in which the heroine sniffs a priest and takes the longest piss in history (in no particular order)

“...Pebble…”

In the end, she had decided to sleep.

“...Pe… bble…”

She’d barricaded the door in case Topaz tried anything funny, though something told her that he had enough cognitive functions to know better, which was why she’d left the window open anyway.

Someone blew into her ear; Pebble swung the candlestick beside her with enough strength to make the air sing. Cackling, Frell backstepped. He was wearing a suspiciously luxurious bathrobe. “Miss me?”

Pebble groaned, then sat up. A few raindrops had landed inside the chamber, soaking the corner of the blanket and leaving puddles on the floor. “Why are you using teleporting stones now? And how did you even—ah. Tracking talisman. And I was wondering why one of them looked weird…”

“Yup.”

“Gross.”

“Yup!”

“Since I can see where this is going, you answer and I answer. First: robe?”

“From the suite. I just had a reeeally nice herbal bath. I smell great. Sniff.”

“Ew.” But curiosity compelled her, so Pebble sniffed when he approached her anyway. He was likely wearing nothing but the robe except for that weird, metallic collar that ended on a cross. He literally never seemed to take it off. Just above it, the golden seal glowed. “True,” Pebble admitted. “It does smell nice. What scent is that supposed to be? Some flower?”

“No clue.” Frell sat beside her. “My turn: why the digression? I saw that you stopped moving on the map and thought that something really bad must’ve happened if you’d stopped in the middle of a quest.”

Pebble shrugged. “The other two kept crying about having to sleep.”

“Crazy! Let me guess: they also thought that walking under the rain at night was a bad idea.”

“Go away,” she grumbled.

He inspected the blankets, wincing when he felt the brick underneath. At least the pillow was comfortable. “The other two, huh? I know Alpherson already, but what’s the other one like?”

“Wait, it’s my turn to ask. Didn’t the stone we bought only have four uses? You know you’ll use it twice to teleport to and back from this place, right?”

“Ah, that…” Frell took it out of his pocket. The stone they’d purchased shone a dim blue; this one was bright enough to use as a lamp. “Look at this baby. It has EIGHTY uses.”

“What—where did you get that fr—”

“My turn!”

“Ugh. The other one is very nice. Very uh. Philosophical and… we had drinks together and stuff.” Frell gave her a pointed look. “Fine, he’s an asshole. But at this point we can’t exactly be selective.”

“Peb, remember the legend? You guys have to be heroes. The thing about these tales is that they lead by example. The point is that they—you—have to defeat the demon king by putting your differences aside. Good shall destroy evil, and peace will finally reign.”

“What if good makes evil good instead of destroying it?”

“Then the whole thing falls apart. See, I should’ve just become a politician.”

She got it, though. Gods and mortals had to be the good ones to defeat a nameless, faceless, flavorless enemy. Pebble said nothing.

Frell gave her this strange, intangible smile. “Anyway, I was thinking of you calling out to me so I can resist the evil demon king’s control for just one second, but instead of killing me, you can say ‘Frell, my gorgeous friend, I know you’re in there! Snap out of it! Don’t let it wiiin!’ and then I will snap out of it… but the Demon King can’t die yet since this is a test… but having it return could hurt the narrative… meh, we’ll get there when we get there. Peb, it’ll be fine. The Demon King isn’t real. Its feelings can’t be hurt.”

“No, it’s just… what if someone takes the crown off your head?”

“Huh?”

“You know, like.” She mimicked the gesture. “What if someone does that during a fight? Wouldn’t that make the story really easy to dismantle?”

He snorted. “You silly woman. What kind of idiot villain would let that happen?”

“You could get distracted, or it could fall off mid-duel.”

“But if I was a spirit whose possession depends on keeping the crown on the host’s head, then wouldn’t it make sense to prioritize keeping it on? Besides, who cares? Don’t think about the logistics of a legend. Think about the romance of it.”

Romance… “I guess. I could recruit a third one. Maybe my ideal man.”

“...not that kind of romance, but I support you anyway.”

“What’s my ideal man?” Pebble asked.

“How would I possibly know that?”

“You’re a god from that domain. Shouldn’t you be able to?”

“No? You can lust without loving.”

Pebble sighed. “Right.”

“And you can love without lusting, don’t get me wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care about that stuff anyway. Also, you still haven’t told me how you got that extremely expensive item.”

There it was, his signature evil grin. “Remember that your friend left behind two very, very handsome men at my disposal.”

“...oh, no…”

“...and they may or may not owe me a few favors…”

“You wretched—oh, they tried to kill you, didn’t they?”

There it went, the signature evil grin. Frell scowled at her instead. “You’re no fun.”

“And now what, you’re guilting them? Threatening them? Not seducing them, thankfully.”

“Wow—and to think I was worried about you!”

“And I’m worried about them,” Pebble said.

“I see how it is.”

“Me too. Stop exploiting people.”

“They started it.”

“And? If a cat scratches me, I don’t scratch it back. It’s not its fault and it doesn’t know any better. Remember when you said that humans are like pets to you?”

Frell rolled his eyes. “It’s not the same thing. You know what I mean.”

She really didn’t. “...that I’m your cat?”

“You could be my pu—” She slammed a pillow onto his face. Frell collapsed on the bed. “...but yeah, what I meant is… you told me you’ve never had pets, so it’s hard to explain. You get them knowing that they’ll die before you. You get attached. You see them die over and over again, and it never gets easier. But you keep getting them anyway. Loneliness hurts more than grief. That’s how connections work.”

A certain tomb, full of flowers and swords, came to mind.

Frell sat up. “Sorry.”

“For?”

“Souring the mood. I just wanted to show you the cool shiny thing I found.”

“We can talk if you’re sad,” Pebble said.

Frell took out the teleporting stone.

“...or not. Coward.”

As it activated, the stone began to glow—well, more. “See ya,” he said, and then he was gone.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Given yesterday’s events, it was easy to goad (threaten) Alphie into closing the inn until Pebble returned. It was bleedingly obvious that Topaz’s scheme ran deeper than expected, and not only because Pebble’s breakfast was also poisoned and her sandwich had tacks.

Alphie and Topaz probably had allies. They’d probably done this before and would probably do it again—if left unattended. In the grand scheme of things, whether Pebble detained them or not did not matter. Like the extortionist village chief, they’d fall so others could rise. To weed out evil in conventional ways was ultimately fruitless.

There was mud everywhere. What little vegetation might’ve been there had long since eroded along with the landscape. With the tallest plant reaching her knee and the numerous abandoned, poorly-planned mines, this entire region was miserable; at least the mines back home had flowers. And trees. And sunlight…

Pebble was wondering how to tell Alpherson that she’d recruited a criminal when he randomly said, “I must urinate,” and then, “Saint Pebble, would you be so kind as to accompany me?”

Talking to someone while they pissed was literally the last thing in the entire universe that Pebble wanted, but Stormy had once said that to be a hero was to be a sacrifice. Topaz, who’d been harassing them with questions and unwanted information, said, “Wow,” and then, “Well, I’ll give you two privacy.”

“That is unnecessary,” Alpherson replied. “There is a stall nearby.”

Topaz’s eyes widened. He kept doing that. “Eh?”

“Let us go. We won’t take long, scarface.”

Self-consciously, almost, Topaz turned his face away from the group. Pebble pretended not to notice. It was easy to be enemies with concepts, not people. To successfully take him down, he’d have to stay as the former.

True to Alpherson’s word, there was a bathroom stall inside a cave whose roof had collapsed and been replaced by a wood plank. He guided her in, then closed the door behind him. “Saint Pebble, I don’t mean to question your wisdom, but that man…”

“I know.”

“Truly?”

“That’s why I’m keeping him around,” she said. “To be honest, I’m glad you, uh… invited me to this, because I’d been trying to find a way to talk to you about it. Our main objective is still the sacred stone, but we can’t just… ignore that situation.”

“I understand.”

“For now, we’ll just pretend as though we don’t suspect him—you, especially. He’ll see through me if I try to act obliviously, especially after last night… but if I act too warily, he’ll keep his guard up. I guess.”

Alpherson gave her this strange, blank look, then took a fist to his mouth. “Ah.”

Pebble stared at him. “Are you laughing?”

He shook his head quickly.

“W-what? What happened?”

“Forgive me. It’s not at you. I just believed that we’d speak about matters of justice, not matters of the heart.”

“Of the… wuh?”

He closed his eyes. His flamboyant blue robe was, again, straining at the shoulders. Was he showing off? Was he stupid? Was he a bully? “I wrongly assumed that we would speak about him being a criminal is all. I am, unfortunately, ill-equipped to advise you on the subject. My wife was my first and last love; thus I never indulged in courtship. Having said that, acting obliviously or warily might not work, but honesty will. After, you were already a carpet yesternight.”

“...ah…”

Alpherson had shown up last night with such horrible timing that he’d misinterpreted Topaz’s attempts to kill Pebble as… other things. Thanks to her moment of weakness a couple of nights ago, he also knew about her romantic pseudo-pursuits. And now he thought that their strategy meeting was her asking for advice. It was so transcendentally insulting that she couldn’t even get annoyed anymore.

Thus Pebble replied: “Got it,” and then, “Thank you for the advice,” and then, “but I was also talking about Topaz as a… well, a criminal.”

“I’ve heard some women are into that.”

“No. What I mean is that we’ll keep him around until we figure out what he’s scheming.”

“Did I anger you?” Alpherson asked. “Forgive me, please.”

“I’m not mad. Just be careful. Act oblivious. And do not say anything unnecessary, I’m begging you.”

He nodded once.

As they left the stall, she caught Topaz idly freezing random drops. A circle of frozen tears surrounded him. “Finally,” he said once he caught sight of them. “That was the longest piss in history.”

“You’re the longest piss in history,” Pebble grumbled.

“Ohh, charming.”

Topaz “toyed” with a knife. Was it some kind of sign? The endless storm hid nearby presences; perhaps he’d been in a meeting of his own.

Sometime later, Topaz said, “Hungry.”

Then, “Thirsty.”

Then, “Sleepy.”

“I brought snacks,” Alpherson said. “Would you like some?”

“PLEASE.”

Soon, with one hand, Topaz held his umbrella. With the other, he ate steamed bun after steamed bun. “How about you, Saint Pebble? Would you like some?”

She shook her head. “Did your wife make them?”

Alpherson was quiet for a moment. A lot of moments, actually. Pebble withered. Terrible thing to ask someone after a war. No wonder men hated her. “I got the recipe from her,” he answered, at last.”

“I-I see.”

“What’s your wife like?” Asked Topaz. “Is she hot?”

Pebble closed her umbrella, angled it at him, then opened it so it’d splash him.

“Thank you,” Alpherson said while Topaz cussed at her.

That about summed up their interactions. Because she had no option but to listen, Pebble learned many, many things about Topaz against her consent. He was self-taught in both magic and knife-throwing. He was from the wood tribes. He was blind in the injured eye. His dream job as a kid had been singing opera. Thankfully, he didn’t follow up with an example.

As for Alpherson, who’d politely replied to the periodic interrogation: he’d learned martial arts from the Saint of Brawling #29. His daughter was four. He possessed no form of blindness, but sometimes his right knee ached. His wife was quite cold, actually, but he loved her anyway, and he always would. So either she wasn’t dead or he had an extremely morbid sense of humor.

…how nice and stuff.

Good for him.

Cool.

When was Frell going to show up?

“And you, Saint?” asked Topaz. He kept twirling his umbrella—another sign, perhaps. “What tribe are you from? Based on that hair color… snow? Earth?”

“Earth.”

“Knew it. Where did you learn to fight?”

“None of your—”

“Wait, right, you Saints have nicknames. I forgot. What’s yours?”

“Universal Annihilator of Doom.”

Topaz laughed. “Lame.”

To be fair, The Slicer was lamer. What did he care, anyway? Why was he trying to make people out of enemies? Out of prey?

“No, but seriously. Which is it?”

“Disarm me in a duel and I’ll tell you.”

“Easy.”

Seconds later, he slipped on a puddle. This would’ve been funny, except he’d been walking right at the edge of the road, right at the edge of the mountain.

Naturally, he fell.