Syron found himself rather bored. A month had passed since he took part in the interview as Syrious, but sadly nothing had come of it. The first two weeks he threw himself into writing an event master’s guidebook. Once that was completed, copied, and sent off to Rue, Syron didn’t have anything else to do. He had opted out of all of his magic related classes and took on only more mundane subjects like “Finances” and “Territorial Management”. The magic ones were interesting… but also completely useless to him. Continuing that thought, he wasn’t even sure how they could make an entire semester’s class out of the theory behind it. He rotated his magic soul, then magic happened. It really wasn’t that complicated. It definitely wasn’t because he couldn’t understand the core content. Not at all.

He had never done accounting in his previous life, so sadly there weren’t any other world cheats he could apply there. Not only did he not have a deep enough understanding of it, but this world already had double entry bookkeeping. If only he had been a strong willed but constantly undermined salaryman with a plain face but also possessed an unrivaled work ethic… alas it was not to be. Instead, he was considered a somewhat handsome child with above average mathematic skills and a high degree of maturity for dealing with personal issues. That was it. In fact, if also judged on pretty much any other category, he was trash. He couldn’t play any instrument with any real proficiency. He had little knowledge of this world’s history, couldn’t dance well, couldn’t handle a sword without looking like a total dork, and occasionally would seem to become illiterate on the strangest of words. Finally, he had a hobby that seemed to take up all of his spare time.

In short, he really was a bad choice for heir to the Grand Dukedom. Hurting his feelings with his own internal assessment, Syron went to a local restaurant to ‘food’ away his pain. He had rented out the second floor. Then invited five of his classmates to come too.

“You meet a priest on the road. His cart appears to be full of food for the impoverished and homeless of the city you all currently are renowned in. Unfortunately, he has a broken wheel and calls out to you for help.” Syron shied away from the group like he was flinching away from a bright light.

“I’ll kill them!” Jones, a slightly heavy set boy, yelled. He went ahead and threw a pair of dice for accuracy and damage. The other four players laughed and leaned in to watch the scene unfold.

Ugh! Friggin murder hobos. This is so gratuitous…

“Ohhh!” The five players cheered as the whole illusion gets covered in red gore. Syron held his head up with one hand and gently massaged his eyes.

“It was a hit. You successfully attacked the defenseless old man that had devoted his life to helping the hungry and cold of the city. He’s super dead now.” Syron intoned mechanically.

“Were there any witnesses!?” Aleala asked, her authentic wide brimmed witch’s hat falling over her shining electric blue eyes for a moment when she shook with glee. She tilted it back and waited giddily for the response.

“All of you role for perception…”

Sigh…

“You spot no one in the immediate area.”

“Does this mean we can keep our great reputation in the city?” She asked the follow up question.

“You are uncertain that you can successfully get away with your blatant injustice to the world without anyone linking it back to you. No person could ever possibly say that definitively.”

“I have specialized knowledge in crime from my years of being a court judge slash serial killer. I started out only killing the bad guys that I couldn’t convict with the evidence… but soon got a taste for it myself! Does that mean I can investigate our crime scene and figure out what might get us caught? I want to clean up our involvement and then frame that lord that sent us to that pig monster den we just cleared.”

“I… hahhh… yeah. Maybe. Roll for knowledge… natural twenty. Of course. Is that really what you wrote down for your character bio? Wait… why are you framing Lord Gerald? You’ve only met him once and he was good to you. Your investigations showed he was widely perceived to be a good man and lord… I’m sorry. Give me a second.”

Let them play how they want, Syron. Why are you losing your cool over something so trivial? This isn’t your first psychotic troll campaign, nor will it be your last. Just take a deep breath… Is this how parents feel while watching their teenage kids play video games? Sure… you CAN drive on the road… but there are so many pedestrians to hit on the sidewalks! They drop tiny stacks of petty cash!

“Alright. You sanitize the crime scene of your involvement in just a couple minutes. How do you want to frame the seemingly kind hearted Lord Gerald?”

“I have points in forgery. I want to write a letter to the priest detailing about how he needs to stop doing his charity work or I’ll force him to, then plant it on the corpse. I’ll throw in some really offensive words for starving peasants, and a few racial slurs.” Jones said, his tone casual but his content really questionable.

“Very well. Since you have an example of his handwriting from your original summons to his estate, it is possible. You can spend ten minutes writing something decent, or take twenty minutes and I’ll do a hidden skill roll for you. Objectively, you’ll think you did well regardless, but with greater risk comes greater rewards. If the secret roll is low, however, you might incriminate yourself.”

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“Oooo…” Three of the players said, their eyes sparkling.

“Let’s gamble!” Aleala cried out, tipping her hat again over her face.

Get a smaller hat, girl!

“Alright, I’ll spend twenty minutes writing something award worthy!” Jones decided. The rest of the party just laughed in joy.

Well, I guess they are pretty happy at least.

“Fifteen minutes into your work, the sniper notices another cart coming up the road. Because the road goes between two wheat fields, you hadn’t been spotted yet due to the tall crops. However, when they finally do notice the five heavily armed men and women standing around a bloodied corpse, they slow their cart down and clearly are considering running away.

“I call out to them to slow down because we are investigating a murder. I ask them if they’ve seen any suspicious people around.” The sniper’s controller, Verd, says.

“They say they’ve been riding the cart all morning on delivery and that you all are the first people they have seen on the road today.” Syron responds.

“Ah, okay. I’ll kill them.” Verd announces as he rolls his dice. Syron groans while the other four players cheer at his wonderful role play.

* * * * *

“That was so much fun Syron! Do you know when we’ll play again?” The cheerful, though possibly sadistic, girl in the witch’s hat asked. Syron finished packing away his materials and hands them to a nearby Marigold.

“I’m not sure. It was fun to get a proper storyline going, but I am still kind of in the testing phase for the game. I’m sure it has more than just a few issues to iron out still. If we play again, we can keep the same story going, but there might be some minor rule changes or tweaks. Honestly, I’m just glad you all agreed to come so easily.” Syron returned, a genuine smile gracing his face. He really had liked playing something with a little more permanence than the one-shots he’d been doing exclusively up until now.

“Don’t be silly. Of course I would come if you asked! My dad would disown me if I declined an invitation from you!” Aleala said with perhaps a bit more candidness than Syron was expecting. He blinked his eyes and looked at her searchingly, like he was waiting for her to realize what she had just admitted.

Either she doesn’t realize that she just told me “Yeah, I only came because my dad wants me to get close to you.” … or she doesn’t care if I know. Come to think of it… why is it that everyone seems more accepting of my magic than before?

“Don’t get me wrong though, it was way better than I expected. I mean, when you hear from an eligible boy in your class ‘come with me to a restaurant in town… I have special plans’, you don’t think ‘we’re gonna play pretend!’” Aleala laughed as she said this, her whole body shaking slightly with her chuckling. She caught her hat before it fell. She looked Syron in the eyes and winked.

“Next time, don’t feel the need to call the other four. I mean… you got a maiden’s hopes up and now she’s all distraught. You should make it up to me with some one-on-one time.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m opposed to grabbing a bite to eat with you, miss Gamete. However, I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea. Or your father. Today was the first time we’ve spoken, after all. I invited you on a whim, even if I am happy you ended up accepting.”

“Oh well… you can’t fault a girl for trying. Personally… I think your images are beautiful.” Miss Gamete gave one last nod of her head before leaving the room. After waiting for the illusion he had placed on Aleala to leave the building, he turned to Marigold.

“So… what do you think about that?” He asked, genuinely curious what her thoughts on the Young Miss of another House showing interest in him.

“It is not my place to have an opinion on how the Young Master spends his time.” Marigold responded with a bow. Syron’s eye twitched. Marigold hid the faintest of satisfied smirks behind the wall of her bangs while her head was bowed down.

“Yeah… I expected as much. Fine, Kasumi!” Syron called out, since Kasumi seemed to have left the room shortly after the campaign started.

“Yes Young Master?” Kasumi appeared at the door a moment later, though he wasn’t completely certain if she was standing right outside the whole time or not.

“I forgot to ask you before, but I was reminded because we were talking about a House’s Young Miss. What ever happened over at the Quoro’s?”

“The Young Miss was disappointed you couldn’t make it after all, but seemed resigned to the fact. When pressed on the situation pertaining to the two guards you mai… excuse me. The two guards seem to have gone missing without a trace. The Young Miss postulated that it was unlikely they were allowed to escape punishment by her House, but refused to elaborate.”

“Yeah… I don’t believe that crap for a second. Disappeared without a trace, huh? Beyeth might not be in the know, but I doubt those guys just evaporated of their own accord. They were doing the bidding of their Master and were caught. They are either loose ends and were removed, or are being hidden due to dedicated service. That pisses me off. I should have just stayed but I got panicked and ran.”

“If you would allow me to share my opinion, Young Master… the Quoro’s Matriarch does not have the highest reputation among the nobility. It is highly likely those two dirt bags were disposed of.”

Was that a hiccup in auto-translate, or did Kasumi just call a pair of dudes ‘dirt bags’? Maybe it’s just analogous, plus I certainly agree with the assessment.

“I’ll just operate under the assumption that you are right. Follow up query… have you noticed the person that has been watching this building for the past three hours? They’re just across the street. Since I sat next to a window while eating when we first got here, I noticed them. Looking out there now, yep, there they still are.”

“Shall I confront them?” Kasumi asked with an edge. Renee, who had remained pretty much silent the whole time just placed her hand over the pommel of Kasumi’s blade and shook her head.

“Nah, no need. I’m sure I’m just being paranoid because I’m convinced every person acting strangely must be out to get me. I’ll chase them off. With any luck, I’m just being a colossal douche right now instead of angering someone that wants to kill me.” Syron said, the image he wanted to use going through his head for a few moments before deciding on it.

Across the street, standing in an alleyway between two stores and behind some wooden crates, a small figure covered in a large cloak jumped in sudden fright. In the same motion that they jumped away from the crates, they also drew a dagger and sliced the crate in half, cleanly. The figure took one more look at the window of the restaurant, making eye contact with Syron briefly. Syron blinked, but they were suddenly gone without a trace.