Lord of the Golden Rose.

The study was a comparatively small room for the rest of the manor, not much larger than a cozy office. One wall was lined entirely with a bookshelf, containing a few titles that John recognized and far more that he didn't. The other side was taken up by a window that almost covered the entire wall. It looked out onto the rear yard, which was beautifully kept. Moonlight glimmered on the surface of a fountain, surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges and flowers of all colors. The garden spread out across a wide field behind the manor, likely twice the size of the building itself. If John ever got the chance, he'd love to explore it.

A nudge in his side from Moira drew his attention away from the window. Much of the room was taken up by an elaborate wooden desk that was neatly cleared of everything except several papers and a quill in ink. Behind it stood a tall man who felt a lot older than he looked. He was dressed in an unbuttoned sport coat and pristine white shirt with gold stitching, yet John got the sense that his host was wearing casual attire. Maybe it was the precise way he stood, or the air of elegance that seemed to surround him. In a way, Moira's father reminded him of someone... but he couldn't place who. He kept expecting the man's full faded-red beard to be trimmed more neatly, or his hair to be shorter than the ponytail it was held in.

Lord William Brighton
<Lord Protector of the Order>
Level 65 Duelist
Relationship: -15
[Guildmaster]

Lord Brighton closed the book he was browsing and placed it back on the shelf, pointedly ignoring both his guests until he was finished with his business. When he did inspect them both, John held back a shiver. The man's piercing eyes seemed to look past him at something that even John wasn't aware of.

"You've been quite the troublemaker, boy," Lord Brighton spoke, his voice deep and resonant.

Oh shit.

"In fact, were it not for the word of my knight... and my daughter, we'd be having this conversation through the bars of a cell."

John glanced over at Moira, who did her best to ignore his curiosity. She'd spoken up for him? Why? He shouldn't complain... he was lucky to have anyone speaking on his behalf.

"I've been told that you have no prior allegiances, which should make this a simple task," Lord Brighton pushed forward the document on the table, gesturing for John to step closer. It was an immaculately written contract in black ink. "Sign here, and we can discuss your future." The quill and inkwell were placed next to his hand.

John looked down at the page and began to read.

I, the signatory of this document, hereby offer my services to the Order of the Golden Rose (henceforth designated as the Order) in whatever magical or mundane capacity they should require. While I am under contract I will not make deals with any other Abyssal organizations without first consulting the local branch of the Order, and will respect their request for exclusivity when made. As payment for my services, I will be compensated by the following standards...

His eyes started to cross as the clauses and sub-clauses grew increasingly confusing. The general terms were clear: as Erica had said, they wanted to hire him. It was the fine print that worried John. Fine print was always where 'they' got you. In this case it was mostly payment details... but there were sections that referenced other names he didn't recognize. The Cabal. The 33 Scions. Black Velvet. Any dealings with those organizations had severe punishments, to say the least. Execution was mentioned...

Lord Brighton waited while John read the document, but from the atmosphere in the room it was clear his patience was waning. His eyes never left John, nor did Moira's and, in the silence, the Gamer picked up the quill. What did he have to lose, signing this, that he wouldn't be forfeiting by not? His life? Moira's father had made it very clear he was lucky to be given a chance at all... and with the combined wealth and supernatural forces the Brightons wielded, John knew that rejecting their offer could be deadly. The threat was compelling, but it was trust that broke past his anxiety. Erica had said it wasn't a big deal... and he trusted her.

He gripped the quill as best he could and signed a splotchy 'John Newman' at the bottom of the page. Lord Brighton stared at him intensely, and John half expected to burst into flames... but that didn't happen. Instead, a popup appeared.

You have initiated into the Order of the Golden Rose.
New Rank: Retainer
+10% relationship gain with members of the Order of the Golden Rose
-10% base relationship with members of the Cabal, Black Velvet and the 33 Scions.

Optional quest completed! - Getting Stronger
+250 Experience
Reward may be selected from the Progress Screen.

Taking the contract back and stowing it away in his desk, Lord Brighton seemed mollified and let out a slight humph, "As I said, Carpenter has vouched for you and explicitly asked to handle you directly... a request that I have accepted. She will be in charge of you, and responsible for any actions you take." There was an edge to the man's tone, an implied threat. "However, for today's actions my daughter will reward you in her stead." He settled back in his chair and nodded at Moira, "You are both dismissed, but we will speak again, Newman."

The door opened behind him and Moira's fingers tightened around John's wrist, tugging intently. He followed without much resistance, just happy to be getting out of the study. The way that Lord Brighton examined him was far too much like being an insect under a magnifying glass. She led back down the halls, but via a different path... or at least that's what John guessed. The place was a damn maze!

A question burned in his mind as the annoyed paladin tried to drag him down another hallway, "Hey, why'd you put in a good word for me with your dad?" The words had no sooner left John's lips than he wanted to swallow them back. It was a stupid thing to ask...

Moira turned around and gave him a look, but to John's surprise her relationship score had drastically improved: -6. He was still in the negative, but a far cry from her opinion of him half an hour before. It worried him a bit that the score swayed so drastically, hopefully the most recent gain would last... "Let me make myself clear. I shouldn't trust you, but you saved Erica's life... and, for whatever reason, she does. Don't make me regret it," her tone was terse and antagonistic, but there was some grudging respect in it.

He looked the paladin over, most the tension she'd held in the study had faded, but there was still some visible in her eyes. John got the sense she really needed to learn how to relax. That, or get laid, though he couldn't imagine her bringing home a boyfriend; Lord Brighton seemed the type to respond to that sort of idea with fatherly... intervention. Moira gave him another look and he cut off that train of thought before it could leave the station.

"I won't! I promise," John said, meaning it.

"Good."

The exchange ended their brief conversation, but John had the feeling it had lifted an invisible weight from Moira's shoulders. It certainly had helped, putting her score at +10 and, though she didn't smile, her expression felt less hostile in its dourness. He'd take it.

Their path led to a stairwell that went down, past the first floor and to a windowless basement. Passing casks of wine, John marveled again at the wealth of the Order. Most of them looked older than he was. Eventually, through a stockroom that was three times the size of his bedroom, they reached a well-lit stone passageway that ended in a modern vault door.

Unpinning the gilded shield from her chest, Moira held it up to the door and it began to open. Metal bars slid back into the center ring and the wheel turned by itself, opening slowly. Turning back to him, she kept her badge in her hand and gestured into the vault. Clearly, this was a high security area, so John held up his empty hands for her to see as they stepped inside.

The reasons for her caution were immediately clear. From floor to ceiling, the vault was full of weapons, armor, miscellaneous items... and gold. Piles of coins, all marked with a rose, covered almost half the space. It would've been dazzling, if John could form any concept of precisely how much money there was around him. His mind tried to work it out, futilely. Was each coin pure gold? How much did they weigh? Were there 'only' millions of dollars in obscene wealth around him... or billions? That was without counting the tower of gemstones in one corner, or the suits of battered armor and other likely magical items.

Moira casually disregarded the stunning wealth around her and bent over to pick up a handful of the coins. Since every higher process in his mind was utterly disabled by their surroundings... John just stared at her ass. It was a nice ass. Big, round, it had a bit of bounce to it whenever she walked. Kind of a pity who it was attached to, though in his fantasies he could always forget that fact and... wait. Outlined in the catsuit was the line of her underwear. Except it was too thick, she looked like she was wearing some kind of belt around her hips. Moira stood back up and John snapped his gaze elsewhere before he received a hammer to the nuts for his ogling. That's when he saw it.

Half buried in a pile of coins was a shape that he instantly recognized from his years of gaming... and particular love of an old series. A heavy metal crucifix, with the hilt wrapped in dyed black leather. John wandered over and pulled the thing from the gold, turning it over in his hands. There were some differences, such as golden styling along the metal... but it was unquestionably what he suspected.

The Gilded Thorn
[Unique]
Ancient weapon dating back to the War of the Black Rose, now the last of its kind.
"The Thorn was consecrated at Westminster by Warden Ariel before her crusade."
Base Damage: 10 holy
Attribute Focus: Agility/Strength
Upgrades: None
Chain attacks have no damage penalty against armored targets.

"Hey, don't touch that!" Moira stomped over, her shield growing on her arm as she readied to smite him.

John held up both hands, then offered the Thorn to her... but her anger had fizzled at the sight of the weapon. Instead she snorted and raised an eyebrow.

"That old thing? Really, out of everything in here you try to steal that?"

He looked at the weapon in his hand, an idea forming. "First of all, I wasn't trying to steal anything! Second... if this is so worthless to you, can I have it instead of those?" he asked, pointing at the coins in her hand. There were at least a dozen, and John tried to squelch the idea of how much money he was throwing away. It would be worth it.

"You're serious?" Moira tossed the gold back into the pile and smiled, it looked good on her. He wished she'd do it more often. "Good luck figuring out how to use it, you'll probably just knock yourself out."

Been there, nearly did that.

Admittedly, John wasn't sure if Gamer's Arsenal would consider the Thorn a whip or a flail... but an opportunity like this was too good to pass up. He hefted it in his hands. The Thorn felt good, weighty, solid. He pulled on the head of the weapon, inspecting the internal chain. Both were in pristine shape for something that'd been rotting in a vault and his fingers itched to give it a swing.

"Stand back," he told Moira, who did so with a look of amusement.

Well, here goes nothing.

John slid one foot back, moving into a better stance and held the Thorn at his side. He pulled it forward, arcing over his head and back in one motion. It responded smoothly, the chain extending and lashing across the room to send a pile of coins scattering, before whirling around his back as it retracted. He grinned openly, it felt natural in his hands and he spun the weapon overhead and to one side casually. The chain of the whip arced smoothly around him, almost precisely where he wanted it.

Moira just stared openly at his display, shock replacing the smugness on her face.