The Inside Man

  Oh me, oh my. That was an unexpected turn of events, and could that explain why I hadn't heard from my dear friend Fayd in so long, could he be dead? Well. Whether they succeeded or failed didn't really matter to me, I just wanted to feel something other than boredom and despair again. Back to the drawing board; the stimulation I had sought was denied to me again, alas. It would have been an interesting thing to watch as it unfolded, surely. Now what do I do? Wait for instructions, I supposed, Fayd had told me to stand by after all. And there I was, standing by, outside on one of the balconies, reclining against a tall white table. Ivy vines ran up the walls, and the stars shone brightly - but I still couldn't perceive their luster.

  Still living in a world of grey, devoid of laughter. I sighed. After those two adventurers danced together I'd been, well, watching dispassionately; I got nothing from it, too depressed as per usual. Oh sure, that was a fine display, thinking objectively, but, for something like that to move me? I am too much of a weak man, a failure, for I can not escape this prison of my own device. Yes, there I had been, drinking and eating to mask the pain, watching a pair of presumed lovebirds prance about on the floor.

  Then it happened. Her majesty called them up to the stage and started another of her banal little speeches, oh yes, yes, thank you for coming and - oh? Well this interested me a little, though it did naught to ease my malaise…these were the two adventurers I'd heard so much about but of whom I knew so little. Yes. I had left a message for Fayd about them, but I had no details to give apart from how many they numbered.

  Then came the shocking truth, that charming elf maiden was the fourth princess, alive and well, and looking none the worse for wear! As for the man she stood next to, oh who cares? None of this matters, in the end, what's the point? Huh? What's this? That very same man I'd just been thinking of had just sauntered over - talk about speaking of the short-devil.

  "Heyyyy," he said, oh great, he's quite tipsy, then again so was I, "I've been looking for you!"

  "Have you now?" I said, incredulously.

  "Yep, I figured we'd chat a bit, get to know each other, basic male buddy bonding shit."

  What was he playing at? No one wanted to bond with me, nobody cares or understands, but I had to keep the mask on. Yes, I've always been good at pretending, "very well," I said, "what did you have in mind?"

  The stranger, no, wait, he'd given his name and I'd been so flustered I'd forgotten, Victor, reached into his coat pocket and brought out a glass bottle; thanks to the comprehension potions we'd received I understood the big number on the label to be eighteen.

  "Only one of these in the world, you see. It's called Scotch - aged eighteen years in an oak barrel. Shall we?"

  I shrugged. He brought out two glasses and poured a finger of the liquor into each, handed me one, sat upon one of the stools by the tall table, and began to sip.

  "Quite a night, ain't it?" he said.

  "Hmm" came my curt reply. Well the drink seemed to be of high quality, but, well as usual, the joy escaped me.

  "Yeah nights like this don't come often. There was that time in Cancun playing counter-strike with my army pals, that crazy party at the frat, there was that one new years eve with the Lopez twins, my high school prom, and then there was the night I first came here to this world - that night," he wagged his finger pointedly, "that night blew all of those other nights away." He shook his head, laughing.

  This world, what was he on about, I wondered. Then he sighed.

  "Damn shame. Just had to be you, didn't it."

  "I am afraid I don't follow." I really didn't, not yet, oh but it gets better.

  He stood up, and started prancing around, gesticulating and spinning, as though dancing to the tune of his own turmoil "Outta all them stuffy officials, out of all them sticks in the mud, and ass-kissers, and debutantes, and simps, folks lookin' out for themselves, all them suitors for the birthday girl, and even out of all the ones I actually liked, the people who were actual good guys that I'd kinda hoped it wasn't, you were the one who I wanted it to be the absolute least. Yeah. That's right. You are the only one that I was actively praying in my heart of hearts wasn't the snake in the grass."

  My heart sank lower, huh, didn't think that was possible. Impossible, did he suspect that I - he sat back down and then confirmed it.

  "You're the guy that leaked the Queen's route, ain't ya. Which is a damn shame. I really didn't want the culprit to be you. Because I liked you, and damn, this really eats at me. You made me laugh, you know - your routine was hilarious."

  What's what? Oh! Did I forget to introduce myself the first time we had a little fireside chat? Where ever are my manners. Greetings, I am Malcolm Kavian, a sad clown weary of this dull, depressing world. Sole surviving member of House Kavian, poet, actor, playwright, and court jester. But, yes, he had guessed correctly, surely, however…self preservation dictates one not give up so easily!

  I grinned, palms up, arms spread, one eyebrow raised, "and what pray tell made you come to that conclusion, old boy?"

  "Remember when the princess announced herself on stage? You gave yourself away when you made that face. That's when I knew you were our unknown subject, Mal. Why do you reckon I went to so much trouble to get the entire party enraptured by us?"

  I must have looked horrified, "this was a trap? And I…I helped create it too. That would almost be funny," I groaned, "if were I still…" I wanted to say "capable of laughing", the words wouldn't come, but then Victor surprised me again:

  "I know. You ain't been happy in a real long time, have you?"

  Hmm? How did he know?

  He continued. "You're a funny guy, and I meant it when I said that."

  "Truly?"

  "There it is again," he pointed at me, and bobbed his hand up and down in what they call the beat gesture as he spoke. "That's it. That look. You don't believe people when they laugh at your jokes because you yourself have forgotten what it means to feel laughter."

  I couldn't deny it. I did a brief spin and gave a bow. "Well, you have the right of it, indeed I find the idea that anyone would actually find me entertaining to be quite hard to believe. Thank you for the compliment, old boy, but please, why prattle on about such things?"

  "Sorry, I was going somewhere with this, trust me," he sighed, "I'm guessin…that ain't nobody ever asked you how you were feeling."

  Well yes nobody cared enough about me to check in on me, but that is my failing, not theirs.

  "You probably think that nobody's thinkin' of ya, or maybe that you're a burden or that it's somehow your own damn fault. But really, and you might not realize this, but, those folks assume that you're happy, because you make them happy. Sometimes it's the funniest people alive whose feelins' you really gotta watch out for. Yeah. To be, or not to be."

  He took another deep breath, and, what was this? Were his eyes tearing up? This tall, strong, square jawed man who had massacred a battalion of men, was on the verge of tears? Yet he forged ahead, that stoic expression hardened even as he spoke softly, thoughtfully.

  "There was a really funny guy back in my old world. A comical actor. Best there ever was. Over the years he'd made millions of people laugh…Then one day, he went and took his own life. Fucked us all up in the head when it happened. We were all thinkin' the same fucking thing: what if someone had bothered to check up on him and really press his ass on the issue? What if things had been different? Everyone just reckoned he was the happiest man alive the way he carried on, and holy mother of a fuck were we wrong and he was gone just like that."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  He paused, "which is to say…I get it. I understand why you did what you did. You wanted to feel alive again. Depression's a cocksuckin' bitch and despair is her sweaty-pirate-hooker sister. Some mull over whether tis nobler to suffer, or to end it, and never go through with it because they fear whatever's in the undiscovered goddamn country, the native hue of resolution sicklied over, and yet there are some who just fuckin' take it, they throw the fucking pale cast of thought out the window and they make their own damn quietus with a bare fuckin' bodkin leavin' the rest of us to wonder if we could have made them drop the fuckin' thing. That's why," he swallowed. "that's why I…I understand you. I understand what you're going through."

  Once that display was over, he returned to his cool and casual demeanor before draining the rest of his glass. This had never happened before - someone understood me. I couldn't make heads or tails of my feelings right now. Well. This sensation was something other than despair so I didn't mind too much. Yet there it was again, and I sank back into sadness, as I realized that the jig, as they say, was up. I sighed, defeated.

  "Well, old boy, you have me dead to rights I'm afraid. Yes, I am the fool who let a bit of information slip into just the right hands. The sad clown who defied queen and country for a laugh! Yes. Guilty of treason and all that. Enquiring minds wish to know: what happens next?"

  "Her majesty has deputized me to affect an arrest," he said. "If you come quietly you'll receive a fair trial."

  "Ha, fair trial. Surely I'm for the noose. Well, I suppose my friends at the order are all dead, their plans in tatters, but I am curious: precisely what happened with the princess?"

  Victor clicked his tongue. "Friends my ass. As for the princess, I rescued her."

  "I had guessed as much," I leaned in and presented my hands enquiringly as one does when begging for details, one eye bugging out more than the other, "but how?"

  "Well remember when I said I was summoned here from another world" No, the word summon never - oh nevermind, continue, "At the time I was driving a Cadillac deVille; a four-thousand pound hunk of iron capable of speeds of over one hundred and twenty miles per hour. When I came out of the portal, I landed right on top of the assassins," he made a splat motion with his hands, "flattened 'em just like that, iron-ic ain't it"

  That description. The way he'd said it. The sheer irony of it all, and yes, that particular pun translated quite well between our respective languages. That, now that was doing something. Why were my abdominal muscles contracting all of a sudden, and why were my lungs involuntarily spasming, air shooting out in quick bursts, and why were there tears in my eyes? What an odd sensation, entirely unfamiliar; like an old wound reopening, but in reverse. No - this is impossible! It beggars belief but, could I…could I possibly be…laughing? Laughing for real? As in, not faking it, not putting a mask, not disingenuously, but actually laughing uncontrollably in earnest as an involuntary reaction?

  Gods above, this sensation, how sorely I had missed it, words can not describe the jubilation I felt in that moment. Before I knew it I was laughing maniacally, like a dam bursting, like a man who had just made love following forty days without release, a river of hearty guffaws was streaming through my throat and past my teeth, into the night sky. Dare I say, that I was on the verge of thrashing to-and-fro upon the ground until my very backside abandoned me entirely?

  "Sorry," I said, wiping away the first tears of joy that I'd experienced in more than a decade, "I fear it has been a long time since I laughed like that, genuinely, at the very least."

  "I had an inkling that was the case, which is why I wanted to talk first. I got the sense you weren't motivated by malice, but rather, depression - and something sinister besides."

  "Oh? Sinister besides?"

  He nodded, "I reckon those cult guys did a number on you. Tell me, have you always been excited by the idea of destroying a civilization."

  Hmm. I really had to put my brain to the grindstone. Surely I'd felt that way for a long time. But now that I pondered it, wait, no. I wasn't always like that. "I didn't feel excited by it per se. More like…the idea had come to me that perhaps it might allow me to feel excitement later down the line. The man who recruited me into the order, after I started talking to him, that's when I began to consider it. You brought this despair on yourself, he'd said, and it made sense to me - of course it was my fault."

  I still believed it of course.

  Victor snapped his fingers. "Gaslighters. Classic cult behavior - that's how they get you. Bastards like that are always preying upon the emotionally vulnerable."

  "Gas what? I am afraid I don't understand…idiom?"

  "Idiom and movie reference, technically."

  "Well. I'd ask for more details about that, especially about what the short and/or long devil a movie is, but it's my curtain call isn't it? The final act? Exeunt? The queen surely hates me now, if she didn't already."

  "Are ya kiddin' me, pilgrim?" he barked. "Her majesty was crazy about cha. She was askin me how it coulda been ya!"

  "You jest."

  "No, that's your job, remember?"

  A man after my own heart, I see, "HA! I walked right into that one, but please go ahead and elucidate, old boy. I'm a monster - I betrayed queen and country! I am a venomous vermicious viper! A beast lurking in the shadows! A demon beyond redemption!"

  That is when Victor brought something out of his trousers pocket. Ah, that was the selfsame device he had brought out for the ball; where does he get all these delightful toys anyway? There was a picture, no, it was moving, so I suppose one could almost call it a "motion picture". There was Victor, and her majesty, what sort of viewing angle was this, I didn't understand? Ah, wait, a piece of dress appeared in frame, green; could that have belonged to-

  "Sorry," he said, "I had the princess record in secret so it ain't the best picture possible.."

  The strange illusion-but-not-illusion went as follows:

  "Malky-Walky? No…why? But…but I care for him so dearly," was the queen…crying? "Always so honest, and funny, and…"

  "I'm…I'm afraid so your majesty. Outta everyone he was the only one who was surprised that Princess Illiana was alive, and ain't no-one else got any business thinkin' she was otherwise but the inside man."

  There was a pause. The queen said, "I wish he had talked to me more. If he was sad I'd have comforted him, I thought we were friends and could trust one another."

  "It ain't always that easy, your majesty."

  The queen seemed pensive, "I..I'll go talk to him."

  "In your state? Nah, I'll go if you'll let me. I've been thinkin' about this a lot and…well, I've got some extra knowledge that most folk here don't have access to…"

  She nodded, "very well. I…hereby deputize you to…apprehend Malky-Walky but p-please be gentle."

  The motion picture ended, and Victor said, "can you really say with a straight face that you'd wanna see that lady dead? Would ya really have been happy about that?"

  No. I started to cry. Real tears. This…I didn't want any of this. When I really thought about it, no, I didn't want the queen to die. W-what have I done?

  "Yeah, didn't think so. You ain't as monstrous as you reckon, I think. I also don't think those guys wanted you to feel better either. Reckon you figured you'd feel something resembling joy upon their plans comin' to pass but, I bet you'd still feel despair regardless and then those sons of bitches mighta' rubbed it in your face too."

  "You may be right, and, yes I'd not considered that, true" I said, my makeup likely running, "Still…I have transgressed and must face the music. I shall, as you say, come quietly."

  Victor nodded, "good. I'd hate to have killed you."

  I smiled, "well despite everything, I think that I should be rather annoyed were I to die! But you don't appear armed at all, old boy, what were you going to do if I fought back?"

  Victor pulled back his coat, he had a leather belt hidden underneath it, the hilt of a - small version of a thunderbuster?

  "I'm an American. I'm always armed," he was smiling with pride.

  "In that case," I put on my usual veneer, the mask I wore at performance, "in that case, while we're on our way to the queen's dungeon, why don't I tell you everything you need to know about them, about the cabal I joined."

  "I take it you know things I don't, being a member."

  "Ohhh yes yes indeed, oh they are far more diabolical than you imagine old boy-"

  Diabolical in the most literal sense of the word, actually. As we walked towards my judgment, I divulged all that I knew including the name of my bene - no - my malefactor, and the name of the cabal I'd been enjoined to.

  The Black Order.