The Order's Castle

Moira cleared her throat. “John,” her voice cracked, “we have arrived. You can let go and get off the bike whenever you are ready.”

“If I stay like this, it's harder for you to hurt or kill me,” John admitted.

The Warden removed her helmet, her long red hair cascading down her back, the excess resting between them, and turned her head to look over her shoulder at John. Her face was beet red. “I… ahem… there isn’t any reason to do any of those things… i-it’s a natural thing, s-something you can’t control… We should hurry, we missed our exit three times on the way here, and I’m sure my father will be growing impatient.”

“How did we miss our exit? And three times?” John asked, loosening his grip on the Warden.

Moira’s head turned so John couldn’t see it. “I… no reason. We should go,” she said, physically removing John’s arms from around her.

John awkwardly backed off of the bike the same way he’d gotten onto it. As he removed the helmet and jacket from his body, Moira climbed off the bike. John could barely see her blushing face as she looked away from him and then almost snatched the jacket and helmet from John after he’d unequipped them and held them out in her direction.

The bike had been parked next to a large double door, and looking back at the garage, John was more surprised than he should have been to see the military vehicles filling the space. There were also a number of motorbikes but in comparison to Moira’s they were plain and uninteresting.

John turned when he heard the doors open, a butler standing at the door regarding Moira. In a panic his hands fell in front of him, hiding his bulge.

“Good morning, young miss,” the butler greeted. “And to you, Master Newman, you may call me Reginald.”

John bowed his head. “Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Reginald,” he stammered.

“Good morning, Reggie. It’s great to see you,” she said walking towards the door. She didn’t turn around but motioned for John to follow her. About a third of the way down the hallway, Moira stopped in front of two doors, it was obvious what they were because of the WC signs on them.

“I’d like to quickly visit the bathroom. I suggest you do the same in order to calm yourself down,” Moira said, as she disappeared into the second door, locking it behind her.

John walked inside. The room looked like the fanciest toilet cubicle he’d ever seen; stone lined the walls and floor. There was a large stone sink with several hand towels as well as a little compartment which had a washcloth being sprayed by a mist, ensuring it was warm and damp.

John would say you can’t exactly make a toilet fancy but it seemed the one he was looking at had its own remote. And finally, there was a fancy-looking couch, though not the garish-rich-people couch he was used to thinking of.

He quickly walked over to the sink and ran the cold water, dousing his face. He took the damp washcloth and it was immediately replaced. Turning back he sat on the couch, letting his head fall back and placed the towel on his head. He began taking deep calming breaths and luckily his problem began to fade away.

“I’m meeting an important person. I shouldn’t turn up in my school uniform, right? It does have a formal look to it though, I guess. Maybe I could just alter it? It would hopefully give a better impression,” he thought out loud.

John stood and looked at himself in the full-length mirror. His uniform consisted of black trousers and shoes, a white shirt and a green blazer with golden accents and the school logo on the left breast pocket.

He closed his eyes and imagined the blazer changing to a dark grey and the accents becoming a dark silver and the logo vanishing. Opening his eyes he was happy, seeing that he now looked a little smarter.

After smoothing out his blazer, he exited the bathroom. Reginald was nowhere to be seen but Moira stood waiting for him. She did a double take before turning pointedly away from him and began walking. “Come, we should make our way to my father's study, we are running a little late now,” she said.

John hurried his pace to catch up to the Warden who was walking at a fast pace. As he did, he couldn’t help but notice that she seemed, no, she was taller, and not just by a little, by maybe fifteen or so centimetres. She was still slightly shorter than him but it felt odd that he didn’t immediately notice it. After that, he couldn’t help notice her chest had shrunk, and not because she was wearing some kind of chest plate or anything.

When they were at school the redhead's chest had been significantly larger than Ellie’s, by at least a cup or two, now she seemed similar, or at least similar enough.

“My father prefers to keep things formal, so you should stand or sit with your back straight, you should address him as Lord Brighton, Your Lordship or sir. Try to avoid babbling as well as conversation fillers such as ‘uhm’, ‘uh’ and ‘er’. If possible, try not to fidget; begging, boasting, demanding or criticising is also discouraged. Make sure you are patient and actively listening when being spoken to and don’t interrupt. If you disagree with something, that’s fine but at least allow him to finish talking before you voice those thoughts,” Moira instructed as she walked.

The tension John had felt at school after Moira’s ‘reassurance’ returned in full ****. His nerves were growing and he felt a tightness in his chest. He took a few long, slightly shaky breaths.

As they walked John turned his head, hearing a third set of footfalls, and saw the middle-aged butler following them. He gave a curt nod before John turned his head back to Moira. Her stride was graceful like royalty.

That princess-like image was furthered in John’s mind by a few things. The setting they were currently in; walking down halls with stone brick walls, a pristine red carpet on the floor and wrought iron candle chandeliers hanging from the ceiling firmly cemented a medieval castle image in his head. The way she walked right now and lastly remembering her accent. Her posh English accent was regal, but the slight Scottish hint made it extremely cute, he’d always loved hearing her voice whenever she spoke during an assembly.

’Actually, thinking about it, I’ve heard a bunch of different accents lately and haven’t really taken note of them, maybe I should pay more attention to that in the future. That reminds me, it’s kinda strange that Violet doesn’t have a British accent. I’ll ask her about it later,’ he thought.

His thoughts turned back to the meeting with Lord Brighton and he felt his shoulders tighten. He looked around, and there were large windows with long red and gold curtains. On the other side of the hallway, there were armour displays which looked like knights standing at attention; it didn’t settle John seeing the imposing figures as far as he could see.

A man in a modern and smart-looking gambeson exited one of the doors and acknowledged Moira. He stood waiting as they approached.

“Lady Warden, your presence is required for an important matter,” the knight said, bowing before standing up straight.

Moira gave a nod in greeting. “Good morning, Sir Lewis. I’m sorry, but it will have to wait, I have an important meeting with my father and Mr. Newman here,” she said, her tone stern but friendly.

“I understand, ma’am. I am aware you are bringing in this boy for a meeting with Lord Brighton. However, you are needed elsewhere. The Lord-Protector has already agreed to conduct the meeting without needing your assistance,” The knight explained.

John could feel his heart thumping in his chest as Moira slowly turned to look at him with a sympathetic and apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry, John, it seems I can’t keep my promise,” she said, her face turning to regret. “You will be fine, just remember what I said and-”

Moira kept speaking but her words faded under the sound of his heartbeat. She stopped speaking and looked at John expectantly. All he could do was nod, which caused her to smile before she turned and followed the knight.

John’s breathing quickened, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Reginald who had been following them. The man gestured for John to follow him, and though his feet felt like lead weights, John put one foot in front of the other.

Thoughts ran through John’s head: the ‘reassurance’ Moira gave him at school, bad enough on its own but now she wouldn’t even be there; all the rules Moira had given to him as they walked through the castle interior of the Order’s base; not to mention the image he’d seen of the man easily knocking him out during the fight with Kaen. Survival Instinct had multiplied his power by four and he was still no match.

His entire body felt tight and the only things he could hear were his footsteps and the thumping of his heart.

The butler opened a large double door and motioned for John to enter. The room seemed a little dim, but the imposing figure of Moira’s father was clear with the light of day behind him. The man didn’t look up to acknowledge his presence and continued to read the book he had in his hand as John slowly approached.

When John was a metre or two away from the desk, the man turned slightly and placed his book on a lectern.

The man stood and nodded at John. He said something but the Gamer was unable to discern what it could be. He didn’t want to be rude and Moira’s words echoed in his head. Despite the stiffness of his body, John **** himself to stand up straight. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” John said, his own voice muffled to him, like hearing someone speaking while underwater.

John’s stomach churned and he felt his mouth begin to water. John was internally begging that he wouldn’t throw up. The lord’s stern expression didn’t alter but he began walking around the desk; each step thrummed loudly in John’s ears.

As the leader of the Order stepped closer, John’s eyes began to water. ’God damn, get it together, John! After everything we’ve done and the people we’ve met, is this the moment you choose to have a panic attack?’ he internally chastised.

Lord Brighton’s hand extended towards John and he began feeling overwhelmed, his vision began to blur and his legs became shaky; he felt them buckling as he was plunged into darkness.

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