CHAPTER ELEVEN
An Incident of Kidnappings and Reality Checks
Anight in the Long Rest Tavern and Inn flew by in a blink.
One quick scene-change later, and Em found herself sitting upright on a soft mattress, fully energized. Her headache from the alcohol was gone. She wasn’t even hungry. It was like after she slept, everything in her body reset for another day of questing.
Huh, interesting.
The dreaded nightmare and her Author’s intense stare still drilled into the depths of Em’s mind.
She ran her hands down her face, struggling to process any of the information she’d acquired from the cliché dream-scene.
A spew of swear words spluttered past her lips, and she climbed from the bed—which thankfully she didn’t have to share last night.
Write my own story? Em glared out the inn window into the trope-filled streets of Mercer Village below.
Adventurers darted to-and-fro to shop for supplies for their daily quests, laughing and calling one another to the guild-listing board.
She balled her fists, gritting her teeth.
Despite the parties’ extensive, obvious clichés, all of the groups seemed happy. Alive. Like they didn’t have a care in the world. Just living their lives fully, indifferent to whether their adventures became books or not.
And here she was, angry and discontent with being a Main Character.
Her Great Author had both dismissed and challenged her at the same time.
Is giving up my dreams worth living a care-free life? How much fight do I have in me to get what I want?
Em closed her eyes, imagining that gold-leaf bound novel with her name on the back blurb.
Passion boiled deep within her gut, and she knew she couldn’t give up on her dreams or this plotline.
Happiness was fleeting, but her career and reputation had to be preserved—even if her Great Author didn’t care about her destiny.
Fuck you, she thought to the ordinary, curly-haired-cat-woman who’d cursed her with this shitty, cliché questline simply because the Author was bored.
I won’t let you ruin me or break me down into a faceless background character.
Then stick to the plotline.
“Write my own story, huh?” Em said aloud, aware her Author heard and saw everything. She added a middle finger to the sky for good measure. “I’ll do that then. I’ll ruin this plotline and stop every shitty trope before it ruins me.”
This had to be more than just making egotistical comments or refusing Faylorn’s directions. More than trying to pass off the prophecy to another character. She needed to eradicate the plot, the prophecy, the quest, and everything associated with it.
She’d have to make everything as fucking original as possible.
Em didn’t know how she was going to do it, but she just knew she would.
She dug into her pocket to pull out the A Main Character’s Guidebook for Plots and Tropes for any advice or inspiration, but a knock on her bedroom door interrupted her scheming.
“Em?” Gair’s voice asked out in the hall. “Are you awake?”
Em stuffed the manual back into her deep skirt pocket and let out a sigh.
Right, first things first. She needed to somehow address Gair’s situation.
She cracked the door open, peeking through. Her best friend was dressed and ready for another day of questing, the proud owner of a freshly polished bow and leathery quiver along with a new pair of daggers and bracers. He rubbed at the silvery dragon scales on his neck, surveying her.
“You’re already dressed?” he asked.
“Were you hoping I wasn’t?”
Gair’s freckled cheeks blushed. “Um… no… I just…”
“Relax.” Em scoffed and pushed past him into the crammed hallway. Noise of other waking, gathering parties filled the Long Rest Inn as breakfast was consumed down the creaky stairs. “I’m kidding. Let’s find the others.”
“You’re in a cheerful mood,” Gair followed her down into the dining area.
“I slept on the wrong side of the bed.” Em searched the crowds of leather armor, tattoos, and scarred bodies for her companions. For once, she wanted to see them. If she were to succeed in her new mission of changing this story from the inside-out, she had to begin with her Side Characters.
“Wouldn’t that put you in a bad mood?” Gair asked.
Em rolled her eyes, turning to face her friend. “You talk too much.”
“I thought you loved talking to me,” he frowned, lip quivering.
“Well, let’s just assume who I was yesterday is a completely different person,” Em said. “In fact, let’s pretend we never met, and we are starting this whole thing over as brand-new people.”
“Why?”
“I had a revelation last night about this shitty quest,” Em explained. “And now I’m going to save this story.”
Gair’s aquamarine eyes widened, the golden flecks catching in the hearth light. “How?”
“Save the info-dump for another time.” She pushed him aside, noticing Faylorn’s pointy wizard hat over by the fireplace. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”
Polo took up nearly the entire leather sofa, squishing Faylorn and the glowering Roden together against one of the armrests.
They mused over plates of sausage and eggs, piles of random travel gear scattered around their legs; potions, weapons, food, camping gear—everything and anything they might need for the remainder of their quest.
The half-elf prince shot a glare toward Gair beside Em. “I see you get along well with the dragon mutant,” he growled.
“Gair was my childhood best friend,” Em waved his jealousy away, trying not to think too hard about her conversation with the brooding love-interest last night.
“You’ll never find a man more obsessed with this girl than me,” Gair grinned, wrapping his arm over her shoulder.
Roden’s glare darkened, his nostrils flaring.
Em shrugged Gair off. “I want to address a few things about our—ahem, fellowship, before we set out today for the dragon mountain.”
“Who put you in charge?” Roden grumbled.
“Actually, you did.” Em kicked at his boot.
“She’s the best ever Chosen One!” Polo cheered, raising one of his many cast-iron frying pans. The imp bobbed his eyebrows at Roden. “And after last night at the bar, when she had to save you from that very heated shirtless situation, I’d say she’s clearly the responsible one here.”
Roden swore under his breath, ears reddening.
“None of you have to come with Faylorn and me,” Em went on, not including the fact she didn’t want anyone else in her group to join since they would just get in the way. “But we need to get the relic from Brolzross before we can defeat Kriqir.”
“You really are in a good mood today,” Gair chuckled.
Roden’s wry eyebrows knotted in suspicion.
“If you are going to help me with the prophecy, we need to make a few rules,” Em said.
Faylorn cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. Let me give everyone some insight on…”
“Hold on,” Em interrupted. “I’m in charge now. This is my damn prophecy and my story—so you all are going to do things my way. If anyone has a problem with how I want to run things around here, feel free to leave.”
“Oh, oh?” Polo’s hand shot up in the air.
“No questions.”
The imp lowered it and shrugged.
“Now, if we’re going to finish this questline, we need some originality in this party,” Em went on. “So, I’m going to go outside, post a job listing on the guild board, and get us some new recruits.”
“You can’t do that!” Roden leapt from the couch. “That goes against the prophecy!”
“I can, and I will,” Em said.
“We must work inconspicuously, lass,” Faylorn protested. “We cannot have people talking about our plans to destroy Kriqir the Living. Otherwise, we may be attacked or worse.”
“I don’t mind a little violence,” Polo said.
“That’s the spirit!” Em high-fived the imp, grinning. She turned to address the others’ scowls. “Kriqir already knows we are coming for him; he ambushed us with goblins after the Wood Elves declared me the official Chosen One. The prophecy already foretells him of my coming…”
“That’s what she said,” Polo snickered.
“Because of that,” Em said, flustered and trying to stay on track. “We need all of the help we can get to avoid anyone dying.”
Faylorn shook his head, his beard swaying in time with the motion. “The prophecy already predicts and promises my death. ‘She’ll become Queen, aided by a mentor who will probably die and become a ghost.’ This is a fact I am willing to accept…”
“Well, that’s too damn cliché,” Em snapped. “And nobody’s dying. Not on my watch.”
Except, you’re on my watch.
“I’m going to make us all original. I’m going to save both this quest and you all from yourselves,” Em said. “You can either join me and create the greatest story ever known in Novella, or you can leave.”
“Hear, hear!” Polo fist-bumped the air.
“You’re insane,” Roden growled. “Actually insane.”
“I always knew you had it in you, Em,” Gair smirked.
“I’m going to make a listing on the guild board while you begin preparations for our hike to Brolzross’ mountain,” Em said. She pulled out her manual and ripped out a sheet of blank paper from the back; a convenient feature the book offered to anyone in need of something to write.
SIDE CHARACTERS NEEDED FOR DRAGON-LAIR HEIST, REPORT TO LONG REST TAVERN AND INN
As she wrote, the others packed their new travel gear and personal junk from their morning shopping spree.
“Lass, are you certain you wish to risk exposing our mission to steal the relic from Brolzross the Nocturnal?” Faylorn asked, “The moment Kriqir the Living senses of your ploys…”
“Relax, old man,” Em said. “I’ve got this.”
“Hey!” Polo exclaimed, “Don’t touch my frying pans!”
“They’ll be noisy and expose us if you leave them hitched to your traveling pack like that,” Gair told the imp with a huff. “You need to think practically when traveling…”
“And I’m practically thinking you’re violating my things,” Polo snapped.
“You know you all have inventories, right?” a new voice interjected. Em’s party turned to see the barkeeper Rex watching them underneath his bushy eyebrows, stroking his thick beard.
“Inve-whats?” Polo asked.