********************
"Fascinating. So how exactly did you travel
so far?"
"My ship was fast enough, but it crashed."
"It sank, hmm?"
"Uh... yeah, kind of like that."
"So this man, Ernest, has his own ship somewhere?"
Opera nodded, taking a sip of her drink. She
couldn't remember what it was called, but it was apparently the strongest
thing the bartender had been able to put together. He'd laughed when she'd
asked for it, saying that if she could put it down in one shot, it was
free. This was her second, which she'd had to pay for. The bartender was
a quick study in alcohol worthiness, that was for sure.
"That's right," she agreed. "So once I find
the idiot, I'll be able to get home no problem. I guess I was due for a
better ship soon. Mine was getting a little old anyway."
The man she was having a drink with nodded.
Raddle, he had introduced himself as. She had run into him while asking
around to see if anyone knew where Ernest was. He hadn't a clue about Ernest,
but he'd been the last person she'd been able to find, and he seemed like
a nice enough person to sit down a shoot a few tales with. Besides, it
couldn't hurt to learn a little about the local area while waiting for
the ferry to arrive.
"So where are you headed, anyway?" she inquired.
"I'm headed to Herlie."
Opera blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I'm headed to Herlie," Raddle repeated.
"No, you're not."
"That's what a guy said back in Mars. I was
a little lost at the time, but he told me to keep heading East and I'd
hit Herlie. So I'm heading East."
"Uh huh. You're not going to hit Herlie. Not
for a looooong time."
Raddle sighed. "Is it that far?"
"Heading this way? You better believe it's
far. Where do you think you just came from?"
"From the dock."
"And where is the dock?"
"It's in... I'm not sure, actually. I was
in such a hurry to catch the ferry that I never thought to ask."
Opera slugged back the rest of her drink to
keep from saying the first thing that came to mind. Slamming her mug down
on the table, "The dock was in Herlie!"
"You mean..."
"Yeah."
Raddle sighed. "I suppose I will simply have
to get on the return ferry then. Thank-you for telling me this."
"Don't mention it. Bartender, gimme another
one of these."
********************
It was early afternoon when the ferry arrived
in Hilton. By the time the docks came into view, Opera was more than ready
to depart. She might be on a ship, but it was a far cry from a spaceship.
She wasn't prone to sea-sickness or anything, but was still a pity this
planet probably wouldn't discover inertial dampers for least another 300
years.
And every minute she had to stand around here
was another minute that might mean the difference between her missing or
finding Ernest. There was no telling where he was at the moment, but she
knew he probably wouldn't spend any more time in
populated areas than necessary.
"Curse these military delays."
Opera turned to face the source of the complaint.
"What about ‘em?"
"Why do you think we haven't docked yet?"
the man replied. "The Lacour military has some business going on. Nobody
knows what it is, but it's slowing down every single other ship in the
port. Probably something to do with the war."
"Against the demons?" she guessed.
"Who else? It's not as if Cross has much to
throw against them. But I'll bet Lacour has a few things to make the demons
sorry they ever showed their ugly faces around here. But until then, the
military gets priority for everything. Even docking space."
"Sorry about this, folks," the captain apologized
from behind them. "But whatever this project is, it's supposed to take
a few days. Maybe more. Some military expedition is preparing for a trip.
Dunno where, but it must be an important one. Enough to block up the harbor
like this. But there's nothing I can do about it, I'm afraid."
"It sucks," Opera agreed. This was certainly
familiar territory. She'd been held up at border patrols for days at times,
all because some stupid military big-wigs had demanded priority scheduling.
The first time it had happened, her diplomatic efforts had gotten some
very large disruptor cannons pointed at her and her ship. Fortunately,
Ernest had been able to put some of his own (considerably more fine-tuned)
diplomacy to use and calm things down again.
Now, she was wiser and (slightly) more patient,
which was enough to quickly stifle any thoughts of putting the Kaleidoscope
to use right now. With a sigh of resignation, she muttered a few choice
oaths and steeled herself to wait until the ship docked. It
seemed that no matter where she went, the omnipresent military head-up-ass
syndrome was never far behind.
******************
Several years later, the ship finally docked
to allow the passengers to disembark in the village of Hilton. Actually,
it was probably only an hour or two, but the prospect of spending a few
centuries stranded on the planet had a way of distorting one's
perceptions of time. Regardless, after delaying long enough to make
sure a few stray soldiers saw her flipping them the bird, Opera wasted
no time in heading towards the best source of travelers and news.
The bar.
Unfortunately, several attempts at questioning
revealed that the men in this bar weren't nearly quite as eager-to-please
as most other people were. Then again, maybe they were just a little drunk.
Or maybe they weren't sure what to make of a three- eyed woman (Those were
somewhat rare around here). Or maybe they were on edge from all the military
business in town. Or maybe they were simply a bunch of raging perverts
who deserved to have a few gigawatts of disruptor fire up their collective
asses.
"Hey honey, have a few drinks with me?"
"Go screw yourself. By the way, I'm looking
for a guy named Ernest. He's got three eyes, just like me. You seen anybody
like that around here?"
"Aw, forget about him. Have a few drinks,
babe!"
Ignoring the first man, Opera turned to a
second man. "How ‘bout you? Three eyes, his name is Ernest. Seen anybody
like that?"
"Drinks on me. Whadaya say, miss?"
Giving him the same treatment as the first
man, Opera surveyed the room before coming to a conclusion. Virtually all
the men were giving her the same look. The one that said that she was reaping
the rewards of coming into a bar dressed in a low-cut, high-slit, evening
gown. The men were probably deciding to overlook the extra eye and the
weapon that was longer than she was tall. Judging from the lecherous glances
that were rapidly circulating around the room, she wasn't about to get
a straight word out of any of them. That meant that it was time for a new
approach.
Fortunately, all bars had one place that everybody
could see from wherever they were sitting or standing. For business reasons,
it was the same place the drinks came from. Taking position, Opera wasted
no time in requesting the bar's undivided
attention.
"ALRIGHT, YOU SHIT-SQUAD REJECTS!!! LISTEN
UP!!!
Approximately 0.000001 seconds later, she
had the entire bar's undivided attention.
"Good," she approved. "I'll get to the point.
I'm looking for someone. His name is Ernest. Ernest Raviede. He's an archaeologist
and an explorer. He's got three eyes, just like I do. Has anyone here seen
someone like that?"
Deathly silence echoed throughout the room.
Opera bestowed a triple glare of death upon
the group. "Well?"
Slowly, various men began to shake their heads
in the negative, the motions rippling through the collective crowd. When
all was said and done, it seemed fairly conclusive that Ernest had not
come through this particular town.
"Maybe."
Every head snapped around to face the source
of the voice. It was a fairly average-looking man, when all was said and
done. The sword at his side suggested he might be a fighter of some sort,
while the smirk on his face suggested that he had
shaken off the stupification affecting the rest of the room.
"Maybe what?" Opera demanded.
He stood up and approached her, the smirk
never leaving his face. "Maybe I know something you might be interested
in knowing."
She scowled, estimating a 99% chance that
this guy was full of shit. But there was that small, minuscule,
remote chance... "Any reason you don't feel like sharing this with me?"
"What's it worth to you?"
99.9%. Fortunately, she knew how to deal with
guy. And make him sorry for it afterwards. "What do you say to a little
contest?"
"A contest?"
Opera smirked. "A drinking contest. You loose,
you answer my question without any B.S. attached, got it? I loose, well..."
she left the answer unsaid.
The gutter-brain seemed to have finished the
sentence off himself. "How can I refuse?"
Opera took a seat at the bar. "Pull up a seat
or run away while you can, little boy."
The bartender sighed, setting a few bottles
on the counter. "Whichever one of you loses is paying for all these drinks."
"What is that stuff?"
"Beer. Cheap draft, why?"
"I don't have all day. Find something that
isn't so watered down. Like rubbing alcohol or something. Unless this little
boy can't handle the real thing."
"Break out some good scotch and shot glasses,"
her opponent quickly ordered.
Several minutes later, ten shot-glasses of
said scotch were filled, five per contestant. Needless to say, the entire
population of the bar was giving the contest their undivided attention.
"Alright," the bartender invited. "Start drinking."
Opera eyed her opponent carefully. His face
wasn't the least bit red, and his movements lacked any sort of alcohol
induced clumsiness. Which meant that he probably hadn't been drinking much
yet. Fortunately, it had been at least four hours since she'd put down
the three cocktails on the ferry. So her digestive system had probably
dealt with them by now. The only thing that remained was to spite the man
a little.
Giving a mental thumbs-up to a mythical Tetragene
deity of booze, karaoke, and torture, she sipped the first glass experimentally.
Not too bad, really. For beer, anyhow. One glass. Two. Three. Four. Five.
"Your turn," she invited with a smile. "You can drink them slowly
if you have to."
The man swallowed, even a few spectators began
to whisper in hushed tones. But he held his ground, not even hesitating
as he acted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Looking Opera straight in two
of her eyes, he never wavered an inch.
"Fill ‘er up bartender." The fact that
his voice was now higher than hers somewhat ruined the whole effect.
"Better clear a path to the can, gentleman,"
Opera suggested loudly. "Somebody might just need it after the next
round."
Several men chuckled, but saw the wisdom enough
to clear aforementioned path. By this time, all ten glasses were topped
up again, while the man was beginning to look a little topped-off. A few
more people were trickling into the bar, apparently having caught word
of a match involving a three-eyed woman.
"Surrender any time you want," Opera invited.
"It's your bar tab."
"Thash what y'think..."
Oh yeah, this contest was over before it had
ever begun. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
"Your turn," she invited calmly, noticing
that the bartender wasn't even bothering to refill her shot glasses for
a third round.
"Don be s'cocky..." the man warned, picking
up the first glass. After swallowing once, he downed it, shuddering as
it joined the other five. One...
Two...
Three...
*THUD*
Floor.
"You've still got two more to go," Opera urged,
failing miserably at sounding sincere. "You kissing the floor already?"
The man muttered a few intelligible words
as he staggered up onto his stool again, letting his head come to rest
on the counter top.
The bartender sighed, edging nearer to the
man's prone form. "You okay?"
The man finally managed to find his voice.
It still sounded wrong, like his vocal box had suffered exposure to muriatic
acid and helium, but the words were understandable enough to the crowd.
"I've had enough... (hic)... Can't drink any more!"
"...freaky, man..."
"...he's plastered..."
Opera nodded in agreement with the spectators,
hoping the man wasn't too far gone for questioning. "So! I won that one.
Now... please answer the question."
No response.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You said
you would answer any question if I beat you in a drinking bout. So let's
have it..."
The man sucked in a gasp of air. "Wha-(hic)
Whadaya want to ashk me... hum?"
"Have you ever heard of a man called Ernest?
He has three eyes like I do..."
"NEVER... HEARD of him... Three eyes...? I
never seen anyone... like that... (hic)"
Silence.
More silence.
Still more silence.
*Zzzzzzz....*
"...well, that's that..."
"...he's out like a light..."
"Another dead end," Opera sighed, shouldering
the Kaleidoscope and her pack. "Oh well. I didn't really expect anything
anyway..."
Deciding that there was no point in wasting
any more time, she began pushing her way through the crowd. Fortunately,
they were quick enough to part for her as it was. All things considered,
they were probably going to be telling this story for a week or two to
come. At least they weren't giving any more bad pick-up lines. In the ensuing
pathway, something of note came into view.
Blond hair. Somewhat strange clothes. But
definitely not Ernest. But she also knew he hadn't been in the bar previously.
He'd probably come in on the tail-end of the contest. Which made him fair
game for questioning. She made a bee-line for him, even as he realized
that she'd spotted him.
"How about you?" she demanded, silently deciding
that she was going to point her automatic pistol some place unpleasant
and pull the trigger if he tried to pull any crap with her. Her
tolerance for such was growing lower by the day, it seemed. And even she
had her limits where alcohol was concerned. "Have you seen a three-eyed
man anywhere?"
He swallowed. "Why, yes, I have."
Opera sighed, beginning to shove past him.
"Oh well... I didn't really expect..."
She stopped. "What?"
She looked back at him. "You HAVE?!?"
He almost backed up a step as he realized
that every eye in the bar was now focused completely and exclusively on
him alone. Nodding slowly, "I'm almost certain I have."
He didn't seem to be lying. He wasn't
looking anywhere except her face. And he looked too young to even be drinking
in the first place. Opera was no psychic, but she was fairly talented at
detecting B.S. She wasn't detecting any right now. "Where?
WHEN!?!"
"Just awhile ago in town around Cross Castle."
"Cross!" The one place her and Ashton had
skipped while heading this way. It would figure, really. It was just as
well that Ashton wasn't here to talk about his bad luck. Regardless, that
meant that she had some walking to do. Even if she didn't bother to sleep,
it would be at least a whole day before she reached the town...
Still, she could at least thank the boy, she
finally decided. "But I'm forgetting my manners. How do you do? My name
is Opera. Opera Vectra." But that didn't mean she had to actually waste
much time doing it.
He nodded slowly. "And I'm Claude. Claude
Kenni."
Okay, she'd done her diplomatic deed for the
year. Time to move. "Thank-you Claude. I must hurry to Cross. Perhaps we'll
meet again!"
She was already out the door before Claude
could reply. Something in the back of mind suggested to her that she was
missing something important, but she dismissed it in lieu of the more important
issue. She had a lead - weak though it might be - and she wasn't going
to waste any time following it up. Even if Ernest had only been in Cross
briefly, he would have had a reason for it. A little questioning on her
part should reveal a destination of some sort.
To her complete lack of surprise, the outgoing
ferry was going to be delayed by several hours. Military business, of course.
Fortunately, a small cargo ship headed for Herlie was slated to depart
in a few minutes. Dipping into her stash of money had been all it took
to convince the captain to take her aboard. Five hundred pieces of gold
seemed a tad steep, but at least it was a great chance to ditch some weight
in the process. Sometimes time really was money.
Half an hour later, the boat was sailing across
the open sea.
*******************
In the cargo business, a good captain didn't
waste any time getting to his port to deliver his cargo. And the winds
had been better than average. And the handful of sailors managing the boat,
although they'd never seen anyone like Ernest, were both
pleasant and a good source of conversation to pass the few hours it
took to complete the trip.
Mere minutes after docking, Opera was already
retracing her steps back the way she'd originally come. Almost literally.
Presumably on account of the monsters and demons that were apparently raging
across the countryside (according to the locals who probably never set
foot out of their town), traffic was almost non-existent. All this contributed
to her having a clear view of her footprints on the way up. Perhaps the
only advantage to walking cross-country wearing stiletto heels. Regardless,
by the time she caught up to Ernest, her feet were going to be too sore
to properly kick his ass.
At least it would put off her having to tell
him how she'd run out of gas and destroyed her ship. And that would give
her more time to think up an excuse. If such a monumentally stupid act
could even have an excuse in the first place. She'd better get
thinking now...
"I was worried about you," she tried.
No fricking way. Of course, they weren't a
romantic couple or anything, but saying something like that would
definitely get taken the wrong way. Something more practical...
"We do everything together, right?"
That belonged in some cheesy romance
novel. And she'd weld her mouth shut before letting those words pass over
her lips. More blunt...
"I figured you'd get yourself killed if I
didn't catch up in time."
No good either. That would imply that she
had been so worried about his safety that she'd thrown caution to the wind
and blazed off after him. Actually that wasn't far from the actual truth,
but there was no way in hell she was saying that to his face.
"You're a stupid dipshit who'd be dead a long
time ago if I wasn't around."
Perfect, she decided. Aggressive, truthful,
and most importantly, there was absolutely no possible way of it being
taken romantically.
So why the heck was she so worried about something
being taken romantically? After all, it wasn't as if there was any danger
of that, right? In the five years they had known each other, had she ever
flirted with him? Had she ever once given the impression that she wanted
something else? Had she ever once done a single thing to suggest
that she was interested in a serious, romantic relationship? Of course
not. And Ernest had never once so much as hinted that he might want something
beyond the business relationship they had. So why the hell was she so worried
about it in the first place?
There was something in the air, she was sure
of it. And it was giving her a severe case of stupid-itis or something
like that. The sooner she found Ernest and got off the planet, the better.
Then things could go back to how they'd always been.
Then again, hadn't Ashton pointed out her
seeming dissatisfaction with that arrangement? And if he'd noticed
something, it must have been pretty obvious. And he'd also pointed out
the fact that she was a steadfast believer in acting to change
things that she didn't like. And when all was said and done, she hadn't
done a single thing to try and change this particular point in her life.
Well, no more. Now that she'd re-convinced
herself of it all, thing were going to change, starting now. Her previous
attempt at adapting a new mind-set on the business had failed miserably.
But out here in the middle of nowhere, she would have time to
practice before actually trying it out on people.
She took a moment to laugh at herself. This
was pathetic. But no more than crashing her ship like she did. And at least
no one was around to see...
"I'm looking for Ernest. He's my..."
She paused, trying to think of a good word.
"I'm looking for Ernest. He's my... partner."
"He's my... teammate."
"He's... my... boyfriend."
"He'smyboyfriend."
She took a deep breath. "He's my boyfriend."
Oh yeah, was this ever pathetic.
******************
Cross arrived in the evening. It was exactly
as Opera remembered it from the last leg of her trip. Your typical primitive
castle from your typical primitive civilization. Upon getting to the gates,
she noticed that the stone was rather clean for a castle. No burn patches,
no broken stone, and no blood stains. Obviously this place saw little in
the way of actual combat. This was in keeping with all the gossip that
she'd picked up to date, all which suggested that Lacour was the real place
for fighting. The guard at the gates looked on the verge of falling asleep,
probably a testament to how little action he'd seen lately.
"Hey you!"
The guard opened an eye. "Wha?"
"I'm looking for someone. His name is Ernest
and he has three eyes like I do. You seen him pass through recently?"
The guard gave her the obligatory stupid look.
"Three eyes?"
"Just like me, idiot."
The guard gave her the obligatory ‘I must
have been drinking WAY too much because I'm seeing things now' look. "Uh...
no, never seen that before. I mean, anyone like that..."
Opera was already flagging down the second
person. "Hey, you!"
A somewhat rough looking traveler turned to
face her. "What do you want?"
He sounded like he was in a bad mood. "I'm
looking for someone. His name is Ernest, and he has three eyes like I do."
"So what's a freak like that to you?
"He's my boyfriend," she growled, not
without a small amount of pride. She'd actually said it like she meant
it! Maybe all that training had paid off!
"Like I even carowOWOWOWOW-"
"I CARE!!!" she yelled, continuing to bend
the man's neck back far enough to see his own heels. And after she'd spent
all afternoon practicing those lines!
"-OWOWOWOW-"
"I'm not the mood for any shit right
now, buddy!"
"-OWOWOWOW-"
"So have you seen him or not?!!"
"-owowowowow-"
Opera eased up on her hold before he passed
out. "Have you seen him or not?"
"NonononononoIswearit!"
She released him and continued. "There. That
wasn't so hard was it?"
One free, the man immediately shifted into
a posture that was either a gaudy dance move or a position for starting
a heraldic spell. "That's it, you little bitch. I'm going to show you what
I do toOWOWOWOWOW..."
****************
Half an hour later, Opera was heading into
the castle. Surprisingly enough, no one had seemed to object to her cutting
off the blood flow to the man's brain long enough for him to pass out,
although one person mentioned something about that being the second time
that week. Everyone else had been very cooperative, especially the men.
Probably largely on account of her clothing again. It was almost flattering,
actually. Who said that beauty wasn't universal?
But a few had actually seen someone fitting
Ernest's description, running from the castle at a leisurely pace. He hadn't
actually talked to anyone, but many had almost sworn that he'd had three
eyes. As far as physical descriptions went, he'd been
described as tall, long blond hair, and wearing a white casual labcoat
with black trim. He'd also been smoking.
And he'd claimed that he was quitting. The
liar.
Once inside the castle, she was faced with
a decision. She could do things the proper way, which involved going to
the receptionist and asking for an appointment to see the King. But she
knew all about royalty and aristocratic families and the way they ran things.
She was from one, after all. The fastest way to find someone was to completely
ignore the desk and to go find them yourself. At the worst, it would only
take as long as it would have taken had you done it the proper way. A win-tie
situation.
"Excuse me?"
She afforded the receptionist a glance as
she walked past. "Don't worry. I'll be okay. You just take it easy, okay?"
"I-uh..." Opera was already heading down a
flight of steps.
****************
"Yeah, I heard about him. Whole palace was
talking about him for the next few days."
Opera nodded in approval. "Hear anything about
what he wanted? I'm trying to find him."
The soldier shrugged. "Nobody really knows
the reason. But he talked with the King a little bit, then left again for
somewhere."
"Oh well. Thanks anyway."
****************
"Oh shit. Thanks anyway."
Now ignoring the man she had just questioned,
Opera continued down the hallway, not really noticing the two old women
scramble out of her way like she was on fire. Perhaps they were merely
more perceptive than most. Or maybe they could simply hear her swearing
under her breath with every step she took.
Opera was getting mildly frustrated.
Was it too much to hope that Ernest had actually been civil and talked
with someone about what he was doing? Then again, he hadn't ever told her
about what he was doing. She would probably be insulted if he'd actually
told someone else about it. But one thing was certain from what she'd learned.
Ernest had talked with the King. Since getting an audience would probably
take days at best, it would be better to find someone else important who
would have overheard. A closed door up ahead beckoned.
"Hey! Anybody important in here?" she demanded,
throwing the door open in one swift motion. Judging from the gasps of shock,
coupled with one dropped teacup, she had managed to surprise the two occupants.
But one of them was dressed in a lovely white dress, coupled with an elaborate
hairstyle and jewelry. Definitely noble.
"Who are you?" the other woman demanded, cleaning
up the dropped teacup.
"Opera Vectra. I'm looking for my boyfriend.
He came through here a few days ago, and I want to know where he went."
"Your... boyfriend?" the noble-looking woman
hesitantly asked.
"Yeah. He took off on me a little bit ago.
So I'm trying to find him before the idiot gets himself killed. You know
anything about where he went?"
"I'm sorry."
"Nothing, huh? Oh well. Just thought I'd check."
"I've heard something about what the man talked
about with the King."
"I'll just be going now-huh?" Opera stopped
to mull the past few sentences over. The noble-lady had said ‘I'm sorry'.
But she'd known something. Therefore, the ‘I'm sorry' had meant something
different. More specifically, she had actually been
expressing sympathy over her plight...
"You have heard something?" she ventured
hopefully.
"My lady-" the other woman protested.
"Leave us," the noble-lady ordered. "I will
discuss this issue with our... guest. If the testimony of the previous
man is to be believed, she is also from a far-away land. If so, they are
to be treated as diplomatic envoys. I would be most honored to assist her
if I can. I will summon you later."
"But such a common and unbred-"
"HEY!!!" Opera snapped. "You can stick that
up your common and unbred ASS!!! I happen to be important where I come
from!"
"Leave us," the noble-lady repeated firmly.
That was obviously not what the second
lady wanted to hear, but she didn't argue the point. "Call if you need
anything, princess," was the last thing she said before she closed the
door behind her.
Opera raised an eyebrow. "Princess?"
"You may call me Rosalia," she replied, dismissing
the title with a wave of her hand. "I am the daughter of King Lacour. "But
if you are nobility, it behooves us to be friendly, does it not? Are you
also a princess?"
Opera waved it aside. "Oh, where I'm from,
we don't have a monarchial hierarchy."
"I beg your pardon?"
Yet another possible sign that she had too
much Ernest on the brain lately. "No kings or queens. But my parents own
a lot of territory, so they're the closest thing there is to nobility."
"Then you would be the closest thing there
is to a princess?"
Opera had to laugh at that. "Well... I guess
that's one way to look at it. Call me Opera. Anyway, you said you'd heard
something about the guy who came by the other day?"
"I do not know all the details, but I heard
some of them. Would you care to sit?"
She'd been walking for the entire day. Sitting
sounded like a GREAT idea at the moment.
"I am afraid I do not have anything to offer
you to drink..." Rosalia began, gesturing helplessly to the empty teapot.
"No prob," Opera assured her, producing two
bottles of beer. "Meryti lager. Have one?"
Rosalia smiled, accepting a bottle. "Thank-you."
Opera took a drink from her own bottle. Beer
always tasted best when it was shared. Even if it was warm beer.
Rosalia took a sip from the bottle, eyelids
rapidly climbing her forehead in shock.
"Oh yeah," Opera remembered. "I think the
stuff passes for scotch around here."
"I... will... concur... with that," Rosalia
slowly agreed. Nevertheless, she took bigger gulp several seconds later.
"So where are you from?"
"Well... it's a place called Tetragene. It's
really
far away. Nobody around here has ever been there, actually." Hopefully
that would suffice for an explanation.
"I see. Then you have certainly traveled far
in pursuit of your boyfriend. This man, he also has three eyes?"
"That's right. Blond hair. About a foot taller
than I am. Goes by the name of Ernest Raviede."
"That was most certainly him. He gave that
exact name, saying that he was an archaeologist. He wanted to explore a
set of ruins to the north that we know as the Mountain Palace."
"That sounds like him. He came here to explore
in the first place, probably. What did he want here?"
"He desired permission to enter the Mountain
Palace. He also asked a few details about it that I do not recall at the
time. The king gave him a letter of permission and let him go."
Well, wasn't that just like Ernest? He'd do
his best to stay away from the most remote of civilized areas, but would
tromp through a capital city just to get permission to enter a set of ruins.
"So that's why he came here, huh?"
"It would seem so. I do not know if this is
helpful, but..."
"You've been lots of help," Opera assured
her. "Now I know where he is. Any idea how to get to this Mountain Palace?"
"I'm afraid that I am not familiar with the
local area, since I am from the continent of Lacour... but I am sure I
could arrange for you to talk with the king. He could even give you permission
to enter the ruins without trouble."
"I don't think I have that much time. I've
got to catch up to him before he takes off somewhere else."
"Although I am not yet part of this family,
I think I could arrange to give you an audience at once. Certainly your
concern is more valid than many others I hear."
"Really?"
Rosalia raised her voice slightly. "Nanny?"
Almost instantly, the woman who had left earlier
reappeared in the doorway. "Yes, princess?"
"Eavesdropper," Opera muttered.
"Inform the receptionist that I wish for this
lady to be given an audience with the king immediately. We will be down
shortly."
This didn't seem to be what the woman wanted
to hear either. "I... as you wish."
Once the woman had shut the door behind her,
Rosalia turned back to Opera. "All in the name of diplomatic relations,
of course."
I was hard to miss the laughter behind the
comment. "Thanks a lot."
"It is no trouble. But before we go down,
might I ask you about something?"
When a princess you've only met a few minutes
ago arranges some royal queue-skipping for you, there was only one correct
answer. Opera knew it. "Sure."
Rosalia took another long drink before continuing.
"As I mentioned before, I am not from the kingdom of Cross. My father is
actually King Lacour. I am to be wed to Prince Cross in several days."
"Congratulations."
"Well... unfortunately, the Prince does not
seem altogether in favor of it. He has been disappearing for long periods
lately, although this seems to have been common even before I entered the
picture. He seems very against royal life in general, though he does not
seem to have any inkling of what he would do otherwise. The general consensus
seems to be that he is simply very undisciplined..."
"Sure sounds like it."
"You are presently in pursuit of your own
errant partner?"
Things got a little clearer. "Well... I don't
know whether you'd call him my partner. Not that kind. He's my...
boyfriend. Um... a wedding isn't really in the picture yet..."
"Unfortunately, I face the prospect of a wedding
with my partner."
"Well... do you want to marry him?"
Another portion of the bottle vanished. "My
father wishes me to, as does the Prince's father. I believe this may be
a move on my father's part to protect me from the fighting in Lacour now,
but it is good political sense as well. In all honesty, I am not
adverse to the marriage. The Prince is a likeable person, save for
his aversion to responsibility..."
"Okay then. So..."
"Do you love your boyfriend?"
Opera recoiled slightly. "L-love him?"
"Yes."
"Well... I mean... I... I'd be a little unhappy
if the guy died..."
"But you love him, do you not? You have come
so far, all because you wish to protect him."
"Well, actually, it wasn't supposed to be
this hard. I crashed my ship, so I've got to find him so that I can get
back home on his ship."
"But you have traveled far, nonetheless? I
think you have already been through quite an ordeal in your pursuit of
him. We received word from Salva that a three-eyed woman slew the dragon
plaguing the mines..."
"Yeah, that was me and a guy I ran into at
the time," Opera admitted. "But I needed some local cash, and that was
the fastest way to get it."
"So you had no trouble at all? I intend no
offense, but your appearance suggests otherwise."
Opera glanced briefly at her clothing. Nothing
was actually wrecked, but her evening gown would never again be fit to
be used for its intended purpose, and even her bulletproof jacket had a
few scuffs on it. "Well... I guess I had a little trouble. But
I'm alive, aren't I?"
"So you would have gone through all that for
anyone?"
"Well..." Opera tried to picture what the
situation would have been if someone else had done what Ernest had done.
Say for example, her sister Opal. She would have gone after her, of course.
Maybe stopped off at the Varagus Casino along the way for an afternoon
of poker. Grabbed a bite to eat. More importantly, filled up on fuel. But
she would have arrived eventually. But she wouldn't have run out of gas
and she wouldn't have crashed as a result. She would have used her ship's
sensors to locate her sister on the planet's surface within an hour, rendezvoused
with Opal, given her hell for wasting time and for any money lost at the
casino, and that would have been the end of it.
So maybe the fact that it had been Ernest
had something to do with her present predicament. "Maybe not anyone."
"And you do not think you love him at all?"
Opera sighed, taking a slug from her bottle.
"Look... sure, I... care about him. But it's not like some cheesy romance
story love garbage, got it? We've been working together for five years,
we've worked hard, we've been through some fairly dangerous stuff, and
we've lived to tell about it."
Rosalia smiled. "And love cannot come from
that?"
Opera paused in mid-drink, although her brain
failed to provide any meaningful speech to formulate a reply.
"Although I very much doubt my life has been
anywhere as chaotic as yours, you make me wonder at my own. I have known
the prince almost my whole life, as one allied kingdom to another. We have
done many things together while growing up. Far from what could be considered
a fairy-tale romance, but I wonder if I have not come to care for him in
a way. Even now, for all his irresponsibility, I still find myself worried
about him..."
"How come?" Opera replied. "I mean, if the
guy's such an insensitive jerk that he's just taking off, making you worry
over him like this..." She trailed off slowly as she began to get an inkling
of where Rosalia was headed.
"..."
"I wonder if our situations are really that
dissimilar," the princess mused in reply. "Are you certain that you do
not, in some fashion, hold some feelings for him?"
"Well..."
"Many a poet has said that love takes strange
forms. You seem very protective of him. Could that be your way?"
"I... I don't know, okay? Ernest is a good
friend of mine, we've been working together for a long time. Maybe... maybe
I care for him some. So I'm going to find the guy and keep him from getting
killed. What do you think about that?"
"What should I do?"
After realizing the parallel between herself
and Rosalia, the situation immediately fell into focus for Opera. The answer
was obvious. "You've got to find that idiot and knock some sense into him,
for his own good! He's going to get himself killed otherwise. If he's been
pampered all his life, he's not going to have a prayer outside of this
castle! Or inside!"
"I think you are right in that respect."
"Can't they find him?"
"Unfortunately, they are trying to keep the
Prince's disappearance a secret, so they cannot send out soldiers to search...
and few commoners know what the Prince looks like. He is generally absent
from social conventions and such, you understand."
"Well... I think you should just screw this
whole secrecy business. Do you think he's still in the city?"
"Most likely. He would doubtless be afraid
to leave the safety of the walls."
"Then he can't run very far. Just go down
there and find him yourself!"
Rosalia recoiled slightly. "Myself? That would
be... quite radical. I do not know if it would be safe..."
"Then get a couple soldiers if you have to,
but find him and drag him back to his room and don't let him out until
he gets a few things straight. He can be a Prince and act like one. Or
he can get the hell out of the castle and not be royalty ever again. But
make sure he understands that he can't act like a spoiled little brat for
the rest of his life! He's got to stop running from reality!"
The princess was beginning to nod slowly between
sips of the beer. "Perhaps you are right, Opera. He is to inherit the throne
of Cross at some point... if he does not change, it could be disastrous..."
"You've got the idea. Just imagine what the
diplomatic relations are going to be like between here and Lacour! He probably
won't even show up for half the meetings! He's got to either shape up or
get the hell out of the castle before he does some real
damage!"
Two empty bottles were slammed down. "You're
right, Opera. Absolutely right! I must do this not only for this kingdom,
but for my own in the future. If it is not fixed now, there could be grave
consequences in the future!!! I will take you to the King. And then I will
take charge of this embarrassment myself!"
Opera looked over at the other empty bottle.
"Whoa. You sure can hold your liquor."
Rosalia smiled as she headed for the doorway,
footsteps not wavering in the slightest. "There is a story about when the
Lacour army put down a rebellion many years ago. Upon an overwhelming victory,
the Lacour soldiers warned that the next
time, they would show no mercy whatsoever. They would send their wives!"
Both of them laughed all the way down to the
throne room.
*****************
"His Majesty awaits you."
"Thank-you," Rosalia replied. Turning to Opera.
"Let us enter."
The throne room looked... like a throne room,
Opera supposed. Lots of nice cloth and fine wood, all trimmed with gold
and silver. Various officials and soldiers along the sides, with a big
chair in the middle. On the chair... the king, naturally. Very royal.
"Rosalia," the king greeted, not the least
unkindly.
"Your majesty," she answered. "You may recall
several days ago, an individual came to request permission to enter the
Mountain Palace."
"I most certainly do remember that. He was
a very distinctive individual."
The king finally seemed to notice that the
princess had come with someone else. "And I daresay another such individual
now graces up with her presence."
In a few more minutes, Opera was either going
retch from the sappy talking going on. Or else reluctantly accept a compliment
or two. Diplomacy was for the birds.
"Opera," she greeted. "Opera Vectra. It sounds
like Ernest came by here a few days ago."
"Yes, an individual by that name came by the
other day. You are acquainted with him?"
"He's my boyfriend."
"I see. And what did you wish to know?"
"I'm trying to find the idiot before he gets
himself killed."
"I fear that you may be a little late."
Opera blinked several times before managing
to reply. "Excuse me? Are you saying that-"
The King chuckled lightly. "No, no, forgive
me. No, he was quite healthy the last I saw of him. But he is heading towards
the Mountain Palace."
"I heard that. What can you tell me about
it?"
"It has been a fief of the King of Cross for
as long as anyone can remember, though it has never been used. Nowadays,
it is rife with creatures of an... unpleasant nature. I warned him as well,
but he seemed adamant that he could not afford to delay. He had a great
deal of experience in such matters, he said, so I granted him permission
to enter."
Yes, Opera had to agree, Ernest had lots of
experience in dangerous situations. But they all involved somebody between
him and the dangerous situation - her. "Well, he's full of shit, so I've
got to find him as soon as possible. Where's the Mountain Palace?"
"It is to the North. We can provide you a
more detailed map if you are determined to follow him."
"I can take of myself. He's the one
who going to get himself killed."
The King slowly nodded. "That being the case,
I will give you a map and a letter of permission to enter the ruins, that
you may follow him without delay. But be wary of the monsters that lurk
within..."
"Great," Opera agreed. Now if things would
just keep going right a little longer, she might be off this planet
within a day or two!
*****************
Several minutes later, Opera was at the exit
to the castle, a map and a letter of permission tucked into her pouch.
A step behind her, Rosalia had followed her thus far.
"Thanks," Opera was saying, "for the help."
"It was no trouble. And you have more than
repaid my help. You have shown me through example what I must do if I am
to salvage this situation. I will waste no time in setting things right
in regards to my fiancé! He cannot hide forever!"
"That's the idea," Opera slowly agreed. "Hey...
are you sure you're okay? Your face looks a little red..."
"I am quite fine. As a matter of fact, I feel
more alive than I have in quite some time."
Translation: Princess Rosalia Lacour was slightly
sloshed after finishing an entire bottle of Meryti lager. And the liquid
courage was finally beginning to take effect. "Uh huh. Anyway, don't do
anything you'll regret later on, right? This prince guy is a jerk, and
you might hate his guts, but he's no good to you dead, right?"
Rosalia shook her head. "I wonder..."
"Uh... you're planning on killing him?"
The princess laughed quietly. "I didn't mean
it that way. But I wonder if I really do hate him?"
Opera thought back to what they'd talked about.
"Maybe things aren't so clear-cut with this kind of stuff, huh?"
"Perhaps not. I will wish you luck in your
pursuit, even as I begin my own."
"Don't be too nice to him, got it? It's all
for his own good, right?"
"Tough love?"
"You got the idea."
*****************
To say that Opera left the town of Cross in
a hurry might have been an understatement. Not that she had any reason
to stick around. She'd learned what she needed to know. Now all she had
to do was get herself to the Mountain Palace and locate Ernest before he
left the area.
And the last she'd seen of Rosalia, the princess
had been about to lead two bewildered soldiers around the city proper and
improer, making very little secret of the fact that she was looking for
a missing prince. She didn't want to be anywhere near the
town when word got back to the king that his daughter-in-law was semi-plastered
and on a manhunt for his son. Especially after they found the two empty
bottles in the princess' quarters. All in all, it seemed like a great time
to be scarce from the vicinity. It would probably be smart to stay away
from Lacour too, in case the news traveled that far.
Regardless, she was walking cross-country
again. It was apparently going to take a solid day to get to the Mountain
Palace by foot, even counting the fact that she could probably manage to
put off sleeping in the meantime. More boredom.
That was the worst thing about being stranded
like this - there was nothing to keep occupied with. Whether it was because
she'd thinned out the population or because word had somehow gotten around,
the hostile lifeforms seemed to have stopped
bothering her altogether. She didn't even have Ashton for company now.
Even arguing about the existence of luck was better than nothing.
As though she didn't really care that she
might yet have to grow old and rot on this planet. As though she wasn't
actually worried about Ernest possibly getting himself killed on this planet.
As though she had nothing better to do than let her thoughts begin obsessing
over Ernest again.
Although it was with no small amount of pride
that she recalled the past few hours. She'd actually done it! She'd called
Ernest her boyfriend with a straight face and without batting an eyelash
in front of other people! Multiple times! Although saying it where it might
get back to Ernest was definitely going to be another matter altogether.
But talking with Princess Rosalia had made
things so much clearer to her. She wasn't some idiot girl with a mindless
obsession over a guy that would inevitably lead to secret love-notes, cheesy
stalking, and eventually, restraining orders. She was a thinking, rational
woman who cared about someone enough to try and keep him alive, which would
lead to... probably nothing. But it sure beat the first possibility. Something
else might even come later.
She only needed to keep reminding herself
of how things were. Everything she was doing might be on account
of love, but the love was 100% free of idiocy and everything associated
with romance novels. This kind of love was embodied in
practical action to keep Ernest from getting himself killed. It would
then be embodied in a practical ass-kicking to make sure he didn't do it
any time in the future. After that, she didn't know what it was going to
be embodied in.
In the meantime, things were looking up.
******************