“Wait, why do you want to fight me?” Gnos protested, backing away from the insane gnome. “I thought the other guy was the bad one.”

“I’d described my alignment as good…ish,” Nanoc conceded. “But Chaotic goodish.”

There was a startled intake of breath from those who could still breathe and a clacking of jaw bones from those who couldn’t. Rotcel ‘Loc hid under a chair; Dren dropped his pen. For anyone to invoke the name of Chaos was dangerous beyond belief. Order, who led the pantheon, had instructed the other gods to punish any mention of his sister. And yet Nanoc wasn’t struck down. Muse had grown bored after the duel and moved on, as she so often did, missing her chance to smite the gnome, had she wanted to. She wouldn’t have. Muse had liked Chaos. The Static Empire was no place for great art.

“The Guild hates you now, gnome, and they won’t reward you for this,” Princess Aiel protested. “Why do you need to fight?”

Nanoc waved at the skeletons.

“How can I let you keep them as slaves, their souls trapped in old bones? It’s not right,” Nanoc said.

“We aren’t slaves!” one of the skeletons protested. “We’ve never been more free!”

“What? But I thought—”

“Do you know how wonderful it is as an artist not to worry about bills, or rent, or buying the week's groceries? Being dead is magic, I tell you, absolute magic,” the skeleton argued.

“Yeah,” agreed one of the drummers. “We can play every day, if we want to. Nobody stops us.”

“You… like being an undead?” Dren asked.

The skeletons shrugged and grinned. They had to, of course, but now they meant it. “We used to go from town to town, playing at the local inns for pennies, but one day on the road, we were killed by breakfast when that nibbins over there failed his forage skill and mistook Death’s Head mushrooms for everyday butter mushrooms.”

“I said I was sorry,” the skeleton identified as the nibbins said. “How many times—”

“It was for the best. Gnos found us a few hours later and brought us back. We rented this place from a djinn, and we’ve been practicing our new show ever since. It’s going to be a huge hit!”

“And Aiel?”

Princess Aiel laughed, a strangely cheerful sound in the darkness of the theatre. She knelt beside Gnos and pulled the arrow from his chest.

“Gnos and I are in love,” she laughed. “We’re getting married next month. A little ceremony, just an undead minister and a few ghoul friends—"

“So… you ran away from home for love?” Dren asked.

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“No!” Aiel snapped. “I’m twenty-three and a noble of the seventh level, not a child to be ordered about. Besides, running is for servants. I strolled away, slowly and elegantly, with a song in my heart and a smile on my lips.”

“But your father posted a quest to rescue you at the local branch of the Heroes’ Guild,” Dren protested. “How can you explain that?”

“Oh, very easily. Dad’s an idiot,” the princess said, scowling. “He wants me to be a noble and spend my life ruling and gossiping, or whatever they do. I refuse. I’m changing my primary class to dark dramatist. I want to sing, dance, and raise skeletons without asking permission first. You know, the good life.”

Gnos, the necromancer and his troupe of singing skeletons nodded in agreement. It seemed the thing was quite settled.

“So… can we hear the rest of the song, then?” Dren asked. “I’d like to include it in my notes.”

“Of course! But the chorus needs to freshen up, you know. War is so bad for the vocal cords. Give us a minute.”

Gnos and his crew disappeared into theatre wings, and after a few moments, the sound of off-key instruments filled the air. The trio of adventurers sat on the edge of the stage and stared out at the lines of moldy chairs in the amphitheater.

“Do you know, this has surely been the most exciting day of my life,” Dren said. “I have learned a lot, and even gained a level. Perhaps we should travel a while together, Nanoc?”

The thought had occurred to the field scholar when Muse was in the room, a devinely inspired partnership. Nanoc agreed.

“Are you sure about that?” he said. “I’ll be a little… chaotic.”

Dren winced, but nodded eagerly. “And what about you?” he asked Rotcel ‘Loc.

The lizardling was staring at her scaly feel. She had been thinking about the her fate.

“A cold wind blows across my heart, for I have betrayed my party, denied my leader's order and defied the Guild,” she said dramatically, perhaps due to being in a theatre. “I must return to the guild to face my punishment. I—”

“Eh,” Nanoc said. “Why go back?”

“For duty! For debt!” she lamented. “I serve the Guild—”

“Your party leader turned his back on you,” Dren reminded her.

“That… is true. He was a colossal ass. But I am bound to work for the Guild.”

“We’re still registered to the Guild, so if you travel with us you’re technically still with the Guild. Come with us,” Nanoc suggested. “Those heroes seemed like jerks, really.”

“I nearly betrayed you by abducting the princess!” the lizardling protested.

“And I nearly had beans for breakfast,” Nanoc replied. “It’s a good thing we both came to our senses before anyone was hurt. So, what do you say?”

“Well… I may walk with you, for a while,” Rotcel ‘Loc said cautiously.

It was not like she had a lot of choice. Disobeying a party leader was one of the Guild’s cardinal sins, and her return would likely result in a short conversation with a long sword.

“We’re going to do the song outside!” Gnos yelled out from somewhere in the theatre wings, “It will be even better under the stars!”

“Sounds good,” Nanoc said, hopping to his feet and helping Dren up.

Rotcel ‘Loc did not follow them. Her treasure sense was tingling, and she never ignored it. It guided her to the side of the stage where Gnos’s crown lay. She picked it up and used her appraisal skill: The crown was made of black bones wired carefully together to form a circle and crest. Dark gems were mounted in pairs along the bones like eyes staring out of the abyss. It looked impressive, but none of it was real. The bones were made from plaster, and the gems were glass. A small tuning fork had been hiding along one ear, and the inside was padded with old rags. It was a prop, after all.

A unique prop, likely filled with magic. Nobody else in the world could claim to have anything like it.

Rotcel ‘Loc looked around guiltily.

“Can I have this?” she asked quietly.

Nobody replied. Nobody was looking.

The temptation was too much.

She slipped the crown into her tunic and raced after Nanoc, heading for the after-party.