Syron had only one month to craft what he believed to be the single most important game of his life. It would be the first official ‘public’ exhibition game. His mother had told him that she was preparing for him a venue to showcase his wonderful new game he invented to which he shamelessly took pride in. He knew he hadn’t invented the concept… but he had designed his own variation based on his experience playing other facsimiles. Though, finding pride in the game’s ‘invention’ was never Syron’s goal. He just wanted to play. Without seeing this venue his mother promised, he couldn’t make any conjectures on any possible changes it might make to his playstyle… but that hardly mattered. Making things up as he went was always one of his self-professed strengths, and he fully expected to have to do that at least a little when he showed up on the day of the event.

Of course, claiming that spontaneous impulsive design is his forte is one thing… actually forgoing the process of preparing the best game he could was quite another. Syron would feel quite remiss if he did not prepare the coming game to the absolute best of his abilities. He had a whole month, after all. The game would likely last only a few hours at most, therefore it was imperative that he crammed in as much quality content as possible with the limited timeframe. This one event was going to set the tone for the future of the game, since it would decide if it became a household name versus the obscure hobby of ‘that weird noble scion’. Syron bounced ideas off of Marigold while she stood awkwardly across the table from him.

“So Mari, I was thinking since I’ve never before met the four people that will be playing, and I don’t know if they even have their own properly completed character sheets… I should create a set of eight to ten characters for them to pick from. On the one hand, it’ll make it easier to craft scenarios based on what skills and abilities I know for a fact they will possess since I made them. On the other hand, freedom of choice is what makes the system so beautiful. While I don’t think it’ll bother any curious onlookers, it will likely be a point of contention with the actual players assuming they have endeavored to create their own characters in advance. What do you think?”

Mari just stared at her Young Master blankly, unsure how to answer.

“Well, I don’t want people to think that if they play this game, they necessarily have to get shoehorned into these character archetypes that I prepare. If a group of four people want to have a party of four support type characters, who am I to argue? It might even work really well for a low-level adventure like the one I’m putting on. What really matters is how creative they can get with using their abilities.”

“Young Master, I cannot claim to have a great amount of knowledge about your vision of how this event should play out… but I can tell you that perhaps you should talk to the Lady Forrester about what she told the public about it? The staff here typically does not leave Rowan Keep, therefore we are not intimately familiar with the information that is disseminated to the public. The Lady is often busy, but I do not doubt that she is willing to take a few minutes of her time to explain to you the nuances of her promises to the populace.” Mari said quickly, as though she was afraid of being heard by someone with their ear pressed to the outside of the door.

Syron pondered over her advice for a moment, considering his recent interactions with his mother.

Nope! She’s seemed more stressed than usual lately and I might be blasted into oblivion if I wake her up or something! Besides, what she said isn’t the most important thing in this situation… it’s what the people heard.

“Mari, can you prepare an outfit for me to go into town? Something… less Young Master and more street urchin.”

Mari didn’t understand, but for once felt that his word choice was actually relevant to the meaning he was trying to convey.

“Young Master… what exactly does ‘street urchin’ mean? Urchins are spined fish monsters, are they not?”

Oof… I tried to make myself old timey so she might understand me easier, but of course a separate world would have a different evolution of language. Earth English etymology is fun to learn about… but not at all relevant to my current situation.

“Ah… plebian child? Guttersnipe? Ragamuffin? Boy in tattered hand me downs?” Marigolds eyes were as wide as saucers as she listened to Syron’s attempt to explain himself.

Guttersnipes are avian monsters. Ragamuffins are, if I am not mistaken, a type of humanoid clay monster cursed to bind a smoke demon…? Plebian child… Does he want to dress as a monster, or an orphan?

“I do not believe such clothing is kept within the Keep, Young Master. If you delay your visit to Vanguard until perhaps… tomorrow, I can send a maid with a knight to find something in a… specialty tailor’s store or second-hand consignment shop for you.” Marigold offered, confusion still evident on her face.

“Eh? No need to get a tailor involved. Just some old ratty clothes to cover up my body should be enough. Not to brag or anything… but this body is a dead giveaway that I’m living well. If I’m going to go incognito, less exposure would be better.”

So… normal child then… Marigold thought with relief.

“Any drastic alterations to my appearance I can just use an illusion for. I may as well get the practice in while I can.”

Or… perhaps not? I should ask for verification…

“Young Master, just to be clear… if a monster was to appear in Vanguard, real or otherwise, it would result in no small amount of trouble for you.”

Syron looked at his maid like she was crazy.

“Sure. Monsters are dangerous… do they frequently appear in town? I assumed the town would be safe.”

Not safe enough that you can make yourself look like a monster and everyone assume it was all an illusion! Marigold retorted mentally.

Unfortunately, because of how strangely her Young Master had been acting since he woke from his ‘accident’, Marigold was still having a lot of trouble guessing what he would do next. Deciding he would give up his life-long ban of using his so-called evil magic? Sure, that was feasible. Inventing an illusion and statistic-based storytelling game to be shared with friends? Not a chance. It was directly contradictory to his previous surly, moody, standoffish and anti-illusion behavior. It was certainly not the first time she considered that he could even be a totally different person. How could a dark, depressed boy that has a sour relationship with everyone in his life besides that petulant Quoro girl suddenly become a ray of sunlight to everyone that walks near him? Could being exposed to The Lady’s positivity really have such a… positive effect? Before his coma, Marigold had only seen the Young Master smile seven times in the five years she worked for him leading up to the ‘accident’.

Syron studied himself in front of the full-length mirror. Before Marigold’s eyes, a transformation occurred. His pants became frayed and patched. His shirt’s stitching became unraveled in places. His shoes became scuffed and dirty. Then his hair became longer, greasier, and generally unkempt. Other than his stellar complexion and overly fit body for a kid that looked like he had trouble finding a meal a day, Syron’s appearance looked almost too realistic considering he’d never ‘seen’ a child from the streets.

“I can just smudge some dirt on my face and get some under my nails before we get there. No need to focus on any more details unnecessarily.” Syron said with finality as he headed for the door. Passing the knight posted outside his room, he smiled at her shocked expression and said casually, “I’m going out! Care to dress down and come with?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she just followed behind him and let down her hair out of the tight bun it was placed in before. Letting in free gave it a wavy appearance, likely due to having been so tightly tied up before. Then she took off a bracer with the Forrester emblem emblazoned on it, as well as a few other knickknacks here and there and placed them all on the side of the hall near the entrance to the Keep. Her fellow Knights nodded to her as she passed, also letting down their hair and changing their outfit slightly so they looked less like official knights of the Grand Duchy, and more like travelling adventurers.

“Young Master, are we to accompany you directly or should we keep a distance?”

Apparently, the Knights around here are particularly prepared for indulgent Young Masters sneaking out and slumming it in the streets. Is this a first time for me… or has this body done things of this nature before? Probably not, if he was as against his magic as everyone seems to think he was. I hadn’t found any way to disguise myself in my room, so that leaves that option off the table for now.

“As much as I’d love to be led around town with a group of lovely young women such as yourselves… it would probably be best if you kept just a small bit of distance. I don’t want to constantly have to dodge or be trampled by the never-ending tides of men coming to hit on you all. We can separate as we come up on the gates. Keep me safe, yeah?” Syron said with a wink. One of the Knights chuckled at his harmless flirting. Two of the Knights blushed slightly. The remaining two Knights thought, “How awkward… poor kid really never has had much interaction with people and you can tell! Was he seriously flirting? I can’t tell!”

The trip to the gates were uneventful. Upon arrival at the city gates, one of the knights separated from the group and spoke to the guardsman before flashing him an item of some sort. The guard looked up at the incoming group of four additional armed and fit women as well as a rather bedraggled looking boy with ragged clothes, dirty unkempt hair, and pristine complexion. Nevermind the fact that the group came from the road leading to Rowan Keep, which was a pretty good giveaway. The boy appeared to be the exact age of the mysterious ‘Young Master’ that recently had been causing such a fuss in Vanguard because of his new ‘game’ that everyone had been talking about nonstop for a week.

Yep… no one is falling for that one. Not touching it with a ten-foot pole.

Syron didn’t notice the cramped look on the guardsman’s face. Instead, he could only marvel at the ‘authentic’ medieval cobblestone walls and heavy metal portcullis. The gate raised before his eyes, forcing a smile to creep onto his face. Syron, after all, had never seen a portcullis in real life, having grown up and lived his whole life in the States. Instead, he had only ever described them on occasion in his games or seen them in movies. Seeing a few crossbowmen posted on top of the walls, Syron couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. He stepped through the threshold of the gate and soaked in the sound of the chains clanking as the gate lowered back down. He looked out across that town that he may very well own someday, and couldn’t help but smile even broader.

The Keep is so magically ‘hightech’ that many amenities were approximated that normally you’d miss in an underdeveloped world… but this town... it’s so real! Coming here was definitely a great idea, and that statement is absolutely not a so-called ‘flag’ light novel characters are always going on about!