The next chamber was the same size as the previous one, but its stone walls shimmered with an emerald hue. The only thing inside was a long rectangular table at the center.

"Those who were once four had to become three to continue," Archer read aloud from a note lying on the table. "Now three cups await those who would drink from them, yet only two shall pass."

"What does that mean?" Dragoon asked, studying the three goblets resting on the table. One was gold, another silver and the last bronze. Each bore a different constellation engraved upon it. All three, however, were filled nearly to the brim with the same black liquid.

"Once there were four... now only three continue," Swordsman murmured. "I think whoever designed these trials expected one of us to die in the previous room. Maybe the suits of armor only stopped after killing someone."

"That's a rather cruel game," Cleric observed. "And now it expects another sacrifice. I suppose each chamber continues the same way until only one person remains."

"Maybe," Healer said cheerfully. "But we cleared the first trial without so much as a scratch. So we'll do the same here."

"I don't think the purpose is necessarily to kill whoever enters these rooms," Archer replied, still holding the note. "If it were, how would the owner of the castle ever reach the treasury?"

"He probably brought slaves. Or some other kind of sacrifice," Dragoon suggested. "I can totally picture some mad king doing that. 'Need money for a new castle? Sacrifice three slaves.' Sounds perfectly reasonable."

Everyone stared at him.

"...It was a joke. Wow... Tough crowd."

"Maybe you should've been called Bard instead of Dragoon," Healer said tiredly, the cheerful smile she'd worn all day finally fading. "Or Jester, while we're at it."

"Hey!" Dragoon and Archer protested at the same time.

Before either could continue, Master rested a hand on each of their shoulders and extended one toward Archer.

"The note." She studied it for a moment. "This doesn't ring any bells... I..." She stopped.

"Hey, look at the rest of it," Swordsman said, leaning over Master's shoulder. "There are planets... Hmm..."

"I can practically hear his brain working from here," Dragoon muttered to Cleric. He chuckled quietly.

"Of course... The goblets have constellation symbols on them. Maybe we don't have to drink all three after all. Maybe we only have to—"

"Wouldn't it be faster to just drink them?" Healer asked.

"But... At least one of them is supposed to be poisoned."

"So?" She shrugged. "One of us was supposed to die in the previous room too. So what if it's poison? The instructions make it sound as though the doors will open once all three goblets have been emptied. If one of them is poisoned and whoever drinks it is in danger of dying, what does it matter? I can heal them, can't I?"

"How sure are you that you can cure poison?" Dragoon asked uncertainly.

"Not at all." She shrugged again. "But come on... You just watched me vaporize zombies with healing magic."

"Fair enough."

"Have you all lost your minds?!" Archer burst out. "Seriously?! This girl shows up out of nowhere with her pretty face and that unbearable laugh, and suddenly everyone's doing whatever she says?"

"Archer, it's not like that—" Swordsman began.

"Oh, be quiet and think! She's suggesting we poison ourselves! For God's sake!"

"She'll heal us, Archer," Dragoon said. "Have you seen everything she's done? She's not just a pretty face. She's a suuuper useful pretty face." The moment the words left his mouth, he realized what he'd just said and blushed.

Archer buried her face in one hand.

"Do whatever you want. If we weren't completely trapped in here, I'd leave and let you figure this out yourselves. I'm sick of this."

She turned her back on them, walked to the far wall, and sat on the floor with her arms folded across her knees.

Master watched her for a moment and sighed but said nothing.

"Well," Healer said, gesturing toward the goblets. "Drink up."

"I think we could still be more careful and try solving the riddle first," Swordsman said, clearly nervous about disagreeing with yet another woman in the group.

"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course we do," Dragoon replied, picking up one of the goblets. "You've already gotten us out of plenty of trouble. Right, Cleric?"

Cleric nodded. He picked up another goblet though with considerably less confidence.

Feeling pressured by his friends but still uncertain, Swordsman reached for the third. Then he saw Healer smiling at him. Every trace of doubt disappeared. There was no way she would let them down. Not after everything she'd already proven.

"All right. Bottoms up." Dragoon emptied his goblet first. Cleric followed. Then Swordsman.

The liquid was sweet, slightly viscous... but far from unpleasant. If anything, it tasted surprisingly good. None of them had any trouble finishing every last drop.

The moment the three goblets were empty the chamber trembled. The door leading to the third and final trial slowly opened.

The three boys exchanged glances, waiting for some sign that something had gone wrong. Nothing happened. If anything Swordsman felt refreshed.

"Well," he said with a smile as he headed toward the doorway. "That went well. Maybe the poison expired. I mean, this castle's been in ruins for who knows how long. Who knows how long those goblets have been sitting there. Or maybe... it wasn't poison at all."

"Sound reasoning, Swordsman." Master smiled at him and gave a small approving nod as she walked past. It was the greatest sign of approval she had ever shown him.

"Quite the hero, aren't you, handsome?" Healer slipped an arm around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for trusting me. That was very brave."

Even Archer sprang to her feet and hurried over to embrace him.

"I'm so happy you're all right, Swordsman. I really am. I don't know what I would've done if I'd lost you."

"Don't worry, Archer. I'll always be here for you."

"Really?"

"I promise."

"Hey, guys!" Dragoon called from the other side of the doorway. "Look at this! There's no third trial! We made it to the treasury! Look! Tons and tons of gold!"

Everyone hurried after Dragoon, everyone except Archer. She remained beside Swordsman.

"Swordsman... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for the way I've treated you."

"Don't worry, Archer. I know that—"

"No." She interrupted him. "I really mean it." Her eyes filled with tears, while her cheeks slowly began to flush. "I... I just wanted to tell you... that..."

"Swordsman!" Someone shouted his name. The voice sounded impossibly far away.

"Swordsman!" Another voice.

Then another.

The cries multiplied, filling the air as the chamber grew darker and darker.

"Swordsman!"

They kept calling. Again. And again.

Suddenly he was completely alone. Absolute darkness surrounded him. The voices were gone. So was every other sound.

Panicked, he ran blindly in every direction, trying to understand what was happening. There was nothing. Then an overwhelming exhaustion crept over him. His body grew heavier. His legs refused to move.

"Swordsman!"

A light appeared on the horizon. Like an arrow, he tore through the darkness toward it.

Swordsman gasped as consciousness rushed back into his body. He was no longer alone. His companions surrounded him, staring in alarm. Beside him, Healer cupped his face in her glowing golden hands.

"Phew... Thank goodness," she said, visibly relieved.

"We always trusted you, Healer," Cleric said. "Well done."

"My dude..." Dragoon said, offering him a hand to help him up. "I really thought we were going to lose you."

Swordsman looked around. He caught sight of Archer. Her eyes were brimming with tears. The moment she realized he was looking at her, she quickly turned away and walked off, trying to hide them.

Even Master smiled with relief. She, too, had looked genuinely worried.

"Here," Dragoon said after Swordsman got to his feet, holding out a handkerchief that wasn't exactly clean. "Wipe yourself off. You're bleeding... pretty much everywhere."

Swordsman pressed the handkerchief to his face. Only then did he realize blood was streaming from his eyes, his nose, his mouth and his ears. Perhaps from every opening in his body.

"What happened?" he asked, still struggling to make sense of everything.

"Well... You pretty much died."

------------------------------------------------------------------

The third chamber resembled the previous two, though this one was built from black stone. At its center stood two altars. Upon them rested two golden crowns adorned with precious gems. Between the altars sat another table and another note.

"Three drank from the Cups of Death, and two emerged unharmed," Dragoon read aloud. "Now one shall wear the crown... and the other shall drown in despair."

"Again with this," Cleric muttered.

"Is there anything else? Any drawings? Anything at all?" Swordsman asked weakly. Ever since regaining consciousness, he'd already thrown up three times before making it this far.

"Yeah. A drawing of two kings. And this strange coat of arms," Dragoon replied, showing the note to the others. "Any ideas?"

"That's the coat of arms of Milclada," Master said. "Cleric. Does it remind you of anything?"

Cleric stepped forward and studied the illustration. A die rolled to show a thirteen.

"Yes. Of course. I don't know how I could've forgotten. Anyone from Milclada who enjoys a good story has heard the tale of the Two Kings."

"So?" Swordsman prompted. "What does it mean?"

"Well... Unfortunately, I wasn't one of those people who liked listening to stories," Cleric admitted, disappointing everyone. "I preferred studying theology. That's how I earned the robe. But... I do remember the general idea. I must've overheard some bard telling it once or twice.

A very long time ago... Centuries, I think... Milclada had two kings ruling at the same time. I'm not entirely sure how it happened. Something about the king having two families and acknowledging both... or maybe he simply had twins. I don't remember. But I do know they didn't fight over the throne when their father died. They agreed to rule together.

That had never happened before... and it hasn't happened anywhere in the world since. So naturally, they had plenty of enemies. This is where every bard told the story differently. Some talked about wars. Others about assassination attempts. Each version added something new. But they all ended the same way. The Two Kings abdicated together... and threw their crowns into an abyss. Or... something like that."

"And?" Dragoon asked after several seconds of silence.

"That's it. I honestly don't remember if there was anything after that or if that's where the story ended."

"You're not much help. Sorry to say."

"On the contrary," Swordsman said. "He's been a huge help. It doesn't matter what happened afterward. The important part is what the clue is telling us. Neither of us should take a crown."

"Then how do we move on?" Healer asked.

"Well... Let me think. If throwing them into the abyss means..."

"Oh no. We're going to spend forever coming up with theories," Healer said as she walked toward the altars. "Why don't we just take a crown and see what happens? Actually... I'll take both."

"No! Healer! Wait!" several voices shouted at once.

She didn't stop.

The moment Healer picked up both crowns, a dozen openings appeared high along the walls. Water began pouring through them. An alarming amount of water.

"...and the other shall drown in despair," Swordsman finished under his breath. "What have you done, Healer?"

Healer stared at the torrents of water in surprise. Then she gasped as both crowns crumbled into dust in her hands.

"I... I thought maybe it'd be like the previous riddles. I thought I could handle whatever happened."

"And I suppose you don't happen to know a spell that lets us breathe underwater?" Archer asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as the water rose to her waist.

"I don't think so... But... Let me think... Maybe..."

"Master!" Swordsman called. "What do we do?"

"Why are you asking me?" Master snapped. "It's not as though I..." She stopped herself. "...I..."

The water had already risen above their heads. The entire group floated helplessly as it continued filling the chamber.

"Maybe we should block the ducts?" Dragoon suggested.

"How?" Archer shot back, panic creeping into her voice. "How are we supposed to do anything? Look what you've gotten us into, Healer! Was it really that hard to wait until Swordsman figured out the answer?"

"I just... We managed the last ones..."

"This isn't the time to argue," Swordsman interrupted. "We need to find a way out of here before—"

The water was nearly pressing them against the ceiling.

"Master?!" Archer cried.

"I don't know. This is all Healer's fault. But I should... I should be able to..."

"Oh, enough already!" Healer burst out, furious. "If all you're going to do is blame me... then why don't we just stop playing?!"

The instant the words left her mouth the sound of shattering glass echoed through every one of their minds. A heartbeat later they were all back in the basement of

Tavern

.

Everyone except Jacob.