out, so be it.)
Don: So a long time ago—what?
(Matt has cleared his throat.)
Matt: There’s some argument that Realms is set in the far future—
Lisa [hastily]: Who exactly is Brennan?
Me: Your basic RPG hero, handsome, muscular. Younger son of the House of Aerion, which was defeated in the Fool’s Gold War. That’s where we start. So…
Don: The House of Aerion’s in danger?
Me: It already got its ass kicked.
Matt: Leira’s in danger?
Lisa: It’s out of character. Plus enough with the princess thing. Prendar’s in danger?
Me: I think that would be weird.
Lisa: I don’t really know why I’m here. I don’t really do fantasy.
Don: Woman’s perspective.
Me: Brennan’s just starting out in this one; he doesn’t know these guys yet. He’s just left home.
Don: So Brennan’s an exile, he wants to get his throne back. He wants to go home, right? So what’s stopping him?
Me: Uh, accused of a crime he never committed? Every man’s hand is against him, he must clear his name with the help of his friends, find the crown, and set the kingdom to rights.
Don: [Nods. What more need be said?] So where does the crown end up being?
Lisa: “Crown of the North.”
Matt: The end of the Third Age is when Soroth the ice dragon descends from the Pole and brings winter to the Perrenwood and the Tomb opens.
Don: Wasn’t Soroth dead?
Matt: Well, in the War of All Souls he flies to the Lich King’s aid in battle. He was driven off, but no one says if he died. In fact, he’s glimpsed by Leira Prime about two hundred years later in the skies, heralding the end of the age.
Don: Leira Prime is…
Matt: In some versions of history Leira gets to the end of the Third Age but goes back in time to marry Prendar and has their son, who later becomes the Lich King, following the corruption of the Circle of Seven per Second Age prophecy…
(Omitted due to period of inattention spent staring at Fallout poster… if only the bombs would fall…)
… which is why Lorac turns dark in the first place.
(Pause)
Lisa: But—last question—what exactly is the crown? Like, what are its powers? Why do they want it so much, anyway?
Matt: To start with, I think a substantial to-hit and damage bonus.
Don: Okay, well, what we have is, Brennan’s exiled, looking for this crown, meets his friends, they go up against the ice dragon. Working title?
Matt: Realms of Gold: Dark Lorac.
Lisa: Realms of Gold: Ice Dragon.
Matt: Soroth Strikes.
Lisa: Dragon of Ice.
Don: There’s a winter theme.
Gabby: He’s, like, ending the winter.
Matt: Winter’s End.
Lisa: Not-winter-anymore. Or maybe just “Spring.”
Don: Let’s think about the goal here.
Me: King of the North.
Matt: Crown of the North.
Me: Arctic Ascension.
Lisa: Behold the Northcrown.
Matt: Crown of Ice.
Lisa: Seek Ye the Northcrown.
Don: We get it.
Matt: Crown of Frost!
Lisa: Crown of Winter!
Me: Winter’s Crown!
Fin.
Chapter Eighteen
Sometimes I’d get to the end of work and realize I just didn’t feel like going home. There were people at Black Arts, and snack food, and infinite soda, and a lounge stocked with games.
When Lisa walked by, the Heroes from Across Time were hurtling over a rocky chasm and through a tunnel, jostling for the lead in 100-cc engine-powered go-karts.
I called after her, “Hey. You know, you could play an actual video game sometime.”
She sighed audibly, but stopped, and I already regretted having spoken. “Okay, so what’s happening in this one?”
“Wellll, this is Black Karts Racing. So plainly, I am Lorac, and today I am racing against my friends.”
“Uh-huh. Where did you guys get those go-karts? Did you invent internal combustion?”
“Found ’em. And I’m crossing this bridge,” I said. “Aaaand… now I am dead.”
“And now you’re alive again,” she said.
“Right. So now I’m jumping over the lake of fire. And now I’m on fire. But I’m jumping in the water, and I’m not on fire anymore.”
“Nope.” She sighed, but she didn’t leave. With the audio off, the only sound was the creaking and clacking of the controller itself. “Why is there another Lorac up ahead?”
“That’s Lorac from the future. Space-Lorac.”
“And the Lorac you just passed?”
“That’s Dark Lorac, my evil self. And now I’m being eaten by piranhas. Aaaand I’m dead again. Not really, but I lose ten seconds.”
“I can see why this is so meaningful to you.”
“Check this out,” I said. I veered through what looked like a vine-covered rock wall and through a portal into a sparkly, purple-and-white abstract space, a bonus area, until another wormhole spat me out again at the head of the pack. “I am so getting the Paris 1938