In the City, 399 days after a wizard cursed the REALM…
Current Version:
Ted had to pay for food and rent. Which meant that Ted needed a job. Which meant that Ted needed to look his best. Which was why Ted was carefully shaving the stubble line where his mustache met his cheeks. Because Ted was a man with priorities.
Conditions in the rooming house weren’t ideal for this activity, or for most other activities, but Ted was intent on making the most of it. Although the straight-razor was dull, although he had to use a mixing bowl from the shared kitchen, although the only soap available was a fizzy lavender-scented bath bomb left behind by a former tenant, Ted would have the smoothest cheeks possible for his interview, and that would make all the difference.
“Mrs. Filch is here,” Tori announced, from the basement hallway that connected their individual cell-like bedchambers. “Deal with her or I will.”
The razor slipped. A line of red appeared on the reflection in the cracked glass pane he was using as a mirror. Ted dropped the razor into the mixing bowl and grabbed a rag to press against his face. “Deal with her how, exactly? We don’t have any money between us to put toward the rent, and we’re already late.”
Tori shrugged. “She likes you best. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
“Tori—”
“Wordler 396,” she corrected him.
Ted sighed. “We’re not in the Village anymore. Here in the City, we don’t have to follow those old conventions. We can’t let anyone know where we’re from, we can’t let anyone to know you were chosen to be a Wordler, and we certainly can’t draw anyone’s attention to the fact that 388 was ever here. If Mrs. Filch found out that we’d had an undead flaming skeleton in her rooming house, she’d throw us all out onto the street for sure.”
“But I’m a Champion,” Tori insisted.
“Are you? Were you granted your title and number by the QUEEN? Were you questing for the entire REALM or just to save yourself? Now that NIGHT has fallen, and the catastrophe has already destroyed our homeland, what’s even left to happen if another Wordler were to fail in their quest?”
“I don’t know,” Tori admitted. “But we didn’t find out on Day 396, and it was all thanks to me. Why don’t you make yourself presentable while I stall Mrs. Filch for a few minutes?”
Ted narrowed his eyes. “Just don’t say a word about quests, five-letter Words of Protection, or flaming skeletons, okay?”
“I won’t,” said Tori.
Ted splashed the rest of the lavender bomb off his face. He tried to remember whether his least-stained shirt and least-moth-eaten sweater had been recently laundered. He opened his closet door.
“Hello, Wordler 399,” said a flaming skeleton inside the closet.
“Oh no,” said Ted. “Not this. Not now. Not me!”
“I don’t mean to bug you,” said Wordler 388, “but I’m going to need just the right five-letter Word by the end of the day.”
“You can’t be here,” said Ted. “Our landlady is here, and she hates Villagers. If she finds out—”
Ted stopped at the sound of voices from the hall.
“—no need to go down there, Mrs. Filch. Ted will be right up.”
“Nonsense, dear. It’s no trouble at all for me to come downstairs. Plus, I need to pick up a box of lavender bath bomb I’ve been storing down here anyway.”
“Oh no,” said Ted. “You’ve got to hide. Quick, under the bed.”
Wordler 388 folded her boney arms. “You’re more afraid of your landlady than you are of an undead skeleton who is literally on fire with mystical energies?”
“Hey, you’re only here for a day, but we’ve got to placate that old bat for as long as we stay in—Why hello, Mrs. Filch! What a surprise! You’re looking lovely today,” said Ted, as the bedchamber door opened without a knock and he jumped to block the landlady’s view of the animated corpse.
“Why Ted, whatever is giving the closet behind your back such an odd greenish glow?”
“A skeleton,” said Tori.
“A skeleton-themed costume,” Ted ad-libbed hastily. “Which I’m preparing for the Spooky Day holiday. Which is something we have back in your home village. Which is certainly not Wordler Village at all.”
Ted kicked the closet door shut. He’d have to deal with the undead Wordler. He’d have to go on some kind of quest. He’d have to find the Word of Protection to save himself from additional ravages of the Word Wizard’s curse. But for the moment, there was Mrs. Filch to deal with, and Ted was a man of priorities.
Web3 Draft:
- Listed on OpenSea
- Listed on Rarible
- Pinned to IPFS
Revision Notes:
To be added.
