“We did it,” Roy shouted, as they burst through the surface on a geyser of white foam.

  “We’re the greatest,” Bastion whooped.

  “We got the trident, and whoosh, away we go!” Roy launched them toward the shore on the crest of a wave.

  They laughed as they landed, tumbling in the sand. Bastion's clothes were soaked, and Roy’s boots squelched with every step. Still, they were in high spirits as they made their way back to Bay Town.

  As they crossed back onto the main street, they spotted a small blonde woman yanking the reins of two mechanical horses.

  She wore a velvet jacket over a black t-shirt, and high leather boots that clicked against the pavement. A toolbelt rode low on her hips, bristling with scissors, three kinds of tape, and a glitter-coated buckle.

  When she looked up at her horses, Roy noticed the oversized goggles perched on her head.

  “Come on,” she shouted. “You’re supposed to have a hundred and fifty horsepower each. That’s ten times as much as a real horse!”

  She wasn’t having much luck. The cart behind her, emblazoned with “W. Sara Cartwright, Costume Design” in flowing black script, was stuck in a muddy ditch. Each tug of the reins just flung more mud and rainwater into the air.

  “Nice horses,” said Roy, eyeing the clockwork. Small brass keys turned in their necks. They reminded him of the horse in Future Knight, the medieval stuff from the start of the movie, not the power armor from the third act. Only here, there was no beast beneath the plating. The armor was the horse.

  “Thanks. I built them myself. Getting the proportions right in 3D was really tricky. We didn’t have horses where I’m from: just pictures and one plastic toy from Burger Quest. The first ones I made were too skinny, so they wouldn’t move. They have to look like horses to move like them. Aesthetics are specific like that.”

  Bastion leaned toward Roy. “Looks like we’ve found another one like you. A theming fanatic. Or what is it you call yourself?”

  “An enthusiast, and I’m Roy by the way. This is my friend Bastion. We’re new in town, trying to do the whole treasure hunting thing.”

  She gestured to the side of her cart. “You can call me W. Just like the sign says.”

  “Nice to meet you, W.”

  “What does that stand for?” asked Bastion.

  “For now, just W. I’m still trying to decide if my first name is fitting.”

  “Cartwright, though,” said Roy. “That’s fitting enough.”

  “Yeah. You could say it's some classic nominative determinism, except I make costumes, the cart I just drive around. Hey, I have to ask you guys something. I told myself I’d try to be self-reliant once I came to the Free States, but I’m really stuck here. Can you help me push?”

  “Oh, I can do better than that,” said Roy. He aimed the trident at the tracks. “Water of the bay, obey me.”

  Water leapt from the muddy groove, shunting the cart forward and spraying all over them. Roy still wore enough of the diving suit that only his hair got wet, and Bastion hadn’t dried off anyway, but W. was drenched.

  “Welcome to the club,” said Bastion.

  “Sorry,” said Roy. “I didn’t expect it to work that well.”

  “Are you kidding me?” W. beamed. “That was amazing.” She stepped down from her horse and leaned over the trident, revealing a stylized version of Lightner World’s castle printed on her t-shirt. “More, please.”

  “OK. Here goes. All that scuttles has no spine.” A small crab surfaced from the mud and danced around at his command.

  “Incredible. Did you memorize the control phrases?”

  “No, I’m pretty much just making up things that sound right. I did get some inspiration from the Sea King, though.”

  “Who’s the Sea King?”

  “Automaton,” said Bastion. “Tried to kill us a few minutes ago.”

  “It actually comes alive?”

  “Not anymore.” Bastion grinned.

  “That’s the kind of thing I came here for. Powerful themes. I like your diving suit by the way, Roy. Did you bring it with you so you could get to the Sea King?”

  “No, I got it in that costume store over there.”

  “He’ll probably give you one if you go in and ask,” said Bastion. “Just don’t mention that we already got the trident, and don’t trust the bastard. He sent a dozen people to die down there.”

  “A costume store? OK, I have to see this, right now. Nice to meet you.” She got back in her cart and rode off in the direction of “Themes, Dreams, and Things”.

  “I feel like she focused on the wrong part of what I was saying there,” Bastion said. “But he probably does have more suits and just wouldn’t give us two.”

  “So I take it you want to go to the other shop now?” Roy asked. “Sell the trident?”

  “Actually, Roy, I think we deserve to celebrate first. We did the money making thing for me, now we should do something you’ll like. Do you want to go to the Snow-Capped Cafe and find out what ice cream tastes like?”

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  “Yeah. I really do.”

  They stepped between the icicle pillars and into the restaurant, taking a table near the window beside a dancing snowman. Roy looked up at the snowflakes on the video screen ceiling until a parka-wearing waitress came over.

  “Hi. Welcome to the Snow-Capped Cafe. Would you like any drinks while you decide what to order?”

  “Sure,” said Bastion. “I’ll have a bottle of Elixir Blue. I could do with some extra mental energy.”

  “A Mystic Mana Blue Brew for me too, thanks,” said Roy. He was buzzing with excitement. He’d seen printed commercials for the potion themed sodas, but never tried this flavor for himself.

  “OK,” said Bastion. “Let’s pick fast. I know we said ice cream, but it looks like they have multiple types here. If we can afford it, I might get something else too.”

  They quickly scanned the menu. The mountain burger seemed to be the staple here, judging from the number of four-patty sandwiches on the tables around them. Roy also saw that one group had ordered the base camp sharing platter, which was served in a small canvas tent.

  “What exactly are expedition fries?” said Bastion, looking around. “They just look like normal fries. You can’t just slap the word ‘expedition’ in front of them and act like they’re some special thing.”

  “Here,” said Roy. “Their ice creams are called Snow Queen Sundaes. I bet you they’re served in some kind of ice castle. Fifty tokens each.”

  “Sounds good,” Bastion said.

  “No wait. I just saw this other thing. The Precipice cake. It says it’s their signature dessert for special occasions. And what’s more special than our first day as treasure hunters?”

  “Well, when you say it like that, I guess we have to get it.”

  When the waitress returned to hand them their frosted bottles of blue liquid, Roy placed the order.

  “Going big, huh. Is it somebody’s birthday? We can do the song and candles if you want.”

  “No, but—” Roy started.

  “But nothing,” Bastion cut in. “It’s nobody’s birthday, so we don’t need the singing. We’re celebrating because we got that trident out of the underwater restaurant.”

  “Oh, did you get it for Tim from ‘Themes, Dreams, and Things'? Mayor Big Time is always talking about that place. He really wants it to do well.”

  “Maybe,” said Bastion.

  “Mayor Big Time?” asked Roy.

  “He owns this place. He’s involved in almost everything in Bay Town, since he got the whole place working again. Though with this restaurant, the theming was so good it didn’t take much. The freezers magically restock themselves, so we have all the original ingredients. Your cake will be just like the ones before the Warp.”

  “Awesome,” said Roy.

  Before she left, the ceiling changed to show blocks of falling ice and snow, and the speakers started rumbling.

  “Avalanche time!” said the waitress.

  “Is that every day?” asked Bastion.

  “It’s every twenty minutes,” she said with a wave, heading for the kitchen.

  Roy admired the swirling vapour rising from his soda and took a sip, savoring the tangy-sweet taste and watching it fizz as he swished the bulbous bottle around.

  Within a few seconds his thoughts felt crisp and clear. It was like they’d bottled a good night’s sleep.

  “This stuff’s great,” said Roy. “What kind of flavor would you say ‘blue’ is anyway?”

  “I’d say it’s something like ‘synthetic chemicals,’” said Bastion.

  “Well yeah, but don’t you think the magic makes it taste different somehow? These things used to just look like magic potions, with none of the effects.”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t eaten any blue fruits. The closest thing was a 150-year-old vitamin gummy.”

  “Oh, wait.” Roy brightened. “Maybe it’s the other way around? What if there’s a blue fruit out there somewhere that exists to match the flavor of this soda?”

  “Only you would even think of that.”

  “But what if there is though? We can try to look for it! Anyway, I’m not the only person who’d think like that. That girl W. probably would too.”

  “Hell, she’d probably try to make one herself. What do you think her actual name is, anyway?”

  “I don’t know,” Roy considered it. “Willow? Winter? Whitney? There aren’t that many girl names that start with W.”

  “Yeah, but if it was one of those I think she’d just say it, you know? She’s acting like it’s some deep, dark secret. It’s gotta be something weird.”

  The waitress returned with the cake, struggling under its weight: a crooked mountain of chocolate sponge and vanilla ice cream, its peak curling down. Roy and Bastion had to lean over to see each other around it.

  A tiny plastic climber clung to the edge of the miniature mountain.

  “Oh, I get it,” said Roy. “That’s why it’s the Precipice Cake.”

  “Hey Roy, speaking of W. Isn’t that her right over there?”

  Roy turned to see W. examining an animatronic penguin in the window. “Should we ask her to join us? I’m asking her to join us.” He shouted and waved, “Hey. W. Come in here and have some precipice cake.”

  “Oh wow,” she said, hurrying inside. “Thanks! This is so cool. Just think, when it melts enough, the climber’s gonna fall to his doom.”

  “That’s what we’re all waiting for,” said Bastion.

  They watched the cake closely after that, avoiding eating the parts around the peak so they wouldn’t interfere, but having a great time eating the rest of it.

  “This is really good,” said W. “I’ve never tried something like this before.”

  “Yeah,” said Roy. “I really like how the texture of the cake goes with the ice cream.”

  “So how much was this cake anyway, Roy?” asked Bastion.

  “Six hundred tokens.”

  Bastion choked on his drink. “Six hundred? We just spent all our money on cake?”

  “I can pay for my share if that helps,” said W.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Roy. “We’ve got the trident now. We’ll get plenty of tokens when we sell it.”

  “You’re selling it?” W. gasped. “I could… no, I shouldn’t… but I do want it. No, I need to be sensible here. I am not buying it for personal use,” she said, finally convincing herself.

  “We have to sell it,” said Roy. “We need to fund our next expedition, plus living expenses. Mostly we’ll need to get a boat for the swamps.”

  “I can help with that!” said W. “When you’ve got something, let me know. I can paint it to make it faster. It’s not just about being red—you need stripes, chrome plating, and exposed engine parts.”

  Just then, the waitress arrived with the check. W. added a tip next to their entire savings on the plate.

  “I overheard some of what you said. If it's a boat you need, you should go see Mayor Big Time over in the grand hotel”. The waitress pointed in the opposite direction to the docks.

  “Thanks,” said Roy. “We will.”

  “First we need to sell the trident,” said Bastion. “Let’s hope selling it’s easier than getting it was.”

  “Oh, it will be,” said Roy. “You’ve seen what it can do. It’ll be a bigger piece of cake than this one.” Roy took a huge bite, and as he gulped it down, the room started rumbling again.

  “Avalanche time!” called the waitress.

  The vibrations finally knocked the little plastic climber off the cliff edge. He plummeted into the pool of melted ice cream below, and diners all around the restaurant cheered.

  “This is so immersive,” said W. “Is the avalanche something they do just for the special cake, or is it every day?”

  “It’s every twenty minutes,” said Roy.