Chapter 11: "The Princess, the Crumbs, and the Wandering Disaster Parade"
The road stretched out in front of us like a bad decision we were already committed to.
Ash swirled in the air. The horizon was empty. Birds weren't singing because even they knew to avoid this mess.
> "Well," Arcanos said after a mile of silence, "this is anticlimactic."
> "You want more climax after we just outran flaming baguettes and martial ducks?" I asked.
> "I meant dramatic closure, you trauma-wrapped casserole."
Grubnuk munched on his trail mix like this was a Sunday stroll. Then, from behind us...
Clip-clop. Clank. Wheeze. Cry.
We turned. There she was. Princess Petunia. Covered in soot. Dragging a suitcase shaped like a swan. Riding a unicycle that had somehow caught fire again.
She rolled up next to us, dismounted (read: fell sideways), then dusted herself off and began walking alongside us like it was the most normal thing in the world.
> "Took you long enough," I said.
> "I had to save the silverware," she replied flatly, holding up a ladle like it was a family heirloom.
> "That's not even silver."
> "It is to me," she sniffed.
And so she joined us.
A married couple on the run. A goblin with mystery meat. A sentient sword who refuses to shut up. And now a soot-streaked princess who still thinks I'm royalty.
> "So where are we going?" she asked.
> "Nowhere," I said.
> "Good," she smiled. "I've always wanted to see it."
I groaned.
Arcanos handed me a flask of something glowing.
> "You're going to need this."
We kept walking. Into nowhere. Together.
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End of Chapter 11 (If marriage is a journey, we're on the scenic route through a disaster carnival.)