by Reapers
Me: Chrono is off beating his … metal somewhere.
Aiden does his move in and out of reality thing, returns in a flash. “She’s down the street,” he says. “Her entourage is already here.”
Two katanas materialize in Aiden’s hands. He flips backwards, holds them in a scissor position. A knight in white armor materializes at the apex of his blades. The knight lowers his arrow, which was aimed directly at Sophia.
Another knight appears behind Zedic, his arrow at the small of Zedic’s back.
Since Tritania is a turn-based battle world, there really isn’t such thing as a surprise attack per se. There is, however, an advantage to being the first to attack, especially if one starts the battle holding his enemies at bay.
Me: Off with their heads?
Sophia grunts. “Put your weapons down. These are the queen’s guards; they aren’t enemies.”
~*~
Aiden lowers his katanas. “Sorry, I should have known that.”
Me: Someone tell Aiden not to apologize for almost giving that bozo the twin-blade shave.
Sophia: You and your violent friends.
Me: Looks like her goon squad are more interested in you anyway.
Empress Thun’s two white musclemen keep their weapons aimed at Sophia. A little mathematics is all it takes to figure out why – she’s, by far, the highest level of anyone currently at her humble abode. If trouble’s going to come from anywhere, it’ll be from the Thulean speaking Houdini-ess with the ill-concealed mean streak. Tough crowd too – these NPC secret service goons look like they’re about as much fun as a twenty-four hour curling marathon. Their armor is all pointy and spiky and Hellraiser. Their barbutas put the show in shogun, their flowing white satin capes make me think they’re more interested in looking hip than actually putting the kibosh on anyone trying to make a move on the Empress. These two are probably the same guards who let the princess get kidnapped by that filthy toad in Hyperborea.
Me: Flick one of them on the forehead for me, will ya?
Sophia: Rocket, Zedic, ignore Quantum. Quantum, keep it up and I’ll take you off comms.
Me: From within the game? Is that even possible?
Rocket: Si, señor.
I’m about to say something about always being a wet blanket when I’m reminded of Frances’ request to keep the peace. The peace I keep for a piece.
The doors fly open and more knights in white satin pile in. I see now why Sophia quintupled the size of her living room. Empress Thun’s entourage, while not quite at the CEOOTUS travelling to some fourth-world shithole, ostensible ally of convenience level, is still nothing to laugh about. And pile in they do – security, press (with scrolls floating over their shoulders and taking notes), attendants, close confidants and medical staff, the latter of which wear white burkas.
The last to enter is the big kahuna herself, resplendent in a lacy, blood-red, ersatz-gothic dress, ruby slippers, an actual orb and scepter and a scarf around her neck that is cast backwards. Empress Thun is a frail thing, with dark skin and white make-up highlighting her eyes and lips. Half of her hair is blonde, the other half black. It’s plaited into an elaborate braid as thick as my arm, and it looks like some festive pumpernickel and white kalács. Mmm … hot fresh sweet bread with genuine cow-butter and … What I wouldn’t get for a quick visit to Dunkin Krispies right about now.
Hell, I even look to the door, over the bodies of my Dream Team compadres. Think they’d notice if I snuck out for a minute? The thought of a message from my FDA/PTSD Monitor keeps my bum in the chair.
Rocket: She’s hot, isn’t she?
Me: What? The hen with the corpse makeup?
Rocket: Don’t worry, I’m taking a screenshot.
Me: Your fap folder already takes up half our server.
Sophia: Don’t you dare!
Frances Euphoria: LOL. I’d be afraid to see Rocket’s fap folder.
Me: I’d be honored.
Zedic: I’d be interested.
Rocket: I don’t have a fap folder!
Sophia: Enough mindless banter!
“Your highness,” Sophia says, dropping to her knees. Aiden follows as does Veenure. The three of them place their hands at their sides and lower their foreheads to the floor.
Sophia: WHAT ARE YOU THREE DOING? BOW! I TOLD YOU HOW TO DO THIS IN THE NOTES I SENT YOU! HANDS AT YOUR SIDE, HEAD ON THE GROUND!
Zedic is the first to respond to her all caps message. He’s on his knees before Frances and Rocket, pressing his forehead to the floor.
Me: Never thought I’d see someone bowing to a damn NPC!
The Empress steps in front of Sophia, lifts one set of her ruby-slippered tootsies and places it on Sophia’s head.
Me: You’ve got to be shitting me.
The Empress rubs the sole of her slipper against Sophia’s head for a deliberately humiliatingly long time. From Sophia she moves to Aiden, Veenure and Zedic.
Me: We are so lucky I’m not there right now. And I thought Ray Steampunk was a real piece of work. Rocket or Frances, do you want me to transfer my German Officer’s Pickelhaube, item 400? That’ll make her think twice about giving someone the Thom McAn scalp massage. A real piece of work, this one.
Frances Euphoria: Relax. We have to go along with their world rules.
Me: But we’re the ones who made this world!
The empress stops in front of Frances, daintily hoiks up her skirt, and gives her noggin the Tritania one-step. She moves to Rocket and does the same. The entire time, she does this with a sullen expression plastered across her mug, as if this is all just too, too inconvenient. It makes my blood boil just watching it.
Two attendants rush forward holding a large chair with griffin heads carved into the arm rests. Empress Thun sits, takes a deep breath, harrumphs. “Please, everyone stand, or sit, yes, sit! Attendants, chairs!”
Chapter Six
“To what do you owe the pleasure of our visit?” Empress Thun very deliberately makes eye contact with no one and gazes off into the distance with an unblinking, thousand yard stare.
Granted the incredible boon of being allowed to sit in one of her own chairs, Sophia bows her head and says, “Your Imperial Majesty, we humbly beseech you to grant us access to your Great Library of Public Records.”
A few of Empress Thun’s attendants snicker.
“No. The Great Library isn’t for commoners,” she says flatly.
Me: Seriously? We’re commoners now?
Rocket: All human characters are commoners in Tritania. NPCs are the aristocracy. And we aren’t from this world anyway, remember?
Me: You’re shitting me.
Rocket: I can’t shit you.
Me: Good one, Space-X. You’d still think they’d show us a little respect, though!
Aiden clears his throat. “With all due respect your Most Serene Superness, I am not a commoner. I can access the Great Library on behalf of the Knights of Non Compos Mentis.”
“You?” The Empress cocks a severely plucked eyebrow at Morning Assassin, purses her lips and says, “Pfftt! You aren’t even from this world. While you may not be a commoner, you’re an immiNPC, and immiNPCs aren’t allowed to access the Great Library. Not now, not ever.”
Me: An immi – what? ImmiNPC? That’s it, I’m diving in. Zedic, give Aiden the head’s up.
Sophia: Quantum, you will do no such thing! How do you think causing a big fat scene with the Empress will in any way help us? Remember what happened to you and Frances in Steam, when you got all bang-bang, shoot ‘em up and you killed the NPC site host on the train for no apparent reason?
Me: I had a reason!
Sophia: Remember how that turned everyone in that against you? Remember how unnecessarily difficult that made your mission?
Me: I seem to recall that.
Sophia: Good. The Dream Team does not upset the boundaries and rules of a Proxima World – we work within them. We don’t want everyone in Polynya going after us once the Empress has put a bounty on our heads.
> Frances Euphoria: She’s right.
Rocket: Go to the break room; Zedic bought a six pack of Miller Light White Mocha with Lime.
Me: Yeah, okay, I get it. I’ll STFU and leave you to it. And Zedic, what’s with buying the shit beer?
Zedic: It was all they had, that or Budweiser Mexicano Habanero Lemon Tang Lite.
Me: ‘Nuff said.
Empress Thun deigns to cast her imperial gaze upon Veenure. Her expression of aloof unfriendliness flashes into anger and disgust. “And you … ” she whispers, “You have the nerve, the gall, the supreme temerity to join with such as these?”
Veenure bows her head. “Your Ultimate Supremeness?”
“Was our meaning not plain? Did you not understand?”
Me: What’s this all about?
Rocket: Beats me. I’ll look into it later.
Frances Euphoria: You were supposed to look into it last weekend!
Me: Sounds to me like he was too busy hiding his digital salami.
Sophia: Shut up! Shut up!
Veenure raises her head and hisses her reply, “With respect, Your Awesome Mightiness, you don’t know anything about me – anything!”
Empress Thun keeps the heat turned up. “And where is Chrono? He hasn’t logged in for some time.”
Me: She knows everyone?
Sophia: Instant access of information. She is directly linked to the Great Library of Player Records. Anything in a person’s history within Tritania is available to her at the blink of an eye.
Veenure says, “He’s fine as far as I know.”
“Is that so?” She nods to a few of her knights, who respond by turning towards Veenure and training their weapons on her. Veenure removes her hands from her cloak, lets them dangle at her side.
“Ah yes,” says the Empress, “you’re right.”
Me: Was she about to throw some magic?
Rocket: Looks like it.
“The Knights of Non Compos Mentis … ” Empress Thun places her hands together, twiddles her thumbs. “A new guild, not even a week old, and already they have a dragon given to them by an NPC emperor from another world as well as some of the best armor in Hyperborea. You are, however, missing a key member of your group. Where is Steamboy_889?”
“He’s ill,” says Frances.
Zedic agrees. “He ate some bad nuoc mam.”
“And pork,” Rocket chimes in. “He has terrible diet habits. They’re monitoring him in the RW.”
Me: Hey!
Her Supreme Majesty doesn’t seem to buy it. “I’ll have that checked,” she states.
Me: What? How can an NPC check what happens in the real world?
Rocket: Not common, but possible. I’m sure she has plenty of player characters that work for her in our world, in exchange for the usual favors here – you know, EXP, cashola and babes.
Me: Babes, huh? In that order?
Sophia: She does. They publish their findings in a daily newspaper called Commoner Stories. I don’t know what incentives she gives the players; possibly just a chance to spend time with her or travel with her court. She’s pretty popular, especially on her home continent of Polynya.
Empress Thun smiles at my guildmates. “Well, bravo.”
“Bravo?” asks Frances.
“A new guild and already you’ve had an audience with the Empress. Either our attendants have made a great error … ” She narrows her eyes and a few of her attendants nervously continue to take notes. One meets her gimlet gaze, gulps, and returns to his scroll. “Or perhaps our meeting was a confluence of powers greater than we, and you are destined to become movers, shakers and game-changers on the three floating continents of Tritania. Now, this remains to be seen, and we are well aware of our private correspondence and your position in the real world,” she says, looking directly at Sophia. “But there is a great disturbance in the Proxima Galaxy; there are wars and rumors of wars that may pit the Proxima Worlds each against the other in a senseless orgy of destruction that could completely destroy our universe.”
She pauses, waits for someone to say something. No one does. “The role that the Knights of Non Compos Mentis will play in this coming conflict is yet unclear; you very well may be the guild that precipitates the End Of All Things, which is our greatest fear.”
Sophia clears her throat. “Your Highness, anything that can be done to thwart the reach of those who seek to enslave the Proxima Worlds through greed, treachery and death will be done. To do so, we need access to the Great Library. We are looking for someone in particular, someone who will tip the scale in our favor.”
Me: We should probably brief Veenure on all this.
Zedic: We’ll discuss it when we logout.
Empress Thun briefly closes her eyes, blinks them open, and sweeps her gaze from Sophia to Zedic and back again. “We are aware that you are looking for someone, a boy not yet a man, correct?”
“Yes,” says Sophia. “A friend of the friend.”
“And you are correct, he is here in Tritania, but finding this friend won’t be easy, with or without the data from the Great Library. We suggest you see with the Sage of Gotha, rather than the library. He is the world’s record keeper and mapmaker.”
“Is he still in Ultima Thule?”
Empress Thun nods at Sophia. “Yes, and you are the only one qualified to travel there.”
“We can level up here.” Zedic looks to Frances, shrugs.
“True,” the Empress agrees, “you could do that, but there is also a way for us to simply grant you the desired level – thirty-five – which everyone in the guild will need to travel to the northernmost continent. It won’t be easy for you, by any means, but it is possible.”
“Anything, Your Highness.”
Empress Thun signals at one of her attendants, who appears next to her side in a flash. He bends over stiffly, listens to her whisper. Once she has finished her one-sided conversation, she returns her focus to the guild. “The Griffin Festival is soon, as you’re very well aware.”
Sophia and Veenure nod; the others, not so much.
“It has come to our attention that Saiduka Giants in Eastern Polynya are planning an attack on the festival. They have been at war with the griffins for eons, a proxy war with us, really, and they’ve been preparing this attack since the Great Jubilee three years ago.”
“What is your command, Your Highness?” asks Sophia.
“You’ll need to travel east and infiltrate the giant’s capital city, Waringtla. Once you arrive there, if you arrive there, someone will contact you with further instruction. Do this for us, and we will grant you the EXP you need to travel to Ultima Thule. Of course, you could also just spend the next week leveling up and fighting spiders in the Attla Forest, but we would advise against that. Their venom prevents human players from logging in for a week, and they are quite venomous this time of year.”
Frances makes an icky face. “I hate spiders!”
“You are not alone, commoner,” the Empress shudders. I know immediately what I’m going to give Her Royal Prissyness for Christmahanukwanzivus if I ever get the chance to meet her – Toto the Tarantula, item 54.
~*~
After a few more drawn out formalities, Empress Thun snaps her fingers and takes a powder.
The door flies open and everything is sucked out in the order in which they came. Her knights in white satin are the last to go. One of them gives Aiden the thumbs up; his response is four fingers shy of a high five.
Sophia’s home shrinks back to its normal size, wobbling a bit before it settles. The only thing left in the home after the Empress’ court is gone is the chairs that she provided for my guildmates. Rocket is the first to stand; the seat flickers and turns to pixie dust as soon as he’s up.
“I was going to keep that!”
Frances laughs. “Where would you put it?”
Rocket says, “My inventory list.”
I use my hand to zoom the camera around, so that I’m now eye level with the Knights.
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Me: Careful, kid, no one likes a hoarder.
Rocket: Says the man with over 500 items on his list.
Me: 575 to be exact, minus the chainsaw I traded Aiden for my first mutant hack, the one that talks to me sometimes.
Rocket: What? You never told me that.
Me: It never came up.
Rocket: TBDL.
Me: ???
Rocket: To be discussed later.
“So what now?” Veenure smooths her hands across the front of her Medieval threads. “Shall we head towards Waringtla? I’ve never encountered a Saiduka Giant – heard about them though. Mean ol’ bastards.”
“We have other engagements,” Sophia explains, “at least a few of us do. Normally, I’d say it would be best to just take the dragon there, but that might bring more attention to our arrival, same with teleporting – all these paths are logged.”
“On foot then?” she asks.
“Exactly. Aiden, Zedic and you can go to Waringtla on foot. Use cloaking magic if you don’t feel like fighting, or if the enemies are too numerous. Frances, Rocket and I will spawn there later, after you’ve checked into an inn.”
“And Steamboy?” asks Aiden.
Sophia shrugs. “We’ll have to see how long he has the runs.”
Chapter Seven
Doc stands before us clad in a camouflage feed store gimme hat, tan coveralls and a sand-colored military tactical vest. He’s clean-shaven aside from a more salt than pepper soul patch and an impressive handlebar mustache. Hovering just over his shoulder is a B-drone, which he has yet to acknowledge, and which, according to the message Rocket has just sent me, is a special type of drone that tracks the owner for security purposes. The company that runs the service, Imaginary Friend, has private security hubs in nearly every major city across the nation, all ready to buzz in and protect their client at the drop of a hat.
He looks like one of those old-timey football players who doesn’t get as much exercise as he used to, but kept up his caloric intake. There’s probably thirty or forty pounds more of him than there was back in the day, but he has the frame to hang it on and the muscle mass underneath it.
I’d be willing to bet that the FDA’s Calorie Gestapo doesn’t mess with him – he’s a CWO after all. I’ll need to talk to him about that, as Rocket still hasn’t got around to getting Evan, my own personal diet and PTSD nemesis off my ass yet.