key.”

“Oh, sure. Is that okay?” Qube asked the figure.

“You’ll want to move along,” it said from under its hood. Qube supposed that was a yes.

“He can’t take his hands off his knives, remember?” the Chosen One said, his shoulders shaking as if he was holding back laughter. “You’ll have to help him out.”

Timidly reaching out, Qube patted at the figure’s pockets. True to his (and she was now pretty certain it was a he) word he had knives in both his hands. This was the closest she had ever been to a stranger before.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Come a little closer, if you dare,” he hissed.

Qube went bright pink.

“How inappropriate!” she snapped and shoved her hand into his pocket, yanking out an oversized bronze key. She stepped away from him sharply and sniffed. “Here you go Chosen One,” she said, only to discover the key had disappeared out of her hand and was now in the grate’s keyhole.

Key magic! And she’d missed it thanks to Creepy Snake Man! She glared at him as the Hero unlocked and opened the grate. She was so busy glaring at him, in fact, that she missed the point where the Hero reached out, and shoved her into the sewers.

---

She landed on her feet in a circle full of the roughest, toughest looking people she had ever seen. There were all wearing dark leathers and ignored her as she stared at them.

Then the Hero landed next to her and they all sprang to attention.

“And that,” he said to Qube triumphantly, “is how you avoid an entire sewer level of rats!”

“Well, well, well. Taken care of our little rat problem, have you?” The largest man stepped into the circle of light coming from the grate. Torches flickered endlessly on the walls, somehow not scorching them at all. Various crates and tables filled the large room, and tankards were scattered everywhere.

“Yes,” the Chosen One lied. “What’s my reward?”

“You can have your prisoner back,” the leader said, smiling sinisterly.

“What prisoner?” Qube whispered to the Chosen One. He shrugged.

“But let him know the next time we find him working in our territory, we won’t be so kind.” The leader sneered as he walked over to a rusted iron cage. “Still, you held up your end of the bargain, which is more than I can say for most goody two shoes. We could use some talent like yours. If you ever find yourself -”

“I accept,” the Hero said quickly. “Which one of your gang is joining us?”

“Oh no, little fish.” The leader laughed, “You’ll need to prove yourself-”

The Chosen One interrupted by sighing very loudly. “Fiiiiine,” he said, “Gimme the quest.”

As the leader started to explain some complicated grudge they held against the guards, and how the only solution was for the Hero to steal something rather than them doing it themselves, the figure in the cage slowly stood up and walked towards them.

Qube caught her breath as the figure stepped into the light.

He was, quite simply, the most handsome man she had ever seen. Long, blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a small, pointed goatee framed his slim face. He had a large lute slung over his shoulder, and a golden rapier at his hip.

And his clothes! They must have been the very cutting edge of fashion! He was wearing a long tunic with the sleeves cut off, allowing the bright green sleeves of his shirt underneath to billow out unrestrained. His tights were also bright green, and somehow his leather boots were also vaguely green. His gloves were even fingerless! She’d never seen anything like it!

And his hat. His hat was a thing of beauty. Big, black, with a wide brim curled towards his head, with a white feather sticking out of it so large that it could almost tickle the small of his back.

Once he was fully in the light he swept the Chosen One (and by extension, Qube, since she was standing next to the Hero) the most graceful bow she had ever seen. Also, the only bow she’d ever seen.

“Many thanks, my noble rescuer!” he said, his voice a melting baritone. “You have saved me from most desperate straits. I am forever in your debt. Please, allow me to accompany you on your journey in thanks.”

“Oh great,” the Chosen One said. “Our reward is a sewer bard.”

Qube stared at the Sewer Bard, admiration sparkling in her eyes.

“I’ve never met a Sewer Bard before!” She said, trying to sound calm and collected and failing. For some reason the Chosen One started laughing.

Sewer Bard was looking at the Chosen One, a slightly pained expression on his face.

“A bard I am indeed, good sir, as your cunning eyes have already discerned. But if I may be so bold as to make my name known to you -”

“Sewer Bard,” the Chosen One said, grinning. “Come on Sewer Bard, we need to get moving. We’ve got locks to pick.”

A ladder dropped down from the grate, making the whole process a lot easier. The three of them climbed out to the sound of the leader finishing his explanation of their first quest.

“I accept,” the Hero said over his shoulder as he climbed out.

“Do you have any idea what you just agreed to?” Qube asked curiously as he helped her out of the hole.

“Nope,” he said, still grinning.

“Won’t that cause problems?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Nah,” he replied, “I’m sure we’ll just run into it at some point.”

“Welcome back, kid,” the figure next to the grate hissed. “I hear the boss took a liking to you. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Qube looked at the figure in astonishment. How on earth did he know - oh! He must have listened through the grate. She smiled at him kindly.

“Thank you for your key,” she said politely.

“Hey Sewer Bard,” the Chosen One said as the newly nicknamed man crawled out of the hole. “You can pick locks, yeah?”

“That was why I was the unwilling guest of our good friends the Thieves Guild,” Sewer Bard said. He paused and looked puzzled. “Wait if you didn’t know that why did you-” He cut off, wincing.

Qube nodded grimly. She recognised that Prophecy pain induced expression. Not having felt it in quite some time, she could only assume that she was doing a flawless job as the Prophecy Approved Companion.

“Yeah yeah, that thing,” the Chosen One said, waving away the Sewer Bard’s confusion. “Anyway, point being, can you break into that house?” He pointed at the large mansion across the road that he had first tried to enter. “I got a feeling it’s got some good stuff in it. Fancy windows,” he said to Qube, who hadn’t asked, “is a sure sign.”

Qube pondered the situation as she saw the Sewer Bard work the lock. She wasn’t entirely sure about whether or not this was the right thing to do. The door popped out and the three of them snuck into the house.

Surely, she thought, taking things from people was wrong. That was why people locked their doors in the cities. There were strangers who might take their stuff and leave before they could take it back. Or might take things they hadn’t agreed could be taken.

She idly sat down at the kitchen table as the Sewer Bard and the Chosen One split off in different directions.

Qube was aware of crime in a very dim, distant fashion. Rogues were needed to break into places and take things from bad guys. Therefore they had to be trained. And if you were an Evil Rogue, then you would presumably break into the good guys places and take their stuff.

The Sewer Bard was, besides being a beautiful creature, on their side. He had joined them. And they were on the side of the Golden Prophecy. Therefore he was Good.

She heard a thump-OW from upstairs, as if someone had tried to unsuccessfully kick open a chest.

Following that logic, the people whose house they were breaking into had to be Evil.

In fact, she remembered suddenly, the Hero had said that there was Good stuff in this house! That must be what they were looking for! Some artefacts of great Good power!

“The basement!” she cried, standing up abruptly and knocking everything off the table. “Or the attic! Chosen One, it will be in one of those two locations!” She spotted a trap door near the fireplace. “I found it!”

The Chosen One came clattering down the stairs.

“Good job,” he said, and she glowed at his praise. “Sewer Bard!” he yelled, "Come open this!”

“I don’t think we should be yelling,” Sewer Bard whispered. Qube jumped. She’d had no idea he was right behind her!

“Whatever,” the Chosen One said, “Open her up!”

“Your wish is ever my command,” Sewer Bard gave another impressive bow, before flicking open the trap door’s locks.

“Come on gems!” the Chosen One said, dropping down into the darkness. The Sewer Bard looked up at the ceiling, briefly, and sighed.

“I had rather been hoping to avoid any more underground adventures, at least for the minute.” He sighed.

“[Fiddle],” they heard the Hero say from the basement. “Could use some backup here.” Sewer Bard immediately dropped down, Qube right behind him. The Hero was standing just to the side of them, sword drawn, staring at the pit before their feet. There, in the darkness, a dozen skeletons roamed, their unseeing eyes blood red points of light in the black. The whole pit was surrounded with candles which were somehow still lit, despite the fact it looked like no one had been here for some time.

In the pit’s centre was a large purple gem.

“Called it,” the Hero said with satisfaction.

The skeletons turned up at them, and hissed.

Qube delicately crouched at the side of the pit and looked down at the skeletons.

“How can they hiss if they have no tongues? Or lungs?” she asked.

“Hey,” the Chosen One said, crouching next to her. He seemed to glow slightly gold next to her. “Those things would definitely count as Evil, right? Probably Evil Prophecy related.”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “This undead horde definitely seems like the work of the Evil Emperor.”

“So you’ve got nothing to worry about,” he said reassuringly.

“Why would I-”

“Think fast!” he said, and pushed her in the pit.