Dream Drive Ch. 08

Another person appeared alongside him at the same time, lying on the floor - a woman. Her face was obscured by a heavy woolen shawl. Bits of frayed brown hair poked out from under it.

Charles took the helmet off his head. He gave her a tired but pleasant smirk. "Miss me?"

Mivra had been less afraid that he wouldn't return at all, and more afraid that he'd return to her changed. Different. Beyond her reach, part of a realm she could not access. But with a half-smile and a wink, he eased the tension inside her in an instant.

Mivra considered analyzing the streams of numbers creating that sense of relief, but decided that, for the time being, she'd simply let it be.

The woman on the floor sat up and lowered the shawl. "Charles?"

The girl's eyes looked at him, and then at Mivra. Mivra stared back. While she was a mess of sweat, runny makeup, and exhaustion, there was no denying her sharp and regal beauty.

Mivra's relief twisted at the end with some other ugly outputs that she had not previously characterized.

"The company has not yet imploded from your father's mismanagement," Mivra stated. "I see we have a guest."

"Mivra," Charles said, "this is Her Imperial Highness, Princess Ellesmere Kalgradis of the Four Kingdoms. Princess, this is Mivra, my secretary and ever-faithful assistant. You'll be working directly under her."

Ellesmere picked herself up. She looked Mivra up and down with curious gaze. Her voice was soft. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Mivra looked back at Charles. "I do not need the assistance of this."

Charles seemed surprised. Ellesmere drew back for a moment, then set herself with a haughty look. "I shall respect your authority, Mivra, as I believe I can trust Charles's judgement in matters of leadership. However, you will refer to me by my title, and my title alone, as is proper given due consideration to my status."

Mivra stared at Charles, waiting for him to make some attempt to explain away the obvious evidence of incompetence that had come pouring from the arrogant little girl's mouth.

"Now, Mivra," Charles said. He stood and walked over to her. "I want you to play nice. Ellesmere may clash with Earth a bit. You'll be her bridge over troubled waters."

"I'm still working on my humanity," Mivra said, lowering her voice. "I am uncomfortable with this responsibility."

"Well, it's yours, so get used to it."

"The interactions will burn up valuable processing power that would be better served elsewhere."

Charles put a hand on her shoulder. "I need you for this."

Mivra looked at Ellesmere. Ellesmere had her arms folded; she was squinting. Mivra cycled through a selection of various expressions and decided on one which made her lips thin and her eyes narrow. "Understood," Mivra said.

Charles smiled bright enough to light the room. "Wonderful."

In an instant, Mivra was all business. Her expression fell back to neutral. "Your Imperial Highness, I apologize if I offended. Charles has placed you under my care. I shall do my best to live up to his expectations."

Ellesmere frowned a moment, then looked at her clothing, lifting part of her torn dress. "I admit I don't look...imperial, at the moment. And it was rather sudden." She gave Charles a look. "Consider it water under my troubled bridge."

"Culture clash is a serious topic when you're doing business," Charles said to Ellesmere. "Mivra's a little stiff. Loosen her up for me."

"Stiff?" Mivra said. "I'll remember that the next time you want me to be flexible."

"Am I in hot water?"

"And over the bridge," Mivra said.

Charles disliked being backed into a corner when bantering with her, so he used his usual tactic of changing the subject. "I've come up with an excellent way to control Isis," he said, "but we need two things."

"What would those be?"

"We need access to a location of concentrated magical knowledge inside Isis which is guarded by a fireball-slinging priesthood. And then, we need to find Emil Mohammed."

"Wait," Ellesmere said. "You're talking about the keep, aren't you?"

"Precisely," Charles said.

"They won't let you in the keep," Ellesmere said. "Only priests and scholars sanctioned by -"

"Then we'll force the doors open and be done with it."

"You can't assault the Keep of the Vuldstadt," Ellesmere said. "It's manned by magicians!"

"I've killed three magicians by myself," Charles said.

"They're powerful enough to handpick the imperial line!"

"I'm powerful enough to purchase small countries outright."

"Charles," Ellesmere said, "they have a mandate from God."

"I have a more important mandate," Charles said. "The mandate of mankind. God can wait until I extract the human race from the pile of shit He abandoned us in."

Ellesmere slowly shook her head. "You're worse than I thought. I'll have to pray twice as hard."

Ellesmere waited for a moment.

"Er, that was a joke."

Charles and Mivra exchanged a look.

Ellesmere cleared her throat. "The point I'd like to make to you," she said, "is twofold. First, you shouldn't blaspheme to make yourself..." She twirled a hand. "...look tough."

"Look tough," Charles said. "I didn't realize that's what I was going for."

"Second," Ellesmere said, more loudly, "the magicians of the Vuldstadt would destroy you. They are the power that holds the empire together."

"Then I'll be sure to bring in the big guns. Anyway, it's not like I'm going to do it in the next five seconds, is it?" Charles looked back at Mivra. "You were saying?"

"Mr. Miller has Julia Fredrick awake and is attempting to acquire Mohammed's last known location as we speak," Mivra said.

"Wonderful."

"I have a theory regarding his motivations."

"Let's hear it," Charles said.

"I believe Mohammed considers Isis a negative thing," Mivra said. "His randomized selection was not for some hidden goal, but rather styled after the selective service; people drafted into an army. Random chance was the fairest method he knew. It would appeal to a man with a background in software."

"An army," Charles said. His smile faded somewhat as he considered the idea. Mivra knew that Charles would fly down the same mental pathway she had earlier. That was why she liked him.

She made a smile as she watched him think. She liked Charles. Such a simple thing to vocalize; such a difficult thing to realize, in both senses of the word.

Her expression returned to a mechanical neutral. How did he see her? As a tool? As an outlet for sexual pleasure?

Charles was capable of feeling. He felt for his sister. But did he feel for her? Would he bother investing himself while she was in this strange limbo, caught in the human development cycle of an artificial being?

If she were him, she would not. It would be inefficient. And they were both quite good at that sort of thing.

But then, the whole nuance of interpersonal relationships could be labeled inefficient. And here she was, wasting energy computing the solution to problems for which she could not construct accurate mathematical models.

"I can see it," Charles said, looking up. "But what will this army be fighting?"

"That," Mivra said, "is my new question."

"I like the idea," Charles said, "but there's a problem."

"Yes?"

"If he picked all the beta testers by chance," Charles said, "because he knew he was cursing people, then why did he hold that tournament my sister and Jackson competed in? That doesn't fit in with your narrative."

"He had to keep what Isis really was hidden," Mivra said. "The tournament lends a certain authenticity to the beta release of the game. Builds excitement - ensures that more than 5,000 people sign up for the lottery."

Charles squinted. "This is the most hyped game release in a decade. He was guaranteed millions of people signing up for a chance to test it. I guess the clandestine angle is important, but it still seems off."

"I will factor that observation into my methodology going forward," Mivra said.

"Um." Charles and Mivra looked over. Ellesmere had pinched part of her dress up in her fingers. "I'm afraid I'm getting a little lost in all this."

"Mivra, get her up to speed. And one more thing."

Charles tossed something at her; Mivra caught it. It was a black box, perfectly cubical. It was so totally absorbent of light that Mivra couldn't detect the edges without turning it in her hands. "What is this?"

"A source of magic," Charles said. "Quiz our imperial friend about it and everything she knows about the magicians. Get a report ready for me." He made for the door, his prosthetic thumping in a slight limp. "I'm going to see Miller."

"Dressed like that?" Mivra asked.

Charles glanced at himself, then sighed. "A new suit, and then Miller." The door slid open as he approached. Charles rubbed his wrists. "And where're my Ftaps?"

"Two doors down on the left, with your tablet."

"Thanks." He frowned a bit, hesitating, one hand on the door frame. "Actually, I'll be in Prosthetics for a bit if you need me. I thought it was the weather, but my leg still feels stiff." He flashed Mivra one more smile. "By the way, if it wasn't for Ellesmere, I wouldn't be standing here now. So give her a little respect." The door slid shut behind him.

Ellesmere moved around the table. "So," she said, "how are we going to help Charles find God again? He is an emperor, so I respect his will to do what he feels he must, but that side of him is truly worrisome."

"We?" Mivra asked.

"Don't tell me everyone here is some kind of godless barbarian," Ellesmere said.

"God did not make me," Mivra said. "My loyalty to such an existence is limited at best."

Ellesmere's face was softened by a warm smile. "He made everyone, Mivra. And everything. Perhaps we should get to know one another, first, before we have that talk? I'm actually..." Ellesmere yawned. "...rather tired, apparently. Excuse me."

Mivra analyzed Ellesmere's measurements and sent in an electronic order for rapid delivery of more business-appropriate attire. She marked one of the Ransfeld Tower guest penthouses as booked indefinitely, sending a letter of apology to three people that had been scheduled to stay there over the next two weeks and arranging them alternative accommodations in a nearby four-star hotel. Mivra's eyes refocused on Ellesmere, taking in the signs of physical fatigue. After a momentary debate on whether Ellesmere would take coffee or tea, Mivra consulted the internet and found that tea was quite widespread and tolerated across various cultures long before coffee. She wirelessly instructed the kitchen appliances in the penthouse to begin preparing several brews.

Mivra accomplished these tasks 0.14 seconds. Things were so much easier when they didn't involve interacting with people.

"I understand, at least, that Charles has much to occupy himself with," Ellesmere said, "but a cup of tea would be divine."

"Already taken care of," Mivra said. "I noticed, your Imperial Highness, that Charles does not use your title."

Ellesmere planted her hands on her hips. "Well, he's supposed to. But he just...doesn't. Titles show respect, and he is a man of fluctuating tolerance for authority."

"He doesn't like titles," Mivra said.

"I observed as much," Ellesmere said. "Why is that?"

"Probably because his father does like them," Mivra said. "Follow me. We'll speak someplace more comfortable."

Mivra had no sense of comfort by which to judge, but many guests reported enjoying the penthouse. She half-planned to allow Ellesmere to fall asleep so that she could focus on other tasks, but that would be avoiding Charles's orders.

Charles needed her.

****

Thank you for reading. Comments and criticism are always appreciated.

This chapter was a tad shorter than my average, but I expect Chapter 09 to be out before the end of March. That's the tradeoff!

The first story arc of Dream Drive will likely conclude with Chapter 10, and then I'll be turning my attention to other projects.