Basic and Alistair ambled down the worn path, the faint silhouette of Huble behind them, fading into the distance like an unpleasant memory. Alistair noticed that he and Basic were approaching their first passage—the Road of Quests—a stretch of land that held ancient tombs from centuries ago. A place of hopeless souls, grave robbers, and ancient magic. His mind was torn between the potential danger ahead and his annoying companion’s constant chatter.

  Basic, oblivious to Alistair’s concerns, broke the temporary silence with a broad grin. “’Scuse me, m’lord,” he said theatrically. “Wouldn’t it be helpful if we mapped out the plan to this mysterious endeavor? Perhaps we can draw it in the dirt. How else am I to know what to do?“

  Alistair could only muster the energy to side-eye him.

  Basic, undeterred, laughed. “Ah, the mystery of it all! Yes, that’s how all great adventures begin, isn’t it? A pub, a tourney, or perhaps a grand feast with—“

  “Hold thy tongue!” Alistair finally snapped, waving a hand dramatically as if to banish Basic’s questions into the ether. His mustache quivered with frustration, his composure teetering like a rickety stool. Basic, however, looked wounded, his bottom lip quivering and eyes wide.

  “I apologize… I didn’t mean to…” Alistair stammered, attempting to patch the situation before it unraveled further. “We’ve arrived at a fork. I need my wits about me.“

  Before Alistair could even blink, Basic launched into another flurry, his mouth running faster than a market haggler. “No wonder you aren’t married. The rage inside you could calm a bull. No wonder you grew a mustache—how else can you hide your shame?“

  Alistair’s face turned beet red, a vein pulsing at his temple as he silently begged for divine intervention.

  And, as if the Gods had heard him, a frail figure emerged from the side of the battered road. “Excuse me, kind souls, could you—“

  “I said, hold thy tongue!” Alistair barked, spinning on his heel.

  The figure—revealed to be an old man—recoiled dramatically, hunching his shoulders like a turtle retreating into its shell. He shuffled backward, muttering something under his breath.

  Basic gasped theatrically, placing a hand to his chest. “Alistair, you fiend! You’ve hurt an innocent old man.“

  “I—what?” Alistair sputtered, hastily straightening his coat and smoothing his mustache. “I’ve done no such thing!“

  Turning to the old man, Alistair attempted an apology. “Forgive me, good sir. I mistook you for… someone else.” His wandering eye landed glaringly on Basic.

  The old man stood silently, staring at Alistair as if he were a curious insect under glass.

  Basic, catching on to the tension, leaned in with his signature smirk. “What was it you wanted before my rude friend yelled at you?“

  The old man blinked, then cleared his throat. “Such a nice young man you are… You see, I seek the help of a great warrior like yourself. I need help retrieving a legendary weapon. It’s been passed down through my family’s lineage. But I am far too old and beaten down to retrieve it myself. Please, sirs, I ask that you help me.“

  “Oooo,” Basic practically purred, nudging Alistair with his elbow. “Hear that, Alistair? A legendary quest just fell into our laps.“

  Alistair struggled to keep his composure. “Basic, let me handle this. Sir, I know where we are and what you’re doing. I’m afraid we’ll have to decline. I apologize for yelling at you, but I believe that we—“

  The old man cut him off. “You should not let this malcontent speak for you, good sir,” suggesting that Basic think for himself.

  Suddenly, the clouds above began to roar. The midday vibrance shifted to a gloomy gray. The old man pointed dramatically toward a nearby cave just off the road, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. A flock of bats erupted from its entrance, their screeches piercing the air.

  “Please help me, son. The Gods reward those who help the elderly,” the old man said in a mournful tone.

  Basic brandished the old man’s plight, weaponizing his tearful demeanor to further antagonize Alistair. “There you go again, being rude to people. Look at him, Alistair. Look at his wrinkles—they’re forming a frown. Don’t you worry, sir; we’ll retrieve your weapon.“

  Alistair groaned. “No, we will not. I’ve encountered many men who sit idly by handing out quests. We have our own venture ahead. The fate of the realm is at stake!“

  Basic and the old man postured with folded arms and furrowed brows, caring not at all what Alistair said. Alistair felt the need to explain the situation to his new traveling companion. “He is not what he appears to be. That is no normal cave! Look—it has demonic markings on the rim!“

  The old man interjected, downplaying the markings clearly visible. “My friends, those be the sigils of my family, is all. Please, Basic, you’ll help me, won’t you?” he said, fluttering his sorrows toward him.

  As Basic became further mesmerized, Alistair manically attempted to explain the ruse. “Listen, Basic—he’s hoping we’re stupid enough to enter a haunted cave. We’re meant to stumble upon a ‘secret cavern,’ where you’ll be amazed as if it were a chance encounter. But that’s what he wants, because in that cavern we’ll find his cursed weapon enthralled in an ancient ritual site. You’ll ask a painfully obvious question like, ‘I wonder what happened here?’ Then a ghoul will show up wielding the weapon. The twist is that the ghoul is his ancestor, returned to smite him for past wrongdoings. He wants us to rid him of the curse so he can sell the blade for his own degeneracy. Now please, sir, if you’ll excuse us—come, Basic, we march onward.“

  Basic stood frozen, mouth agape. “That… sounds like more fun than I thought. We humbly accept!“

  The old man cleared his throat, dramatically extending his hands. “Oh, but bags of gold await you, ol’ boy! You won’t regret it! And it’s not a sword—but an axe!“

  Basic’s eyes gleamed. “You hear that, Alistair? An axe! Not a sword. Well, old man, you are in luck. I shall axe my companion’s plans and retrieve your heirloom.“

  Alistair rubbed his temples. “Help me…“

  Basic turned toward the cave. “Alistair, you seek to save all of Gilgamar, yet a lonesome man’s troubles are too much for you? I question your resolve.“

  Alistair groaned again, slower this time. “Fine. But I shall lead this expedition. There will be no nagging about being tired afterward, and there will be no further sidesteps.“

  The old man clapped his hands, beaming, and shuffled toward the cave without delay.

  Once they stood before the dark, gaping mouth, the old man turned to face them with a look of practiced solemnity.

  “Legend has it,” he began, weaving his tale with exaggerated hand gestures, “my great ancestor was gifted an axe from the Gods capable of destroying anything man-made. Nearing his death, he entered this cave, where his body and axe were never seen again.“

  Basic gasped, his eyes widening in awe. “He vanished? You mean into thin air?“

  Alistair snorted, crossing his arms. “The bone shards scattered about tell a different tale,” each syllable designed to prod at the man’s already flimsy tale.

  The old man’s face twitched ever so slightly but quickly rearranged itself into a mask of serenity as he turned back toward Basic, still wide-eyed with wonder.

  “Now, now, young lad,” the old man said soothingly. “Sometimes the world works in mysterious ways. Who’s to know what happened in there? Remember, a bag of gold awaits my axe’s retrieval.“

  Basic nodded vigorously, clearly enthralled by the mystery. “Yeah, who’s to say?” while he observed Alistair’s frustration.

  Alistair rolled his eyes, recognizing there was no stopping this farce. “Right. Well, since I’ve already committed to this ridiculousness…” Without waiting for further pleasantries, he barged straight into the cave, his boots crunching against the mix of bones and gravel.

  Basic’s eyes darted between Alistair and the looming darkness of the cave. “Wait! You’re just gonna’ march in there? What about traps? Or curses? Or ghouls with axes?“

  Basic, trembling with both excitement and fear, glanced nervously at the old man, who wore a seductive grin. The old man waved his hand as if to say, “Good luck,” and offered the bald hero a lit torch. Basic followed Alistair into the cave, the entrance behind them disappearing as they were swallowed by the cold, echoing darkness.

  The air was damp, and the squeaks of bats echoed from above. Alistair, ever the skeptic of simplicity, wasted no time and immediately began inspecting the walls and floor, his gloved hands brushing against the rough stone as if expecting to reveal some hidden doorway or secret passage.

  Basic, meanwhile, looked around with far less enthusiasm, wrinkling his nose. “It's just an ordinary cave,” he muttered. “Maybe we should turn back. That old man might’ve been fibbing, Alistair.“

  Alistair paused, momentarily amused by Basic’s lack of adventurous spirit. “My, my, you wish to leave and burden the poor man with such a loss? You’re too late. You wanted this, and so you’ll have it.“

  Basic, not wanting to appear completely uninterested in the quest, bent down to examine the floor in a manner he thought seemed investigatory. His eye caught some droppings scattered about. Sticking out his tongue in concentration, he grabbed a stick, using it to prod at the substance before lifting it toward his nose with exaggerated caution.

  “Ah, yes,” Basic said slyly, taking a deep sniff as if he were a trained tracker. “Look over here, Alistair—goblin droppings! And if you look closely—” He shifted to another dark stain on the ground. “It seems as if someone’s brain had been splattered all over this very spot!“

  Alistair, who hadn’t even bothered to look at Basic’s ‘findings,’ rolled his eyes. “Those are bat droppings, and the ‘brain,’ as you put it, is nothing more than a pile of worms.“

  Basic, unfazed by the correction, straightened up with a composed expression, clearly improvising as he went. “Yes, yes, of course. Obviously. Careful, Alistair, I believe the cave is playing tricks on our minds. A classic psychological trap. If we're not careful, we'll be at each other’s throats before long.“

  Alistair, now thoroughly irritated by Basic's theatrics, finally turned to face him, his sharp gaze narrowing. For a moment, he seemed to weigh the decision of whether to even dignify Basic’s comment with a response. After a long, exasperated sigh, he decided it wasn't worth the effort.

  “Go stand over there and be quiet,” Alistair said flatly, pointing to a dark corner of the cave.

  Basic, in true Basic fashion, obediently shuffled over to the spot but continued to mutter to himself, casting suspicious glances at the floor and walls as if any moment the cave itself might come alive.

  The air was thick with tension and an occasional drip of condensation. Alistair continued his search, while Basic nervously twiddled his thumbs, keeping a wary eye out for imaginary goblins and brain-eating worms.

  Alistair’s patience was running thin. He had been combing every inch of the cave, tapping at stones, running his fingers along jagged cracks, convinced there was some secret passage—some hidden door that would unravel the mystery. But after what felt like an eternity of searching, there was nothing. No ancient inscriptions, no hidden lever, no telltale signs of adventure. His frustration began to boil over.

  From the dark corner of the cave, Basic’s voice rang out, smug and triumphant. “See? I knew it! It’s just an ordinary cave! Your mind's playing tricks on you, Alistair. We should have never come here.“

  Alistair’s eye twitched. Without a second thought, Alistair picked up a nearby rock, his hand trembling with irritation, and with a grunt of pure frustration, he hurled it at Basic’s bald head.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Basic, in a rare moment of agility, ducked just in time, and the rock bounced harmlessly off the cave wall. Basic straightened up with a smirk, clearly proud of his quick reflexes. “It’s me, Alistair—Basic!” he teased. “Has this cave of illusion finally compromised you?“

  Before Alistair could retort, the ground beneath Basic gave a low, ominous rumble. Basic barely had time to widen his eyes in surprise before, in an instant, he vanished—disappearing as quickly as the words left his mouth.

  Alistair stood frozen for a beat, blinking in disbelief at the now-empty corner. Then, slowly, a crooked smile spread across his face. “Finally,” he muttered, his annoyance momentarily turning into satisfaction.

  He casually wandered over to where Basic had been, now noticing that the ground there was no longer solid stone. Upon closer inspection, he realized Basic had been standing on a trap door, cleverly hidden beneath a layer of dirt and debris. It was now slightly ajar, revealing a dark tunnel beneath.

  “Oh wow, what a grand discovery,” Alistair murmured to himself. “Who could have expected this?“

  He knelt down, peering into the darkness below. The faint sound of Basic’s voice echoed from somewhere deep within, grumbling and cursing as he presumably tumbled through whatever passage lay beneath.

  Alistair stood at the edge of the newly revealed hole, his voice echoing as he called down. “Basic, are you okay?“

  From the depths, Basic’s nonchalant voice floated back up. “Yes… luckily my neck broke my fall.“

  With a sigh, Alistair dropped through the hole, landing lightly beside Basic. He quickly dusted himself off, examining the dirt on his gloves with mild disdain. Basic, on the other hand, looked positively giddy.

  “Alistair, a secret passage! Who would have guessed such a thing?” Basic said with childlike wonder, his eyes sparkling in the dim light.

  Alistair didn’t bother responding. He brushed past Basic, grabbing a lit torch from a nearby wall. As the flame flickered in his hand, casting shadows on the rough stone walls, Basic looked at it curiously. “Wonder how long that torch has been lit?” he asked, his fascination growing.

  Alistair ignored him, flourishing the torch ahead as they began to walk down the passageway. Basic, unable to contain himself, continued. “Forget saving Gilgamar! I say we invest in this torch wood! Think of the fortunes, Alistair—“

  But Alistair’s outstretched arm suddenly cut Basic’s words short, brushing against his chest. “Shush,” Alistair whispered, his tone shifting. “Do you hear that?“

  Basic tilted his head, listening intently. Faintly, from deep within the passage, came a ghostly voice, low and echoing: “Leave this place… Go…“

  Basic’s face went pale, and he swallowed nervously. “Well, you heard him, Alistair… w-we’re intruding. Who are we to invade a man’s home?“

  Alistair turned to him, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “What? It sounds like he’s expecting us. We ought to be cordial, don’t you think?“

  “Nay, I…” Basic stammered, coughing into silence as he glanced nervously back toward the entrance.

  “Oh, Basic,” Alistair called, his voice light and teasing. “Look over here. My word… it’s astounding, the mystery at play here. Come look—“

  Reluctantly, Basic approached, joining Alistair in a larger hall just beyond the passage. There, laid across a stone slab, was the skeleton of a long-dead warrior. At the base of the slab, gleaming in the torchlight, was a magnificent axe, its blade shimmering with the colors of a setting sun.

  Basic’s eyes lit up. “I wonder what happened here?” he cried out, his earlier fears forgotten.

  Alistair nodded, playing along. “Look at all the burial tokens and our poor friend here,” he mused, gesturing toward the skeleton. “Look at the hands—they look as if they were holding something once… and that axe, lying right by his tomb. It’s as if someone tried to steal it!” He gave Basic a knowing glance, waiting for him to piece together the scenario.

  Basic scratched his chin, deep in thought. “Yes… and why doesn’t the skeleton have any clothes on? Why would they bury him naked? We shall never know.“

  Alistair sighed, shaking his head before redirecting Basic’s attention back to the axe. “Who would leave such a magnificent weapon here? Wait—could this axe belong to this skeleton? Perhaps the spirit owns this axe and chased the old man—I mean—the robber out of the cave.“

  Basic, still pondering, nodded slowly. “Right, so you’re saying we take the axe and go cut down some of that torch wood I was talking about? Great idea, Alistair. Let’s go.“

  With a blank, unamused expression, Alistair approached the axe, lifting it from its resting place. Just as the blade left the ground, the tomb began to rumble beneath their feet. The eerie ghostly voice returned, louder and more menacing this time. Basic looked around, perplexed, as the temperature in the room dropped sharply.

  In a swirl of smoke and haze, a massive spirit materialized behind the stone slab. Its decayed, skeletal form was covered in ancient armor, and in its spectral grip was another gleaming axe, identical to the one Alistair now held. The spirit let out a bone-chilling screech, its glowing eyes locking onto Basic.

  Basic blinked in confusion. “By the Gods—he’s fully clothed,” he muttered, just as the thrall charged toward him, the axe raised high.

  With a screech, the spirit slammed its axe into the ground, the force of the blow causing the stone floor to crack and sink into a deep chasm. Basic barely managed to dodge the attack, his panic mounting.

  Alistair, however, was unfazed. He whistled sharply, drawing the thrall’s attention. The spirit turned its hollow gaze toward him, lifting its weapon for another strike. Alistair sidestepped effortlessly as the thrall’s axe crashed into the ground again, widening the chasm. With the power of a thousand men, the thrall was slow, clumsy, yet recklessly swinging, destroying anything within its path.

  Basic, in a panicked worry, shouted, “Alistair!“

  Alistair looked disappointed, eager for this whole charade to end. He approached the edge of the chasm, mulling over the side as if he were contemplating taking the plunge himself.

  Basic watched on, disturbed by the thought. “No! Don’t leave me here!“

  The thrall, furious, charged at Alistair, who had no place to retreat. It raised the shining axe into the air, prepared for one final strike that would submerge the entire tomb into the abyss below.

  Just as the axe swung downward, Alistair dove through the thrall’s legs, where the creature’s balance was weakest.

  With a casual boot to its behind, Alistair sent the thrall’s momentum into the chasm.

  With a final, guttural wail, the spirit tumbled into the abyss it had created, its haunting call fading into the darkness below.

  Basic, breathing heavily, stared at the hole in disbelief. “Alistair… what have you done…?“

  Alistair appeared to be enjoying himself for the first time in a while. “You liked that, didn’t you?“

  Basic, still staring at the chasm, exclaimed, “You’ve cheesed him?“

  Alistair raised an eyebrow. “I’ve what? I’ve cheesed him?“

  Basic nodded, frustrated. “Aye, you didn’t best him in combat. He practically killed himself. Whatever happened to dueling? Have you no honor!?“

  Alistair scoffed, folding his arms. “And you were up for the bout, were you?” He shook his head, clearly amused. “You were cowering in fear.“

  Basic, still trying to process what had just happened, muttered, “It would be one thing to lose—there’s honor in defeat—but to cheese someone… well, you’re lower than the abyss it fell into.“

  Alistair waved a dismissive hand, already done with the conversation. “This is adventuring, friend. Staying alive at all costs.“

  Basic, still reeling, sighed. “Certainly, you could have cheesed him earlier then. Look around—the ghoul destroyed our way out of here!” The heart of the ancient temple was reduced to an island surrounded by chasms below.

  “Nay,” Alistair calmly corrected him while wiping dirt from his garb. “We shall continue. There’s always a secret passage leading back to the beginning in these sorts of caves.“

  He approached the stone slab, feeling along the side of it. After a few strategic taps, a hidden button clicked, and the slab shifted to reveal a ladder descending into the darkness below.

  Basic squinted skeptically, imagining the path downward they had taken to enter the tomb. “And how, exactly, does going further down lead us to the top?“

  Alistair merely gestured toward the ladder. Without another word, he descended into the dark, leaving Basic standing there, scratching his head. Eventually, with a resigned sigh, Basic followed.

  Sure enough, after a short climb, they emerged from a hidden opening, right back onto the path where they had first met the old man.

  Basic, relieved to see the sunlight once more, looked around, amazed at the logistics of the ladder. “That was convenient.“

  As Alistair and Basic emerged from the cave, the old man appeared before them once again, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Well, now,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I see you’ve returned—but what of my axe?“

  Alistair, with an unamused expression, retrieved the axe from his side, only for it to crumble into dust the moment it touched the man’s hands. The fine particles blew off into the wind, leaving the trio staring at the empty space where the weapon had been.

  “You were never worthy, friend, nor were you worth our time.“

  The old man hastily reached for the vanishing remains, grasping only air.

  “And Basic,” Alistair continued, “I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” his voice flat.

  The man scratched his chin, seemingly deep in thought. “Surely I am worthy. I was adopted by his grand-niece!“

  Basic’s eyes bulged. “It wasn’t even your family?“

  Before the old man could respond, Alistair grabbed Basic by the arm and led him away from the fraudulent figure and any additional sidetracks.

  Basic, being pulled along, protested, “Wait! He still has to pay us!“

  Alistair didn’t break stride, his focus solely on distancing them from the conman. “You’ll learn one day, my na?ve friend. No weapon means no gold,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  Once they were far enough from the old man, along the Road of Quests, a tense silence hung between them. Eventually, Basic—always the optimist—broke it with a grin.

  “It just occurred to me… that was our first quest together. Won’t be long until our names are in the history books. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure history leaves out your cowardly acts. I cannot allow such ‘cheese’ to stain my legacy.“

  Just then, a giggle came from the side of the path.

  Basic, feeling validated by the laughter, chuckled along merrily at Alistair’s expense. But Alistair’s sharp instincts turned him toward the source of the sound. It wasn’t him who laughed—it was another man sitting by the roadside, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  “Legacy, you say?” the man spoke, his tone oily and sly. “A pair of brave adventurers… have the gods themselves blessed me with your presence?“

  Alistair, unimpressed, raised a hand. “No,” he said flatly, marching past the man without a second glance.

  Basic scowled, scolding Alistair as he turned back to the stranger. “Alistair, at least hear the man out! He’s honored by our presence.“

  Alistair didn’t answer.

  Basic caught up, muttering, “You know, I’m starting to question your noble demeanor.“

  “The quicker we get off this path,” Alistair said, “the better.“

  The man called to them, but they did not look back.

  The duo then rounded a bend where a farmer stood beside the road, pointing toward a dark hole in the hillside. “Travelers, my livestock were stolen in the night. I think they’re in that cave.“

  Alistair brushed past him.

  Basic stopped just long enough to say, “Sorry, friend, we’re vegetarians,” before hurrying after him. “Alistair, something tells me you’re the one who stole all these people’s things.“

  Before Alistair could respond, a woman’s shriek tore through the trees.

  “Help me! My husband might be a vampire!“

  Basic flinched, his hand snapping to his chest. “Ah!” He looked around, lost for words. “That sucks,” he instinctively replied.

  Basic looked for Alistair’s reaction, but he had never even stopped. Basic caught up, still breathing hard. “You hear that, Alistair? I said ‘that sucks’ about her vampire husband.“

  “Yes. Very funny, Basic,” Alistair said as they continued forth.

  They turned another corner, where Alistair hesitated for the first time. Ahead, both sides of the road were lined with people clutching relics, charms, and scrolls, their eyes hollow with need.

  “Whatever you do, don’t stop,” Alistair said quietly.

  They began marching through the crowd.

  “Retrieve this.“

  “Save my child.“

  “Cleanse the relic.“

  The words hit like arrows.

  Basic covered his ears, shouting back, “Here’s a quest—leave us alone!” He pushed through a pair of old women and waved them off. “Stop leaving things in caves!“

  A man waved a scroll in his face. “Ahh, Alistair, this one seems legit! I have to help him—“

  The mob surged forward, attempting to swallow the na?ve adventurer.

  “Look!” Alistair shouted, pointing behind them. “An adventurer!“

  The mob turned its attention away from Basic.

  Alistair grabbed Basic’s arm and took off in a sprint down the path.

  The air filled with shouts. Faces blurred past. Their hearts pounded with the rhythm of their steps. Voices overlapped until the forest itself seemed to call after them.

  “Help us.“

  “Save.“

  “Retrieve.“

  The road twisted through old ruins and the leaning stones of a forgotten kingdom. The smell of dust and rot filled their lungs.

  Then an old man appeared beside them, keeping pace as if the chase were a casual stroll. “Would you help an old man in his time of need?” he asked politely.

  Basic shrieked before sticking out a leg, causing the old man to fall face-first into the dirt.

  Alistair seized Basic by the collar and dragged him off the road. Branches lashed their arms as they plunged through the brush until the forest closed around them and the sounds disappeared.

  They stumbled into a clearing, breathing hard. Leaves clung to their clothes.

  Basic leaned against a trunk, his chest rising and falling. “Where are we?” he said between breaths.

  Alistair said nothing.

  A squirrel climbed out from the brush and perched on Basic’s shoulder. Its fur was warm against his neck.

  Basic smiled faintly. “Aww, what are you doing, little guy?“

  The squirrel maneuvered around Basic’s torso, its fluffy tail brushing against his face.

  Alistair’s eyes narrowed. “It’s holding something.“

  “Huh?” Basic reached up and took a small scroll from its mouth. He unfolded it to discover a map, with a red X marked at the center.

  “… It’s a quest!“

  Alistair didn’t hesitate. His fist caught the squirrel squarely, sending it into a nearby tree, where it slumped to the ground. A faint squeak sealed the creature’s fate.

  Alistair motioned to Basic as the duo began to run again, crashing through the undergrowth until the forest broke into light.

  Falling to the dirt on the forest’s edge, both lay silent, catching their breath.

  Basic rolled onto his back, speaking in a slurred voice. “I think I’m done with quests, Alistair.“

  Alistair rose, adjusting his cloak. “Unfortunately for us,” he said, eyeing the path onward, “we’re only getting started.“