The Resurrection Pact (Winston Casey Chronicles Book 1)

by Jay Smith

  She was sharp and clearly deep into her character. "I meant that it’s quite a load to carry for your people. And your brothers…"

  "They are war criminals in the eyes of the Realm. I will likely never see them again. I refuse to barter further for their release. I feel I’ve suffered enough indignity for my people and it is their duty to suffer alongside me in their own way."

  I took another drink and leaned forward, close enough to whisper. "Okay. So. What do we do here? I'm trying but improv isn't my strongest suit. Someone should be rolling dice or describing a scene by now."

  She leaned in toward me and the person behind the character peeked through her flirtatious guise. "Basically, Winston, you own me. Like I said, I was a slave to Lord Bus. He gave me to you. I don’t know why or what his motive is. I assume you didn’t request me."

  "Nope. Didn’t know you until you introduced yourself."

  "And I don’t know what you’re about, but I hear you’re a friend of Watch Master Parque. So far you don’t seem to be a perv or a freak."

  That struck me as a touch OOC. "Thanks for your judgment, Ezrin." I sat back as the serving wench brought us a basket full of warm breadsticks.

  Her smile made it all better. "I mean…milord…that there are people who may wish to do you harm, so it is part of my duty to understand why… as your protector."

  ~

  I held my drink and the conversation long enough for the ice to melt. She explained, in character, that she wore a collar tied to my "house" and would serve me in any menial capacity I chose - cook, servant, bodyguard, concierge, proxy, or even as my concubine. Those were not roles you suspended to hit the head or grab another Mountain Dew from the fridge. It was totally immersive for the duration of their stay.

  Ezrin shared her story of the Realm Aeternus through a jaded, cynical story of defeat.

  "The tribes called 'barbarian' are simply people who do not believe in the dream put forth by Lord Bunting-upon-Stropf and his empire. I chose not to live under his control and instead lead my people. I married a good man, a great king, and gave him heirs to continue our line for generations. We sought to simply live outside the realm. Sure, we were willing to trade. We were happy to co-exist with Aeternus. Our confederacy of villages allowed each village to retain its unique identity and still benefit from trade and cooperation. Aeternus would have us adopt the One True Way which we found unacceptable."

  "What happened?"

  "Aeternus forced a war upon us. They paid the Reptillus people of the north to begin raiding our villages. Those attacks weakened us. When it came time, the so-called Lord of Lords invaded with a promise to liberate us. Instead, he sought to de-throne my husband and instigated a civil war."

  "I remember some of this in the novels – I mean history texts." The third book, Aeternus Resolved! spoke of scattered tribes on its borders, savages and simple people living on the land. The newly anointed Lord of Lords swore to protect all against the militant reptile creatures (who read like they were a mash-up of Star Trek's Gorn and Klingon races) who sought to destroy all they couldn't conquer. I assumed Ezrin's story played out in Book Four. "I'm trying to catch up. So, your husband the king – he is dead?"

  "Yes. All rightful heirs to the kingdom are in the Lord of Lord's dungeon or dead. My tribes are at war or enslaved by the reptiles."

  "The Lord of Lords brought an army of near ten thousand strong. My people are farmers, but we had the forest as our ally. Lord BUS chose to burn us out of the trees rather than fight with honor..."

  "Wait...really burned a forest? I'm not..."

  "You can see and read of it in your Magic Book."

  A few moments later my Magic Book displayed a page designed to look like weathered and tanned parchment depicting "The Battle of El Segundo" in script letters at the top. In more of the same flowery prose (aligned to decidedly modern Instagram pictures of men with foam swords and armor) I read about a large battle on a farm where Lord Bus led LARPers into battle against the Zorr clan leading to the death of half the smaller army and Ezrin's personal surrender. The treaty was included as a link to a PDF. I did not open it. As I scrolled further down, Ezrin took her seat.

  I followed a series of hyperlinks on this Hitchhiker's Guide to Aeternus and found the entry on "Slaves, Care and Feeding."

  Among the interesting factoids, it told me that Ezrin's belongings were as much mine as she was and, therefore, shipped to my chambers. She was bound, by membership agreement, to serve me in ways outlawed by most civilized nations. But it wasn't so much as the start of a Penthouse letter as it was an obligation of the owner to the slave. I read on. And was astonished.

  "You've got to me shitting me, lady."

  In one of the most surreal conversations I’ve ever had outside a bureaucracy or fandom, Ezrin explained to me that owning a slave cost money and that I would have to provide a place to sleep, food, clothing, and work to perform.

  "Welcome to Aeternus, milord." Ezrin drank deep.

  ~

  I thought the man standing next to us at the table was a server. In my defense, he said nothing and wore a gray toga covered in about a dozen small sea shells painted gold. I didn't notice the yellow contact lenses until I stopped in mid-sentence to see who the hell the skinny dork in green full-body paint was and ask for a second basket of their delicious breadsticks. The total lack of hair – anywhere – on this guy was an impressive commitment to the costume even if the paint job looked a little thin around his neck and hard-to-reach places.

  The woman who walked up next to him was also painted green and had yellow contacts. Her paint job was skillful and consistent. I suspected a spray applicator. She took the time to draw details into her skin creating the illusion of scales on her face and arms. It must have taken a while because the only clothes she wore consisted of flesh tone bra and panties.

  Ezrin recognized them before I did. She wasn't able to do much more before the jade jackass pulled me out of the booth and shoved me back against the table.

  ~

  "No combat in the dining areas."

  General Asq Dhole of the Reptillus Army threw up his hands. The player behind the make-up grunted and spat. "It was a dramatic device, not an attack, Eric."

  Eric the Referee calmly fingered his Magic Book. "Physical contact, General. Not allowed. Pantomime only."

  The green-skinned annoyance sniffed. "I expected him to react to the moment. Sorry." Asq rolled his eyes and turned back to me. He shook his arms and closed his eyes to recapture his own "moment." When he opened his eyes, he fixed me with a ridiculous mad stare and struck a tense, constricted posture of whatever the hell he was in character. "Thith newcomer mutht eeearn any rethpect I offer heem."

  "I take it this is a 'Reptillus'," I asked no one in particular.

  "I need a prop sword," Ezrin called.

  The woman, called Qixji Nor by Eric the Referee, hissed and emoted in character. "You did not declare drawing a sword. You must declare intent first."

  Ezrin ignored her and raised her voice toward Eric. "You have my character sheet up, Eric. 97% Stealth Draw, +5% from a concealed position."

  From out of nowhere, a light, toy foam sword crossed the air where Ezrin grabbed the blade, flipped it around and took hold of the handle. She brought the blade across my chest with the point inches from Asq's neck. "Stand down or I'll slit you before your frog-girl has a chance to draw."

  Qixji Nor hissed again. "I declare intent to attack Ezrin next round!"

  Eric stepped closer, tapping a page of his Book before declaring. "Okay. Initiative declared, the next round sequence is –"

  Qixji's eyes brightened in anticipation of an opportunity to attack. Asq just stood there holding character. I wondered if it was appropriate to take another drink while waiting for this to play out.

  "– Asq, Ezrin – "

  Qixji hissed into her cheek, making a weird Donald Duck noise which I interpreted as disappointment.

  "– Winston –"

 
"Damn it," Qixji grumbled, shifting toe to heel.

  "– and Qixji Nor. General Asq, your actions?"

  To break this down, the scene being created amounted to this:

  A seven-foot lizard man in a gray tunic covered in gold sea shells wanted to kill me. His minion, a shorter, curvier lizard woman with big yellow eyes and a bikini made of human skin (but without any gold sea shells), stood by with a hand on her sheathed dagger. My new friend and bodyguard, Queen Ezrin of the Horde, held a longsword to the General's neck warning him to back off. A blank shape representing me stood at the center of all this hub bub trying to make sense of it. The scene played out…

  The Reptillus' head was roughly the size and shape of a horse's covered in an armor of green-gray scales with a mouth at the end of the snout that opened to four rows of gray stone teeth like arrowheads planted in black, wet soil. When it spoke, its lips quivered in an unnatural way that struggled to approximate human sounds.

  He snarled. "I am General Asq Dhole of the Repitllius Army. I command ten thousand soldiers and have slain a hundred times as many humans. You will swear your loyalty to the Reptillus or die."

  Those big, tangerine-sized eyes contained nothing but hate and hunger. At seven feet, the General's body resembled an upright crocodile in musculature and color, covered in hideous scars and gashes from countless battles. Its tunic was the uniform of the Reptillus Army and each gold sea shell represented an act of heroism or victory in battle.

  I should have been very impressed and worried. Instead I said, "I am Lord Wynncase. I am my own man and speak with my own voice."

  Asq's reply was quick. "Then why do you let a woman fight for you?"

  From Asq's point of view, this "Lord" before him was a small, fleshy bag of insolence, an annoying hairless rat without honor or what the Reps called "Gorwring" which equates to the accumulated glory earned my cumulative victories or achievement.

  "That," I answered, "is an excellent question."

  I pulled the players out of that tense moment by asking a question. "Can I see my character sheet or something?"

  Eric gestured to my Magic Book on the table. "Yeah…go 'head."

  Asq held character, nostrils flaring, chest puffed with his arms spread like a ski jumper at the gate. I opened the Magic Book and called up my character, tentatively called "Lord Wynncase" for no good reason.

  Every player in Aeternus Online has a character sheet which represents a quantifiable rating of all major physical and intellectual characteristics. Explaining this to someone who never played games is difficult. I explained it to Claire like a credit rating for your Strength, Intelligence, Agility, Wisdom, Psychic power…

  …and I lost her at psychic power.

  I noticed a few things on my sheet right away. First, I was an average guy in almost every sense. Average intellect and strength. I could ward off a cold pretty well, but would have a problem walking through a crowded hospital without picking up something. I wasn't swift on my feet, but at least didn't trip over them. In all, I was an average human except for a high Wisdom, which represented a sort of mental endurance. In other words, I either had a lot of mental discipline at the foot of a spiritual master or I had to deal with a lot of bad shit in life. The second thing I noticed what that I had tremendous power in both the political sense and in the magical sense.

  Asq muttered, "I can't believe you haven’t read all this stuff yet."

  I didn't look up. "Relax, chief. I just joined this morning and you're the first person to call a LARPfight. Thanks, by the way."

  The character sheet painted me as a pilgrim seeking magical enlightenment. I possessed a number of items that I'd earned from adventures outside of the game. This was probably the result of a need to balance my character's low level with my sudden high status and protect me from seven-foot lizard men with anger issues.

  Eric cleared his throat. "You ready, Lord Wynncase?"

  The rest of the round played out:

  Asq's snout was so close to my face that I could smell the rotting meat between his jagged teeth. He leaned in, allowing the tip of Ezrin's blade to rest against his neck. Out of the corner of my eye, Asq Dhole's partner prepared to leap at Ezrin, the first inch of her bone dagger visible from the sheathe.

  "Icham Miserum Zouth Putris," I muttered, staring into the General's moist yellow eyes. "Willum Tyrum e Lestrum!"

  In an instant, the air around the General solidified into clear crystal. For a moment, General Asq struggled, but fell silent and still as the clear substance crackled and swelled into a thick, diamond-like shell.

  I turned to the lizard woman and stared. "How powerful do you think is the man who killed the man who murdered millions? Even now this crystal is shrinking, compressing your General with the force of fifty fathoms. Step back and away or you'll join him in a grim, crushing death." A glob of spit punctuated my threat.

  "My sword is caught," Ezrin said.

  In fact, the crystal shell captured a good two inches of Ezrin's sword. She quickly released the handle and it wiggled in its crystal trap.

  Qixji Nor hesitated for a moment before running away, screaming something about sorcery and murder.

  "Can you reverse it," Ezrin asked me.

  "I don't know. Let's find out."

  "I hope so or you just might have ended your first day by starting a war."

  "Cool," I said, completely out of character.

  ~

  The mechanics and discussion behind this brief encounter took more than fifteen minutes in real time. Asq used his turn to threaten me. I used my turn to cast a "Crystal Capture" spell from my inventory of magic. This required Asq to "Save" (represented by a roll of the digital dice) against petrification giving him a chance to shake off the spell or take one action to try and avoid being entombed in an inch of crystal. He failed and – that was it for him.

  Eric pointed out that Ezrin's sword was inside the sphere of the spell and therefore caught in the crystal. Oops.

  Ezrin used her move to drop the sword to parry Qixji Nor who had already declared an attack. However, upon seeing her master (and husband) encased, she cancelled her attack, startled by his transformation.

  A new round of actions allowed Asq another Save but at a penalty for not being able to move or breathe. He failed. I went first and chose to use my 'Intimidate' skill to stop Qixji from doing anything stupid. I lied and said the spell was a Crushing Tomb. Qixji fell for it and ran away screaming because her character is terrified of magic.

  Which brought us to the next round.

  ~

  "Magic user," Asq said out of character. "Shoulda guessed."

  Ezrin took a sip of wine. "How long does this spell last?"

  I scrolled through the spell description. Of course, there were variables and random factors to consider. Fortunately, Eric saved the day by answering. "Six more rounds. He's Reptillus, so he can hold his breath for that long easy."

  Asq Dhole held his pose like a true method performer.

  "You want to take a break there, man?" I tried to keep it light and fun.

  The General, on the other hand, was deep into his role and held his pose.

  Eric waited for us like there was an end to a sentence hanging in the air.

  "Alert the Capitol Guard," Ezrin declared.

  Eric nodded and tickled the face of his Magic Book.

  A few minutes later (a few rounds in game time) four men in blue armor and kettle helmets topped with feather dusters arrived to take the General into custody for attempting to assassinate a member of the Lord of Lord's court. This attribution surprised everyone except me and I thought they meant Ezrin. But Asq protested at the charge saying, out of character, my status as a Courtier was not in my character sheet.

  Ezrin stepped forward and got in Asq's sweaty green face. "Too little, too late. You bullied the wrong bastard. See you at your hanging."

  After he was led away to a round of applause, people approached me to offer their hands and smiles. It got over
whelming as dozens of people closed in, stealing my breath and my nerve. Ezrin helped me navigate the crowd of people calling for my attention, touching me and patting me on the back and shoulders. Their sudden, crushing attention distressed me until all the faces became a blur and it was all I could do to keep smiling and keep Ezrin's hand as we entered a service corridor reserved for staff an important people.

  At the service elevator bank, Ezrin was giggling and then broke into a fit of laughter. "You okay? You were amazing in there."

  I had no idea why or how. The words didn't flow to respond because my heart was racing, pushing too much blood through my brain. I needed water.

  She took me by the shoulders and looked me in the eyes. "Winston, it is very important that you remember to have fun. Above all – be your character. If it helps, wrap yourself in him and play it up. Winston Casey isn't here. Lord Wynncase, Oracle of the Fildelphi is here. He's a powerful man and a popular one. Get used to that, handsome, because you bought the ticket."

  "Time to take the ride," I sighed.

  "Now I know this is sudden, but we're going to have to have a talk about living arrangements."

  "What?"

  "Tomorrow. Normally I'd live next to you, but there's no space for me. I'm moving in with you."

  The elevator door opened and a man with a trash barrel nodded at us as if apologizing for the interruption.

  "Just sleep on it, my handsome master. We'll talk over breakfast."

  Chapter Eleven

  I didn’t fully wake up until the second round of knocks turned into a pounding. Only a few hours had passed since I collapsed on the most comfortable bed in the world in a cocoon of total darkness and entered a world of sexy slot machines and fireworks over the desert. Another round of meaty thuds on the door caused me to sit up and try to answer, but it took a moment for my brain to remember where exactly I was.

  I heard a soft beep and the sound of a hotel lock disengaging. Then from the other room I heard big men with heavy, rubber shoes on marble floors and then a baritone voice, "Mr. Casey? Mr. Winston Casey?"

  "Y-yes?" I had to clear my throat. I went for the jeans that lay crumpled on the floor by the bed. Someone parted the big curtains in the main room of the suite, flooding my world with brilliant light on bright surfaces. My brain screamed as my eyes struggled to adjust.