Prologue: Mireille

Previously: La Vicomtesse

 

"The Barony of Westervale: Explore a richly imagined medieval kingdom. Forge alliances. Build your legacy. Find adventure—or romance."

 

"Hell no."

 

Almost a thousand years after the first computer role-playing game launched, people were still fascinated with medieval Europe, which she never understood. It was even less tempting with these next-gen simulation chambers. The programmers always took things too far. The roads would be too muddy, the air always too cold. And the smell... for some reason, gamers obsessively insisted that the programmers replicate actual smells, like horse manure or unwashed bodies.

 

Absolutely no medieval slop, she told herself, scrolling through the touchpad next to the door.

"Interstellar Diplomacy," the computer gleefully suggested, in a syrupy sweet feminine voice. "Learn to navigate intergalactic politics. Establish trade routes. Initiate contact with alien cultures. Find—"

 

"No. Hell no." It was basically the same simulation they used at the Academy. The only difference was that some weirdo threw in a bunch of scantily clad green women with oversized bosoms.

 

Total snoozefest, she scowled. 

 

"Post-apocalyptic survival—"

 

"Absolutely the fuck not."

 

"May I suggest a murder mystery?"

 

She shook her head. Murder mysteries required too much concentration, and they always took place in a single building.

"Epic high fantasy: forty-seven hours of introductory lore, including dragons, elves, dwarves—"

"General medieval slop it is," she grumbled.

"Of course," the computer replied cheerfully. The double doors slid open.

 

She stepped through them, muttering through clenched teeth, "Let's be clear: I'm on holiday with the boring cousins, and I have a lot of time to kill. That said, I don't want to spend my days crawling through dungeons, battling the undead, or whatever other nonsense you've got lined up."

 

"Understood."

 

In its resting state, the chamber was white, with glowing grid lights running through it.  The gamer paused, taking a deep breath.

 

"I want a pause bracelet on my left wrist."

 

"Understood."

 

A bracelet appeared, but instead of the usual brightly colored metallic device, it was gold, ornate, set with a large red stone.

 

"I want all cheat codes enabled," she demanded. "I don't want to worry about money, or danger, or having to sit through something boring."

 

"The codes have limits," the computer warned. "You cannot romance characters who are attached or force them to love you, per—"

 

"—Section 12AB of the Holographic Addiction Safeguard Guidelines." She rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. Now, tell me about this world I'm walking into."

 

"The Kingdom in of Avenholt is inspired by Ancient England, a long-dead civilization from Terra Prime. The primary setting is the barony of Westervale."

 

"Can I at least travel throughout Avenholt or am I stuck in Westervale?"

 

"This is an open-world game," the computer assured her. "You can travel through neighboring kingdoms as well."

 

"I don't want to be some lowly peasant scraping my way to the top," she growled. "Make my character someone who's already established."

 

"Understood. You will take the role of the Vicomtesse Mireille du Maurier."

 

She almost smiled. "Viscountess. I like the sound of that. Am I rich?"

 

"Yes. By local standards, you are extremely wealthy. You are a foreign noblewoman from the neighboring Kingdom of Valeronne. You have recently purchased Roseward Manor in the town of Ravensbridge. You have twenty thousand gold crowns deposited at the Bank of Westervale in Ravensbridge. Roseward Manor and its associated lands are valued at approximately ten thousand crowns and provide an annual income of five hundred crowns. You are also free to invest in local businesses, such as the tavern, the fishery, the bakery, the butcher shop—"

 

"That sounds like poverty," she said bluntly. "Raise my net worth to a million crowns. And give the characters the ability to bill my bank directly. I know better than to carry gold around in these games."

 

There was a brief pause. "Understood."

 

 "Why did I leave Valeronne?" she suddenly wondered aloud.

 

"Your father, the Vicomte Armand du Maurier, died without putting his affairs in order. This left you, your stepmother Isabeau, and your male cousin Thibault to argue over the inheritance. Instead of waiting for the courts to decide, you emptied his accounts and fled the country."

 

The gamer laughed aloud. "I like this girl. That's totally something I would do."

 

"You will be assigned an Avenish lady's maid, Edith, to act as your guide. You can ask her questions about other characters or Avenholt in general."

 

"Perfect," she said, nodding. "Better than asking you questions every five seconds. Initiate program." 

 

The room darkened to pitch black as the program loaded. Light slowly bloomed. The temperature dropped. She could smell wood, old walls, and feel the gentle warmth of sunlight. The simulation settled around her in a room of roses: roses in vases, roses climbing around the windows, rose tapestries on the walls, and rose-patterned rugs beneath her feet.

 

She looked down herself. Her clothes had changed; she now wore a flowing wine-colored gown embroidered in roses.

 

"Lady of Roseward Manor indeed," she murmured. Then she sighed. "Westervale. Ravensbridge. Avenholt. Let's get this shit show started."

 

Next: Roseward Manor