“FOOD!” Ren slid to his knees at an oval-shaped coffee table in the centre of the room, which was loaded up with meats, cheeses, and “Donuts!”
Ren started shoveling food into his mouth; he was frantic – heedless of the toppled items rolling to the floor.
Clara watched in horrified fascination, “What are you doing! That’s illegal, you can’t, I won’t…”
“Clara Gorthow, daughter of the Great General – my, my, what a surprise. I should have known the rumors about you were true.”
A short, proud man spoke from the far side of the room. He wore a relaxed smile, one that was perfectly at home with his slacks and button-down shirt. His hair was mid-length and jet black, and he stood with impeccable posture. Quarg was a handsome man, but what was most notable about him was his lack of a chiseled jaw and landing strip chin. By all accounts, he was normal, save for the scar that stretched from above his left eye down the side of his face, before disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.
“Let the boy be, he’s in shock, choking down PillFood will do that to a person. He’s from a much different world than ours. Something your father would do well to remember.”
Clara, who hadn’t uttered a single word previously, at first looked surprised by the direct address. It lasted for an instant; she rolled out her shoulders, lifted her chin, and spoke, “My father is of no concern to the likes of you – Quarg.”
He gave her a begrudging nod of respect before taking a seat across from Ren; the [Echo Runner] didn’t look up, as he stacked cheeses and oddly shaped (he assumed vegetables), atop a square sausage-like thing.
Ren said something unintelligible from around a mouthful – not bothering to look up; Quarg laughed, and Clara looked disgusted.
“Have a seat, Clara. I promise I won’t bite. As I’m sure you’ve informed our young friend here, I have a business proposal. One, I think he won’t be able to resist.”
Ren nodded vigorously, “Im rove tunity.” Chunks of food flew out as he spoke.
He smiled, and Clara covered her mouth.
A servant entered the room, an old-fashioned human one. When Ren saw the labels and the glass bottles sitting front and centre on his serving tray, he choked down the rest of his food and yelled, “COKE!”
Before the server could offer the Outworlder a tasty beverage, Ren swiped a bottle and…failed to twist off the cap. “Stupid…piece…of…BAH – [Bombastic Base Drop]...[Bombastic Base Drop]!” He shouted the last.
He paused as the notes ricocheted harmlessly off the bottle, “I really need a better skill.”
“Just ask it to open, Ren.”
Ren nodded thoughtfully, squared his feet, and cried out with passion, “Oh Coke, you are so good, please open – open NOW!”
The cap rolled off and onto the floor. Ren followed it with his eyes as it rolled across the room, before disappearing under what was probably a couch but looked more like a medieval torture instrument.
He shrugged, “[Super Anime].” He bit the bottle in his mouth, held his arms out wide, and floated back. He made snow angels in the air as he hovered, and like a water cooler, drained the container – one glug at a time.
All three Xylosians in the room stared, wondering at the origins of their peoples.
Finished, Ren relaxed his jaw, allowing the bottle to tumble to the floor, as he released a bombastic belch.
“AHH – soo good.”
Clara touched her lips, and her eyes flicked to the side.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Ren. Coke was Gunnderson’s favorite. It seems the DigiScrolls speak true.”
“Fire Quarg – straight fire. Now, let’s get down to business. Lay it on me, I’m all ears.”
“Excellent. My proposal is simple. I want to sell weapons to Sinking Gods Mire.
His eyes turned cold, and the friendly, easy-going smile vanished. It made his scar stand out – giving him a hard edge, like polished steel. “They’re going to need them.”
“Why did you agree to think about it? I told you he can’t be trusted.” Clara was incensed.
Ren interrupted her brooding with a question, “What about the Majordomo?”
“What about him?”
“Uh, won’t he tell the Emperor about our little business meeting?” He asked.
“No, of course not. Majordomo serves the System – as do we all.”
Ren sighed, “Frag all that. Wait a minute – do you have an implant?”
Clara focused on her feet, “No – I’m a Neo Ludite…”
Ren scratched the back of his neck, “Like an Amish? So you don’t trust technology…but you're sure the AI butler isn’t spying on us?”
“The System wouldn’t allow it. Emperor Lincoln II was the first Neo Ludite, but his views are…controversial. Still, there are a few of us – we mostly meet in secret. We try to keep quiet, avoid unwanted attention.”
She turned up her chin to look Ren directly in the eyes, “It’s why I have to find Leo. He came to me because of my contacts in the movement – I can’t say anymore – not here, but I have to find him…please.” She batted her eyes at him.
Ren sighed, “That’s not fair. I’ll do it for Leo, never let it be said that I, Ren Outworlder and [Echo Runner] extraordinaire, let down someone in need. With great power comes great responsibility!”
Clara couldn’t hide her smile. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Where are we going? I thought you said you would help.”
Ren swung open the pod's door and stepped onto the sidewalk, “I am, come on – we’re doing an experiment.”
Clara huffed and followed him to the small, unassuming buildings Ren had seen earlier – like the one he kept in his storage.
As she approached, Ren stood arms akimbo, inspecting the reflective paint – done in a solid arch, like the shadow of a tunnel.
“What are you doing? This is for the proles, we can’t –”
Ren wasn’t listening; he was deep in meditation. Clara pursed her lips and poked him in the side. No response. “Ren, we’re gonna draw attention standing here, we shouldn’t be messing with–”
The archway shimmered, and the surface came to life like a body of water. Ren opened his eyes and smiled – before stepping through.
Clara’s jaw hit the ground. “Huh?” Before she could make up her mind, a hand reached out, grabbed her by the wrist, and dragged her through.
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Sam lay on his back, arms in the air, as he dug through piles of cables that dripped with mana fluid – making a mess of his person; Ari bent and handed him a cloth, “Here you are, Sir – you don’t want that stuff to cause a growth. You can’t afford another trip to a healing tank.”
Sam reached out with one hand while continuing his work with the other. He waved it around, and Ari pushed the rag into his palm.
“Thanks, Arr – I’m almost done here. We’ll have the monitors back online in no time.”
Ari paced as he watched Sam work, ready to go for any supplies he might need.
“Sir, do you think the Emperor is onto us? Perhaps…Ren was a defense force agent…or what if –”
The rooms wayport came to life, and Ren pushed through before pausing to drag someone else in behind him.
Ari shouted, “Outworlder Ren! You’re back, and using the…” Ari paled at the realization, and Sam banged his head down below.
Rubbing his head, Sam climbed to his feet, “What are you talking about, Ari. I told you not to work so many hours, you’re losing your –”
“Yoo, what's good, boys? I hope you don’t mind me stopping in for a visit – I brought a friend. Boys Clara – Clara boys.”
Ari fell on his knees, pressing his face to the floor. Sam’s eyes flew around the room, searching for a way out, a weapon, a solution for what was surely to come.
Ren held up his hands, “Easy, easy. As I said, I’m just here for a visit…well, not exactly, we’re looking for someone – a Leo?”
Sam ignored the question, “How did you get in here?”
Clara spoke up from the rear, “I also want to know.”
“The magic portal thingy? I just asked it – nicely.”
“The ways before him shall be open, he comes,” Sam whispered as the hairs on his arms stood up.
Just then, a stream of excited proles poured in through the way port, taking up seats and chattering amongst themselves.
Sam shook himself from his stupor and busied himself behind the bar. Clara took a seat, and Ren went to Sam – watching as the other man lined up copper mugs along the bar.
Ren frowned, “Uh, is that strong stuff you’re pouring? There’s barely a swallow for each…”
“We don’t have much down here. Supplies being what they are. This is swill, more water than anything. But it’s nice to have something, a bit of normalcy – like they have above.” Said Sam sagely.
“No. No. And no. That won’t do at all.
He turned and faced the room, “I am Outworlder Ren – and I have come with a gift – drinks all around.
He paused for effect, “Full to the BRIM!”
Cheers all around.
Ren turned to see Sam giving him the stink eye, “Outworlder, I really don’t have any more to spare. I –”
Ren held up an open palm, “[Endless Keg].” The gift given to him by Brewgar popped into existence; a gallows grin followed.
“Now let me show you how to do a proper pour – since we’ll be filling these to the brim, it’s all about getting the right angle…”
Ren poured perfect sudsy heads of dense orange foam, like fungus growing on the bark of a titan; it even smelled like the Mire, and images of his friends flashed through his mind.
Stay safe, DG Draven Meen-Tra…Thalgor.
Sam wasted no time bustling the freshly poured mugs around the room.
Ren saw faces light with excitement as the brimming containers were placed in front of the proles.
Their shoulders began to relax, and a weight carried in the corners of their eyes vanished, as if they were never there.
Clara sat in the corner and eyed her mug suspiciously; Ren slid into the seat across from her.
The cafe was full of chatter and laughter; she would enjoy this, too. “Is this a Neo Ludy thing? Come on, drink up – it’s not every day you get to try something so exotic! Can you smell that?
Holding his drink up, he wafted his hand across the rim, “Smells like the Mire, of magic and life, and mud – lots and lots of mud.”
She wrinkled her nose up, and it reminded him of Sadie again – and for a moment, his two worlds overlapped, leaving him disoriented.
“Is something wrong, Ren? I’ll try some, it's just – father, he…”
As suddenly as the disorientation came, it was gone. She came into focus, and he shook his head. “Nothing, you just reminded me of something from home. It’s like I’m in two worlds at once – sometimes.”
Clara went silent as she eyed her mug with great concentration. Carefully, she reached out with two hands and lifted it to her lips; they parted in an O, and she took in a small sip of the sudsy beverage.
Once finished, she placed the tankard down and burped. She slapped a hand over her mouth, causing the foam stuck to her nose to drip down onto the table.
Ren laughed, and Cara’s eyes narrowed.
“My father is the greatest general ever. He could single-handedly conquer the barbarians. But I hate it. Everything is wrong, Ren.” She slammed her empty tankard down, and a look of conviction sharpened the corners of her mouth.
“You’re cute when you put your foot down,” Ren said offhandedly.
Clara eyed the bottom of her empty mug, and would have turned pink, but for the fact that she was already flushed from drink.
“You should slow down. Honestly, from what Brewgar told me – I’m surprised you're still standing…”
Ren scanned the room, expecting to see inebriated faces, but finding none. Clara seemed to be hit the hardest. The volume around them rose as the drink went down, but this was not the routy scene he had imagined.
“Maybe the Zug zugs aged? Are there diminishing returns on the [Endless Keg]?”
Clara hiccuped, “What’s that?”
He distracted her by pointing out the smiling faces around the room while sliding her mug away with the other.
Ari approached – distracting Clara, who stared in confusion at the empty space in front of her. Ren introduced the pair and excused himself. He wanted a chat with Sam.
Behind the bar, Sam looked more like a computer repairman than anything else; cables, glowing crystals, and other bits and bops were strewn all about.
“Hey, Sam. It’s good to see you again. Last time I was here, I left you all in a bit of a daze. I hope I didn’t cause any problems.”
Sam shrugged, “Outworlder, we are honored by your presence. And your buff – well, let's just say Ari and I have been doing very well. Too well, in fact, if not for your arrival today, we’d have only been able to serve about half the people here, and what we serve – well, it doesn’t have much of an effect on us. Our constitutions being so high.”
Ren nodded, “I was wondering about that. Your new [Endless Keg] is filled with Zug zug – it’s known as a titan killer in the Mire. I expected it would have a much greater effect…”
“We proles are saturated in mana – come from working so close to pump rooms.
Sam faltered, “What did you say?”
“I said – I was sure you’d all be high as a kite right now.”
“A what? No – about the artifact…”
“Hm, the [Endless Keg] – it’s yours. How can you run this…internet cafe? Without drink – that’s ridiculous.”
“Outworlder – this is too much, I–”
Ren cut the air with his hand, “Pshaw. It was a gift, and now I gift it to you. In fact, let me tell you about Brewgar and the people of the City of Murkspire.”
Ren retold the tale of his first visit to the night market: the smells of the food, the sage moss and zeppelins dancing overhead, and the many races of people who called it home.
Sam busied himself by polishing mugs, but he drank in every word.
Ren mentioned his visit to Percevel, and Sam faltered in his work, “Did I say something?” Asked Ren.
“Percevel is feared amongst the proles.”
“And why is that?”
“MaxTech is responsible for more prole deaths in the arena than anyone else. They supply battle armor for the unsaturated, while we are forced to fight as we are – to prove our worth. And of those that do make it out of the arena, most are never seen again.”
“Where do they go?”
Sam pursed his lips, “There is a beast beneath the arena. It hungers for proles, and is kept by MaxTech so that they might study its foul magics.”
A scuffle broke out across, and Ren turned to see a red-faced Clara being held back by…four proles, “What in the–
He leaped into the air, stepping across the tops of monitors as he landed next to Clara.
“What is going on here?” Ren’s voice cracked like a whip.
“Father would never kill a child!” She spat.
Ren grabbed her from behind, wrapping her in his arms, and she struggled, “It's ok, Clara, it’s just me.” At the sound of his voice, she melted into his arms.
“She’s had too much to drink, boys. She doesn’t have your constitution, just look at her face – it's so red I’m worried her hair will catch fire.”
“We proles are made of sterner stuff!” Cheers all around.
“Alright, break it up! We are proles, not monsters.” Sam’s authority broke up the crowd; a few grumbled, but returned to their conversation, drinks, and screens.
Ren looked at Clara, resting comfortably in his arms…was she sleeping? “Alright, you. Let's get you back to your room. I think we’ve had enough action for one day.”
Throwing the sleeping beauty over his shoulders, Ren said goodbye, promised to return, and stepped through the way port.
Ari looked to Sam as the portal closed around Ren’s silhouette. “Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Why not, Sir?”
“He’s done too much already; we needn’t bother him with something so trivial.”
Ari nodded, but he was already staring at the small screen stitched between his two fingers.
Getting into Clara’s room proved to be a problem, but a ReaperDrone patrolling the hallways gave him an assist.
After tucking her in, Ren returned to his room. He was currently sitting cross-legged a few inches off the floor – deep in meditation.
At least he was attempting to; something was bothering him.
“Majordom, why are my [captials] going down?” Ren stared at the number hovering in the corner of his vision.
“Rent! Billing cycle? Xylosian patent system. My god…it’s so much worse than I ever could have imagined.”
A look of horror passed over Ren’s face, and his eyes moved down his body.
Sometime later, feeling refreshed and well rested, a bleary-eyed Clara knocked on Ren’s door. After no response, she punched in a code and entered the room unannounced.
Ren sat in the room's centre, his face a mask of stillness and calm. He also wore nothing, laying bare the sculpted lines of his body – she traced them as they intersected the nodes of his shoulders and chest.
The aether surrounding him was… disturbed, as if it might come alive at a moment's notice. Her own mana pulled at her chest, as if Ren were a magnet and it was iron; she took a step back and screamed, “Why are you always naked!”
“Aren’t you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning. I thought you’d be hungover…a headache at least?”
Her eyes narrowed, “What in Systems' name are you doing? What happened last night? Why can’t I remember…what’s a headache?”
Ren sighed, “You solved headaches, but forgot how to kiss. What is the world coming to?”
Clara’s face screwed up – somewhere between anger and confusion, Ren chuckled.
“Why did nobody think to tell me I was wearing vampire clothes, or that the alien implanted in my brain would be cheaper if I paid in bulk cycles rather than individually. Are there no consumer protections here?” He chuckled.
Clara let her arms hang at her sides – defeated – Ren was impossible.
He brushed past her, “Yoo – lez go. The Church awaits!”
She sighed before her eyes widened in surprise, “Wait! What about your clothes?”