The room was empty when Ann woke up. The bedroll was folded neatly, its occupant nowhere to be found. The slant of the sun outside the single, grimy window spoke of late morning.
Ann changed under the covers, teeth clenched against the cold. She was tempted to dock points from her overall score of the game over the hyper-realistic weather. Recognizing the impulse as petty, she decided to just grumble about it to the other players instead.
The room looked far more worn down under the pale sunlight than it had at night. The bed sagged in the center and the wooden dressing screen was washed a sickly gray. The floor creaked heavily under Ann's feet. When she opened the bedroom door, the rusted hinges squeaked like mice in a sprung trap.
The sound of voices became audible as soon as she crossed the threshold of her room. Ann followed the whispers down the stairs and into the inn's small dining room. Five people sat around one of the shabby tables. Ann recognized Max, the man standing out in his priestly garb. The other four were strangers. Two women and two men, each in their own costume fitting the gothic setting. K was nowhere to be found.
"Ann, good morning! Please, join us," Max invited.
Ann offered a polite greeting and sat in the one remaining chair. The man sitting beside her scowled her way.
"What're you supposed to be?" he asked.
"A poor tramp looking for a job and a place to stay," Ann said promptly; she'd had plenty of time to think of a plausible role for herself. "You may call me Ann."
"My name is Tarah. I'm her maid," a young woman spoke next, her dark eyes curved in a smile. She pointed to the opulently dressed woman sitting next to her.
"Cilla," the woman introduced herself, then groaned, "This is all so silly! Did I mention how much I hate this dress?"
"It's a nice dress," Ann offered.
"It's got a corset," Cilla said dryly.
"Ah." Ann nodded in understanding.
"Philip," the man on Cilla's other side said. "I'm playing a Count of some kind."
"And my husband," Cilla added.
Philip smiled happily. "And her husband," he agreed.
There was a snort. Philip's smile thinned and he pinned the man next to Ann with a glare. "That's James," he said shortly.
"He's Philip's valet," Tarah explained.
James looked at the wall, pretending as if they weren't talking about him.
The group shared their tasks under Max's guidance. Ann listened carefully, but couldn't find much of a connection between the missions assigned to the players. Dancing, attending tea parties, gardening – it was all too mundane and random. The lack of details from the system didn't help. The full task would only be unlocked once the task conditions were triggered. When it was her turn to share, she made up something vague about playing team support – not fully a lie, given that her actual task was to ensure that every player passed the instance.
"What about K?" Ann remembered.
The others looked at her blankly.
"Who's K?" Cilla asked.
Ann didn't actually know. "He's also a player. He came with me last night – you haven't met him yet?"
Cilla shook her head. Phillip looked contemplative.
"We all traveled into town alone," he told her.
The players' expressions changed suddenly, the conversation pausing unnaturally.
YOU ARE READING
Play of Shadows
Ciencia FicciónWhen hundreds of players are trapped in various virtual worlds, a team of elite gamers is assembled to save the day. However, not all of them are there to play the hero. *** The best virtual reality company in the world is concealing a scandal of bu...