"Where are we going?" he whispered to Myran once the boy slid the wooden panel back into place. 

Instead of answering, the boy raised one finger to his lips and gestured for Perry to follow him. Decision made, Perry crouched on his hands and knees and did just that. 

The secret passageway was way too narrow for him and smelled suspiciously of beer. Or some other fermented alcoholic drink. He mentally apologized to his poor jeans and kept on moving. 

He expected to run into cobwebs, but there were none. That didn't mean there weren't spiders hiding in tiny dark corners, just waiting to pounce on poor, unsuspecting humans, but it did mean this place was kept relatively clean. 

In his mind, there was no good and legal reason to keep a secret passageway in an inn clean, but he stopped himself from asking all the questions dancing on the tip of his tongue.

Some things were better left unknown. 

Myran moved through the passages with practiced ease using a single candle as a light source and taking turns that Perry would have missed in the dim light. They went down a short flight of stairs, the wood creaking softly under their combined weight.

As they moved through the hidden corridors, the sounds of the inn filtered through the walls. Conversations merged into an indistinct murmur, interrupted by occasional bursts of laughter and the clink of glasses. 

From one section, Perry heard what were unmistakably moans and wished Myran was a bit less familiar with these passages. The boy either didn't hear or pretended he didn't and continued his silent progress forward.

After what felt like an eternity of crawling through the cramped space, Myran stopped at a dead end. He pressed against a specific plank, and a section of the wall swung out with a soft click. 

"Nice. Very Indiana Jones of you," Perry whispered. 

Myran paused and blinked at him. "Apologies, is that some form of code? Do you require assistance?"

Perry shook his head. He blamed... everything for not thinking before speaking. "Never mind. Ignore me. Trust me, it's for the best."

Myran seemed to hesitate, but Perry gestured for him to keep going. They came out into a storage room, lit by two oil lamps that cast long shadows across shelves and baskets.

The room was filled with sacks of rice and grains piled neatly against one wall, ceramic jars of preserved vegetables and fruits, and bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. Baskets with fresh produce and several barrels that Perry assumed held wine or some other drink were arranged along another wall. 

A woman stood waiting for them, her hands clasped in front of her. She was short and solidly built, with blonde hair pulled back in a practical bun. Her face was round and marked with laugh lines that made Perry immediately like her. Working at Lucky Fries, he'd seen lots of people come and go, and just by looking at her, he could tell she was one of the few who took time to be minimally polite to the bored guy working behind the register. 

"Your Highness," she said, dropping into a deep bow.

"No, please," Perry said quickly, "I'm not a prince. Not even close. I'm not even good enough to be one in video games." At her confused expression, Perry waved one hand in the air. "Never mind. Just trust me, I'm really not royal material. Not a prince. Not at all."

The woman stared from Perry to Myran and hesitated. "I do not understand."

"It's a misunderstanding," Perry sighed and rubbed his temples. "It's been one long, insane misunderstanding."

She turned to Myran, her expression stern. "What were you thinking, getting involved in this? Do you know what they'll do to us if they find out?"

"Auntie, you must understand," Myran protested.

"Ha! What must I understand? Please, explain it to me." She gestured for Myran to speak.

"He saved me from the Crimson Lords," Myran protested. "Father always says we must help those who help us. It is the correct and honorable way."

"He's a prince," the woman hissed. "He doesn't need our help."

"Would the Royal Guard let their prince be captured by the Crimson Lords so easily?" Myran challenged. "Would they let him be taken to the Red Temple, drained of blood, and left to dry out in the sun?"

"I'm sorry, they wanted to do what to us?" Perry asked.

"Would they, Auntie? Would they let the vultures eat his carcass like discarded trash? No, they would move The Heavenly Plains and all The Circles of Hell to find their Prince. But him? Look at him, Auntie." Myran gestured to encompass all of Perry. "Does he look like someone important?"

They both paused and looked at him. The expression on the woman's face made it abundantly clear she didn't find him even marginally impressive. 

"Thanks, kid," Perry said dryly.

"You are most welcome," Myran replied with complete sincerity.

The woman's eyes moved between them, her internal struggle visible on her face. Finally, she sighed heavily. "Where do you plan to take him?"

"Home," Myran said. "Father will know what to do."

"Do not be foolish," she chided. "If any of the guards saw you with him, that's the first place they will look." She moved to one of the shelves, grabbing supplies and dropping them into a cloth bag with efficient movements.

"Then we will go to Master Rennin's temple," Myran said after a pause. "It is close enough that I can check on Father, but far enough from the capital that no one would think to look there."

The woman paused in her packing, considering Myran's words. After a moment, she nodded and added more items to the bag. She moved to another shelf and pulled down a bundle of clothing. Perry couldn't make out much in the low light, but they looked like simple garments in muted colors that wouldn't draw attention.

Perfect for people not wanting to draw the attention of guards or royals.

"Change into these," she told Perry, handing him the clothes. "Your current attire is... distinctive."

Perry had to admit she had a point. Even if he was reluctant to part with the last scraps of cloth that tied him to where he came from. 

"How exactly are we going to get out of here without being noticed?" he asked Myran. "The Captain is still upstairs, probably with reinforcements by now."

Myran's answering smile was far too knowing for Perry to fully trust it. It was the kind of smile that came before chaos, the kind that Perry had seen on the faces of particularly creative customers just before they found new and interesting ways to make his life difficult at Lucky Fries.

The woman noticed his expression and pulled Myran into a tight hug. "Be careful," she whispered. "Your father would never forgive me if anything happened to you. And I would never forgive you if you died and turned into a mischievous ghost."

Myran hugged her back. "We will be fine, Auntie Sorah. I promise."

She released him and handed over the bag of supplies. "That's enough food for a few days. Try to make it last."

Perry accepted the bundle of clothes, his mind racing through all the possible ways this could go wrong. But what choice did he have? Stay and face whatever fate awaited a potential royal impersonator? He'd rather take his chances with whatever Myran's plan was.

"We should hurry," Myran said, moving toward what looked like the backdoor of the inn. "Change quickly. We can eat on the way."

As Perry changed into the borrowed clothes, he couldn't help but wonder if he was making a huge mistake. Then again, his day had started with getting pulled through a magic mirror and nearly being sacrificed to whatever a Crimson Lord was. How much worse could things get?

But maybe if there was to be one universal truth across different dimensions - or realities, or worlds -, it was that things could always get worse.