Chapter 36 – Let the Game begin
After luncheon – during which both master and apprentice had studied with great deliberation how to eat properly in such an establishment – Jade turned her attention to the blackboard set up at the front of the room. She examined it carefully, visualising how she would use it when introducing the game’s story.
She cast Ashborne a sidelong glance. “This, definitely not your idea. You’re attentive, but not in this way.”
Ashborne lifted his brows and inclined his head. “You must thank Trent for that considerate arrangement. I was, admittedly, too occupied imagining what sort of tale Miss Lysmere would bring us today.”
Jade immediately turned toward the side door, where Mr. Secretary stood about ten feet away, quietly issuing instructions to the servants. “Thank you Mr. Trent!” she called out, and he responded with a cool look and a curt nod.
She turned back to Ashborne. “See? That’s exactly the kind of behaviour a proper lady shouldn’t have, but a commoner can do freely. That’s why I prefer not getting too deep into upper-class society. My goal is to open my own bakery someday. I suppose that makes me working-class? So I should start getting myself used to it now.”
Ashborne blinked, momentarily taken aback by her candid declaration. He silently reviewed the many bold statements she had made since their first meeting. Concluding that she must already have considered the obstacles ahead, he chose not to voice any objections.
“A cake decorator determined to offer the finest pastries to her customers?” he said instead. “Perhaps one day I shall find you in the bakehouse of a grand hall, diligently preparing delicacies for the guests.”
“Exactly!” Jade puffed out her chest, determination burning in her eyes. “I’m planning to open my own bakery within eight years. Five would be ideal, of course, but I’ll need to reserve part of my savings for emergencies. So eight is the more practical timeline. Josh will remain with me as a trainee for at least three years after that before I let him decide where he wants to go.”
“Sensei!” Josh turned to her, astonishment written plainly across his face.
“I know, I know. That means you’re stuck with me for another eleven years before you graduate,” Jade said with a small exhale. “That’s only because I have limited resources right now. If I already had a bakery, I could happily let you finish in five years. You know, Josh, managing a proper storefront is very different from running a stall. You’ll need training for that too.”
Josh flushed, his voice bright with excitement. “I understand, Sensei. I just never imagined… that you had included me in your future plans.”
“Oh, I’m not letting you slip away that easily.” Jade waved a dismissive hand. “You are my pupil. I’m obligated to educate you properly.”
She then shifted into instruction mode. “Now, distribute the papers, pens, and ink to all the tables and side tables. Make sure each table has several seats available. The guests will form groups and discuss things during the game.”
“Yes, Sensei.” Josh nodded and hurried off to carry out her orders.
Ashborne cast her a complex gaze. His thoughts still lingered on Jade’s audacious declaration of one day owning a shop.
When no one else was within earshot, Jade noticed Ashborne’s slightly furrowed brows. She looked at him and sighed softly. “Lord Ashborne, please don’t let today’s event interfere with my plans.”
Ashborne, startled from his thoughts, responded just as quietly. “Miss Jade, I am surprised you possess so little faith in my discretion. Surely I have not presented myself as a man incapable of conducting matters with due propriety?”
“Well,” Jade raised her brow, “based on your record of ‘investing in projects without even a basic understanding, purely on verbal persuasion from acquaintances’, and ‘hastily publishing important findings without considering the social consequences beforehand’ – despite being a well-educated and well-bred gentleman – if I’m using that term correctly; I picked it up from serialised stories – do you honestly expect me not to paying attention to every move you make?”
“Well…” Ashborne cleared his throat. “People do eventually climb out of the pits they have fallen into. Perhaps we should discuss today’s proceedings instead? To ensure everything runs smoothly.”
“A decision you should have made before hauling me in here,” Jade muttered, casting a glance toward the parlour entrance. “And you’d better find a way not to highlight my importance to this event.”
“Have no fear, Miss Lysmere.” With that, Ashborne excused himself and went to greet the arriving guests.
The invitation had stated one o’clock in the afternoon, and the guests proved remarkably punctual. As the longcase clock against the wall chimed, people began arriving one after another. They were dressed well, but not nearly as extravagantly as Jade had imagined upper-class society to be.
Right, my bad for being a stereotype. Should have had more faith in Mr. Rich Sponsor, Jade mused as she nervously flipped through the Settings book again, mentally rehearsing possible opening lines for the session.
Fifteen minutes after the first arrival, Ashborne surveyed the parlor and confirmed that all invited guests had assembled. Most accompanied by a spouse, an acquaintance, or an older teenage child. He gestured for Jade to join him at the front, near the blackboard.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “allow me to introduce Miss Lysmere – an acquaintance of my sister’s governess, and the instructor who devised the mechanics for today’s entertainment. She has kindly agreed to guide us through the narrative when we commence.”
Jade scanned the crowd briefly before offering a small curtsy. “Good afternoon, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen. I hope our storytelling brings you some amusement.”
She dipped again, then stepped back to stand just behind Ashborne.
She could hear a soft murmur of curiosity rippling through the room. Chairs shuffled as guests settled themselves around the long central table and the smaller side tables, gathered into intimate clusters.
“The first edition of the rules,” Ashborne continued, “along with the Background and Character Settings of the Quinark Universe, was delivered a few days ago.”
Several guests, particularly the teenagers, eagerly opened the volumes they had brought.
“If anyone has yet to review the rules,” he added, “now would be an excellent opportunity before we begin.”
One young man raised his hand – though there was no need to – perhaps the presence of the blackboard had awakened some nostalgic impulse. Amusement was written plainly across his face.
“Lord Ashborne,” he said, “just to avoid any misunderstanding, might I ask a few questions?”
“Certainly, Mr. Thornhill.” Ashborne inclined his head.
The young man rose to his feet, leaning lightly on his walking stick with one hand while gesturing animatedly with the other.
Jade recalled the guest list Mr. Trent had shared during the carriage ride to the Ashborne’s estate. Mr. Thornhill was an author, well known for his gothic and ghostly tales… which made her wonder – quite seriously – why Ashborne or his sister had thought it was a good idea to commission such a writer to contribute to a magical, adventurous fantasy universe.
“So first, the storytelling of this game will begin according to the setting outlined in this book?” Mr. Thornhill continued after receiving Asborne’s nod. “Then the players must select the characters they wish to portray and act in accordance with those character profiles. Is that correct?”
Ashborne inclined his head once more. “Yes. You have understood it precisely.”
“And the Host – or Game Master – does not participate as a player, but instead serves as the storyteller, determining whether the players’ actions are consistent with the setting and advancing the narrative accordingly. In essence, he functions as the author, though without full control over how the characters behave. Is that accurate?”
Again, Ashborne nodded.
“Furthermore,” Mr. Thornhill continued, “the Host may deploy several non-playable characters – NPCs – to interact with the players. Therefore, the Host must be capable of devising dialogue and narrative developments within a short span of time in order to maintain momentum and keep the players engaged.”
He glanced about the room. “Lord Ashborne, who shall assume the role of Game Master for today’s session? I confess I am not equipped to oversee such a complex narrative.”
“Then we shall have others volunteer, or nominate candidates ourselves, and put the matter to a vote,” Ashborne replied with a nomination. “Mr. Raysmach, might we have the honour of inviting you to serve as our Game Master for this inaugural tabletop storytelling game?”
A rustle of whispers and murmurs swept through the parlor, accompanied by nods and agreement.
Mr. Romanolf Robert Raysmach – a middle-aged gentleman with a carefully trimmed moustache – rose to his feet. Several guests tapped their fans or walking sticks lightly in approval.
Jade stole a quick glance at him, purely to satisfy her curiosity about how the man behind the famed detective serials looked. This man, in her mind, occupied a role similar to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of the Sherlock Holmes series in her previous life. He was so well known that even her students, who rarely had access to proper reading materials, could recount fragments of his stories.
To her mild surprise, he was rather stout, with warm and gentle features. After confirming that no one objected to his appointment, he approached the long table and took the seat Ashborne had indicated.
“Additionally,” Mr. Thornhill resumed, lifting one of the dice from the side table where he had been seated, “whether a player’s action is permitted is determined by a dice roll. I noted the rulebook stated that – for now – four points and above signify a successful action, while three points and below indicate failure. May I inquire why the phrase ‘for now’ is used?”
Ashborne nodded. “That is because today’s story does not involve adventurous combat – which we are yet to decide on and include in the rulebook – where dice values might translate into battle points or healing points for the characters. In theory, the dice could be carved into another form – one bearing as many as twenty sides.”
Soft gasps and excited murmurs spread through the room.
Jade was fairly certain that most of them were still processing what that actually meant. Nevertheless, the authors present were imaginative enough to leap immediately into grand possibilities. Judging by their expressions, some of them had likely envisioned an entire season of Game of Thrones in their minds within seconds just by listening to these rules.
Mr. Thornhill rolled the dice thoughtfully in his palm, visibly intrigued by the implication.
“Now,” Ashborne continued, voicing the suggestion Jade had made during luncheon, “as too many minds at one table produce more quarrel than strategy, six players shall suffice for today’s session. The remaining guests may join as consultants, advising the players on their next course of action.”
Another round of nods passed among the guests. The decision appeared reasonable to all.
Before they could divide into groups, however, Ashborne added with a faint smirk, “I understand that most of our esteemed guests are experienced and possess firm judgement, and it would be unfortunate if our young attendees were left merely observing. As I count six among them, perhaps we might allow the young ladies and gentlemen to serve as today’s players?”
Excitement lit up the young men’s faces, and the young ladies appeared equally eager.
“As this is our first session,” Ashborne continued, stepping aside to reveal Jade standing quietly behind him, “Miss Lysmere has prepared several sample characters from which the players may choose. We shall detail these in the future and include them in the setting book as well. After she introduces the opening of the story – which Mr. Raysmach will thereafter continue – and outlines the available characters, the players may either select from those provided, or draw inspiration to create their own. Paper and pens have been supplied for your convenience.”
He gestured toward Josh. “This young man shall act as messenger between you and the Game Master, should you wish to submit any confidential actions not meant for the other players’ knowledge.”
“We can make secret moves?!” one teenage boy blurted out, visibly delighted at the possibility.
“Yes, indeed,” Ashborne replied with an amused chuckle before yielding the floor to Jade.
Jade took a deep breath and stepped forward. She adjusted her accent slightly – just enough to avoid sounding entirely like a village girl – and picked up a piece of chalk. As she spoke, she began sketching on the blackboard to aid their imagination.
“In a time when most beings on Quinark were unaware of the threat lurking in the shadows,” Jade said aloud, “traces of invasion had already begun to subtly affect the Elves who dwelt beneath their Mother Tree.”
Several guests immediately flipped open their Setting books, scanning the pages in surprise. According to the commissioned storyline, the rise of the evil lord was already apparent, and the central narrative followed the hero’s departure on his quest. None had anticipated that Jade would set the story in a far earlier era – long before the main plot began.
A few exchanged intrigued looks, clearly inspired by her unexpected choice.
Jade ignored the reaction and continued steadily.
“The Mother Tree was ill. Every Elf was anxious. If the Mother Tree perished, they would lose the ability to become parents, and without offspring, the future of the Elven tribe would be doomed. Each Elf was born from a fruit borne upon the Mother Tree’s branches – consumed by the mother before birth. Yet for nearly a decade, no fruit had grown. They knew something was terribly wrong.”
She tapped the blackboard lightly.
“With lifespans stretching nearly a thousand years, the Elves possessed vast libraries of accumulated wisdom. They searched for solutions and concluded that the only hope lay in relocating the Mother Tree to new soil, establishing a new homeland.”
She drew another section of forest on the board and pointed toward it. “However, the land they identified bordered a Dwarf clan. The Dwarves, masters of smithing and construction, had little interest in dealings with what they considered arrogant forest-dwellers. They revered fire – an element fundamentally opposed to the Elves, who cherished water and guarded their sacred tree.”
She paused briefly before adding, “Meanwhile, the human kingdom of… um, Nightlessia, caught wind of the Elves’ migration – and of the inevitable conflict that might follow. They resolved to observe and perhaps intervene, should an opportunity for advantage arise. After all, the Elves were unparalleled herders, capable of commanding the growth of greenery. The Dwarves were unmatched in forging weapons and mining precious stones.”
Every guest in the parlor was thoroughly absorbed in Jade’s story.
Mr. Raysmach studied the roughly sketched map on the blackboard while lightly tapping the tabletop with his forefinger, clearly contemplating how best to utilise the information she had provided.
“And now, the available characters,” Jade announced, scribbling beside the map. “First: a female Elf guard assigned to protect the princess’s chamber. She is the finest warrior of her generation – approximately four hundred years old – skilled in archery and an accomplished forest ranger.”
A rustle of whispers passed through the room. One of the two teenage girls looked immediately captivated. To Jade’s mild surprise, a teenage boy appeared equally interested and was already half-raising his hand to claim the role.
Jade shot Ashborne a subtle look.
He responded with the faintest shrug.
She rolled her eyes and continued.
“Second: a male Dwarf, son of the clan’s chief – effectively their crown prince. He is timid and possesses no talent for forging weapons. However, he has a fascination with mechanical devices – gears, clocks, intricate contraptions – which many of his kin consider frivolous.”
Before Jade could introduce the third character, one of the teenage boys raised his hand. At her nod, he stood and asked, “May I have a character who travels widely?”
“Certainly.” Jade considered for a moment. “A merchant, perhaps?”
He shook his head. “Could I have someone more… special?”
Jade blinked and lifted a brow. “If your parents permit it, I can offer something rather distinctive.”
The gentleman seated beside the boy chuckled. “Provided it is not excessively outlandish, Miss Lysmere, I shall defer to your imagination.”
Jade drew a slow breath and swiftly fabricated a new character.
“There exists a particular sort of wanderer,” she began, “one who journeys from place to place, carrying news to isolated communities and captivating audiences with sheer charisma. At times, that charisma is so potent it draws the attention of mortal animals, mystical beasts, and even rival beings lurking in the shadows.”
She paused briefly and continued. “They survive most dangers not through brute strength, but through a careful manipulation of charm amplified by music. A bard, often seen with a lyre in hand. Fearless in peril, yet forever in pursuit of romance even in the most desperate circumstances.”
The boy stared for a heartbeat, then gave a delighted hop. “Brilliant! I’ll take that one. It sounds fascinating!”
“I’m glad you approve.” Jade smiled, already curious to see how he – and the consultants hovering behind him, who appeared faintly concerned – would handle such a character.
She proceeded to introduce a few more roles, adjusting and improvising as needed until all six players had selected their characters.
At last, the guests settled into their respective groups.
Jade took her place beside Mr. Raysmach.
And thus, the very first tabletop RPG storytelling game began.