Gaming Center

Immediately as she opens the game, to Sara’s eternal annoyance, notifications and messages fill the giant holographic screen as they pop up all over the place, announcing new pets, mounts, areas, bosses, promotions, tournaments, guild announcements…

She ignores them all, at least for now. Instead, the first thing Sara does after logging into the game is set an automatic answer for any messages she might have: [In a sudden death match. Can’t answer right now.]

Then, she sends PrinceHunter a friend request, followed by a call request.

PrinceHunter has accepted your friend request!

PrinceHunter has accepted your call!

Sara clicks her tongue.

She has always found the game’s AI voice annoying, way too positive for her tastes, but, unfortunately, For Glory’s team never got around to changing it, or at least giving their players the option to. She wouldn’t have minded spending Glory (the game’s currency, in case it wasn’t obvious enough) for it. Or even real credits, if that’s what it takes.

‘Hello?’

‘Fuck you. Just choose a place so that we can properly try to kill each other.’

His laugh sends small shivers down her spine. Piece of-

‘The arena? Or is that too boring for you?’

‘Surprise me.’

‘Okay. No takebacks, all right?’

Without waiting for her reply, he sends her a set of coordinates through the game, which Sara double-checks as she raises her eyebrow.

Knowing where she has to go, Sara finally starts moving her character.

On screen, a woman fully covered by a black cloak, carrying a single long sword on her back, takes a step forward, causing the camera to change to a first-person point of view of a castle’s throne room.

Not her castle’s throne room, unfortunately; a dungeon, finished about a week or so ago, but from which she never bothered to exit.

‘It might take a while,’ Sara warns, glancing at her surroundings to find that, indeed, seats are quickly being filled by arriving students, many of whom wave and smile her way before sending strange looks toward the new student.

Yeah, wearing a headset decades after they’ve gone out of use will do that for you. Where did he even find the thing? He must have brought it over from his home country. As far as Sara is aware, Elysium has had no need for the tech for almost a century now.

‘Why do they keep giving me strange looks?’

‘Might have something to do with the thing on top of your head,’ Sara deadpans, ‘A better question: Is it even connected to anything? I doubt the computers in here have any sort of… plug entry?’

‘I’ve noticed. Shit. My laptop still needs it, all right? I just assumed… Never mind. Yes, it is connected. It’s wireless.’

‘Wow. Did you really ask the System to connect it for you? Is my voice actually coming out of it? Because you do realize it’s kind of redundant, right? I mean, if you’re here, it means you’re Integrated.’

Sara saw no scar, but then again, never has she ever.

‘Yes. And yes.’

He sounds uncomfortable, and when she glances over, Sara realizes his face is burning slightly.

Then their eyes meet, blue on honey, and she’s the one to blush. Shit. Okay, time to move on.

Focusing on the game, Sara commands SlashingWind to dash, running toward the closest window. The view, rapidly approaching, showcases a tall wall in the distance and a desolate plain beyond, extending far into the horizon.

Without hesitation, Sara jumps through, allowing SlashingWind to freefall in the direction of the distant village below, dark buildings quickly growing closer and closer.

Red flashes, fast and brief enough for an inattentive person to miss it completely, but Sara has no trouble rolling at the right timing to survive the fall, even as she grimaces over her own cowardice.

He’s just a boy. A boy she met a couple of minutes ago. And whose ass she’s going to kick.

‘Okay, I’ll bite. What’s your deal?’

SlashingWind continues running after its roll, though skeletons and zombies soon begin to rise, attempting to bar its way, coming out of ruined buildings, alleys, or jumping from ceilings as Sara dashes, rolls, then attacks, watching as her character rolls under an arm swing, uncomfortably close given the first-person perspective, then takes out a skeleton’s leg with a sword slash which follows the position of her cursor.

‘My deal?’

‘Yeah. Elysium, and Fioro especially, aren’t the most inclusive places, to put it lightly. Which means you must be important or special.’

Sara’s screen flashes in red constantly, though she cuts through the horde of undead almost mechanically, practiced motions weaving SlahingWind forward without a single pause or moment of hesitation.

Heh. She still got it.

‘Well, not to brag, but I’m kind of a big deal.’

‘You really are a petty fucker, huh?’

He laughs. ‘No, really, I swear. It’s in the name.’

In the name? PrinceHunter?

‘What? You’re telling me you’re a real prince?’

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

‘Define… real.’

‘The fuck?’

‘My family is currently dethroned, which means technically, I used to be a prince.’

Sara blinks and misses a beat, nearly allowing SlashingWind to have its head separated from the rest of it. Man, she’s wayyyy too fucking tired to be talking to royalty. At 8 in the morning, no less.

‘Let us say I believe you’re not fucking with me. How did you let your royal stats slip through your fingers? Should’ve taken better care of it, man.’

‘You so fucking insufferable, Sara.’

‘You didn’t expect a curtsy, did you?’

She steals a glance at him (yes, risking death to do so), and flashes him a smile. Her reward is a playful middle finger.

‘Tsk. Not very prince-like, are we?’

‘Fine. Riots, insurgence, mutiny. Not a prince anymore, remember?’

‘Shit. I’m sorry. Your dad must’ve been a really bad king if it came to that.’

‘Ouch. Are you always this… honest?’

Brutally honest to a fault, that’s… What Sara would have liked to say. The truth?

‘Nah. I’m just rude and stupid when I’m cranky. And I’m cranky when I’m tired. Or sleepy. Or hungry. And I’m about all three of these things right now.’

‘My luck, I guess.’

She’s going to regret every word once she’s able to think again, Sara is certain of it. Chances are, she’d never have had the courage to approach him if she was in her right faculties.

‘But to answer your question- Well, I guess it wasn’t a question, but I’ll get it out of the way regardless. My father was a good king. He cared for our country, cared for our people. But my grandmother didn’t. My father never really got a shot at it. The country was broken much before he ever ascended the throne.’

‘Uhm.’

Shit. She’s not stupid. Her brain’s stupid.

‘Heh. Too many words for you?’

‘I’m trying, all right?! I didn’t exactly expect this level of engagement today!’

‘It’s okay. We can take it slow if that’s what you want.’

‘Nice! We’ve descended this low already, huh?’

Reaching the wide-open gates of the undead city saves Sara a moment to order her thoughts as she runs SlashingWind through the dungeon’s opening.

You have left Volter’s Castle Instance Dungeon!

Volter’s Castle is supposed to be cleared with a party of four, but Sara wasn’t in the mood for cooperation when she decided to clear it. And thinking of the reason why she wasn’t feeling cooperative at the time brings Sara to a dreadful realization.

Oh Gods, she’s so fucking stupid.

‘Your father… He’s dead, isn’t he? I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t realize…’

‘To be honest, I’m never quite sure how to react in these situations.’

Under Sara’s command, SlashingWind takes a whistle from somewhere under its cape and blows it, causing a shadow to appear in the sky almost immediately, rapidly approaching.

The dark drake-like creature opens pitch-black wings covering most of the screen as it lands, but Sara doesn’t stop to admire its beauty, immediately jumping on the creature’s back and pressing the key run, which in this case, means take off.

While Sara watches the first-person point of view of her character in the drake’s back, plains quickly flying by and the endless sky above (well, not quite endless, but the amazing graphics are enough for her to pretend), she can’t stop herself from moving uncomfortably on her seat.

‘And what of the rest of your family?’

‘Just me and my sister, now.’

‘Shit, I’m sorry.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I… I’m adopted,’ Sara admits in a desperate attempt to fill the silence, ‘I’ve never met my real family. Not that I’m trying to make it a competition or anything.’

‘I understand. And I’m sorry you’ve never met your real family, for whatever that’s worth.’

‘It’s okay. Isobel, my adoptive mother, took good care of me. She’s the reason I’m able to attend such a fancy school.’

‘I don’t know, Sara. You seem pretty special to me.’

Sara blinks. Uh-oh. Holy shit.

‘A-and you’ve known me for a whole five minutes.’

Thank the Gods she’s simply waiting for the drake to land. Hooray for small blessings.

‘It’s a feeling. Y’know, royal powers passed down for hundreds of generations.’

‘Fuck off! There’s no way your family was in power for hundreds of generations. And you never really told me why you’re here, in Elysium.’

Not that she is complaining.

‘Well… You might not believe me… But I’m here on a super-secret mission to save my country. Don’t tell anybody.’

In spite of herself, Sara laughs. It wasn’t that funny, but she laughs anyway… Figures.

‘Okay, good one... But seriously now. No more jokes or I’ll get mad. Unless there’s something you can’t or won’t say? Seriously, just tell me to back off, and I will.’

A monumental amount of effort keeps Sara from glancing in the prince’s direction again, though a prickling sensation on the back of her neck indicates he might not have been so strong.

‘Ah… I actually have no idea how to say this, but I was being serious. About the secret mission, anyway. Seriously, don’t go telling people.’

Welp, that does it. Sara turns to stare at him with incredulity in time to catch a shrug followed by an apologetic smile as if he is ashamed to admit the fact.

A prince on a secret mission to save his country. An ex-prince on a secret mission to save his country. If he wasn’t so fucking cute, Sara might have called it all bullshit and moved on.

Hey, nobody said she had to be rational about her decisions. Stupid hormones.

‘Okay… Let’s say I believe you. Again.’

‘Uh-hum.’

Gaze locked on his, Sara scans his eyes for any signs of deception, ignoring the way they make her heart beat faster. ‘Can you tell me about this so-called mission?’

‘I shouldn’t,’ he admits, ‘But there exists mutual interest of the parts involved to keep my existence from being exposed. They know I’m here, and probably know why, but they won’t say anything.’

‘They?’

‘The king. His council. Intelligence agencies. Anyone who cares to, really.’

‘I see,’ Sara sends dryly. ‘The king. Really now?’

‘Hey, I’m a prince, remember? Is it so hard to believe your king knows of my existence?’

At this point, neither of them is playing the game anymore, simply looking at each other and talking, but then again, who cares?

‘Yeah, but King Liam is…’

The King. A being beyond the reach of mere mortals such as she. And… She goes to the same school as his daughter. Okay, Sara sees how he might have a point.

‘Not the king of some backwater country?’

He seems bitter, honey eyes averting from hers with mixed amounts of resentment and acceptance and amusement.

‘I didn’t mean that! It’s just… I’m still getting used to the idea of talking to a prince, all right? Give me a break for believing all the shit you dropped on my lap.’

He smiles, meeting her apologetic gaze with a sidelong glance that nearly turns her insides into jelly.

‘Okay, fair point. I’m sorry for being touchy. Everything here is just… SO much better than what we have at home. It doesn’t exactly help with this prince’s self-esteem.’

Sara rolls her eyes. ‘You seem plenty confident to me. And if you ever talk about yourself in third person again, I’m throwing up.’

His expression stiffens, suddenly serious. ‘You have my word, Milady Sara.’

‘I’m serious! Stop! Finish telling me about your world-saving mission already so we can proceed to kill each other!’

‘Country saving,’ he corrects, winking, winking at her, ‘But I’d like to mention that hearing you talk without moving your mouth is freaking me out a bit.’

Sara turns away, but not before giving him an exasperated look. ‘What backwater country did you say you came from again?’

‘Crecia. Now shush and let me finish or we’re gonna be here all morning.’

Did he just shush her?!

‘Anyway, Crecia, my home, has been tearing itself apart since before I was born, courtesy of a long list of people I’d like to kill, except they’re already dead and many of them belonged to my family line. As for my mission, it’s simple, really: I believe the civil war needs to stop before it destroys what’s left of Crecia, and Elysium has the power to stop it. More than enough power, in fact.’

‘But we’re-’

‘Noninterventionist. And for good reason. But I’ve got no other choice, Sara. No other power that could help us without sending thousands to die.’

Sensing the return of her headache, Sara grumbles out loud. Elysium has been noninterventionist since its creation; it’s what saved them from most of the horrible things that happened to everybody else. Some boy isn’t about to change that, cute prince or not.

Fearing what she might hear, Sara sends, ‘Well, what’s your plan, exactly? Barge in and demand to see the king?’

‘Tried and failed, unfortunately.’

Sara blinks. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘Wish I was. Well, your drake’s been standing still for a while. We still dueling?’