Chapter 3: Crownhold

“I welcome you to Crownhold!” Violet announced, meeting Jake and Phinn outside the changing rooms.

After parking in the small lot, the actress had marshaled them toward the so-called Ward Gate, the front entrance to the former Chivalry Renaissance Fair. Off to each side of the double gate stood two small buildings. The left side held the locker rooms for changing and storing their real-world items. All cell phones and street clothes were required to be left in this area. The opposite building featured a modern entertainment room with a large television, used when LARPers needed a break or wanted to watch a game or program. Another small office sat nearby with a landline telephone. The number Violet gave to Phinn and Jake’s families reached this phone and could be called in case of emergencies. Usually, LARPers took turns volunteering for call duty while watching television.

“What do you think?” Luna Nilson inquired, meaning the outfits she’d selected for the two detectives.

“It’s acceptable,” Phinn said, shrugging.

Now known as Pero Plive, he wore a hooded gray cloak over similar robes. The non-superstitious sleuth had found his in-game profession amusing as Luna assigned him to be a monsterologist. The label had raised Jake’s concerns until he saw the armor and weapons that the other school actress had selected for him. However, the stocky athlete wasn’t thrilled about his new identity.

“Jarl Bustard? Really, Nilson?”

“What’s wrong with it? I gave you a fun backstory. You’re the bastard son of a great knight who’s sought a squireship in the Knights of Concord to live up to your father’s legacy. It sort of fits with your football family,” Luna explained, glancing at Violet, who grinned at the popular jock’s discomfort.

“I guess. The armor and sword look pretty rundown if you ask me,” Jake remarked, looking down at his dull gray armor and scratched sword.

“Those are the typical items worn by poor men seeking to be squires.”

“She is correct,” Violet said, backing up her good friend and supporting actress.

The lead actress had changed into her Zymona, the Entrancer, garb. Both investigators had been surprised to see a plum wig beneath the dark purple hooded cloak and eyeshadow. Violet also slipped a small dagger and a spellbook into the cloak’s hidden pockets. She stressed that as a sorceress, she didn’t need it to cast spells like a wizard.

Phinn nodded while Jake looked bewildered by the explanation. Instead, he inquired about Luna’s outfit. Usually a pixie-cut platinum blonde, she now wore a long, dark brown wig. Often the chameleon of the school drama club, Luna had a knack for costumes and disappearing into a role. Here, she wore a white peasant blouse underneath a brown leather vest and matching leather pants. Revealing herself to be a bard, Luna also carried a lyre.

“I’m also a secret thief,” the bard whispered.

“You’re a villain?” Jake challenged, appearing uneasy.

“No, I rob from the wealthy nobles to give to the poor peasants.”

“Robin Hood, huh?” Phinn checked, earning a nod. “Sounds fun.”

“Whatever, Pero,” Luna shot back while sticking her tongue out. “C’mon! We don’t have much time until your first mission as a squire.”

As they went deeper into Crownhold, Violet and Luna gave a rapid tour, occasionally pointing out buildings. The fictional town blended Tudor-style architecture with fake stone masonry. Many of the buildings, especially the shops, had timber framing and bright paint jobs that gave them a classic Tudor look. Jettied second floors extended over the ground level to add space, keep the footprint small, and provide cover from foul weather.

The pair of drama club girls gave only a verbal tour of the buildings to the gate’s right. The Feasthall sat nearest the main entrance. Luna explained that most people ate inside the large building, with feedings happening three times a day: one hour after sunrise, at midday, and at sunset.

“One hour after the sun rises?” Jake groaned before the part about sunset clicked.

"Don't worry. Behind the theater, along the east wall, is a baker, and in the southeast corner is a cold-cut counter. The latter is more like traditional sandwiches, but they must be eaten at the counter, since they don't fit with the overall ambiance," Violet revealed.

“You can also eat inside the taverns or the inn at any time of the day. However, the food costs slightly more than in the Feasthall,” Luna added, causing Violet to remember another thing.

“Right, here’s twenty gold pieces for each of you,” the plum-haired sorceress said, slipping out a handful for Phinn, then Jake. “One gold piece is basically the equivalent of a dollar. You can always purchase more in the office or earn them through quests or your completed tasks. But don’t think you’ll come out of this rich or anything.”

“Okay, we’re currently on Royal Road,” Luna announced, stopping in front of a large fountain. Next, she gestured toward an open-air building. “As you can see, the theater is located next to the Feasthall. Most performances are saved for Saturdays, with a few mid-week performances sprinkled throughout the summer.”

“Yes, Crownhold will feel relatively crowded during the weekend. Most of the Fellowship are weekend LARPers. We might have fifty to seventy-five people in town on a weekday in the summer, with a couple of dozen out in the Realm. But on weekends, there might be several hundred people. Players setting off on quests will use the town as a staging area, and we often get guests who merely want to soak up the atmosphere,” Violet explained. “While Bowie, aka King Thulnor, keeps prices fairly low, there are still obstacles for random drop-ins.”

“Right. First off is the dress code. No real-world street clothes are allowed,” Luna said, picking up the tour again. “Second, the Fellowship uses our own modified rules, which other LARPers might not be used to or like. Finally, the king insists on strict enforcement of the weapons’ guidelines, but we’ll get into that later.”

“What’s that?” Jake asked, peering over toward the northeast section of the walled town. Just past a smaller stage sat what looked to be an arena, which interested the sports competitor.

“Ah, I called it,” Luna chuckled, glancing at Violet. “That is the old joust arena.”

“It doesn’t get much use anymore. Only a few people own or ride horses. We might get one or two jousts a year, tops,” the sorceress said.

“We should see if Leighton would want to give it a try,” Jake suggested, referring to a previous client and acquaintance from summer camp.

“Doubtful,” Phinn responded, studying the castle, which sat past the fountain and in the center of the north wall. “Wow, it even has a moat surrounding it.”

“The moat is dirty, so I wouldn’t fall into it,” Luna noted.

“We planned to give you a tour and introduce you to Britt, but the castle is closed for some reason. The knight out front said it should reopen shortly after noon,” Violet explained.

Even though they couldn't go inside, Phinn and Jake gave the fake stone castle a quick visual inspection. A large wooden drawbridge sat upright, blocking entry. Several narrow windows overlooked the front, with the familiar-looking battlement running along the top. Phinn knew what to call the alternating pattern of solid structures and gaps. One could hide behind the merlons of the parapet, then slide out to fire weapons through the open crenels.

At the east and west ends of the castle, two spires rose above the main structure. Both teen detectives wondered about the rooms inside, but only Phinn could get the tour today. Instead, they turned as Luna revealed that Lantern Lane ran east-west in front of the castle. At each end of the lane were the two side gates that led outside Crownhold and into the wilderness of the Realm.

“The gates close at sunset. After that, you’ll need special permission to enter. Nightfall is often a time when those dastardly bandits seek to raid the townsfolk’s purses and the royal coffers,” Luna said, causing Jake to chuckle. “I’m serious. That can be the bandits' quest for the day or week. Some groups even hope to overthrow the king at certain points in the summer.”

“I have questions about these quests and campaigns. How are they assigned, and what are the limitations?” Phinn inquired.

“Any of the large campaigns is either created or approved by the Gamemaster, who has an office inside the castle. More minor quests or missions don’t necessarily require approval, but most LARPers will submit their plans if they wish to have a Scribe participate. Scribes are what we call umpires or referees,” Luna detailed. “The majority of our interactions are on the honor code, but some people are known to sluff.”

“Sluff?” Phinn repeated.

“That’s when a player takes a hit, but refuses to acknowledge it. You don’t want to be known as a sluffer,” Luna told Jake, who appeared utterly confused.

“Larger-scale campaigns can include noble houses at war, an attempt to overthrow the king, a wizard or champion tournament, and a special event. We had a murder in the marketplace mystery two summers ago that you guys might have enjoyed,” Violet recounted.

“As for quests, they can be seeking an artifact or lost treasure, investigating haunted Locksley Manor, driving off raiders or highwaymen, attacking the sorcery tower in the north, exploring the ruins, cave, or cemetery,” Luna continued.

“We’re using the last one as your cover. As Phinn is a monsterologist, we’ll eventually say your investigations are part of monster hunting.”

“Aww, man,” Jake moaned at the thought of monster hunting.

“What the hell?” Phinn said, partially to distract his best friend.

The brainy investigator had moved on to study the vendor stalls in the center of the western section of Lantern Lane. Phineas saw various fruits and vegetables, baked goods, and meat packed in ice. However, the fish were what caught his attention.

“Oh, right. That might seem odd, but it makes sense,” Luna began. “Some of the travelers like to take meat or fish along with them to cook while camping. Obviously, food safety is a concern, since we don’t allow modern coolers. However, a decent number of the quest trekkers will take an old-school portable ice box with them.”

“Charcoal is allowed if you’re discreet. No lugging around a huge bag of Kingsford,” Violet added.

“So, it’s like a camping trip with cookouts while you go off to slay a dragon,” Jake speculated.

“There hasn’t been a dragon quest in years, but yeah,” Luna replied, then motioned past the vendor stalls. “As you can see, the church/temple is located next to the castle. You can easily repurpose it for whatever god or goddess your adventure requires. Beyond that, the stables are in the corner. The few people who use horses can stable them for feeding and cleaning, while there are sometimes a donkey or ox available to pull a cart.”

“Damn, I didn’t expect that,” Phinn admitted, realizing this LARPing community took their role-playing far more seriously than he expected.

“I’d prefer not to ride a horse. My last time didn’t go so well,” Jake stated. While proud that he hadn’t fallen off, he was also mindful of what Leighton Ledford looked like after getting thrown off Queenie.

“Alright, we really need to get a move on it. Jake needs to be at the staging area soon,” Luna realized, checking the clock above the blacksmith.

“Hang on, what am I doing?”

“I gave you a brief idea in the car. You’re going with a band of heroes to protect a trade caravan on the road to Griffen Keep. Phinn’s going to stay behind to familiarize the town and its main inhabitants,” Violet repeated before glancing at her friend. “Unless something changed.”

“It has. It might also involve the castle closure,” Luna responded. “Neither the Peacock Legion nor the Champions of the Scepter are guarding the wagon. The order has come down that the Knights of Concord will provide protection. That’s why I picked a squire role for Jake.”

“The Knights? That’s rare, and usually happens when no one else is available,” the sorceress said.

“Do I need to go?” Jake asked, worried about splitting off from Phinn.

“Yes, you do. Not only will you pass the area where Grisella’s Ghost was allegedly spotted, but the Skattercrows are the likely bandits. One of their members fled the sighting, along with two of the Lucky Sylph barmaids. You might also stop there on the way back,” the bard explained. “Shit, I still need to explain the hit point system.”

“Wait, you’re supposed to go with Jake,” Violet recalled.

“I can’t. Traveling with the caravan is also restricted. Jake, sorry, I mean Jarl, can only go along as one of the two squires,” Luna revealed.

“Damn, I wonder what’s going on,” Violet said, motioning for the two guys to follow her into the first building on the west side of the two rows of shops. Across from the blacksmith near the west gate, the sign read, “Drowsy Owl.”

“Um, we don’t have any bags,” Jake whispered to Phinn while they entered.

“When you’re gone, I’ll check to see what we can sneak inside for sleeping, and what toiletries we can bring,” Phinn whispered back. “If I were you, I’d bring some breath mints along, just to be safe.”

“Right. Like I’ve seen any prospects yet,” the woman-obsessed teen hissed.

As they entered the inn, they immediately saw an old-fashioned check-in nook. Separated by a thin wall, the narrow staircase quickly disappeared from sight. Beyond the next wall, a small dining room was filled with people eating lunch. A thin man with what looked like perpetual bedhead came out of the dining room to greet Violet and Luna. In his mid-forties, he had messy dark brown hair and matching eyes, and wore an emerald-colored suit.

“Ah, are you ladies interested in lunch? The rush hour hasn’t begun yet.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gladwin. However, we’re here to show our friends to their new rooms,” Violet replied.

“Ah, yes, that’s right. Lorah stopped in last night to make the reservations. One second,” the innkeeper said, lifting a swinging shelf to enter the nook. After putting on a pair of reading glasses, he swiftly searched through his ledger until he located the reservation. “One room, correct?”

Phinn glanced at Jake before shifting toward Violet with a frown.

“Yes, a single room with two beds,” Luna repeated.

“Ah, yes, let’s see…Would a bunk bed suffice?”

Phinn started to object until Jake spoke first.

“A bunk bed would be awesome!”

Mr. Gladwin’s demeanor changed abruptly. A scowl formed while he peered over his glasses at the football player. Next came an irritated throat clearing.

“Forgive our friend. He’s from a strange, far-off land, and meant to say that a bunk bed would be wonderful,” Luna clarified. Then, she shook her head at Jake with a glare. Of course, he looked clueless about the wrong word choice.

“I see,” the innkeeper said, stiffly. Then, he shook his head before smiling at his new guests. “Welcome to the Drowsy Owl. I’m Varlo Gladwin, the proprietor.”

“Greetings, I’m Pero Plive, and this is Jarl Bustard,” Phinn announced, stepping forward to bow. Never a fan of shaking hands, he preferred to make his character the type who bowed.

“A Bustard, huh?” Varlo repeated, glancing over at Luna.

“The Crown will be covering the bill, Mr. Gladwin,” the bard informed the innkeeper.

“King Thulnor? My, what an intriguing development.”

“Princess Delicia to be precise,” Violet clarified.

The whole conversation completely baffled Jake. What the hell was that? Did this guy just imply that I’m not good at paying for my stay? And what was wrong with what I said before that? I knew this place would suck.

“Pero is a monsterologist, and Jarl is a squire. They might be newcomers, but they plan to enter the Marvander Maze, find the minotaur, and vanquish it,” Luna declared, surprising Phinn while shocking Jake.

“A mighty bold undertaking, lads. One only hopes you’re as brave and fierce. Kalagor is a beast not to be trifled with,” Varlo proclaimed, smirking. Holding back an impolite chuckle, the innkeeper handed Luna a key. “Room 403.”

“You’re on the top floor, fellows,” Violet announced. “Hurry back.”

Unsure of why to even go upstairs without any bags or luggage, Jake climbed the steep, narrow stairs. He quickly noticed that doors off the staircase led to each floor. Grumbling, but keeping his complaints to himself for now, the stocky detective reached the top of the stairs. He opened the door and groaned at the tiny hallway. A 6x6 hallway at best, Jake took a few steps toward the door for Room 403.

“Ah, I suspected we might be in the attic,” Phinn said, nearly bumping into Jake after exiting the stairwell.

“This room's going to be cramped,” his partner muttered, unlocking the door before groaning that he was right.

“I’m sure Mr. Gladwin would call it cozy,” Phinn speculated, glancing past Jake to find a tiny room filled with a bunk bed, a small dresser, a single wooden chair, and a coat rack.

“Hey, what’s that guy’s problem? You’d think I insulted him.”

"I believe you did. Saying the word 'awesome' doesn't seem to be acceptable to at least one person here. I'd suspect more, so watch what words you use."

“How am I supposed to know what to say? Or what to do. How can I go on this trip alone? This is fucking terrible,” Jake moaned before noticing something missing. “Wait, where’s the bathroom?”

“Clearly not on this floor. Oh, that looks to be a chamber pot,” Phinn noted, glancing at the floor near the dresser.

“A…chamber…pot. No, no, no! I am not pissing in that thing. Watch if I have to drop a deuce?”

“That’s my problem for tonight. You’ll be the one off in the woods wiping with leaves,” Phinn pointed out, already exiting the bedroom. “Hopefully, there is a toilet and shower on the ground floor.”

“A shared one for the whole hotel?” Jake gasped.

“I’d use the term inn while around Varlo,” Phinn suggested.

“This is like a vacation from hell movie.”

Once outside, Violet confirmed that a single bathroom sat around the corner from the reception nook. However, Jake didn't have much time to complain as Luna started to explain the hit point system for his health. Straight out of the gate, the whole concept baffled the non-RPG player. While she led his partner away, Phinn overheard the bard listing which body parts hit cost one, two, or more points of loss.

“You know that’s not going to end well, right?”

“I’m sorry. We both thought Luna could go with him. It’s usually never a problem,” Violet insisted.

“Until now,” Phinn noted. “I wonder if this has anything to do with why you hired us.”

“It’s possible,” Violet admitted, heading toward a door in a building connected to the inn next door. The sign above read "Boarding House." After Phinn’s inquiry, the sorceress responded, “Not only are there no vacancies; you wouldn’t get along with the manager.”

Phinn understood her point within seconds. A mousy woman with a neck-length dark ash-blonde bob, amber eyes, and small breasts appeared out of thin air. She wore not only a neck-high floral dress, but also a stern, disapproving expression. Those judgmental eyes flickered at Phinn before focusing on Violet.

“You know I disapprove of young men in the rooms of my unwedded tenants, Zymona.”

“Understood, Miss Toogood. I’m only here for a moment, and will keep my door open,” Violet reassured.

“Make it quick. I also don’t rent to young women who jump from one suitor to another. It’s poor morals and sets a shameful precedent.”

“Pero is not a suitor, Miss Toogood. I already have a serious courter, if you recall. This is a friend who is here for an adventure,” Violet explained patiently.

Phinn tilted his head in curiosity. Although not surprised, he couldn’t recall Violet having a boyfriend at the moment.

“It’s the adventurous harlots that I care not to know.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the plum-haired young woman said, then whispered to Phinn to wait outside.

While Phinn waited five minutes on the boarding house's front stoop, he studied the people passing by. The final establishment connected to the building at the opposite end from the inn appeared to be the Thirsty Jug. Across Merchant Street, he noted a weapon dealer and an armor shop next to the blacksmith. At the far end of the building sat a store named Warble's Rare and Exotic Treasures.

Sensing eyes on him, Phinn turned around to match stares with Miss Toogood.

“Don't get her started, Farris,” Violet warned, stepping outside.

“It’s Plive, milady. Do you often sneak suitors into your boudoir?”

“She’s the worst. Luna gets questioned far more, since women aren’t supposed to be entertainers in that busybody’s eyes,” the sorceress relayed. “Would you believe that Prissy Toogood is only twenty-eight?”

“Really?” Phinn responded, glancing back at the woman watching out the window.

“She’s an English teacher in Falconbridge who has run the boarding house for the past three summers.”

“That does make sense,” the sleuth replied. The wholesome, annoying Factfinders lived in Falconbridge. “And you pay to put up with that attitude?”

"Annual membership to the Fellowship is far less than you'd think. Bowie charges a fraction of what most LARPing facilities charge, and this place is much larger than most. His inheritance covers most of the major bills," Violet divulged.

“I meant what you pay to rent a room.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s pretty cheap as well.”

“What’s with these shops?” Phinn queried, gesturing across the street. “Jake’s sword didn’t look like I expected. I pictured a blade covered in duct tape.”

“Of course. A quick rundown coming. Mirthmakers Fellowship doesn’t allow homemade weapons or armor, as you probably assumed. We also don’t allow PVC weapons. While nearly everything is made from foam, the super-bulky boffer type isn't allowed for most things. Only arrowheads are made from that. The majority of the weapons are made from latex-covered foam or polyurethane,” Violet described. “Appearance and strength matter here, but safety still comes first.”

“I hope so. Jake doesn’t need to take out somebody’s eye. He still feels guilty over giving an old woman a heart attack,” Phinn remarked. “What about that shop?”

"Warble's? He buys and sells items and treasures found in the Realm during adventures. Unless you or your party keep the item as a souvenir or trophy, you sell it to him. Exceptions are for items important to the royal family or noble houses," Violet revealed. "Werwin Warble is also a source for quests and maps. Additionally, if you want to undertake a shady venture, you go to him for ideas."

“Interesting. I think we know someone like him in the real world,” Phinn chuckled.

“Warble is one source of gossip. Varlo Gladwin is another. Unfortunately, Jake rubbed him the wrong way. You can also pick up tidbits here and there from random people around Crownhold. But to ask specific questions, you either talk to Chatham Tellbell, the town gossip and loremaster, or you go to a tavern,” the school actress disclosed. “You did mention wanting to meet the locals, right?”

“Less meet, more observe. Eavesdropping also works,” Phinn admitted. “I suspect our best initial route to find information is from learning what others have heard or know. With that in mind, I have a few questions to ask before we enter.”

“Alright, shoot away,” the purple-robed enchantress said, pulling up her hood.

Nudging Phinn to do the same with his gray cloak, she led them around the Thirsty Jug into a narrow passage between the building and the west wall. Experienced in dangerous situations, the sleuth nodded when Violet revealed this was Dagger Alley, the most hazardous location in Crownhold after sunset.

“I’m curious about the motivations of the person or persons behind the incidents. The fire and water contamination seem different from the hauntings. What was used to make the fake well undrinkable? And I believe you mentioned thefts yesterday, but not on the drive here.”

“Honestly, we’re not sure if the thefts are random or part of the bigger picture. As for the Old Well, somebody put a pile of feces in it. Britt said her uncle will replace the whole tank soon. He’s not seeing a conspiracy here, but she’s concerned.”

“Okay, that leads to my questions about motive. Why sabotage your LARPing? Has anyone shown interest in buying the property or the Fellowship business? You also mentioned that Boone Brewster liked alcohol and drugs. Could he be going broke?” Phinn inquired.

"Hardly. Boone barely spends what he inherited. The guy pretty much lives here year-round. Aside from those vices and LARPing, I've never heard of any other hobbies of his. The same about any potential buyers for the land," Violet said. "The Brewsters are proponents of the environment and conservation. Boone would never sell the land for development, which I doubt anyone is interested in doing out here. You did notice that we're surrounded by empty fields and forests on the way here, right?"

“I did, but we also need to consider all possibilities,” Phinn pointed out. “For that reason, has Mr. Brewster had any trouble with more radical environmentalists? Building a new village on the land may have triggered somebody to burn it down.”

“It’s not impossible, yet I saw the village plans. It was tiny. Five small buildings, and they were all simple. It wouldn’t have left much of an imprint on the environment,” Violet insisted.

“The next area is revenge. You might not know anyone, but it would be helpful to learn whether any ex-employees, LARPers, or friends of Mr. Brewster left on bad terms. If a financial motive isn’t at play here, then bad blood is the far more likely reason.”

“That does happen. I can make a list of people known to have left in a huff. Also, I can ask Brittany if she knows of anyone.”

“I hope we can meet Miss Seaborne soon. There is another motivation that we often find in our investigations. You never mentioned a wife or children for Mr. Brewster. Is Miss Seaborne the sole heir, or are there other family members in line to inherit the land?” Phinn inquired.

“No, no way, Farris. Brittany would never. She loves the Fellowship,” Violet insisted.

“Always a reason to gain control if one thinks they can better protect it than a drunk uncle,” Phinn added. However, he wasn’t ready to argue a potential motive this early in the investigation.

Raising a hand, the fake monsterologist gestured for them to return to the tavern’s front entrance. As they came around the corner, they immediately jumped to avoid a man thrown out of the door.