by Jay Smith
I devoured the toast, washed it down with warm, black coffee and shook the empty juice pitcher as if that would make more appear.
It might have been the second interrogation of the day but at least the chairs were comfortable. "Do you know a Carla Baron?"
Huan typed on for a few more seconds, stopped, then tapped a button with the flair of a final note in a piano composition suggesting the email she’d written was sent. She put the tablet aside and stretched her legs across the chair and her arms up over her head. After a yawn, she replied. "Should I know her?"
"You should, but if the name doesn’t ring a bell then I guess my business with the police is none of yours."
Huan sat up and smiled the way managers smile at the start of a disciplinary meeting. "Carla Baron. Tall. Former showgirl. Into drugs. Friend of Grant Parker. Banned from six hotels in the city, including the Peppermint. She is also banned from the Realm Aeternus in-world and online for solicitation and drugs. Also - and this is not really a surprise to me - apparently, a friend of yours, Mr. Casey…a man who walked in off the street yesterday wanting to collect a huge amount of money from us because you claim Parker left it to you. You can understand why we feel this is really most sincerely our business."
"Still on that, huh? Did I ask for that money? You’re terrified I’ll ask for it for some reason."
"I’m not terrified, Mr. Casey. Tell me about Carla."
"You saw the surveillance video."
"Did I?"
"It’s a casino and you’re a partner. If Carla was on the black list and showed up, I imagine you would have gotten a report. This one time I went to Atlantic City and I wasn’t quite 21. There were guards waiting for me any time I even got close to the casino entrance anywhere along the boardwalk. And that was a long time ago. I’m surprised your tablet there didn’t vibrate the minute security recognized her on the property. If it didn’t, you’re not as sneaky and covert-ops as you want me to believe."
She considered my answer staring out at the Vegas skyline. A helicopter banked left around the center of town, likely shuttling tourists on a bird’s eye view of things. "Why did she hold a gun on you?"
I smiled. "Why didn’t someone come help when she pulled a gun on me?"
"Despite what you might see on television, we’re not instantly aware when someone we don’t like is on the property. There are tens of thousands of faces passing a thousand cameras every day. Even with computers…"
"She wore a helmet…which means you wouldn't have known unless you were watching me and saw someone get into my car." I worked it out further. "You either knew it was her beforehand or you went out and questioned the other cosplayers."
"Very good. You're learning how to play. We didn’t report Carla until you checked back in."
"Why?"
"Reasons."
"You thought the problem would correct itself and if I were killed you could point to the hotel upgrade as a sign you didn’t know anything bad would happen to me."
"Is that a question?"
"And I assume you went through my things as you were setting them out in the room."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"A significant portfolio of assets to which you believe you are legally entitled."
"What do you mean 'significant'?"
Huan smiled like she was about to stab me in the throat. "Eighteen million dollars. You didn't know?"
I let that number sink in while I sank deeper into my chair. "That’s what Parker’s worth?"
Huan shifted in her chair. "You really don’t know, do you? Did Parker throw you into this den of iniquity without any clue what you’d find?"
"Apparently so."
"I - actually believe that. And I’m glad that’s the case because Lord Bunting-upon-Stropf would like to meet you and the outcome of our meeting was going to set the tone and topic of your discussions."
"Alan Horus? Well, now. I'll pull out my finest plate mail."
"A sophomore psychology student can tell your sarcasm is a mask for your fear, Mr. Casey."
"I wonder how many books could come from examining your inherent narcissism and personality issues."
Ni Huan could say "Fuck you" with her nose. "We are well connected within the Metro Police, to the point where if you’re talking with them you may also be talking to us."
"That’s cozy. It also means you’ve been playing games with me."
"Isn’t that the point? I’m paid to make sure you’re not a cheap grifter working with junky whores to steal from my employer. You play your game, I play mine. Together we create a new reality."
"It sounds so sexy when you say it."
"My advice to you is treat Carla Gugino Baron like she has Ebola. Lord Parque, of all people, had her character executed, her assets seized, and her memberships revoked. He made a compelling argument that she should leave Las Vegas quickly and quietly. If she complies, the law will not follow. If she does not…" Huan smiled bright. "Well, there are worse things than being banned from a game."
Chapter Twelve
Ezrin arrived in my room shortly after Huan finished my breakfast. I was happy to know that the two women did not like one another and especially that Huan curbed her usual condescending attitude before leaving my suite like a lesser of two cats scurrying when the dominant one wanted the room.
She carried a large bag and asked where she would be staying.
"You're serious."
"Serious as a flashgasm."
"I don't know what…"
"Yes, Winston."
She set up in the second bedroom and went to work preparing her garb for the day. We spent the day getting to know the people of Aeternus but I couldn't help but think if there wasn't a larger game being played beyond the meta LARP and the online play.
~
I drew hard on her corset laces as she said, "Table top RPGs are not LARPs. Pull harder."
I didn't think Ezrin could breathe in that gear, but I complied. I resisted the urge to put my foot on her ass to help close the tiny gap in the back of her corset. By my eye, Ezrin's waist was four inches smaller already. After ten minutes of lacing and tugging and lacing and tugging, all I had to show for my effort was two feet of loose, black laces. I kept pulling as I replied, "I know the difference between the two. I just haven't played many LARPs."
"Live-action games here are...umph...totally immersive. You have to look the part. You can't be yourself between turns. You can't be surprised by what you see or they'll think you're playing some newbie rube. You're nobility, so you gotta show…wow, that's it. Keep pulling. Almost there."
The trick was getting the laces tied off to keep the gap from re-appearing when I let go. I couldn't let any slack appear in the laces so I created some overlap in the corset's frame before looping the laces into a knot. I was lucky and the knot didn't slip.
"Oh, that's good," she purred as she ran her hands around her narrow waist. She turned to me. "How does it look? And I know the boobs are fine, I mean the waist and hips."
The satin, forest green corset was custom fit to her body type and created an impressive hourglass from her shoulders to her hips. It compressed her form the way corsets should and didn't squeeze the parts it couldn't contain out over the edges like an off-the-rack Halloween corset would. The over-cup design held her in place like steel armor. The dark green set off the pale skin and freckles of her naked arms and shoulders and looked amazing with her long, copper locks.
I shrugged. "You look amazing."
She smiled. I loved her victory smile. It was like being caught off-guard by good art. On three inch heels, she strolled across the room to the full-length mirror, the black lace and green trim following behind. "When you're in the live areas, you have to be Lord Wynncase: Strong, Assertive, Tough... I know it isn't your nature, but if you aren't there are people in that place who will pounce on you. They will challenge weak players, especially someone like you."
"Wait a minute…"
"That
's not an insult. You want to be invisible. You can't be invisible. You have to be larger than life and I will teach you that." She posed in the mirror, anticipating how she could be seen from any angle, in different situations and studied her appearance carefully. "A courtier is always a target. I will be there to help you, but once people know I'm your slave, they will try to separate us before picking you off."
"Wait, 'pick me off'? Like assassinate me?"
"No, more like exploit you for their own gain. You don't know how valuable it is for a groundling to tag you in one of their photos. It's like getting to the front page on Reddit or getting your cat video picked up by The Nerdist."
"But is it like getting pulled up on stage to dance with Springsteen?"
"Shut up, old man, and listen. Tagging a courtier is something to brag about, believe it or not. An image of an instant in time can make you best friends with someone and they'll use your name to try and jump up the ranks. Any time you talk to someone, you're lending them your influence."
"That's really cynical."
Ezrin paced the room to make sure her ensemble stayed together in the right places. "No, that's how our system works. Horus doesn't want his court slumming with the groundlings and you don't need Huan coming around with a slideshow of people you talked to that now think you're going to do something for them. So just be prepared for people who want your attention."
"Courtiers are elitist dicks. Got it."
"You'll be eaten alive. When the doors open and you hit the line, you can't stop to chat. You can't act like these people are your equals. They aren't. You want people to like you, Winston, but this is not the place for that. You need to be aloof, unapproachable – in short, an asshole."
She pointed to a pile of leather and cotton on the sofa.
"Also, I can't outshine you at an event. You have to be bigger than life or I look like a trophy. I'm not saying this to be vain, but we're all on a stage and if you aren't playing the hero you'll look like Roger Rabbit next to me."
I considered my appearance in the mirror over Ezrin’s shoulder and knew she wasn't wrong. I was lost thinking about the question for a moment before she caught my eye and asked, "So. Who are you?"
~
Before I could identify the Folk Rock ensemble Ezrin laid out for me, someone knocked on the door. Ezrin was up out of her seat, a hand stopping me from moving any farther.
A tall, nervous-looking fellow with pale skin pushed a stack of pine crates into my room on a luggage cart. Unlike Ezrin, he actually looked the part of a servant. His costume…or clothing however you want to see it... was cheap and worn. His shoes were old slippers. He looked the part of a community theater pauper with some faded strip mall tattoos peeking out from the cuff and collar of his dingy shirt. He kept a bloodshot eye on me as he helped Ezrin move the boxes to the bedroom I pointed out to him.
"Boy, did he give me the stink-eye," I said as he left.
"Krevsky? Yes. He fancies me."
"Oh, well that's not surprising."
With a wry expression, she added, "He says that in another world, another life, we are married."
It made sense to me, but I needed to confirm. "How awkward would that be," I mused, "To know that and watch your partner submit to the will of another."
She poured herself another drink. I couldn't read her expression. I made out some bitterness behind the construct of ambivalence. "I wonder how awkward he feels as he beds a young dancer from Sir Garrison’s Conservatory." She took a mouthful and swallowed. "They are bound by the Covenant of the Realm, united in marriage. I find his attentions to me here… inappropriate."
"Oh." I had nothing to add, so I sat back down.
Not satisfied by my response, she added, "Besides, he would not survive me." Me meaning Ezrin rather than the mystery woman behind that mask.
~
During the busiest times, even the executive elevators took a while to arrive. The silence and waiting just added to the tension.
"Are you ready for this, milord?"
"No."
"Who are you? Full name."
"I am Androsi, Lord Wynncase. Oracle of the Fidelphi. Seated member of the Court of Lord Bunting-upon-Stropf. And all around silly person."
"And when you introduce me?"
"This is my servant Ezrin."
"Urg. I'm not a servant."
"I'm not going to call you my slave."
"That's what I am."
"Don't care. You are either my valet, protector, or guardian."
"Aeternus is not a progressive liberal community. Women are not…"
"I'm an outsider. My people do not keep slaves. I have to take you on per the orders of Lord BUS but there are a dozen examples in the books where..."
"Winston. I'm only with you on temporary assignment. I've been loaned to you."
"I see. Then you are not my slave. You're 'Ezrin, my attendant on loan from the Lord of Lords.'"
"Fine. Who are you, again?"
I repeated my full name. And my back story. I was a wanderer, a seeker, a magician, and ambassador to a faraway land to which I communicate by magic! Huzzah and forsooth.
"Good. Lord Wynncase of Fidelphi, I've never heard of that realm. Where is it?"
"Fidelphi is a remote nation beyond the Gowean Wastes, three months' travel from here by mount, one by sea coming 'round the Sembellus Sea."
"Good. Are you ready?"
"No," I repeated.
A dozen floors below us, the Aeternal capitol shone bright in the artificial night. Even this high up, the music and revelry broke the silence of my suite. Ezrin wore her forest green and black dress with flat shoes, her hair tied into braids. As was her station, she wore a light layer of make-up to convey a plain, humble appearance.
I wore a black leather doublet over a gray poofy shirt and black velvet pants tucked into knee high boots laced tight up the front. My ceremonial sword hung loose from my utility belt. Ezrin carried four or five weapons hidden in various folds and sleeves of her dress. The style of garb approved for use had an interesting flair to it. The video game's artistic palate gave every character a distinct – and copyright protected – look. That look carried into the LARP community. Only certain dyes could be used restricting colors to a player's station and rank, and patterns that were usually soft and practical leaned more toward muscular or busty shapes. Even the Big & Tall styles were cut to make the wearer seem larger than life. I looked like a bit player in a local Renaissance festival with a hint of glitter rock preposterousness.
My dark colors were chosen because of my rank as Courtier. I designed a crest for House Wynncase which had been sewn into a cloak. I chose Honey for the cloak to break up the Goth feel of the costume. It hung on me and I realized that I came out of the west across the Gowean Wastes like The Man with No Name. That thought lasted a full two seconds until I realized I felt nothing like Clint Eastwood. I felt more like Barry Bostwick in Megaforce.
"Showtime, milord. This is just a casual walkthrough. Remember, most people have no idea who you are."
Ezrin was generally trustworthy and savvy to the point that she would make a good publicist. But on that point, she was totally wrong.
The arena entrance at the bottom of the elevator emerged from the tower through a massive portcullis, across a drawbridge over a gorgeous artificial moat. I passed through a white wooden ivy-clenched archway with Ezrin a half step behind me and to the right.
"Keep your eyes up, shoulders square. Walk with confidence," she continued to coach me in a low voice, leaning in as if to provide me information about the fantasy world all around me.
With gaslights and soft firefly lanterns casting a warm glow about the village, the lights on the roof truly looked like stars. A grove of apple trees to the left drew my eye to a gathering of villagers watching a harlequin juggle daggers on a raised platform. The crowd cheered and laughed as the clown in white pajamas alternated between daring flips and horrible puns. To our right, a narrow path wound its way i
nto trees and hills. A signpost marked this as the Low Road and warned of Bandits and other ruffians.
Straight ahead, the main road led into a crowd of people standing about with drinks, chatting in clusters between food carts and booze kiosks.
The problem wasn't that anyone would recognize me right away. The problem was that most people knew Ezrin and Ezrin wildly underestimated her recognition among the membership. Given that everyone knew she was assigned to a new Lord from out of the west it didn't take much for them to realize who I was. Of course, wearing black and a cloak with a crest didn't help.
~
During the day, characters could rely on face paint and imagination to convey their characters. At night? At night, the real talent emerged.
Eight-foot-tall black werebulls traveled in small groups through the center of town. They were majestic in their thick black fur standing on their hind hooves snorting and grunting, raising their bone-white horns and gangly arms as they bayed at an imaginary moon. Despite this and their bloody red eyes, they were well-mannered beasts among the citizens.
Aeternus was an inclusive city. Near the werebulls Ezrin pointed out a gathering of Aelfvamps – Elf vampires, similar to drows, but pale, thin LeStat types in black Aelf armor. In character, they walked with purpose and people made way for them.
Sparkling fairy drones buzzed the crowded squares, carried on remote controlled wings between treetops and clock towers. In motion, they swooped through the crowd in a pretty trail of lights accompanied by a gentle sound of wind chimes. At rest, they stood high enough to hide their detail, offering just enough to resemble glowing pixies. I couldn't see how they stayed upright.
Among the humans walked demonic forms in hoods or black armor. Cat people. Ogres. Satyrs. All creative people sharing their art and craftsmanship in a detailed environment that came to feel more like a movie set than a party.
Turning toward the sound of Viking Metal I found myself confronted by four lizard men. Full prosthetics. Moving, moist eyes. Glistening shark teeth in a long, armored snout. The tallest stood a few inches over me, but he was a beefy beast in green scales, black gauntlets and boots, with a gray tunic covered in gold sea shells. The big one had more shells than tunic on display. His three companions were identical except for some scars here and there, and different faded colors and sea shell collections. My curiosity about General Asq led me to research Reptillus and its customs. It was an impressive collection of achievements if you knew how to read them.