Xera

14|Gurd

Gurd Indgrum was not interested in hosting the Xera Grand Prix until the kingdom came to him with enough money to buy a new house. He had grown tired of his current abode and jumped at the chance to relocate. A couple days in the middle of nowhere? Doesn't sound too bad. He figured. His initial meetings with the racing council did not give him much more than that assumption to go on. These were cold, clinical meetings with figures he could not see. They hid behind tempered glass that gave each of them a distorted silhouette. Any attempt Gurd made to inject humor into the proceedings was met with awkward silence. Guess they aren't hiring me for humor...wait, why are they hiring me? Gurd wondered, as he prepared to venture from Vawe.

These thoughts did not return to him. He was too distracted in the luxury that the kingdom had provided. A large, private craft flew him to Raiyfe. This ship featured a personal chef and even a masseuse. They had truly spared no expense. This was the case with his lounging, as well. A large suite had been built into the upper-level of the complex. There were two large windows, one overlooking the track and one that provided a view of the desert. Golden curtains and blue carpets matched the typical Vawe aesthetic. These were the royal colors that were on virtually any piece of royal media or material.

The feature that most caught Gurd's attention was the bar in the kitchen area. It was fully stocked with the finest ales, spirits, and wines that the galaxy had to offer. He spent his first night there with a bottle of Tascenian whiskey. Two glasses with dinner led to two more glasses with desert. By the time Gurd fixed a late-night snack, he had finished the bottle. The next day saw him tucking his hangover away to practice his theme song. This was the day that he revealed himself to the crowd. He was certain that no one noticed he had been horribly inebriated the night before. In reality, everyone was far too confused by his arrival to judge his level of intoxication.

He spent the rest of that evening taking advantage of the chef. The poor biped was imported from Vawe to provide a bounty of meals for the event. Due to Gurd's consistent appetite, the chef was reassigned to be his personal one. More of Vawe's finest culinary experts were dispatched to handle his original duties. Gurd didn't think twice about this, it was rare that he considered anyone else's feelings in these matters. Like many on Vawe, Gurd saw people like the chef as beneath him. A temporary social stimulus to facilitate a need of my own. He would tell himself.

In any event, he had not come to converse. He had come to do his job and get off Raiyfe the second the event was over. Save for announcing the races and his daily check-ins with the racing board, he didn't have much to do. After the second day on the planet, he even did away with those. Those freaks don't care. This is all a big PR event for them. He told himself. Indeed, the race committee wasn't overly concerned with what Gurd had to say, so long as things went according to plan. They eventually stopped calling and resorted to text-based messages that were printed out on royal stationery and hand-delivered to Gurd.

It was this dismissal of his duties that brought the Inquirer to him...at least in Gurd's mind. Oh great, now they send a babysitter. Though he had never heard the title of "Inquirer" before, he had assumed it was some outdated title within the race commission. In any regard, they hardly had to encounter each other, at first. It wasn't until the Inquirer joined the race that they even exchanged any words. He had kicked in Gurd's door, early in the morning. The Gurdish had not heard his initial knocks because he was zoning out in the shower.

"I'm entering the race, to monitor for suspicious activity." The Inquirer boomed, as Gurd got dressed.

"You can just do that?" Gurd asked, as the Inquirer handed him his file sheet.

"I'm an outside agent, hired to assure this event runs smoothly. I can do whatever I please." The mysterious man responded, in a chilling calm.