Double-Blind: A Modern LITRPG

I tapped my foot impatiently just outside the tent. Inside, the court was still arguing, voices only partially dampened through the tent’s thick canvas. It sounded like a few were in favor of my plan, others more vehemently opposed. It wasn’t surprising. The strategy I’d cobbled together was unorthodox and required a certain flexibility and willingness to put one’s self in danger.

I’d studied up on curses out of diligence after learning from the Adventurer’s Guild doctor the Witch class existed, mainly because they were one of the few forms of magic I couldn’t directly counter or affect with In short, they were a pain in the ass for both caster and target. They took forever to deploy and had a heinous number of difficult to fulfill requirements that varied depending on the curse—sometimes requiring hair, skin cells, in more extreme cases blood or even teeth. They also required line of sight. Casting without the target present was possible, but high enough level that the witches I spoke to seemed to think of it more as a pipe dream than a realistic goal.

But if you managed to get the curse off and the requisite time passed without the target seeking the services of a priest, the possibilities were terrifying. Temporary and permanent polymorph, blindness, cancer, liquefaction of organs. Even death—though the death hex was high level and required so many components from the target that if you died that way, you probably had it coming for ignoring the old woman cackling over the boiling cauldron.

The less alarming options were more interesting. Along with lower requirements, they created situations that were still distressing to the target but had curious and often practical side effects. Obvious examples included causing the target’s skin to harden into a shell-like form, or sprout gills, or grow a tail.

And while few people would sign up to be a turtle-fish-monkey hybrid, the alterations always functioned. The tail would be strong enough to support their weight and prehensile, the gills would allow them to breathe underwater, and the shell—while bulky and hideous to look at—would provide some protection.

Hell, I’d probably ask Charlotte for permanent gills if it didn’t mean struggling for air every time I wasn’t out of water. It just seemed too useful to pass up.

Most witches ignored these options for obvious reasons. They were already barely a support class, they couldn’t afford to waste their development and feat points on curses that wouldn’t pack a punch.

But, given her position as a member of the court and the fact that Charlotte only had access to curses, I’d guessed that she had something we could use.

And I was right.

The tent flap opened. I half-expected it to be Nick calling me back in, or Nathanial telling me to shove off. Instead, Julian emerged from the tent, nodded to me, and pulled a small gray square from his pocket, holding it to his lips. The light at the bottom illuminated green as he breathed in, breathing out a puff of vapor.

He saw me looking and held it out in a silent offer.

I considered saying no, then realized I had no real reason to decline and took a pull. The nicotine went straight to my head, a temporary buzz taking the edge off the stress headache gnawing at my temples since early morning.

“Strawberry?”

“Strawberry milk.” Julian confirmed. “Very princely.”

I took another pull—entirely aware I was trading mental clarity for the possibility of an unnecessary addiction—and passed it back to him. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

The voices from the tent lost focus as I prepared for him to try to work me. But he didn’t. No side eye, no sudden observation to pry information out of me. He just stood on the other side of the tent flap and puffed.

“Something you want?” I asked, giving him a lead-in. Being social wasn’t in my blood, but Julian was an unknown quantity I needed to get familiar with as soon as possible.

Julian nodded. “A break from the noise.”

I frowned. He was among the members of the court most interested in my plan. Having him out here seemed less than ideal. “They don’t need you in there?”

“Hah. No.” He waved me off. “Already made my case. Now it’s ‘Mother’ and Nathanial’s turn to argue it into the ground.”

“Queen for, Nathanial against?”

“Yep.” He blew out a puff of vapor. “You don’t miss much. She likes it because it’s ballsy and interesting and new. Nathanial hates it for the same reasons. It’s Charlotte’s chance to shine, so she’s obviously hugely in favor, which almost automatically means Lucas is against it, but that doesn’t matter much. Nathaniel and Mari’s opinions hold the most weight.”

“Paul?” I couldn't imagine him as a tiebreaker.

“Nah. Paul goes with the majority. Barring that, he’ll throw his lot in with Mari. They’re… on similar wavelengths.” Julian smiled apologetically.

Out of their minds.

I’d already gathered most of what he’d told me, but it was good to have their dynamics confirmed. Julian was being oddly open, and I was tempted to exploit that, but people with authority were often more sensitive to that sort of thing.

“Gotta wonder.” I said finally.

“What?”

“How Lucas isn’t covered in sores or transformed into a toad by now.”

Julian coughed out a laugh. He cleared his throat and bared a tired smile. “Same. Honestly, I think the only thing keeping him out of the crosshairs of a voodoo doll is Charlotte’s astronomical self-control. Keeps trying though. Everything short of straight up asking for it.”

“Playing with fire.”

“He’s just a contrarian. And an asshole. Socially, he’s miserable to be around, but he snaps into shape when shit hits the fan.”

Absent-mindedly, I pulled up my messages to Ellison. There was nothing new since my message this morning, checking for what had to be the tenth time if there was any sign of life. “My little brother is kind of like that. More contrarian, less asshole.”

“Most of the time?” Julian asked knowingly.

“Most of the time.”

“Is he… still with us?”

The question startled me. It was presented carefully, almost compassionately. But I could count the number of people I’d told about Ellison’s disappearance on one-hand.

“Sorry.” Julian winced, seeming to kick himself. “Just… I dealt with something similar when I lost my grandparents. The whole past-present tense confusion thing. Wasn’t trying to stick my nose in.”

I ran back the conversation in my head. I was certain I hadn’t said “was.” But I’d hesitated slightly on the “is.” It was either more obvious than I recalled, or Julian was an empath. Still, I couldn’t walk it back now. Not with him paying that much attention. He’d either suspect the lie or catch it outright. The whole point of meeting the court was to build trust.

“He’s still alive. Just… missing.”

“For how long?”

“Since the attack on my region.” When Julian jolted and stared at me, I shook my head. “Unrelated. He was elsewhere when it all went to shit.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Plus, he kind of has a history of disappearing for extended periods of time and then popping up out of the blue. That’s probably all it is.”

“So you’re not sure.”

Again with the read. Getting too reliant on the mask covering my reactions.

“No.” I answered.

“Well…” Julian stretched as my mood grew darker with thoughts of Ellison. “Assuming we’re not all about to get rolled over by giant ants, I know some quality trackers. People outside the order. I can call in some favors. Maybe even help with the search.”

Of all the things I’d expected a Prince of the court to say, that wasn’t it. It was so far out of my realm of expectations the confusion must have shown on my face, because Julian snorted and looked away.

“Funny.” I finally said.

“Not a joke. Days are pretty packed but my nights are free. Don’t sleep much anymore.”

“Me neither.”

With the strike team retired, barring the occasional Myrddin outing my evenings were also free. I already intended to budget at least a portion of that time to search for Ellison, but I had no clue where to start. I’d thought about asking Nick for help, but by the time he was finished with the tower for the day he was usually one long blink away from passing out. I couldn’t ask him to extend himself more, especially when Ellison might just show up one day, with no explanation for the absence.

“Why help me?”

Again, Julian shrugged. “Hastur says you’re a member of the court, which puts you under its—and by extension my—purview. You have missing family, which kind of speaks to me personally. Not to mention we’re united in our dislike for Lucas. Explanation enough?”

Not even close.

“Don’t you have more princely things to attend to?”

“Please.” Julian rolled his eyes. “They keep me cooped up most of the time unless I have a reason to go out and be a glorified adornment. You’d be doing me a favor.”

Out of every other member of the court, Julian was the person I needed to have a handle on. Because when Nick reported the prophecy to the court, he’d left out a key detail: that he was the one who’d pull the sword out of the stone. As the person holding the Prince class, Julian was the “legitimate,” heir. Which in a very real way, made Nick the usurper.

Of course, Nick was convinced Julian was a good guy. That he didn’t really buy into the court and had no interest in being King. But Nick often thought too highly of people. And if Julian turned out to be unhappy with the sudden shift of power and became a threat?

I needed to be ready.

“I’ll talk to your trackers, at least. See if they can offer any resource I don’t already have.” I said.

“Great!” Julian seemed oddly happy at the idea of another responsibility. “I’ll send you my contact—”

There was a rustle of fabric, and Julien jumped as Nathanial thrust his head through the flaps with a blatant scowl. “Perhaps it would be wise not to ignore your duty in favor of a smoke break, your highness.”

“Whatever you say, Elder Knight.” Julian muttered, giving me an apologetic look and returning within.

Nathanial stared at me for a moment, sides of his mouth turning upward in a subtle smirk. “Well. Come on then, new-blood. Let’s get you cursed.”