Play of Shadows

2.11: Light in the Storm

The decision to take a break was reached unanimously and without any actual discussion. Players sprawled onto the sparse grass growing along the banks of the eye-shaped pond like their strings had been cut. The quiet murmur of conversation didn't rise above the buzz of insects over the water. Most stared vacantly into the desert. It was unclear if they were aware of their surroundings.

The handful of teens were faring noticeably better than the older players. Frances kept half of his attention on where Danny was attempting to climb a palm tree, and the rest on Michael as he talked through the instance in an attempt to put together a sound strategy. The conversation was mostly a monologue; Michael didn't need Frances' input, and Frances had very little to offer besides – he preferred to bludgeon his way through games, acting mostly on gut instinct. There was a reason why he stuck to the action and adventure genres.

"Why don't we just ask him?" he said, nodding toward where the butler lounged with his back against the camel.

Michael paused mid-thought and followed his gaze. "What guarantee do we have that he won't mislead us?"

"We'll ask nicely." Frances tapped the head of the bat against the sand meaningfully.

"Let's not assault the NPCs, if we can help it," Michale said.

Frances grunted in acknowledgement. He kept his eyes on the butler, gaze narrowed. "Does he look different to you?" he asked.

"Now that you mention it, he does seem more..." Michael trailed off, frowning himself.

"Irritating?" Frances supplied.

"Human," Michael concluded.

The brief silence between them was interrupted by steady footsteps, punctuated by the hiss of something heavy stabbing through the sand. Svetlan greeted them with an amiable nod and carried on past, his destination clear.

Michael and Frances shared a look. They followed after the man with the cane, curious to see how he planned to approach their NPC guide. Svetlan was a strange presence within the instance. Helpful, but detached and at times even cruel. Frances got the feeling that the man was playing an entirely different game than the rest of them. He never knew what to expect.

"You're looking better," Svetlan greeted the butler.

Case and point.

The butler tilted his head up, his eyes passing over Svetlan to Michael and Frances behind him. "Ready to begin the tour?" he asked.

Svetlan leaned against his cane. He looked at the butler, gaze searching.

When it became apparent that the man with the cane was not about to speak, Michael stepped forward. They couldn't waste the opportunity to gain information. Who knew whether the odd NPC would stick around for another attempt.

"Are we not already in the exhibit?" Michael asked.

"Just about," the butler said.

There was an awkward pause, then Michael cleared his throat.

"We are interested in learning the history behind this collection," he tried.

That appeared to be the right question. The butler launched into a flat monologue detailing the exploits of Cicada Manor's elusive Master. It painted the man as a great explorer, single-minded in his pursuit of adventure. Beneath the shallow veneer of his accomplishments however lurked something far less sightly. An obsession that crossed into lunacy, and explained much about Cicada Manor's ghastly exhibits.

"He even brought back the sand?" Frances asked, incredulous.

"Every part of the exhibit is authentic," the butler confirmed. "It is meant to offer the Manor's guests a chance to follow in its Master's footsteps."