The Talk 3
83 years. That's how much time has passed according to the calendar. I woke up on April 21, 2105, just at the beginning of spring. When I heard that, of course I expected to see some changes in the city. But when I set foot on New York, the place I called home is now one big stranger to me. Everywhere I look, glitter and magic dust hang in the air while the buildings themselves have become a mixture of modern and fantasy. I just hope that the place I'm planning to go to hasn't changed.
"If you would just tell me where you plan to go, I'll probably be able to guide you there Sir Rorschach." Adresin suggests for the third time ever since we left the temple.
In Garden of Days, Elves live for upwards to a thousand or so years. I was curious if it's the case for him but seeing that he's willing to ask the same question multiple times, it's obvious that he has too much time to waste.
"For the third time, man. Just follow me. If my gut is correct, we should be able to get there soon," I say annoyedly.
We make our way through the streets while I take in the new sights. Since a lot has changed, I need to scrap the New York from my memory and memorize this new one. I'm taking mental notes of points of interest, police stations, tourist attractions, businesses, restaurants, and grocery stores. In my observations, I notice that the city has become more colorful. Not just because of the buildings, the races that walk the streets also give this place a diverse splash of color.
"We're here," I announce as we reach our destination.
"You wanted... to visit a cemetery?" Adresin asks in confusion.
That's right. 83 years has passed so if I want to find the people I used to know, this is a good place to start. Little did Adresin know though, this cemetery is unlike any other.
"Security's tight as ever," I comment while eyeing the lion man and the dwarf who menacingly guard the entrance.
Adresin scans the surroundings and says, "This seems to be a privatized cemetery for the upper class. Do you know anyone who might be buried here?"
"Sure do," I reply.
As we approach, the lion man puts up his hand to stop us.
"State your business," he growls.
I furrow my brow.
"Is there anything else you do in a cemetery besides visiting a grave?" I ask sarcastically.
The guard sighs and is obviously annoyed.
"Look, sir, this isn't just an ordinary cemetery," he says. "This is the Von Frederick's. The public is permitted to enter but we still need to screen them since some of the graves have valuables in them. So if you could just tell me who you're here to see, we can verify you and you can get it."
"Well that's annoying..." I groan.
At that moment, Adresin gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Let me handle this," he whispers.
He approaches the two and bows slightly.
"Pardon my master's attitude," he starts. "He's not too familiar with our customs." He then hands them a tiny trinket. "Here's a token of the Lupinus family. I can assure you, if you contact them, they can verify that we're not grave robbers."
The lion man nods to his dwarf partner who then pulls up his phone. After a short while, the dwarf nods back at him.
"You're good," he says. "Rare to see members of the Lupinus family on Von Frederick property. But hey, I'm just a guard so just don't make my job hard and I'll mind my own business."
Adresin bows in thanks and leads me inside.
83 years ago, the Von Fredericks were the leading family in business. They owned everything from restaurants to oil rigs. And of course, true to Von Frederick fashion, this graveyard doesn't disappoint. Pristine cobblestone pathways lead us through the maze of well-architected graves of varying sizes. The size is also nothing to scoff at. You can probably play football in here if you want to. While the fanciness of this graveyard is certainly distracting, one thing does catch my attention.
"The graves... they're not all Von Fredericks," I comment while passing by a grave for Nancy Muller.
"If you told me that we're going to a Von Frederick grave site, I could have explained everything to you before we got here," Adresin chimes in. "I don't know what the Von Fredericks were like during your time, but the current head focuses on the protection of humans. This includes giving humans a proper resting place."
"Only humans?" I ask.
"Only humans," he confirms.
Something must have happened during the time I was gone. Michael isn't the type to ostracize anyone and being the head, his family should follow in his footsteps no?
We walk along the path and greet our fellow visitors. I know that since it's been such a long time, there's a high chance that everyone I used to know has died. Everyone that knew me from before I was trapped... could be gone. I wonder if I'm ready to find out for sure? As I ponder these things, we reach our destination.
"Is this what we're looking for?" Adresin asks.
"Yep," I reply.
In front of us is a well-maintained building in the middle of a beautiful garden. The name Von Frederick is expertly engraved above the door frame to mark the structure as sacred. Wasting no time, we enter through the stained glass doors and my eyes immediately search for a directory.
"This seems to be a columbarium," Adresin mentions while admiring the interior.
"Fancy name for a place to store the ashes of dead people," I jokingly reply.
Conveniently, this place has a list near the entrance.
"Michael, Michael, Michael," I mutter to myself as I scan through the names and the numbers that correspond them.
"Did you find it, sir?" Adresin peeks over my shoulder.
I scratch my head and responds, "Weird... his name's not in here."
As I begin to think of a reason why I can't find his name, the answer appears almost immediately.
"That's because I haven't died yet, you son of a bitch," a voice rings from behind me.
I know that voice. It's old and raspy, but I know who it belongs to.
I turn and meet his gaze. "Michael Von Frederick, you bastard..."
He chuckles softly and says, "83 years you little shit. You were gone for 83 years and you have the gall to return without aging a single damn day."
My friend. My best friend. The years haven't been kind to him. He used to be one of the most good-looking, strongest men I know. But now, I could barely recognize him with all his wrinkles and he looks so weak sitting on that wheelchair of his. Behind him is a young lady with green hair and dragonfly wings who seems to be in charge of pushing him around.
"Hahaha you look like a wrinkled ball sack," I reply.
"Fuck you," he retorts. "Grace, get us out of here. Let's give the dead their quiet."
"Yes, grandfather," she replies and with a snap of her finger, the four of us are transported to a warm, rugged living room.
"Make yourselves at home," Michael says as he wheels himself to a nearby bottle of whiskey.
*Whistle* This is a nice place. Mahogany furniture, a bear rug, a fireplace, and some stuffed animals to boot. I immediately jump on the soft rocking sofa and put my feet up. Meanwhile, Adresin nervously takes a seat on the sofa near the coffee table.
"I know you have tons of questions," Michael starts as he begins to pour alcohol into some glasses. "But I just need to know. Where have you been all this time? After <
The lady offers us the glasses and we take them gladly.
"Oh you wouldn't believe it Michael! I've been trapped in Garden of Days all this time!" I reveal excitedly.
He looks at me curiously.
"Garden of Days? Impossible," he replies.
"But I did!" I insist.
"Nah, can't be. When <
I pause for a bit. If that was the case, then why wasn't I logged out? If that world wasn't Garden of Days, then what was it? Ugh... I have more questions than answers now but at least I know where to go from here.
"Well whatever," I say and down the entire glass. "What matters is that I'm back!"
He smiles.
"That's true, friend," he says and finishes his glass. "Before I forget, I should introduce you. This is my granddaughter, Grace. Grace, this is your Uncle Richard."
She bows politely and greets, "Hello Uncle Richard. I've heard so much about you from grandfather. Thank you for guiding us during the New Cold War."
I raise an eyebrow.
"The New Cold War?" I ask.
"What's that old croon Mammon doing? Seeing that one if his men are escorting you, I thought he already explained everything to you?" Michael complains while looking at Adresin.
Meanwhile, Adresin avoids eye contact with him and silently sips his glass.
"Well whatever," he continues. "You remember the 'Guide to the Garden' you wrote for new players?"
"Yep. A part of my dark history from when I was obsessed with the game," I reply.
It was honestly an embarrassing memory. During that time, I got stood up by a date so I devoted every waking hour to the game. I roleplayed so hard to the point that I legit thought I was the master of all things and even got new players to be my disciples.
"To make a long story short, we Earthlings are not made to use magic. So, how do we protect ourselves from races who can? Through technology of course. Using magic principles and applying them to science, we made science fiction into science fact. That's when my <
"OH!" I exclaim when I realize where he's going. "Mutually assured destruction!"
"That's right," he replies. "Russia and America used nukes to freeze the world while we used your guide to do the same. You might have written it for Garden of Days but the information about each race's strengths and weaknesses also applied to our current neighbors."
"The <
"Of course some wanted to take advantage of it and invade the other races. So I silenced them," Michael adds nonchalantly.
That's so smart! I'm glad that my dark history was used for something. But really? Michael using violence to get things done? Definitely didn't expect that.
"Damn Michael, I didn't know you were that ruthless," I comment.
"By that time, many years have already passed, Richard," he chuckles. "I knew what had to be done for the future of this new world. The lives of a few greedy people is a small price to pay."
Michael Von Frederick. He's always the main character of his own life and I admired him for that. While I was trapped in that hellscape, he protected our race and even prevented a world war.
"Many years may have passed and your methods might have changed, but you're still the same Michael I knew many years ago," I say as I pour myself another drink.
Michael just smiles at me sadly. I guess after everything he's been through, he needed someone who knows him to say that he's still him. At least, that's what I think since I wished that many times.
"Enough about that depressing stuff!" I say to try to shift the mood of the room. "Tell me, Grace is Half Fey correct? And she's your granddaughter? So that means you scored with a Fey?! How the hell did you manage to nab one? They're the trickiest race in all of Garden!"
Michael chuckles.
"Normally," he says. "We fell in love, we married, and then we had a child."
"Bullshit," I reply. "You must've been tricked."
"On the contrary," Grace interjects. "Grandfather tricked grandmother or so I heard."
I stare at Michael proudly. He might be an old man, but he still blushes like a teenager.
"Tricking a Fey, now that's Michael for you," I tease.
"M-maybe at the beginning yes," he defends. "But later on, she did fall in love with me."
Laughter fills the room. Oh how I've missed this. People to talk to and have a drink with. Sharing stories, hopes, and dreams. As I think about these things, a certain grave from another world comes to mind. I wonder how he's doing?
"Ahem," Michael clears his throat. "Enough about embarrassing me, Richard. I need to ask you a serious favor now that you've resurfaced."
"Sure, anything bud," I reply.
"You know that I'm old and I don't have long to live so can I ask you, as my best friend, if you could look after Grace for me?" he says with a sincerity that I haven't heard him use before.
"Excuse me?" I ask as the whiskey dribbles from my mouth.