Are you taking the actual piss, love?

“Well, our short time together has been… interesting… but this is where you and I must part ways, Ser Arch,” said Darcy.

“We’re just glossing over the woman we left yelping in pain and crying?”

“I would certainly prefer to.”

“Fair enough. But why we separating now? Ain’t we on the same journey?”

“You truly have not read a word of the nomicon, have you?” she sighed. Of course I haven’t, love, it’s a part of the lovely urban British scenery somewhere now. “Do you not even know the reason there are five heroes?”

“Haven’t the foggiest. Clear that mystery up for me, yeah?”

“The Great Dragon, all powerful master of all five elements, has constru-”

“Stop. Fifty words or less.”

“...you are very difficult to work with, you do know that, yes?”

“I’m aware. Fifty words. Go.”

“If you insist,” she sighed. “There is a hero for each of the five elements. Earth, Wind, Fire, Water and Lightning. The five barriers the Dragon is protecting itself with are only accessible by powerful users of each element. Thus, we each have a trial to overcome. Your trial is in the north, mine in the east. Understood?”

“I counted fifty three words.”

“I do believe I hate you.”

“I don’t believe I care.”

“Goodbye, Ser Arch.”

“Later, Darce.”

And just like that, the character I assumed would be a mainstay walked away, not to be seen again for at least a few arcs. Maybe her actress is working on another project right now.

“Well then, sounds like we’ve got some travellin’ to do, dunnit?” I said to Court, who had been quietly stood a pace behind me.

“R-right, I suppose we should.”

Figuring it made sense for the legendary hero to be the one leading the charge, I started off down the street in search of our destination. Off North to the wind trial we went, two brave adventurers on an important mission to get this lizard dead by tea time so we can sit in front of the tele and watch Saints lose another match. Oh, I can practically smell the evening cuppa already, along with a few bourbon biscuits as a treat. That’s the life a proper hero like me deserves, innit? Leisure and luxury, the way Queen Liz intended, god rest her soul.

Yeah, I could feel it in me bones. With me at the helm, we’d have this done before supper at the latest. No doubt in my mind, this dragon was as good as fecked.

“Um… Arch?” said the timid voice behind me.

“Yeah, love? What’s wrong?”

“This… is south, not north.”

…bollocks. Guess I should let the local navigate.

***

“Look, in my defence, it ain’t like they dropped me in this world with a bloody compass in me ‘and, is it?”

“Arch, I get it, it was an easy mistake to make. It’s been twenty minutes, let it go.”

I had a feeling that wound on me pride would take a while to go away, but hey ho, shit happens. At least it was only Court who was there. Bet Darcy would have raked me over the bloody coals for that one.

“Anyway, ‘ow long’s the walk to this trial place gonna be? Hour or two, I take it?”

“Three weeks.”

“Three weeks?! I’ll miss the feckin’ world cup qualifiers at that rate!”

“You… were already aware that this quest is predicted to last a whole year, weren’t you?”

“Was I, fuck! Are you ‘avin’ a stefi graf wi’ me?”

“...what?”

“Are you makin’ a poorly timed joke?”

“No, I’m dead serious. It takes three weeks for each hero to reach their trial, then a full week to complete the trial, then 10 and a half months of training for the final fight with the dragon, which then takes an entire two weeks.”

“Christ alive. Never thought I’d miss travelling by the bloody tube.”

“I have absolutely no idea what that means, but whatever it is, I assure you we don’t have it here.”

“Yeah, I gathered by the fact we’re walkin’ for three feckin’ weeks instead of just showin’ our oyster cards to some bald bloke earning £60k a year.”

“You know, sometimes I really do question if you and I speak the same language.”

“You just think that ‘cos I’m a workin’ class lad, I don’t talk all posh and proper. Classist, you are.”

“You literally saved me from slavery.”

“Yeah but the slavers were rich cunts. Cultural osmosis or whatever the feck they call it, innit?”

“I can safely say I am completely lost in this conversation.”

“So long as you ain’t lost on your feet, it don’t really matter, love.”

Court sighed loudly, almost like she was trying to tell me she was already sick of me, but she kept plodding along anyway. One foot in front of the other, no stopping, no complaining. I’d throw a jab or two at her, but I was honestly just glad she seemed to be doing a bit better. Not sure what they do to the food in this place, but that bit she ate at the inn seemed to give her more energy back than a twelve course bloody meal at Buckingham Palace. Obviously she was still skin and bone, and I imagined she’d probably feel like utter shite again by tomorrow, but for now at least she seemed to be in decent spirits.

Good lass, she was. Strong will. Not many would get straight back to their feet like that. Hoped she wasn’t pushing herself too hard, but I couldn't so very well do anything about it even if she was. Feck would I even say? ‘Don’t worry, love, I can save your whole bloody country on me own, don’t need any of that ‘professional guidance’ shite. Go back home and take a kip, sleep off the lifelong trauma.’ Sure that’d go over bloody grand.

Nah, it was a rock and a hard place, and at the moment the rock was ready to squish me dead and burn down the feckin’ country if the lass didn’t guide me to the hard place. Not a lot of choice to it, really, was there?

Sorry, love. Looks like we’re both stuck in this bloody mess now.