At the Del Fenwickian border, 398 days after a wizard cursed the REALM…
Current Version:
“We have relayed your requests—” Captain Glover paused to slam his metal fist against the table. He then raised and turned the prosthetic to examine a squashed green and red blotch. “Horrible bugs,” he stated, putting the same emphasis on the word “bugs” as he had on “requests.” He wiped the mess off on an underling’s shirt and started again.
“We have relayed your requests to the civil authorities and their response is much as we expected. The Regency of Del Fenwick shall not be accepting any refugees at this time. Furthermore, any denizens of the REALM found within the borders of the Regency shall be presumed to be spies and dealt with accordingly.”
“We understand,” said Wordler 372, with a heavy sigh.
“Actually, I don’t understand,” said Hester. “Our people are desperate and hungry, and all that’s separating them from a decent life is the imaginary line dividing one country from another. If any of our people did cross over, how exactly would the Regency ‘deal with them accordingly?’ By providing food? Clothing? Shelter?”
“Hester,” 372 hissed. “You’re here to take dictation, and that’s all. Captain, I must apologize if my assistant’s outburst offended you. She’s new at this, and doesn’t understand diplomacy.”
“She’s a spitfire,” Captain Glover agreed. “No offense taken, young lady, and to answer your question, the Regency puts spies to death and declares war on whatever enemy nation is responsible for spawning them.”
“We are not an enemy nation,” 372 reminded him. “The Regency and the REALM have co-existed for over a hundred years without any significant conflict.”
“We’re not enemies,” said the captain. “But we’re not allies, either. The Regency will continue to honor our side of the treaty for as long as the QUEEN honors hers. By the way, how is Her Majesty doing these days? We’ve heard rumors about her health…or lack thereof, as the case may be.” He chuckled knowingly.
“She’s fine,” 372 stated.
“What about our other request?” Hester asked. 372 shot her a look, but she pressed on. “Our people are living in a squalid camp at your doorstep. If you won’t let any of us in, surely the Regency could at least provide some humanitarian aid?”
“Humanitarian aid?” The captain laughed. “Humanitarian aid is for humans!”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Hester asked.
“I’m a soldier, not a biologist. I’m not qualified to draw the line between humans and sub-humans. But you Villagers do include literal animals among your number.”
“The Folk are not animals,” Hester stated.
“And your dead walk among your living.”
“Okay, yes, we have a few vampires and zombies, but they’re all really sweet once you get to know them.”
“And the literal monsters with glowing red eyes and crowns of horn?”
“They don’t call themselves monsters, and again, once you get to know them—”
“I will never get to know them, nor shall I allow any of my countrymen to be corrupted by interactions with any of your kind. This discussion is over.” Captain Glover pushed away from the table, and his aides and assistants followed him out of the tent.
372 slumped across the table, once he and Hester were alone. “Well, that could have gone better.”
“Where did this table even come from?” Hester wondered. “Did someone carry it here from Wordler Village, or did we find it along the way?”
“You talk too much,” 372 told her.
“Only because you’re not saying the things that need to be said. That monster called our monsters sub-human!” She sighed. “And now he’s got me using that ugly word as well.”
“Hester, you can’t just blurt out whatever you feel in the middle of a negotiation.”
“And you need to advocate more for our people. Instead, you seem distracted most of the time. You were thinking about her again, weren’t you? Because you certainly weren’t thinking about any of the rest of us.”
“Her who?”
Hester glared at him.
372 sighed. “Wordler 367. Yes, I’ve been thinking about her, but only to wonder how she’d handle Captain Glover if she were here instead of me. Over at the eastern border, way on the other side of the REALM, she’s probably got the Doromians eating out of her hand. Meanwhile, I’ve got nothing to show for almost two weeks of effort.”
“Not nothing.” Hester leaned forward suddenly and pressed her lips against his. 372’s eyes went wide but he didn’t push her away, and after a moment of hesitation, he leaned into the kiss as well.
“We can’t do this,” he told her, once they’d parted.
“Why not?” Hester asked.
“Because 367 and I—”
“—are married?” Hester asked.
“No.”
“—are engaged?”
“No. But she’s—”
“Within a hundred miles of you right now? Likely to be with again you any time soon? Definitely not sticking her own tongue down someone else’s throat at exactly this moment?”
“No, no, and—what?”
“I’m not asking for a long-term commitment,” said Hester. “It’s just that everything else in my world has fallen apart and I need something to hold onto. I really need this, and so do you.”
“Am I interrupting something juicy?” asked a voice from the tent entrance.
Hester and 372 froze in place.
A flaming skeleton strode toward them. “Someone should call the gossip tabloids,” said Wordler 388. “Good to see you again, Wordler 372. And you as well, Wordler 398.”
“There is no Wordler 398,” said 372. “Oh, wait. Oh, damn.”
Web3 Draft:
- Listed on OpenSea
- Listed on Rarible
- Pinned to IPFS
Revision Notes:
To be added.
