by David Petrie
“Hey now, this isn’t the sort of physical relationship I was looking for. I mean, we don’t even know each other’s names.”
“Kashka,” the woman grunted right before shaking him like she was trying to evenly distribute pulp in a carton of orange juice. He hated pulp. It made his teeth feel weird.
“Nice. To. Meet. You,” Kegan squealed as his head whipped back and forth. His brain took a moment to settle before he remembered he was still clutching his bow and had two more Shift Arrows in his quiver. He smiled and choked out a defiant, “Go ahead, drop me.”
Kashka must have seen his little teleport trick earlier because her grip held firm. She was probably planning to hold him there until the rest of the Winter Moon’s troops could arrive.
Kegan flailed his legs, half in an attempt to free himself from her grasp and half to get a look around. The rest of Amelia’s house rushed across the bridge with clear intent to make him as un-alive as possible. Again, he did the only thing he could. He reached for an arrow and repeatedly stabbed his massive captor in the hand. It worked about as well as he expected.
The Rage might not have been much for conversation, but she wasn’t dumb enough to drop him. Instead, she simply threw him at a stack of barrels nearby. That was when Kegan learned something new. He was already aware that the Rage class had a perk that allowed them to equip anything as a weapon and apply their damage bonus to it. What he didn’t know was that the passive ability worked by adding their stats to anything they held. Apparently, the last thing that this particular Rage had held was him.
The barrels burst on impact, sending a wave of ale splashing into the canyon wall behind, along with Kegan. He hit hard enough to crack stone. A nearby support pin sprang from the rock, and the entire platform tipped downward. Ale poured down the incline like a waterfall.
Kegan slipped on the wet boards, virtual ale dripping in his face from his hair. His clothes were soaked. He checked his wrist, where a pair of tattooed koi fish swam around his health readout.
Down halfway.
He got back to his feet, then flinched as a roar echoed from behind. Kashka stood, the glowing red marks of where he’d stabbed her in the wrist fading away. The rest of the Winter Moons grouped up behind her. Kegan sighed and made a break for the nearest set of stairs.
An army of shouts and curse words followed.
From there, he led his pursuers on a merry chase up several stairways and across the largest bridge in the city. It was at that point that a second group, almost as large as the first, rushed up the stairs from below to merge into one. Apparently, there were more to Amelia’s troops than what had chased him from the tavern, forcing him to wonder if he had enough arrows in his inventory. He shrugged. It was too late to worry about that now.
That was when he caught an explosion out of the corner of his eye from back at the tavern where he’d started. A ball of fire erupted from the side of the building, a slightly crispy Max leaping out of it. Kegan smiled as he climbed another flight of stairs.
“Oh good, looks like he’s doing fine.”
Behind him, Kashka had fallen behind, being too large to navigate the narrow walkways with ease. The rest of the house rushed past her.
Finally, Kegan turned on to a narrow bridge made of nothing but boards and rope. It was perfect. He ran halfway across, then spun. It was time he started fighting back.
He let off a handful of arrows, killing the three in the front with a few well-aimed criticals. The others retreated back while a couple Leaf class players made their way to the front. The two opposing archers carefully nocked their bows and fired one arrow each. Kegan hooked his foot around one of the ropes attached to the side of the bridge and threw his weight against the opposite handrail. One arrow missed, while the other grazed his shoulder, leaving a glowing strip of crimson across his skin. The rope against his back creaked under the strain of his weight as he fired back.
The hits landed.
Two criticals on each.
Kegan pulled back a fifth arrow, letting its feathers rest against the corner of his mouth. He whispered the words, "Piercing Strike," then let it go. The arrow streaked through the group, penetrating one player after another, followed by a trail of red light. The damage decreased with each consecutive hit, but still, it was enough to let the players in the back know that they weren’t safe. In response, several retreated off the bridge, and a couple heal spells went off in the distance.
That was when the hulking Rage reappeared. She pushed her way through their numbers to the front of the group with a Shield class in front for protection. She’d reclaimed her claymore and carried it resting on her shoulder. The Winter Moon banner billowed off her shoulder as the wind blew through the canyon.
Kegan took that as his cue to get moving again. He spun on one foot, only to stop dead in his tracks while a second group of players filed on to the bridge at the other side. They must have gone around to flank him. They had been smart about it too, putting two Shields in front to keep the Blades that followed safe. There wasn’t much he could do against that.
“Crap.” Kegan checked his quiver. He only had five arrows left, including the two Shift Arrows he’d been saving. “Double crap.” He grimaced at the thought of blowing another one just to escape. He’d probably get trapped again anyway. Unless… he thought as the corner of his mouth tugged up into a crooked grin.
The surrounding players closed in carefully, like he was a wild animal, cornered but still dangerous. Once they got close enough, their Blades would overtake him. The Rage tightened her grip on her sword and pointed a threatening finger at him. Kegan ignored her, looking past to the rear of the group to wait for the last of them set foot on to the bridge.
The more the merrier.
Kegan whipped his head from one side to the other as if searching for a way out. Then he grabbed three arrows and ran. In a desperate charge, he nocked his bow and sprinted toward the smaller of the groups. A final roar erupted from his throat. He was going to die fighting. At least, that was what he wanted them to think.
One of the Shields dropped low while the other guarded high, their gauntlets held steady, ready to stop whatever useless attack he could throw at them.
Kegan suppressed a laugh. They may as well have been holding up a sign saying 'right this way, sir'. He jumped, stepping one foot on the glowing generator of the first Shield before hopping up to the second like stairs.
“Thanks for the boost.”
He kicked off and leaped over the side, his back arched like a high jump competitor. Then he drew back his bow and shouted one word to activate a skill, “Cutter!”
The air split as two streaks of green shot past the sides of the rope bridge. Then all fell silent. It didn’t last long. Fibers snapped one after another, the supports tearing apart with a satisfying crack. Screams and expletives came next as the entirety of House Winter Moon’s numbers scrambled back toward the canyon walls.
It was far too late.
Kegan took a moment to admire his handy work, the players, falling like rain, their arms flailing. The sight reminded him that he was in the same boat, running out of time before he hit the water below. He gave one last chuckle, then nocked another arrow. Its silver feathers sparkled as he let it go. Still one Shift Arrow left.
Chapter Eleven
The shop window squeaked against Kira’s face as she struggled to peek inside. At first glance, the store seemed to be closed. The place was dark except for a dim flickering from somewhere near the back. There were silhouettes of small forms, but no matter how hard she pressed her cheek against the glass, she couldn’t make out much else. Despite appearances, the ‘open’ sign hanging on the door left little room for argument.
“I guess we go in.” Kira peeled her face off the window.
Farn nodded and took the liberty of going first, probably a habit for a Shield like herself.
Kira didn’t argue.
A bell chimed from above the door as she opened it. The sound
faded away as soon as the door closed behind them, leaving the shop in silence once again. No one came out in greeting. Kira snapped open a caster and activated a low-level light spell to make its crystal glow brighter to brighten the dim space. She immediately wished she hadn’t.
Ginger gasped, holding her breath as if not letting it out would somehow keep her hidden.
“I’m not so sure this is the right place after all.” A shiver crawled down Kira’s spine, and she took a single step back toward her friends. Toward protection.
They were surrounded, eyes staring at them from each of the figures that had sat hidden in the shadows. They lined the shelves from one wall to the other, sitting motionless. Still as death.
“Dolls,” Ginger said the word with a quiver in her voice. “Why would a clothing shop be full of dolls?” She took a step toward Kira as if being together would keep her safe.
There were dozens of them. No, hundreds. The dolls covered every available surface except for a sales counter near the back. Each wore a different outfit with their ball-jointed bodies staged in various poses. It was as if someone had put a lot of effort into dressing each one to be unique. Although, that didn’t make them any less creepy. Not to mention, there was something familiar about them.
Kira suppressed a shiver, shoving the feeling down until only her thumb tapped against her thigh. “Maybe Samhain was still mad about being tricked into meeting and decided to trick us back.”
Farn groaned and walked across the shop to the sales counter where a single doll sat next to a leather-bound book. “They’re just a bunch of dolls. What’s the big deal?” She opened the book to a cover page that read ‘Welcome to Fashion Souls’. Below that, the words ‘Request Consultation’ appeared on the page. Around the text, a line traced the outline of a handprint. “I guess that’s self-explanatory,” Farn assumed as she reached for the page.
That was when the doll beside the book moved. It’s porcelain face snapped up in a jerky, unnatural motion to gaze at the Shield.
“Fashion,” the doll said in a voice like tearing paper despite its mouth not moving to form the word.
“Mother shit!” Farn leaped away from the counter.
Kira did the same, nearly jumping out of her skin. She didn’t make it far before running into Ginger who glommed on to her. Kira didn’t care, wrapping her arms around the Coin right back in panic.
Farn activated her Shield gauntlet, its generator snapping out and rotating into place to project a barrier. She pressed her back up to Kira and Ginger as they clung to one another. From all around them, the dolls turned their heads to stare in their direction, neck joints creaking with an awful creak.
A chorus of, “Fashion,” erupted from all sides.
Kira threw herself between Ginger and Farn, only peeking around the Shield’s shoulder for a second.
The doll on the counter readjusted its head to lock eyes with her.
“Request consultation.”
No one moved.
“Request consultation… or die.”
“Okay, nope.” Ginger pushed Kira forward as sacrifice, then started for the door.
Farn did the opposite, inching toward the counter while keeping her shield up and reaching for the book with her free hand.
Kira froze in the middle of the shop. She could either hold her ground with Farn or head for the door.
Again, the dolls spoke, “Fashion.” Their high-pitched voices sounded like a whirlwind of broken glass.
Kira made her choice, leaping past Farn and slapping her hand against the book’s open page. She held her breath and closed her eyes tight.
Everything went quiet.
Kira cracked open one eye as the shop’s lights brightened to a normal level. The dolls remained right where they had been, staring straight ahead, as if they had never moved to begin with. They looked completely different in the light, to a point where they were almost pretty.
Ginger took her hand off the door and stepped back into the center of the shop to rejoin Kira and Farn.
“Glad to know you’d leave us behind when things get scary, M’Lady.” Farn nudged Ginger in the arm.
“That’s right. I’m Lady of our house. My life takes priority.” Ginger held her head high.
“I guess they’re just dolls.” Kira leaned over to the doll on the counter. “Now I feel kind of dumb.”
That was when someone cleared their throat behind them.
“Actually, they would have killed you if you hadn’t passed Noctem’s level 25 cap.”
The three members of House Lockheart spun to find a strange man standing in a doorway at one side of the shop. Kira didn’t hear the door open. Come to think of it, she didn’t remember there being a door there in the first place. The man leaned one shoulder against the wall, removing a pair of thin-rimmed glasses from his face to clean them with a cloth.
“I may have dressed them up a little with new outfits, but the dolls themselves are technically monsters. Level twelve marionettes, actually.” He placed his glasses back on his nose and stuffed the cloth into a vest pocket so that half of it remained hanging out the top. Then he ran a hand over the nearest doll, feeling the fabric of its dress between his fingers. “I picked them in the orphanage in Rend actually. Had to trap each in a trunk and drag them back here to have them re-tasked. I find they keep away the normals.”
“I knew they looked familiar.” Kira relaxed, somehow less scared of them upon hearing that they came from her new home city.
“Yes, well, welcome to Fashion Souls. My name is Larkin.” He bowed his head, placing one finger on his glasses so that they didn’t slip down his nose. “Now, if you would come with me, we can get this consultation underway.” He clapped his hands and faded back through the door as if they were expected to follow.
Kira exchanged looks with the rest of her house, then shrugged, following the strange shopkeep through the door and up the narrow staircase beyond.
The man’s character model was human as far as she could tell. He wore a long apron wrapped around his waist with a large pair of scissors tucked into a sheath hanging from the back of his belt. They bounced as he stepped up the stairs, as did the red ribbon that tied back his light blue hair.
A large attic space waited at the top of the stairs, complete with a high ceiling full of exposed beams. Crating materials littered the room—wood, fabric, leather, and metal. Some of it was organized and stored on shelves while the rest had been left lying about as if they were part of an ongoing project. There were even a few buckets filled unceremoniously with gemstones.
Three full-length mirrors occupied one wall, positioned to show multiple angles to the viewer. The other side of the room held dozens of tools hanging from hooks. A headless mannequin sat in the far corner, draped in beautiful white fabric.
Larkin kicked a few things to the side to make some room, then strode over to the table and leaned against it. He snatched up a player journal from its surface and dug a pen out of the slot in its binding. “Now for your consult–”
“Oh, you’re a person?” Kira interrupted.
Larkin let his journal fall so he could stare at her properly. “Of course I am. Did you think I was an NPC?”
“Kind of. You run a shop, and you’re not wearing any real gear.”
He placed his book back on the table and held up a couple fingers. “You are wrong in two ways. First,” he pushed off of the table and swept a hand across the room, “this is a custom fashion boutique. I have a deal with Checkpoint Systems to provide and develop this space. And I assure you,” he ran his fingers down the buttons of his vest, “while this outfit might not have the stats that some other equipment does, it is not without its advantages.” A knowing smile washed across his face before he returned to his place at the table and picked up his journal. “Now, as I was saying. You three are here for a consultation. Yes? May I have your names?”
Ginger stepped forward to answer.
Larkin wrote down a few lines and fl
ipped to the back of his journal to where his inspector sat in the recessed space in its back cover. He tapped at it a few times, bringing up each of their public profiles. They didn’t contain much more than their class, level, titles, and house affiliation, but it was probably enough to give him an idea of who they were.
Kira wondered if he would notice their new-found loyalty to Rend listed under their house name. His brow furrowed, looking puzzled.
Guess so.
He hesitated, as if trying to figure out how to proceed. “May I ask how you heard about this place?”
“A friend of mine at the Everleigh Club sent us. His name’s Samhain.”
“Ah, yes.” Larkin slipped back into customer service mode. “And I assume he mentioned my fee?”
Ginger hesitated. “Umm no.”
Larkin’s pen stopped moving. “I should inform you that my cost is one thousand dollars each transferable by payment ledger.”
“What?” Kira jumped like a startled cat while Farn let out a sudden, awkward laugh.
“Seriously? We can get dresses anywhere,” Ginger argued.
“Dresses?” Larkin’s eyebrow twitched up.
“Yes, we need formalwear for an event tomorrow, as well as appropriate gear for two bodyguards.”
“Hmm, interesting,” he mumbled to himself. “No one asks for that sort of thing. No, mostly, they just want custom armor.” He tapped his pen against his lips, then pulled it away in a quick motion. “What event are you attending?”
Farn tucked her thumbs into the sash around her waist. “Some kind of party at the palace in Reliqua.”
Larkin scoffed. “The snake's conquest ball? I think not. I’ll have no design of mine ingratiating anyone with that crowd. Lord Berwyn and his little power play have practically crippled my ability to get some of the materials I need.” He finished the statement by flicking the pair of shears out from the sheath at his back and driving them into the table beside him. The impact splintered wood and shook the room.