Four hours after the incident at the Sunken Sanctuary, the party sat in a tavern.
This was impressive for several reasons.
First, they were alive.
Second, the tavern had allowed them inside.
Third, nobody had yet been asked to leave.
Paul had lakeweed in his hair.
Jo Mama had acquired a blue crystal she absolutely had not possessed before entering the sanctuary.
Jimmy had acquired several things he refused to itemize.
Ellie was attempting to dry her boots beside the fire.
She had rolled a two.
The boots were now somehow wetter.
Galagog sat with a bowl of stew.
Madison had ordered a perfectly normal drink, mostly to prove someone at the table still could.
The Paladin was reviewing the events of the sanctuary with the exhausted expression of someone trying to determine exactly when a rescue mission had become a structural collapse.
Snitch hung quietly at Galagog’s side.
For once.
Jo held the blue crystal up to the light.
“Pretty.”
Paul looked at it.
“Where did you get that?”
Jo lowered it.
“Get what?”
“The crystal.”
“What crystal?”
“The large blue object currently in your hand.”
Jo looked at her hand.
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.”
Jo thought.
“Found.”
“Where?”
“Temple.”
Paul stared.
“The temple that was collapsing?”
“Yep.”
“The temple from which I specifically shouted, ‘Do not stop for anything’?”
Jo nodded.
“Jo heard.”
“And you stopped.”
“Only little.”
Paul put his face in his hands.
Jimmy leaned toward Jo.
“Put it in bag.”
Jo immediately did.
Paul looked up.
“That does not solve the problem.”
Jimmy shrugged.
“Can’t see problem.”
Paul closed his eyes again.
The tavern door opened.
A traveling bard entered.
Not Madison.
A different bard.
This distinction became important almost immediately.
He carried a lute, wore a feathered hat, and possessed the dangerous confidence of a man who believed every event improved when rhymed.
He looked around the tavern.
Saw the party.
Stopped.
His eyes widened.
“Oh.”
Paul noticed.
“No.”
The bard approached.
“No,” Paul repeated.
“I know you.”
“You do not.”
“The adventurers!”
Jo waved.
“Hi.”
Paul turned toward her.
“Why would you encourage him?”
The bard pulled out a chair.
“I’ve heard stories.”
Ellie groaned.
Jimmy looked interested.
The Paladin straightened.
“What kind of stories?”
The bard smiled.
“All of them.”
Paul stood.
“We’re leaving.”
Nobody moved.
Paul looked around.
“Why is nobody moving?”
Jo patted his chair.
“Song.”
“There is going to be a song?”
The bard was already tuning his lute.
Paul sat down.
“Of course there is.”
“Gather close and hear the tale
Of heroes brave and true-”
Paul raised a hand.
“Already wrong.”
The bard stopped.
“I’ve sung one line.”
“Efficient, isn’t it?”
The bard tried again.
“Within a tavern, fate did call-”
Madison interrupted.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
She sipped her drink.
“I wasn’t there.”
The bard blinked.
“At the tavern?”
“At wherever you’re claiming we all met.”
Jo nodded.
“Madison came later.”
Madison pointed at Jo.
“Thank you.”
The bard looked confused.
“But the story says you all met in a tavern.”
Paul leaned back.
“Which tavern?”
The bard hesitated.
“The... Red Griffin?”
Paul shook his head.
“Never been there.”
“The Golden Goose?”
Ellie frowned.
“I was banned from there.”
Everyone turned.
Ellie looked around.
“What?”
Paul pointed.
“You said you’ve never been banned from a tavern.”
“I said I refused to discuss it.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“Exactly.”
The bard looked increasingly concerned.
“Then where did you meet?”
Paul thought.
“A roadside inn.”
Galagog looked up from her stew.
“Had beer?”
“Yes.”
“Tavern.”
Paul stared.
“That is not how historical classification works.”
Galagog returned to her stew.
“Tavern.”
Snitch spoke.
“For historical completeness, I am inclined to support Galagog.”
Paul looked at the whip.
“Nobody asked you.”
“A recurring injustice.”
Galagog tapped the handle.
“Quiet.”
“Silenced for defending the truth. Tragic.”
Paul sighed.
The bard’s eyes widened.
“Your whip talks?”
Galagog ate another spoonful of stew.
“Unfortunately.”
The bard started again.
“First came Ellie, shadow-born,
Descending from the rafters-”
Ellie pointed.
“No.”
The bard stopped.
“You’re the rogue.”
“Yes.”
“I heard you dropped silently from the ceiling.”
“I fell through it.”
The bard blinked.
“What?”
“I was infiltrating.”
Paul smiled.
“Successfully.”
“Thank you.”
“Until the ceiling.”
Ellie glared.
Paul’s smile disappeared.
The bard slowly lowered his lute.
“So... you fell through the ceiling?”
Ellie folded her arms.
“The ceiling failed.”
Jo nodded.
“Ceiling fault.”
Ellie pointed at her.
“Exactly.”
History has been unkind about which of these details it remembers.
The bard turned to Jimmy.
“And then the mighty treasure hunter-”
“Inventory specialist,” Jimmy corrected.
“Inventory specialist?”
“Yep.”
The bard considered.
“Scoured the land for relics of immeasurable worth?”
Jimmy reached into his bag.
He placed a bent spoon on the table.
The bard stared.
“Is that magical?”
“No.”
“Valuable?”
“No.”
“Ancient?”
“Maybe.”
Paul pointed at the spoon.
“That thing saved our lives.”
The bard stared harder.
Jimmy smiled.
“Good spoon.”
The bard immediately began writing something down.
Paul leaned over.
“Do not make the spoon legendary.”
“Too late.”
Jimmy looked pleased.
The bard turned to the Paladin.
“And the holy warrior, sworn to justice, discovered these heroes during a noble investigation-”
The Paladin’s face changed.
Jo whispered:
“Lawful investigation.”
The Paladin looked at her.
Jo smiled.
“Technically,” Paul added.
The Paladin turned toward him.
“Do not.”
The bard looked delighted.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” said the Paladin.
“They had sack of stolen gold,” Jo said.
The Paladin closed her eyes.
Jimmy added:
“Returned it.”
“Eventually,” Ellie said.
The bard’s quill flew across the page.
The Paladin opened her eyes.
“You will not include that.”
“Of course not.”
“Thank you.”
The bard continued writing.
She narrowed her eyes.
“You’re including it.”
“It rhymes with something excellent.”
The Paladin looked at Paul.
“Why did we let him sit down?”
Paul gestured at the table.
“I tried.”
The bard looked at Galagog.
“And you?”
Galagog considered.
“Joined later.”
“After what?”
She thought.
“Bridge.”
Paul frowned.
“Which bridge?”
“Broken one.”
“That does not narrow it down.”
“Exactly.”
The bard looked at Snitch.
“And you?”
“I came with Galagog.”
“Were you always able to speak?”
Snitch paused.
Galagog looked at him.
“No.”
The bard leaned closer.
“When did you start?”
Snitch’s voice became dramatically solemn.
“There are awakenings in a being’s existence which divide history itself into a before and an after-”
Galagog picked up her napkin.
“Don’t.”
“I was merely-”
“Don’t.”
Snitch went quiet.
The bard wrote faster.
Then he looked at Madison.
“And the bard?”
Madison smiled.
“Assigned.”
The traveling bard blinked.
“Assigned?”
“To them.”
Jo nodded.
“Babysitter.”
“I was not officially called that.”
“Unofficial babysitter.”
Madison sighed.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“What convinced you to stay?”
Madison looked around the table.
Paul was attempting to remove lakeweed from his sleeve.
Ellie had given up on the boots.
Jimmy was examining the bard’s spare lute strings with dangerous interest.
The Paladin was still offended by the phrase lawful investigation.
Galagog ate stew.
Jo smiled at Madison.
Madison thought.
“Emergency jerky.”
The bard stared.
“What?”
“Long story.”
Jo leaned forward.
“Good jerky.”
Madison pointed at her.
“You stole most of it.”
“Shared.”
“You stole it and then offered some back.”
“Sharing.”
The bard wrote:
EMERGENCY JERKY.
Madison nodded.
“Honestly, that’s close enough.”
The bard’s gaze drifted to the equipment at Jo’s side.
His eyes widened.
“Are those the famous frying pans?”
Jo looked down.
Two very different pans rested among her gear.
One dark and battle-worn, marked by brilliant golden holy fissures.
The other ornate, its purple gemstone catching the tavern light.
Jo smiled.
“Yep.”
“Where did you get them?”
“Morip gave Jo pan.”
Somewhere in Jo’s memory, Morip’s voice answered immediately:
Not yet.
Jo paused.
“Sort of.”
Paul looked at her.
“That’s a complicated story.”
Jo nodded.
“Future spoiler.”
The bard stared.
“What does that mean?”
“Means song later.”
Paul rubbed his forehead.
“We have lost control of chronology.”
Snitch spoke softly.
“Did we ever possess it?”
Nobody answered.
The traveling bard looked down at his notes.
They were a disaster.
Taverns.
Ceilings.
Stolen gold.
A spoon.
Emergency jerky.
Broken bridges.
Talking weapons.
Future spoilers.
He looked at the party.
“Fine.”
He put down the quill.
“Forget the details.”
Paul nodded.
“Excellent idea.”
“When did you become a party?”
The table went quiet.
That question was harder.
Jo looked at Paul.
Paul looked at Ellie.
Ellie looked at Jimmy.
Jimmy looked into his bag.
The Paladin looked at Madison.
Madison looked at Galagog.
Galagog looked at everyone.
Nobody answered.
The bard waited.
Finally Paul said:
“We didn’t.”
The bard frowned.
“You’re clearly a party.”
“I mean there wasn’t a moment.”
Madison nodded.
“No official beginning.”
“No oath,” Ellie said.
“No ceremony,” said the Paladin.
Jimmy shrugged.
“No paperwork.”
Everyone looked at him.
“What?”
Paul leaned back.
“It happened gradually.”
The bard waited.
Paul thought about it.
“One job became another.”
Ellie nodded.
“Then someone came back.”
“Then somebody else did,” Madison said.
The Paladin smiled.
“Eventually, you simply assume they’ll be there.”
Galagog nodded.
“Same table.”
Jo’s expression softened.
“Same chaos.”
Madison looked at her.
Jo shrugged.
“Party happened.”
The bard smiled.
“How?”
Jo thought very hard.
“Little bit at time.”
There were only days when somebody new stopped leaving.
The bard sat quietly for a moment.
Then he smiled.
“I can’t sing that.”
Paul looked offended.
“Why not?”
“Too complicated.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Truth is terrible for meter.”
Snitch stirred.
“At last, a fellow professional.”
Galagog tapped him against the table.
“Ow.”
The bard lifted his lute.
“So, tavern?”
“No,” Paul said.
“Definitely tavern,” Galagog said.
“Ceiling entrance?”
Ellie pointed at him.
“Careful.”
“Treasure hunter?”
“Inventory specialist.”
“Holy warrior joins noble heroes during lawful investigation?”
The Paladin opened her mouth.
Jo shouted:
“YES.”
The Paladin looked at her.
Jo smiled.
The Paladin sighed.
“Fine.”
“Emergency jerky?”
Madison raised her mug.
“Keep it.”
The bard grinned.
Then he began to play.
The song was almost entirely wrong.
It was also catchy.
By the second chorus, Jo was singing.
By the third, Jimmy had added a verse about the spoon.
Ellie threatened to leave when her ceiling incident acquired a rhyme with heroic feeling.
She did not leave.
The Paladin corrected the legal terminology twice.
Nobody listened.
Galagog contributed exactly three words.
All of them were “Needs more bagpipes.”
Snitch provided unsolicited narration until Galagog wrapped him in a tablecloth.
Madison harmonized despite claiming she would not.
Paul refused to participate.
Then corrected the bard’s chord progression.
This counted.
Much later, the tavern began to empty.
The traveling bard packed his lute.
“Same time tomorrow?”
“No,” Paul said.
Jo looked disappointed.
The bard laughed and left.
One by one, the party gathered their things.
Paul reached the door first.
He looked back.
Jo was still sitting at the table, examining the blue crystal from the sanctuary.
“Jo.”
She looked up.
“You coming?”
Jo put the crystal away.
“Yep.”
She stood and followed.
That was the problem with beginnings.
You almost never recognized them while they were happening.
But songs are allowed to start where the story sounds best.
Stories are less cooperative.
So, if we actually want to know how this happened, we have to go back.
Back before the whole table was full.
Back when the party was smaller, the history was simpler, and Jo Mama was standing in front of a sign that very clearly said:
BRIDGE CLOSED - UNSAFE.