For a Taste of Hazel Juice: Part Two
You’re no Malcom Reynolds
This is the conclusion to ‘For a Taste of Hazel Juice.’ Read part one here:
Slipshade returned to his room, where he lit a candle, grabbed some parchment, a quill pen, and a vial of ink. He sat at his round table, and started writing his report, detailing what had happened and what he had learned along the way. He explained the Jaegers’ recruiting methods, their basic clan structure, and what their intentions were. It then occurred to him that he had not read the letter Mizuroi had given him with his assignment. He pulled it out of his satchel and emptied the envelope of its contents. The letter read:
You have been assigned to be a warrior. All warriors are to gather at the horse pen in two days at 3:00 PM (EST). Make sure you have all three of your play hours ready. New warriors will be broken up into a front guard and a rear guard. If you are reading this, you have been assigned to the front guard. Veteran Jaegers will guard the caravan. Make sure you bring your armor and weapons.
That was not an altogether bad system, Slipshade thought. He updated his report with the details from the letter, but he made sure to leave out any mention of the hooded man or the man in green from just after he signed back in. He blew on the ink feverishly until it was dry. Then he folded it up, put it in an envelope of his own, and sealed it with hot wax. Before he could deliver it, he would need to change his outfit. His current outfit seemed unfitting. Something more casual and plebeian was in order. He fetched a very plain tunic and a similarly bland pair of trousers that he had nicknamed his “peasant clothes” and switched into them. With letter in hand, he headed out.
The Browncoat Army’s headquarters was only a few minutes away from the inn. It was not one of the fanciest structures in the Town, but few clans even had a base of operations, so it was still a powerful sign of their wealth and success. Two storeys high and about a hundred feet wide, it was hardly nothing.
He knocked at the wooden door. A hatch slid open, revealing the eyes of their doorman. “Who are you?” he asked, somewhat curtly.
“A friend of the clan,” answered Slipshade. “I have a message for your commander.”
“I can take it.”
“I can only give it to your commander. Nobody else.”
“Well, you can’t come in without the password.”
“Rise again.”
“Alright.” The doorman closed the hatch and unbolted the door. It swung inward. “Hurry up.”
Slipshade entered and saw the lobby of Browncoats’ lair. Several players were seated at tables, idly chatting and dining. Their clothes were very ornate. It occurred to Slipshade that the Browncoats were not ones for modesty. Their rags were probably made of silk too. Also, they never actually seemed to wear brown coats at all. The door shut behind him.
“So where is your commander?”
The doorman did not answer right away. He rang a bell that was suspended above the door. Then he turned to Slipshade and said, “Our boss will be with you in a moment.
Slipshade tiptoed deeper into the lobby, but he decided not to take a seat. After all, it would be out of line to sit with the clan members as though he were one of them. Nevertheless, he listened, because this was an opportunity to learn. One pair discussed their meal.
“This stuff is pretty good, I guess. Wish we had some Hazel Juice to go with it.”
“Yeah, don’t know why the top brass keeps it all for themselves.”
“Because when we drink it, it’s an ‘unnecessary expense.’”
“Maybe they feel that because they earn the most money for the clan, they get to decide how it’s spent.”
“I don’t know if tricking people is the same as earning money.”
“Either way, it helps the clan.”
“This is true.”
Meanwhile, a group of four, at a big table in the middle of the lobby, discussed news in the game.
“The Sixth Clan Colosseum Tournament is coming up. Who’s your favorite to win?”
“Us, duh.”
“Wait, we’re in that?”
“Yeah.”
“Who’d we send?”
“Mostly new guys, but they’ve got the best gear money can buy.”
Eventually, Slipshade heard a plodding sound, as someone came down the stairs in the corner from the floor above. He wore a green outfit, and Slipshade recognized this as the same man from the horse pen. Now that he could get a clearer look at his face, he saw that it was BestKoreea, the deputy commander of the Browncoats.
“Hello, how can I help you?” he said.
“I have a message for Fireflyfan. Is he here?”
“No, he’s signed out. I can take it.”
Slipshade hesitated. He wondered whether or not he should give the report to Best. Fireflyfan had said that he was worried about moles in the clan. What if this were true of him? Best’s gaze grew increasingly suspicious, as if he were about to ask what was going on. It then occurred to Slipshade that, if Best truly could not be trusted, then Fireflyfan would have probably told him about this in the first place. Moreover, he realized that the brazenness of not giving the report to the deputy commander, while in his headquarters, would probably get him more unwanted attention.
He handed the report to Best, who tucked it under his sash and then asked, “Is that everything?”
“Yep.”
“Great, Fireflyfan thanks you for your business. Our doorman will show you out. Take care.” He returned to the staircase, while the doorman unbolted the exit. He swung open the door once more, and Slipshade returned to the streets. It seemed as though he had been in there forever, but when he opened his menu screen, he saw that only a few minutes had passed.
He continued to think over the circumstances. If the other spy had been at the horse pen with BestKoreea, then he must have been working for the Browncoats. If he were working for the Browncoats, then Fireflyfan must have sent him. If Fireflyfan had sent him, then that meant, as far as Slipshade could tell, that he did not trust Slipshade to do the job of spying on the Jaegers.
What if, however, he were wrong? Fireflyfan mentioned moles in his assignment. What if he had not sent the other spy, and what if that spy had been sent by Best, intending some sort of treachery against him? Then that meant he had just handed a delicate report to Fireflyfan’s enemy. Whatever the situation really was, the implications for Slipshade were pessimistic.
He thought about all of this intently as he walked home. His mission had been to find out what the Jaegers were planning, but this turn of events warranted a similar question about the Browncoats. What were they planning? It probably had something to do with the gold beside the river to the East. As he came to think of it, that was a valuable piece of information that Fireflyfan had shared in the letter of his assignment. Not even the Jaegers seemed to know about it. Mizuroi and Gwenaveer both were under the impression that they were migrating away from the valuable stuff. What did all of this mean?
He arrived back at the inn, but before he entered, he went to the bathhouse across the street. He bought a private room and settled in a cozy, hot tub. It was his first bath in a while, and he needed to get that dust from the horse pen off. Unfortunately, it did not distract him from his situation.
He recalled the conversations in the lobby of Browncoats’ house. That one pair seemed to express grievances about the use of clan funds. The other group implied that the Browncoats were effectively trying to win the upcoming clan tournament by throwing money at the problem. Then there was the fixation on the gold deposits near the river. From Slipshade’s point of view, it all seemed to come back to money and riches. Did the wealthiest clan not have enough?
It appeared that maybe Slipshade had stumbled into their problems most inconveniently. His foggy position with such a successful and powerful group gnawed at him, for the Browncoats were no trifle of a clan. He was going to have to be very vigilant.
He thought awhile about what he should do. Should he go into hiding? Should he tell the Jaegers? Should he confront Fireflyfan? It was hard for Slipshade to imagine any scenario in which these actions would end well for him. Ultimately, he decided that he needed to wait and see what would happen at least little more, before he did anything. It might not hurt to meet up with Fireflyfan and, at the very least, see how he felt about about his report.
He climbed out of the tub and dried off. He put his peasant clothes back on and returned to the inn across the street. There, in the lobby, was another man in peasant clothes, who appeared to be waiting. Slipshade immediately recognized him as Eynak, one of his informants. He seemed unusually unhappy. As soon as Eynak saw him, he called out to him, raising his voice a little: “I have something for you.”
The lobby was empty at that moment, so they made due with a table in the corner. They took their seats, and Slipshade retrieved a silver coin from his satchel and placed it before Eynak. “Alright, let’s see what you got,” he said.
Eynak grabbed the coin and pocketed it, murmuring, “Okay, so this just happened. Silverwolf of the Browncoats is dead.”
“He’s dead?”
“Yep.”
“So tell me, how and why?”
“Apparently he was decapitated. Not sure who did it, but it’s worth mentioning that there have been issues in the Browncoats.”
“Issues?”
“Yep.” Eynak scanned across the room quickly before resuming. It was still just as empty. “I learned most of this over the last week. Basically, with all the money that the clan’s come into, there’s a lot of disagreement about how it’s being used. Some Browncoats aren’t happy with Fireflyfan. There’s talk of splitting the clan, and with the largest pile of gold and silver of anyone in the game, nobody knows who’s gonna end up with how much of that pot. It’s a pretty big deal.”
“Anyone in particular who’s turning against Fireflyfan?”
“Yeah. Their accountant, Azarath, is against him. So are some of their better warriors, like Rickio and Deathswarm.”
Slipshade nodded. “Who’s still with him?”
“The Captain of the Guard is still with him. That’s a big plus for Firefly.”
“What about BestKoreea?”
“That I don’t know. He could go either way. Point is, the most powerful clan is about to crumble, and Silver’s death is probably connected somehow.”
“Is that about it?” asked Slipshade.
“Yep.”
“Okay then.” Slipshade reached into his satchel again and produced another silver coin. “That’s a little extra, for being expedient and thinking of me first.”
“Thanks, maybe now I can finally buy me a bottle of the Hazel. Gotta say, I do love our relationship.”
“As do I.”
With a mutual nod to one another, Eynak rose from his chair and exited the inn. Then Slipshade took a deep breath and rose as well. He was better off not merely sitting around.
After ascending the stairs to the tenth floor and entering his room, he made sure to lock the door behind him. He still had a couple of hours left to play, but Slipshade had had enough for the day. He wanted to catch up on sleep in the real world. Still, before he could do that, he thought it might be wise to prepare some of his effects. He rummaged through his belongings and put what he would need most in a pack, in case he needed to relocate quickly. As he took his satchel, he contemplated putting it in the dresser, but he figured that it might be better to put it directly under his bed, so that he could reach the knife it held more easily.
He hopped on his bed, laid down, and opened his menu screen. It then occurred to him that, should something disturb him in his room, he would actually need to be signed into the game and playing, in order to react. He could not just wake up and go for the knife as though he were sleeping in the real world. It was funny how Mercuria had a way of feeling so real that he would overlook something like this, at least Slipshade thought.
In any event, tomorrow was Friday. Fireflyfan would probably be on in the evening. He would make sure to be on too. Then he pressed the LOGOUT button and exited the game.
Fortunately for Slipshade, he had Friday off from work. He used the free time to do some more casual playing and catch up with the few friends that he had made. Not even he could be a total loner. Being a good spy depended on connections, such as Eynak, either for information or for essential supplies. After wistfully ending the casual play around four o’clock, he signed out, hoping to catch Fireflyfan around seven.
When he signed back in, he headed straight for the Browncoats’ headquarters. He knocked, and the same pair of eyes gave him a grim greeting. “The commander’s not here,” he said. “He does wanna talk to you, though. Said you’d know where to find him.” He shut the hatch again.
Slipshade figured that he probably meant the lobby of his inn. There was no point in delaying, he thought, so he hastily marched home. On the way, he noticed that one of the food shops had a sale on Hazel Juice. “Okay,” he reconsidered. “Maybe I can delay a little. I’m out anyway.” He bought another liter, for only six gold coins! — “only.” Bottle in hand, he continued homeward.
When he arrived at the inn, he soon spotted Fireflyfan in the lobby, seated in the same place as when he gave him the assignment. He looked up and saw Slipshade, his expression unpleasant. Before he did anything else, Slipshade walked to the counter and hit the chime with a small rod. The innkeeper emerged from another room.
“Hey, I imagine it’s time for me to renew?” he asked.
“I believe you’re right,” said the innkeeper. “It is Friday. Ready for another week?”
“Sure am.” He placed eight gold coins on the counter.
“Then you’re good to go,” smiled the innkeeper as he gathered them up, before returning to his small office.
Then Slipshade hobbled over to Fireflyfan. He did not join him at the table. Instead, he remained standing and asked, “So did you like the report?”
“I’d like to ask you more about it,” Fireflyfan said monotonously. “But somewhere less…public.” They looked around. A few people were dining, all well within earshot. “How about your room upstairs?”
“Sure.”
Fireflyfan rose from his chair, and Slipshade led him up to the tenth floor. He pulled out his key and unlocked his door, which he held open for his guest. Fireflyfan entered, and Slipshade followed, shutting the door behind them.
The Commander of the Browncoat Army made his way to the window. It was already dark, and he could see the rest of the Town, along with the moon and the stars, whose faint light was just enough to allow the vista to be not only seen but appreciated. He stood silent for a moment, as if in a trance, while Slipshade took his usual seat near the window and sat down.
“Nice view?” he asked his brooding guest.
“I’ve never been this high up before. It’s very nice.”
“I’m still not used to it myself.”
“Yeah…anyway,” he began. “Let’s get down to it.”
“Take a seat, if you like.” Slipshade lit his oil lamp in the center of the table and pointed to the chair by the door.
Fireflyfan pulled it out and anchored down. He placed his elbows on the table and interlocked his fingers, all while maintaining eye contact with Slipshade. “So,” he began. “It was an interesting report.”
“Was it?”
“Yes,” he affirmed, not blinking. “But I want you to tell me everything. I’m pretty sure there is more to this than you reported.”
“What else could I tell you?”
“I don’t think you told me everything that the Jaegers intend.”
Slipshade squinted. “I told you in the report. The Jaegers just want to build their own town. They don’t even know about the gold. I even told you about the kids talking. One of them is high-ranking. If he doesn’t know, then none of them know.”
“And I’m just supposed to believe that?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t you?”
“Because you’re a spy.”
“Yep, I’m the best there is. That’s why you paid my twenty gold coins upfront.”
“But you’re not in a clan.” Fireflyfan leaned forward a bit further.
“So?”
“So you have no loyalties to anyone, and the Jaegers made a lot of money too. They’re paying their new recruits. Maybe there was a cut of that for you.”
“I assure you, I always keep my contracts.”
“How did you even get into their job assignments last night? Our spy got turned away.”
Slipshade took a cautious pause and then stated, “I don’t reveal my methods.” He popped the cork on his Hazel Juice and poured it into his cup. He filled it without missing a drop, eyes locked with Fireflyfan the entire time.
“Well, you should understand, it looks suspicious. I told you before that there are moles conspiring against me. Then our man that we sent in was turned away because his levels were too high, but you, the greatest spy in Mercuria, didn’t have that problem. If you aren’t working for the Jaegers, maybe you’re getting help from the moles in the Browncoats.”
“I assure you that isn’t true. I would like to know, though, why did you send another guy anyway?”
“If you’ve betrayed the Browncoats, you’ll never be safe,” said Fireflyfan, ignoring his question.
“I haven’t betrayed you,” reassured Slipshade. “I think you’re also being too quick to interpret my actions negatively.” He paused. “Would you like some of my juice?”
“I’m not so rich that I would refuse some free Hazel Juice.”
“Great.” He reached into his dresser and dug through, but as he looked back, he saw that Fireflyfan was upright, brandishing a long dagger.
“But that’s not going to distract me.”
“What are you doing?” asked Slipshade, his voice cracking.
“I’m keeping control of my clan. Now, be a good host and pour me the drink that you so generously offered.”
Slipshade glanced toward his bed. The knife was still there, but there was no way he could reach it safely. Instead, he pulled out two cups and poured the juice into them.
“Alright, now let’s sit.” Fireflyfan pointed his blade toward Slipshade’s chair. They both sat, dagger still drawn. Slipshade placed one of the cups on the table for him. As he brought the cup to his lips, Fireflyfan said, “So tell me, why do you live all the way up here?”
“You still haven’t answered my question. Why did you send a second spy?”
Fireflyfan smirked as he swallowed. “Do you feel safe up here?”
“This is the Town. Safety is its thing.”
“So it is, but clearly we both know that we’re technically in the Wildlands.
A chill ran down Slipshade’s spine. “How do you know that?”
“Why do you think I don’t live here?”
“Because I bought it first.”
“True, but I never tried to buy it from you. Maybe I’ll buy it after you’re dead and just post some guards.”
“So you came here to kill me,” sighed Slipshade.
“That’s right.” Fireflyfan took another sip. It may be that the Jaegers didn’t know about the gold, but since I can’t be sure whose side you’ve been on, I have to assume that they know now anyway. Plus, the waters have been muddied on my side, and I don’t know who to trust. Wherever you stand, you’re a risk I can’t afford to take.”
“You know, my informants often say that you always try to weasel out of paying for things. I guess this is some excuse for you to steal it back. Is that a first for you?”
“Cocky, to the end. I like it.”
“You know, you don’t have to do this. You could leave right now, and maybe cooler heads will prevail.”
“I didn’t come here to negotiate. Any last words before your time in Mercuria is done?”
“Don’t have any. I don’t plan on dying.”
“Alright,” grinned Fireflyfan. “I’ll get this done.” He, however, did not move. His face tensed, and the dagger remained fixed in his grip. “What?” He struggled in place, completely immobile, muscles stiff. “What’s happening?”
Slipshade stood up and finished the last of his cup of Hazel Juice. “The inside of the cup I gave you was coated with a paralytic poison. You won’t be able to move for several minutes. That will give me precious time to slip away.
“You think you can just run from me?”
“Oh, no,” said Slipshade, as he picked up the oil lamp. “I won’t have to, because you’re going to die here.” He threw the lamp on the floor. It shattered, spilling the oil and igniting a large fire. He grabbed the pack that he had filled the night before and retrieved his satchel from under his bed. Then he turned to Fireflyfan again. “You know, I think you and the Jaegers could’ve gotten along. They had one of your rules in their clan too: keep your real life out of the game. Since you won’t live to tell anyone, and since I know you can’t contact your clan again, I’ll tell you how I got into the meeting.” He pulled up his stats screen, for Fireflyfan to see.
“Your stealth level is 1? That’s impossible.”
“Why is it impossible?” asked Slipshade. “All these kids come in here and think that by having a high stealth level, they can be a ninja or something. Espionage isn’t about concealing your noise or visibility. It’s about being smart. The most obvious spy is the guy trying to walk silently in a market square or at a diner. All it shows is that you’re up to something. Stealth ‘skill’ is such a joke, because there isn’t any skill in it.” The fire began to spread, prompting Slipshade to step aside. “This place isn’t very large, so I guess I’d better go.” He began moving toward the door.
“Please, don’t leave me here!” Fireflyfan begged.
“You know, I think you can actually feel the fire. I did burn my finger a few nights ago.”
“Wait! Please! Don’t leave!”
Slipshade stopped. “Good point,” he said. He reached over and swiped a sack attached to Fireflyfan’s belt. He looked inside. “Nice, there’s probably thirty gold coins in here. Thanks.” He opened the door.
“No, you can’t leave me like this. This is fucked up. You’re actually gonna set me on fire?”
“Just so you know,” snapped Slipshade, “you’re no Malcolm Reynolds. He’s honest. He keeps his word. You’re a paranoid snake who thinks the rules don’t apply because you have money, and you stupidly picked a fight with the wrong guy. If you ever come back to Mercuria, after a year, hopefully you’ll have learned your lesson, but I suspect this is going to be pretty traumatic for you.”
“No, please!”
He slammed the door and hurried down the stairs. He threw up his hood and peered into the lobby. The innkeeper was not present, and the other guests present were not paying attention. He hurried outside and took a glance up. He could see light emanating from the windows. He did not stay to take it in. He continued forward, heading for a hotel in the northern side of town.
When he got there, he asked for the cheapest available room. Fortunately, they had a vacancy. It was not as luxurious, but it would do for the night. He got a room on the third floor and began unpacking his possessions. He had to leave some things behind, but the money he swiped would be more than enough to replace it. At least he saved the juice.
He looked out the window. In the distance, he could see a tower, glowing red at the top. Fireflyfan was surely immolated by now. The Browncoat Army, the most powerful clan in the game, had lost its leader. The Browncoat moles, whoever they were, had just received a free service, courtesy of Slipshade.
Word would spread quickly, he realized. He would have a little time to adjust, since people could assume that he had died too. The other Browncoats might still look for him, though, especially those still loyal to Fireflyfan.
He needed to plan carefully. He figured he could tell the Jaegers about their plan to ambush them in the Wildlands, if that was still going to happen. Thankfully, he had not reported the conversation between BestKoreea and the other spy. They did know that he knew. He could also call in some favors to trap and kill the other leaders in the Browncoats. It was going to be a tough next couple of days. He would not be able to do any casual leveling until it was done. It was a little frightening.
More than that, it all felt so strange. Here he was, trying to do his job, and he got caught up in some clan’s politics and nearly died for it. It reminded him of that time he got fired two years ago, all because he agreed with his manager’s project proposal at a board meeting. He had no way of knowing that his manager was in deep with a certain clique, nor did he realize the president was in with the other side. No matter how how many informants you have, and no matter how much you pay attention, there was always something you do not know, Slipshade thought.
It also seemed that people act in Mercuria like they do in the real world, except here there are no rules. Anything is possible, even murder. Surely Fireflyfan was a fairly ordinary guy in real life. He wondered what could push someone that far.
He uncorked the bottle of Hazel Juice again and took a swig. He swallowed and sighed with a smile. Maybe this was it. He noticed that people talk about this juice a lot. Everywhere he went, it was, “Hazel Juice, Hazel Juice, Hazel Juice,” and only people with a lot of money could drink it. Those teenage Jaegers like it. People on the streets were saving everything for it. Even Fireflyfan seemed excessively enamored by it. Was he — Slipshade — any different?
He continued staring out the window into the nightly scene before him. The flames of his old room reflected in his peaceful eyes. He took another sip and then said to himself, “It’s amazing what people will do, for a taste of Hazel Juice.” Then he corked the bottle and set it on the table.
He made sure the door was locked, even though he was no longer in the Wildlands. He threw himself onto his new bed, notably lumpier than his old one. Then he opened his menu once again and eyed the “LOGOUT” button for a moment, before pressing it. His body drifted asleep, safe and sound until his next visit to Mercuria.
