Artyom had a complex, multi-phase plan to meet with the Great Hero and confirm his suspicions of the presence of Earth culture in this World. He’d already obtained a fancy suit from a local tailor, and now it was time for phase two.

Sharply dressed, Artyom approached the lone security guard watching over the gate that blocked off the upper crust of the town from the denizens below. That probably wasn’t a fair assessment, however. The common man and woman were taken care of quite well and the nobility hadn’t drained the livelihoods of the lower class into empty husks. The gates still stood however, and they were meant to keep the undesirables out, whoever those “undesirables” might be.

“Please halt, sir. Are any of the illustrious residents here expecting you this evening?” asked the guard. He was dressed in a soldier’s uniform, albeit more fanciful than it had a right to be, with heavy emphasis on the coattails, buttons, and cuffs. It was more of a cross between a uniform and a butler’s suit. The guard was wearing a matching black beret, and had big round eyes and flowing brown hair in a bowl cut. His bushy moustache and potato-shaped nose worked in tandem to hide the movement of his mouth, so Artyom could only see billowing fuzz whenever the guard spoke.

Artyom collected himself and remembered his time in high school drama class. Sure, it was over a decade ago, but he’d been chosen to play the villain in the class’s yearly play, and boy did he fill that role.

“Expecting? That’s only if my assistant has notified them. And I had to fire him for incompetence last week, so who knows?” said Artyom, reprising his role as a rich, arrogant jackass. “Either way, I expect Mr. Cabbafor to welcome me in open arms!”

“Sir, do you have an invitation to meet with him? And his proper title is Lord Cabbafor,” replied the guard, failing to hide his frustration at Artyom’s misuse of title.

“When you’re in the same social strata as we are, you tend to refer to your peers as such,” said Artyom in a haughty tone.

“Whether that be the case, sir, I can’t let you through unless you have an invitation. It’s late and no Lord or Lady here wishes to be disturbed at such an hour.”

If that’s how he wanted to play, Artyom would gladly oblige. “Listen, Mike,” he began.

“It’s Cress.”

“Listen Guess, I’ve been on the road for days and my staff has been through hell to get me here. How do you think they’ll react when I head back and tell them that everything they’ve been through was for nothing and their promised vacation is cancelled because I got turned away?”

“Well sir, I’m sure if you simply send another message from your residence…”

“They’ll talk to their friends, who work for other Lords and Ladies, and tell them exactly what happened. It’s not going to be about me, no. I’ve taken great care of them and I intend on telling them the truth. That the illustrious Lord Cabbafor thinks he’s too good to meet with a fellow lord who has travelled for days just to meet with him!”

“Well sir, I mean, you could always take the teleportation crystal back…”

“Oh, teleportation crystal?!” Wait, teleportation crystal? “Have you ever stopped to consider that not everyone is able to use them? That a Lord would deign to hire people of such disabilities? Why would I come by carriage if not for their sakes!”

“Disabilities? Only animals not claimed as a familiar are unable to use the portal,” replied Cress, suspicion mounting in his voice.

“Yes, disabilities,” replied Artyom, his expression full of ire and indignation. “Poor old Suzie is half blind in both of her eyes and was born without taste buds and needs a guide dog to find her way around. She doesn’t have the luxury of making this animal her ‘familiar’.”

“I can sympathize with your Suzie, my aunt has trouble seeing herself, but taste? What does that have to do with…”

“The dog tastes her food for her! I thought you of all people would understand because of your aunt, but I stand corrected.”

“Well, uh, I deeply apologize, sir. B-but an invitation is still needed…”

“Well in that case, I’ll have to head back home and tell everyone what happened. That good old ableist Cabbafor sees people with disabilities beneath him, and sent poor old Suzie on a round trip because he forgot about his invitation. What will all of the other Lords and Ladies think of him then? The innumerable trade deals he’s made will all be cancelled after witnessing his true character. The town will dry up as imports stop coming in and everybody stops buying his tainted goods. The masses will rebel, call for Cabbafor’s head on a pike!”

“By the Goddess, I-I don’t mean for anything like that to happen!”

“Well that’s not all, Pablo. Cabbafor isn’t stupid. He’ll investigate and look for where these stories of him started, how the truth leaked out. He’ll trace the chain of words all the way back up to the source and do you know what he’ll find?” And dramatic pause… “This little conversation. With. You.” He poked Cress in the chest with the last three words for emphasis.

“So what will it be, Brittney? Are you going to tell Mr. Cabbafor that he has a guest, or are you going to bring ruin and damnation to your town?”

Cress stared at Artyom for a good few seconds, completely slack-jawed. “I uh… I ah… I’ll let Lord Cabbafor know that he has a visitor,” he managed to spit out before running back to the guard booth.

After several more seconds and some hushed, frantic shouting from Cress, the gates began to open.

“Follow the path up, then turn l-left at the fork. Lord Cabbafor’s manor should be the first one you pass,” said Cress, from the safety of the booth.

“Thank you for being so understanding, Luigi. You truly are a testament to Lord Cabbafor’s sense of kindness!” exclaimed Artyom as he made his way through the gate. There was a reason why he was chosen for this mission, and it wasn’t just because of his security clearance.

Several minutes of walking later, Artyom reached the manor in question. He passed the expansive lawn and fountains and approached the front door. A butler at the door greeted him with a curt bow and led him into the main foyer. The floor was a carpeted marble and the walls were bare white plaster, save for a small selection of paintings. Sure, none of them were on par with renaissance greats, but even Jackson Pollock pieces held more depth.

“If the sir would kindly make his way to the living room, Lord Cabbafor is ready to make your acquaintance,” said the butler, in an elegant manner.

Artyom nodded to him and made his way to the next room over and saw a somewhat older man with graying hair and an authoritative look about him sitting on a red velvet couch in his pajamas.

“Ah, you must be the young man Cress said wanted to meet me. He was in such a rush, so I’d assume this is quite important? He mentioned something about cutting trade and all sorts of horrifics, but he’s been known to overreact, but I do have to wonder.”

Artyom helped himself to a seat on the hardwood chair opposite from Cabbafor, his hands clasped together and an intimidatingly charming smile on his face. “Indeed I am, you can call me Artyom. I may have said some choice words he interpreted as such, but by no means do I intend to bring anything terrible with me. In fact, I wanted to talk about a potential opportunity for both of us.”

Cabbafor sat up in interest. “If I’d known you were here for business, Artyom, I’d have put on something nicer. And told you to come back in the morning, if it wasn’t urgent.”

“Oh, but it is urgent!” said Artyom. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the Great Hero, and how he’s been in the area.”

“I have,” said Cabbafor apprehensively. “But how does this concern me or the town? Unless it’s in danger, in which case there’s no need to worry thanks to our town guard.”

“Oh, nothing like that. I’m sure you’re a busy man who has to maintain a good image with the other nobility and townsfolk.”

Cabbafor nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

“The Great Hero’s presence presents a wonderful opportunity; if he were to attend a party as a guest of honor, whoever hosted it would gain tremendous recognition! Of course, he’s on a mission and won’t be able to stay here for too long, so he’ll probably only attend a single party before going his way.”

“Oh my, you’re right!” exclaimed Cabbafor. “But whose party do you think he’ll attend?” he asked in genuine curiosity.

Artyom gave Cabbafor a look of disbelief, bringing forth a very awkward silence.

“Y… Your party,” he finally spluttered out.

“Well, I do happen to be hosting a party next week, but I haven’t invited the Great Hero.”

“If I may make a suggestion,” began Artyom, very slowly. “Why don’t you send him an invitation?”

Cabbafor sat up even further in his velvet seat. “That’s a wonderful idea! I could send him an invitation to the party, and I doubt that any of the other nobles have thought to do the same themselves! The only problem is, I don’t know where he is exactly, or how to get the invitation into his hands.”

That’s what Artyom had feared, but he had a backup plan that only added an extra step or two. “Perhaps you could leave it to me? If you gave me an invitation to the party for the Great Hero and his team, I could try to get it to him in time.”

“You can? Wonderful! Jeeves, would you please fetch an invitation to the party made out to the Great Hero and his team?” shouted Cabbafor, calling his butler over.

“Yes of course, sir,” said Jeeves, the same butler who let Artyom into the manor. After a silent minute, he returned with a folded piece of fancy, embroidered paper. He handed it over to Cabbafor with a bow and left.

“Here it is, an invitation for the Great Hero. Do you think you could really get this to him?” asked Cabbafor.

“Of course!” said Artyom. Even if he couldn’t, the cost was only a pissed off lord and another town he could probably never set foot into again. So in other words, a worthwhile risk. Artyom took the folded paper and carefully put it away inside of his suit. He looked expectantly at Cabbafor, who was perplexed at the sudden halt in the conversation.

“Um, Cabbafor,” began Artyom, once again slowing down. “Do you think I could get an invitation to the party too?”

Cabbafor paused for a moment, as if the thought of inviting Artyom only just occurred to him. If that son of a…

“Oh, of course! How could I not invite you after performing this wonderful favor for me? Jeeves, please bring an invitation made out to Lord Artyom as well!”

“Heh, Lord Artyom,” he chuckled to himself as the butler got him an invitation as well.

Artyom took the second invitation and placed it next to the first.

“That should be everything, thank you for taking time out of your evening to talk,” concluded Artyom.

“Oh no, it was all my pleasure. Thank you for making my party so much better! I can’t wait to meet the Great Hero myself!”

And with that, Artyom got up to leave. He shook hands with Cabbafor, nodded to the butler, and made his way out to the gate. He gleefully waved at Cress on his way out, who Artyom was sure was going to faint from the mere sight of him, and made his way to the inn he had dinner at. Using more of his silver coins, he rented a room for the night, intent on enacting the next steps of his plan tomorrow.

What better way to meet with the Great Hero than at a party hosted by the nobility? Everyone there is expected to be important, and the hero would be obligated to not make a scene. Besides, the supposed alcohol and fancy finger food would placate even the worst murderhobo. It was the perfect location to make first contact. Artyom changed into his peasant linens and packed the suit away before going to bed, but not before moving the invitations to his bag. That night, the same radio silence put him to sleep, and not a single fright interrupted his dreams.