— CHAPTER FOURTY-NINE —

  Fritz Gets Arrested

  -Fritz-

  The terminal beside the door showed our names: 'List of owners: Percival, 34%. Lady Lucia, 33%. Fritz Carlton, 33%.' Lucy pressed the confirmation button, and the screen flashed. 'Transaction Complete!', accompanied by a little celebratory jingle.

  That was it - the three of us were now the proud tenants of our own house. I pushed open the door, and we stepped inside. It was a small, two-story place with most of the space taken up by the big main room. To the right, we had ourselves a kitchen area stretching along the wall, complete with an island surrounded by wooden stools. The countertops were a speckled gray stone, complementing the dark wooden cabinets. Nothing fancy, but sleek.

  On the left side of the room sat a comfortable-looking sitting area with a plush blue couch and two armchairs arranged around a fireplace. The hearth was built from river rock, giving it a rustic charm that contrasted with the more modern kitchen. Then the back wall was lined with cabinets, shelves, and bookshelves.

  Two smaller rooms branched off from the main space - one on the left side near the sitting area and another at the back. They were left empty, and we planned to do them up as bedrooms - Lucy and I had already picked out some beds, desks, and simple furnishings from the player market. Then there was a switchback staircase on the back wall that went up to the master bedroom, which took up the whole second floor and was just as pre-furnished as the main room. The place was sick.

  To decide who got it, I suggested poker - I figured I'd have an advantage, you know? I had years of college poker nights under my belt. Lucy was a bit of a danger - she had the business sense, knew when to pounce on your weaknesses. But the kid was a goddamn shark. When I brought it up, he was all 'You know I don't gamble, Fritz - what are the rules?' Then he sat there staring blankly at us the whole time, no tells, absolutely nothing. Just those tired blue eyes boring into your soul while he systematically destroyed us both. It wasn't even close!

  Lucy still looked salty about it as she looked up the stairs.

  "You should've seen your face when he laid down that straight flush." I said to her.

  She huffed indignantly. "He counts cards! It's mathematically impossible to have that much luck!"

  "Probability management is legal gameplay." he said with a smirk.

  I said, "I still think you should have a go at the casino!"

  "Absolutely not; I don't play rigged games."

  Anyway, the three of us started to unpack the various decorative items we'd collected. A potted fern from the Rough went on the windowsill. A carved wooden figurine of a griffon from Falconworth went on the mantle. An ancient tapestry bearing a prophecy we helped fulfill in the Black Marshes went up in a portrait space in one of the bookshelves. Percy filled the bookshelves with lore books and journals we'd found and his collection of Protectorate's Guides - most of which were outdated, but he kept them around anyway.

  Lucy stocked the kitchen, filling the fridge and cabinets with pre-made meals. When she was done, she sat at the island and got out some ravioli she got from the restaurant across the street - we'd visited when we doing the house tour yesterday. The Round Table - nice place, fantastic bread bowls. The servers were dressed as knights, and it heavily leaned into a medieval tilt.

  The whole neighborhood around our new house was pretty swanky. We were in the Nebula District, the northeast corner of the city where the buildings got taller, the streets got cleaner, and the prices got steeper. Not many regular players could afford to live here, but after the bonuses Poe and Gary gave us, we figured we'd pool together and splurge. Plus, the location was perfect. We were right next to the northern markets, and just a short walk south was a theme park! The only downside was being right in the shadow of the Citadel.

  Most importantly, it was a safe place to store all the junk we'd been carrying around. We'd bought a couple storage chests to fit under the shelves on the back wall. Into those we dumped all the materials we'd gathered while questing - a couple stacks worth of assorted ores, herbs, cloth, and monster parts. None of us had done much in the way of crafting, but now that we were organized, I was considering it.

  We'd also stopped by a print shop and had physical copies made of all the screenshots and photos we'd taken during our adventures. Lucy's shelf quickly filled with artfully arranged frames showing scenic vistas and group shots of us with various NPCs we'd befriended. My section had more action shots - mostly me striking heroic poses in front of defeated bosses or particularly impressive explosions.

  Percy, on the other hand, had filled his shelf with... well, dogs. Not even dogs we'd encountered in the game, but stock photos that came default in the picture frames. He was currently rearranging them for what had to be the fifth time, seemingly trying to create some order only he understood.

  Lucy asked, "Percy, are you going to put any personal decorations in your room?"

  And suddenly the quiet, serious kid dropped away - he started bouncing like a toddler as he went into his inventory and and pulled out dozens of model kits for castles and buildings. Some were generic structures, others were part of a series depicting landmarks from around Celestia Grand. "I found these in the market yesterday! I'm going to build a model train set around a diorama of the Citadel and city!

  "Nice!" I said. "You've got a lot of kits here - how big are you going to make it?"

  "Well, there's a lot of space to fill up there!"

  For a sixteen-year-old kid, he sometimes had the hobbies of a retired accountant. But it was good to see him excited about something so... normal.

  Our conversation was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

  "I'll get it." I said, wondering if this was some kind of homeowner's welcome committee. Did they do that in this game? I half-expected to find an NPC neighbor with a fruit basket.

  Instead, I opened the door to find three men in the blue and silver uniforms of the World Guard. Two were peacekeepers, while the third - an officer - had the glowing green circle of Trace in his eye.

  "Hey there, boys." I said, leaning casually against the doorframe. "What can I do for you?"

  The officer's face remained impassive. "Fritz Carlton, you're under arrest."

  Before I could even process what he'd said, the two peacekeepers moved in. They grabbed my arms, twisted me around, and pushed me face-first against the wall beside the door. Cold metal cuffs snapped around my wrists.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Buy a guy a drink first!" I sputtered as they pulled me away from the wall.

  Behind me, I heard Lucy's indignant gasp. "Wh- on what charges?!" she demanded.

  The officer reached into his coat and produced an official-looking document. "We'll have a full list of charges available down at the station; we're just serving the warrant."

  Lucy snatched the paper from his hand, her eyes scanning it rapidly. Her face shifted from outrage to confusion as she read. Percy had moved to stand beside her, immediately back to all-business mode.

  The peacekeepers began pushing me toward the door.

  "I'll, uh, catch you guys later, I guess!" I called back over my shoulder. "Hey! Come on, easy! I'm not resisting!"

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  Lucy stood in the doorway, still clutching the warrant. "This is absurd! What are the charges?!"

  ---

  The interrogation room had all the charm of a medieval dungeon. The walls were rough-hewn stone, the kind that looked like they'd been around since before electricity. A single bulb dangled from the ceiling, casting harshly cold fluorescent light on the table. I sat cuffed to a metal chair. The World Guard officer across from me flipped through his notepad with the slow, deliberate pace of someone who knew they had all the time in the world. Behind him, a guard stood at attention by the door.

  I tested the cuffs again. Still secure. Still attached to a metal loop embedded in the table. Still very much preventing me from scratching the itch on my nose that had been driving me crazy for the last ten minutes.

  "You know," I said, breaking the silence, "in most places, they at least offer you a cup of coffee before the interrogation starts."

  "You'd know, wouldn't you?" the officer said.

  The door swung open, and a clerk stepped into the room. He handed a thin folder to the officer, then scurried out.

  "Alright, let's see what we've got here." The officer flipped through the folder, then went back to his notepad. "Fritz Carlton, you are being charged with distribution of controlled substances."

  I blinked. "Whoa, what? That's illegal now? Since when?!"

  The officer's expression remained neutral as he consulted his notes. "On Monday, December 9th, in the evening two nights ago, you were spotted outside of a bar engaging in a trade with an individual that was later-"

  The door burst open again with enough force that it banged against the wall. Lucy stormed in, wearing what I could only describe as her battle face. "My client will not be answering any further questions!" she declared. "If you have any matters to discuss with him, you may go through me!"

  The guard by the door immediately moved to intercept her, his hand going to the baton at his belt. Lucy didn't even slow down. She shoved a piece of paper at him. The guard took the paper, scanned it, then stepped aside with obvious reluctance. He handed the document to the arresting officer, who barely glanced at it before returning it to Lucy.

  "You made bail." the officer said to me, his tone flat. "We've already got everything we need - he confessed."

  Lucy's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to need a copy of that statement as evidence."

  The officer's mouth quirked up at one corner as he read from his notepad. "Upon being read his charges, the suspect's reaction was 'Whoa, what? That's illegal now?' Pretty cut and dry admission."

  Lucy crossed her arms. "That's not a confession. Even if the accused is admitting to have..." She paused. "What's the charge?"

  "Dealing drugs." I said.

  Lucy closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "...Of course it is." she muttered. Then, recomposing herself with remarkable speed, she straightened her shoulders and continued. "Even if my client has admitted to dealing drugs, there is no reference of when that occurred, nor is it material evidence of a specific, provable incident. You can't arrest someone because you know they've dealt drugs - you need evidence of the action. That's what stings are for in actual detectivework."

  The officer tapped his pen against his notepad. His face remained expressionless, but I could see the annoyance behind his eyes. "I have no further questions at this time. You're free to go for now - make sure you get your trial date at the counter."

  He produced a small key and reached across the table to unlock my cuffs. The metal sprang open with a click, and I rubbed my wrists.

  "Much obliged." I said, flashing him my most charming smile. The officer didn't return it.

  Lucy grabbed my arm and practically dragged me toward the door. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone her size, and I found myself hustled out into the corridor.

  The hallway outside was even less inviting than the interrogation room - a narrow, underground passage with stone walls and flickering lights that cast everything in a sickly blue glow. The place reeked of air freshener barely covering the smell of mildew. Guards and officials hurried back and forth, most of them with the harried look of people with too much to do and too little time to do it.

  "What do you think you're doing?!" Lucy hissed as soon as we were out of earshot. "Never speak to the police! Ever! There is no way to talk your way out of an interrogation room - any information you can give them can only hurt you!"

  "Alright! Sorry!" I held up my hands in surrender. "Look, I wasn't exactly expecting to get arrested today. I was caught off guard."

  "That's precisely when you should be most careful of them." she said, still fuming as she guided me toward a set of stairs. "And for heaven's sake, did you have to volunteer 'dealing drugs' like that? You might as well have handed them a signed confession!"

  We climbed up a set of tight, spiral stairs up to the ground floor - Evermoon Gardens' east wing. The contrast between the cheerful, wood panel corridor and the grim cells below was jarring. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, and the walls were adorned with landscapes depicting heroic scenes from the city's history. Officials in suits moved in all directions, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the gentle tinkling of a fountain.

  "So what happens now?" I asked as we made our way toward the lobby.

  "Now we prepare for your trial." Lucy said.

  In the lobby, near the main reception desk, Percy was engaged in conversation with a clerk. He made notes as the receptionist spoke. It sounded like a list of things I was and wasn't allowed to do before trial.

  "Ok, thank you." Percy was saying as we approached. "Will that be all?"

  The receptionist nodded. "Yes, that covers the basics. Make sure your friend doesn't leave the city before his trial date."

  "Have a nice day!" Percy said before turning to join us.

  "Well?" Lucy asked as we headed toward the main doors.

  "The trial is tomorrow at 10 AM, courtroom 3." Percy said.

  "They're not giving us a lot of time to plan." Lucy said.

  "They like moving these things along fast." I said, pushing open the doors that led outside. The bright sunlight momentarily blinded me, and I raised a hand to shield my eyes. "Come on, let's get some lunch. I don't know about you two, but getting arrested really works up an appetite."

  Lucy gave me a sidelong glance. "Is food really your priority right now?"

  "Hey, a man's gotta eat!" I protested.

  Lucy sighed, but I could see her resolve weakening. "Fine. But we're discussing your defense the entire time. No distractions."

  "Yes, ma'am." I gave her a salute. "Lead the way, counselor."

  The three of us headed down to the Constellation District to check out a place that had been featured in Happening Now! The Jazz Bar - it was an NPC-run pub and grill that had a big stage, then a bunch of players did it up for live musical performances by the street musicians that frequented the area. Today's lunch was accompanied by some light jazz for easy listening. We grabbed a booth by a window looking out onto one of the major streets that spurred off the train station's plaza and shared some baskets of chicken wings.

  I wasn't sure if I should go straight for the hot wings, or start off with a plain one dipped in honey mustard. Oh, or barbecue sauce! Or buffalo! Maybe bleu cheese?

  While I was trying to make a decision, Percy was already digging through his second wing, and Lucy got out a notebook. "We should attend a trial this afternoon." She said. "It would be helpful to familiarize ourselves with the procedures before tomorrow."

  I grabbed a spicy wing and examined it. But what about ranch? I said, "I've watched some trials in the past, actually. I watched ol' Frankenstein get tried for working with those slavers. Guess what? He didn't say a single word through the whole trial; he just grunted menacingly."

  Percy said, "I respect that - he's committed to his persona - keeping up the kayfabe."

  "Fascinating." Lucy said. "But what's the actual procedure?"

  I dipped the spicy wing into the honey mustard. Oh yeah, the perfect combination of heat and sweetness. "Quick and kinda informal. There aren't enough lawyers and judges in the game, so they play it a bit loose. Both sides present an opening statement, evidence, witnesses, then closing statement. The judge decides what's fair and what's not."

  "And what are the punishments?" Lucy asked.

  "There's some kind of official complaint system the Guard seem to know how to use. They can lock people up in that prison under the Gardens - even lower than the holding cells. I haven't been down there, but I hear it's wild."

  "Wild how?" Percy asked.

  "Just stories I've heard. One guy said it's like a maze down there, with cells built into ancient catacombs. Another said there's an entrance to the sewer down there, and sometimes mobs wander in. And if they aggro onto the prisoners, the Guard just let it happen!"

  Lucy tapped her pen against the table. "And what evidence do they have against you?"

  "Uh, that's kinda what they were getting to when you burst in." I said.

  "Typical." Lucy huffed. "This slap-dash system of theirs fails to even inform the defense of the circumstances. Do you remember the incident? Any details at all?"

  I racked my brain, trying to piece together the events of Monday night. I could remember up to the third drink, but it got fuzzy after that. "Not really." I admitted. "I think they were talking about a party a few nights ago. I was there, but I didn't do anything illegal... I think."

  Lucy sighed. "I'll run over and request the evidence. In the meantime, try and remember what happened that night. I need a complete account of your actions." She pointed her pen at Percy. "Make sure he stays on task - and I am forbidding any smoking until this trial is complete."

  "Yes, Ma'am." I said.

  Lucy gathered her papers and slid out of the booth. "I'll meet you both back at the house in two hours. Don't get into any more trouble."

  "When have I ever gotten in trouble?" Percy asked.

  "You are trouble."

  As she left, I grabbed a buffalo wing and went for the half-and-half dipping one side in the barbeque and the other in ranch. Anyway, it, uh, didn't help me remember Monday.