A Different Sort of Convention

  He’d just been searching for a bathroom.

  That’s all. He just needed a toilet. But the line to the men’s room was long, and so he’d gone searching for another one.

  The strong, cedar door had seemed a little out of place, and it opened into a restaurant that made him do a double take. Then the logical part of his mind told him that the hotel had decorated it in honor of the convention, and he reasoned it away.

  “Bathroom is that way,” the kindly looking man at the bar said. He was cleaning a clean mug patiently, waiting for hist customers to need something. The room was filled with others from the convention, all enjoying the atmosphere, the food, and the drink of this themed restaurant.

  “Thanks,” John said, and he rushed in the indicated direction, relieved to find that there was no line outside the door.

  He did his business and returned, having a seat at the bar. “This place is nice. I didn’t realize that the hotel had gone full in on decorating for the convention. How much did it cost?”

  “Less than you would think,” the bar man said. “What’s your story, lad? I think you’ve got one in you. Have a bite to eat and tell me all about yourself.”

  John looked around, but although the place was packed and he didn’t see any other employees, nobody was clamoring for the bar man’s attention. “Aren’t you busy?”

  “You know, you’re right, I am,” the bar man said. “Sorry, I forget myself sometimes. Have a seat. I’ll get you something to eat and drink, and then you can listen and join in the conversation. I think you’ll find it entertaining. Just don’t leave without paying, you hear me?”

  “Yeah, don’t worry,” John agreed. He had a seat, and he listened.

  It took him a very long time to realize he wasn’t in Georgia anymore.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “My name is Rel-kathor of the Burning Skull,” the green faced man said. John was genuinely impressed with his costume, he’d gone all out. “I am the eighth son of my father and the third son of my mother. I have trained in combat from the day I could walk and my father put a training axe in my hand.

  “And today I found out that I am a coward.”

  Rel took a deep drink from his oversized mug, then belched rudely. He looked at the mug. “This is good ale. I wish I could drown myself in it. Then I would not have to face my father and tell him of my disgrace when facing the arch-magus Timmy. But when I saw the arch-magus conjure a spectral dragon and the dragon begin ripping through the ranks of my army, of which I am but a pathetic foot soldier, I pissed myself and ran.

  “I have been hiding in this inn, telling this story, ever since. I do not know what to do with myself except wallow in shame. But the Innkeeper seems to find my humiliation amusing, since he says that he will evict me when my story no longer pays for my lodging. Until then, I confess my failings once per day. And now I will drown my sorrows and you shall not hear my voice again until tomorrow’s confession.”

  Rel-kathor took another long pull from his drink, his throat muscles working overtime. John thought it was strange, for a second, that the mug had so much drink in it, but he was distracted when the next speaker began to talk.

  ***

  “Hey, if you guys are doing all of your characters, do you mind if I record it?” John asked suddenly.

  The others at the bar looked at him with confusion.

  “Record it?”

  “Yeah,” he said, pulling out his phone. “You guys are phenomenal. Seriously.”

  The orc looked at the mage, who looked at the archer, who looked at the guy who had only a top-knot for hair and was dressed in what looked like eastern monk’s robes.

  “How are you recording it?” the monk asked.

  “Well I’m not yet,” John said. “I wouldn’t do that without permission, you know? But if you don’t mind, I’d love to tag you all and put it on my social media.”

  “Is that your focus?” the mage asked. “May I see it?”

  “Huh? Yeah, sure, just don’t drop it, kay?”

  She took his phone from him, examined it for a minute, then shrugged. “It’s harmless. I don’t know what it is or how it works but I see no danger from it. And if he meant us harm, the Inn would not have allowed him through the door.”

  Rel the orc grunted, and the others likewise signaled their disinterest.

  “Hey what’s your wi-fi?” John called to the bar man.

  “Don’t have one,” the Innkeeper answered.

  John thought it was strange that a modern hotel wouldn’t have wi-fi in one of their restaurants, but he shrugged it off as the next confession began.

  ***

  “I suppose I’ll go next in our little confession circle,” a young woman in a robe with a stylish pointed hat said. “I am Maeve. Baroness Maeve, if you’re being proper. In my world, mages are nobles and nobles are mages, with your rank correlating to your strength. Meaning I am a mere step above the peasants in the eyes my peers, but heavens and skies above the actual peasants by their measure.”

  She sighed. “And an utter disappointment to my father, who was a duke.”

  She shrugged. “Here I am complaining of a life of luxury and privilege, but truly, I was blessed. Until the limits of my power were known, I enjoyed the best tutors and went to all the best parties. I was the heir apparent, although that position has been usurped by my younger brother. No, my childhood was blessed, and I know better than to complain about that.

  “But I did have struggles. Magic manifests around puberty, you see, and it takes some time to grow into one’s power. But by your twenties, you become as powerful as you ever will be. That does not make a twenty year old wise or skilled, of course, and the ancient royals can crush their children in combat, as they proved during the dawnstar rebellion last year.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “My father had the great misfortune of being friends with one of the dukes who backed the upstart rebels. He knew nothing of the conspiracy, but in order to appease the king and prove his loyalty, he was forced to execute his own friend. And he hasn’t been the same since that day.

  “When it came time for my own measuring, I was presented to court. I stood in the circle meant to draw out my magical potential in a display that would forever establish my rank.

  “And I was found wanting in the eyes of the court and my father.

  “When we returned home, he was as cold to me as conjured ice, and he spoke not a word. Two weeks passed in silence, before I found myself summoned to his office. He held out a letter for me. It was my inheritance, given early. I was being cast out of the estates.

  “Looking upon you causes me pain, he said to me. You are my latest failure in a line of failures and I would have you gone.”

  “And so I left.

  “Fortunately there is always work for a baroness in the lands of the Uliphate, so I’ve scarcely touched the funds that my father set aside in the bank to ensure propriety. He couldn’t simply abandon me, after all, so he gave me enough money to establish a modest estate and live out my years in comfort.

  “I refuse, however, to kindly vanish from his sight. It is my desire to make a name for myself, baroness or not, which is on the tongue of every peasant, servant, and sycophant my father interacts with. To that end, I’ve been looking for greater and greater deeds to build up my reputation. And yesterday, I went over my head.

  “Me and my party were clearing out a nest of goblins when a demon appeared. I do not know whence the demon came, whether the goblins summoned it somehow or vice versa, but it had the power of a count and it swiftly overpowered me. I held it off long enough for my companions to escape, but I thought that I would die.

  “And then I saw the door to this establishment. Recognizing it as uncanny, I fled inside and claimed sanctuary.

  “And that is my tale of woe.”

  Maeve finished speaking and drank daintily from her wineglass, then raised it to toast the bar man. “To our host!”

  “Here here!” the crowd echoed.

  ***

  The man with the top-knot went next.

  “My name is Sans, third disciple of Master Wun, of the Northerly Wind Sect in the Emerald Mountains. I was born a peasant, but at age six I underwent the trials to determine whether I had any spiritual awareness, as all peasant children do in my area at that age. I passed, and that very night I said goodbye to my parents for the last time.

  “We traveled a thousand miles upon the back of a winged cat, and arrived at the summit of the sect three days later. I was the lowest of the low, but that is the case for all children who come from outside the sect, and I had many friends among my fellow disciples. The inner sect children looked down upon us, but they also dared not pick on us too much, for we outnumbered them ten to one.

  “And their parents would not intervene should we gang up on them for retribution.

  “Such was my childhood, and for ten years I neither distinguished nor shamed myself overly much in either direction. Then, six years ago, Master Wun descended from the mountain and announced that he would take three disciples. The competition was fierce, with the trials being wide and varied, but I, Sister Li, and Brother Kul passed.

  “Since then we have learned the reason for Master Wun’s sudden descent. He intends to ascend to the next realm, and is preparing his legacy. He has developed three great styles, and I was to inherit his mastery of the spear.

  “Three months ago, he sent us out on a trial by fire. We were to slay a vampire-geist which has been preying upon the villagers six mountains over.

  “Of my fellow disciples, I am the only one to survive the combat with the beast. The others were bitten, and they ignited their meridians rather than become undead beasts. I have tended to their ashes, and I carry their funerary tablets with me, but I am ashamed that I failed to protect my brother and sister, so I hesitate in returning to Master Wun and showing my face.

  “And then the door to this establishment appeared, and here I am, drowning my sorrow with all of you.”

  ***

  After six more confessions, the group finally turned their attention to John, their expressions curious and meaningful. He realized that he was expected to participate.

  “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been recording you and you guys are phenomenal, but I’m just a guy who came to a convention. I’m not a LARPer and I can’t think of anything on the spot.

  The man at the bar passed him a mug of ale. “A story not lived isn’t one I’m interested in hearing, John Smith. Pay the tab with your truth.”

  John frowned, but the others continued to stare at him expectantly. So he began.

  “Like I said, I’m just a guy who came to the convention with some friends. They’re around, somewhere, but I got separated from them when I went to find the bathroom. Then I got distracted by you all, and they’re going be so sick with envy when I upload this footage later. You guys are phenomenal.

  “But as far as who I am? I dunno. I live in Greendale, I’m twenty four, I work in sales. I graduated middle of the pack from high school and got an associates degree but decided I’d had enough of school after that.”

  He paused, then thought hard for a minute.

  “I do have one story you might all want to hear. I never tell it anywhere except online, because none of my friends believe me. But it sort of feels right to tell it to all of you.”

  He drank some of the ale and considered where to begin.

  “When I was about nine years old, I think I was nine at least. I was in third grade, I remember that because my teacher was Mrs. Green. Anyway, I think I was nine years old, and some friends and I went camping. My parents didn’t come. There were six of us kids and only three adults, one of my friend’s parents and his uncle.

  “Anyway, the camping trip was pretty normal. We went swimming in the lake, and the next day we caught some fish in the lake, and we went hiking and just generally made fools of ourselves in the outdoors. It was alright. A pretty good time.

  “But then one of my friends, Jared, twisted his ankle pretty bad. My friend’s parents took him to the hospital to make sure it wasn’t broken and left us with the other guy, my friend’s uncle.

  “We didn’t really think anything of it at the time. Except that when this uncle tried to call them to get an update, his phone wasn’t getting a signal, so he tried to go to the ranger’s station to use a landline. He left us kids alone.

  “It wasn’t that big of a deal. I was nine, like I said, but we weren’t nine. One of the other kids was thirteen, and he stayed behind to watch us younger ones. So everything should have been fine.

  “Except when I went off to take a piss, I heard it.

  “” John said, trying to imitate the twisted voice he’d heard that night. “

  “I turned around and saw it. It was as big as a bear and had red eyes. If I hadn’t just pissed I would have pissed myself again. I froze for a second, then I turned and ran. I heard a huge crash from behind me, and laughing. Except it was twisted, like a hyena imitating a goat.

  “It chased me, and it chased me away from camp. I ran for what must have been hours, but I never saw it again, I just heard it. I got lost in the night, and I didn’t sleep at all. They found me with a helicopter the next morning. I wasn’t certain if they were happy I was safe or angry that I’d wandered off, but nobody believed me about the thing I saw.

  “Except that I wasn’t the only one to see it. It’s been showing up to kids for two hundred years, according to the urban legends I’ve read since then. And…and sometimes people go missing in that forest. Not kids so much. Grownups.”

  John swallowed.

  “I haven’t been camping since.”

  ***

  John finished talking and drained his ale. Only to realize that the bottle wasn’t going empty. A few different things started to click in his mind, and he came to a gradual realization.

  “This isn’t part of the convention, is it,” he said at last. “And you’re not role-playing.”

  The others exchanged looks. And their expressions, ranging from confusion to amusement, confirmed it. Nobody was

  good of an actor.

  “Everyone shares their truth at this bar, John Smith,” the Innkeeper said. “The door doesn’t open to anyone who doesn’t have a tale to tell.”

  “And you all believe me? About what I saw that night?”

  “You are lucky,” Maeve said. “It was playing with you. If it had been hungry, you would not have escaped.”

  “Yeah. Yeah that’s what I thought too. Is it okay if I leave? I-you all are great, but I’ve had enough. I think I’m going to go back to my room and lay down.”

  “You’ve paid your tab, John,” the Innkeeper said. “Pleasant dreams.”

  “Yeah,” he said, and he wandered out of the Inn.

  The next day, he wandered down the hallway where the cedar door had been.

  It wasn’t there.

  And just like the night when he’d seen the creature of Greendale Forest, nobody believed him when he talked about the Inn and the strangers he’d met inside it, even when he showed them the video he’d taken.

  Some nights, he didn’t believe it himself.

  And that’s how he knew it was real.