Sworded Affair

"Legendary weapons from another age? Yeah, I could see that being enough to take such risks. Any idea who it might be?"

"Not a clue," Noah shrugged. "I've only ever met a handful of my extended family, and if it were that easy to learn who hates my guts, they wouldn't have made it this far."

"Fair point," Emma grimaced. "So what's the play here?"

"I'm not sure we have one. We know that someone is out to get me, but it's really hard to prove a negative; even finding all the suspects would be difficult, let alone getting the right one. But at least, we now know they exist, so maybe next time they try something, we can catch them in the attempt?"

"Actually, hold on," Emma raised a hand, her attention diverted to her status page, one line of it in particular.

[Rorschach's Blot: Attempts to observe you remotely produce nonsensical images to those bearing ill-intent. You will be alerted when observation commences.]

"I get a notification when someone bad is watching me, and nothing triggered when I dealt with the booby-trapped package. It's not infallible, but chances are nobody was directly monitoring the drop-off, so they won't know that I disabled the trap."

"So we pretend it worked," Noah caught on quickly. "I hide away from sight until the main event, and wait for whoever wants to press a claim against my inheritance to show themselves."

"It might not be the mastermind behind the plot, but at the very least it'll be their minion, and we'll be on to them. The only downside is that you can't be seen on the festival grounds until the weekend, so if you had anything already scheduled..."

"Nothing important," Noah shook his head. "Although, if this does work as planned then I still need to be available to rebut any claims on my property. Can you smuggle me into the meeting from outside if it comes down to it?"

[Eternal Wind will take care of that.]

"Sounds like a plan," Emma grinned.

"Works for me. Although, if I'm basically housebound for the next few days, I might as well spend it at my actual home."

Before Emma could respond, Noah began to glow a bright blue, before vanishing in what she recognised as the Return ability. His departure verged on indecent haste, solidifying Emma's impression that Noah had never been that enthused with the Solstice in the first place, and had taken the first opportunity to duck out.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

[He's always been more focused on his work than anything social. It can be helpful, case in point, but I can't help but feel that this entire situation is partly the result of such insular behaviour. Oh well, he can go keep Saint company I suppose.]

Uninterested in a deep dive of her Dad's psychological profile, Emma decided to head back outside and do a few more patrols around the tent. A vigilant posture would help sell the idea that Noah had been caught in the time trap, and maybe something interesting might come of it as well.

---

In the end, the only thing of note that happened in the next few hours, was a single concerned servant pausing in his duties for long enough to ask if Emma was well. Clearly, her constant circles around the tent had made her look confused, a sentiment likely shared by many, even if only one dared to broach the subject.

[100 Thrones withdrawn.]

His concern, while misplaced was appreciated, something Emma made clear to him with a sizable tip before sending him on his way. That amusing interlude aside, night was falling, and it was time to select the evening festivities. Experience more content on My Virtual Library Empire

[I Am My Scars: Take turns carving each other up with ceremonial fencing swords. No blocking or dodging allowed, last man standing wins. Healthcare not included.

Invitation accepted.]

Having found nothing else to distract her, Emma eventually accepted the best of three options. As soon as she chose yes, her mini-map popped up, a bright red arrow leading towards the venue.

"That wasn't a thing last night," Emma noted, having relied upon Edith to get to the Fight Club.

[There were a few complaints of people getting lost and missing the entry cut-off, not just for your event but in general. The event organisers have taken this into account and adapted accordingly.]

"Well, I'm not going to complain. Actually, I'm curious now; what do these invitations even look like for people without the System?"

[The method varies from person to person. Magical parchment is a popular choice for traditionalists, whilst mirrors also have considerable favour among certain circles. There were even a minority of progressives who mimicked the System with apps, though that method has suffered a very recent decline, as their smartphones generally weren't spared by the Terminus. All of them are sufficiently versatile to incorporate basic functionality like text, images and maps, among others.]

"Mimicked the System, huh. And here I thought Apple did it first."

[Well, that's a tricky question to answer. I created the System by borrowing ideas from the future through precognition. These then went on to inspire different interfaces in the past, eventually reproducing them in the future for me to borrow. The best time loop is a closed one, in the end.]

"Right," Emma shook her head. "Does time travel ever stop causing headaches to think about?"

[Only if you're doing it wrong.]

On that inspiring note, Emma arrived at the night's venue. It was still a tent like any other, but this time a welcome mat had been put out, displaying two swords clashing. It wasn't actually part of the tent itself, which she figured was a loophole to get around the heraldry rules, and was yet another improvement for hapless visitors trying to find their way around. Emma decided that was a sign to look the part, switching to her armoured form as she stepped through the threshold, and immediately bumping into a familiar face inside.

[Princess Astaroth - Level 25 Warlock of the Deep.]