Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! is the intellectual property of Kazuki Takahashi and Konami; Crimson Spell is copyright Ayano Yamane, Tokuma Shoten Publishing, and SuBLime Manga. No infringement or disrespect of the intellectual property rights held by the owners of existing copyrights of Yu-Gi-Oh! or its derivative works, or of Crimson Spell or its derivative works, is intended by this non-profit, noncommercial amateur fan fiction.

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The Cerulean Spell, Chapter 2: The Solitary Sorcerer

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It gradually became the most unusual tournament Pegasus had ever attended, although initially it was quite mundane.

When he'd zoned into the Virtual Reality world to find himself wearing a long dark robe and cloak, holding a glowing magician's staff, and sitting beside the hearth of a tiny cottage, he was more than a bit disappointed that Kaiba Corporation had chosen a high fantasy theme for the tournament. True, the details were top-notch — his robe's embroidery of mysterious sigils was tastefully subtle, the arcane bric-à-brac that cluttered the cottage actually looked capable of generating magic, and the tiny glowing specks that floated and swooped through the air moved in such complex patterns that they truly did seem alive — but he'd hoped for a more imaginative setting.

(But then again, he could understand Kaiba's reasoning. It was ironically amusing: duelists liked to think of themselves as edgy trendsetters, but at the core most were stodgily dull, happily embracing medieval sword-and-sorcery and its stereotypes over and over again. No matter how much they might go on about how "refreshing" it was to experience "the straightforward emotions and values of a simpler time," what it really came down to was that they were philistines seeking comfort in the commonplace. It was an undeniable truth, backed up by marketing: conservative choices were generally the most profitable. Dull, dull, and dull, but profitable.)

What was surprising, however, was that he hadn't been seated with the rest of the Very Important Spectators. Seto's preferred venue for tournaments had always been something coliseum-like (with himself as both lion and emperor, Pegasus thought with a chuckle). Granted, a "virtual" tournament for the subscribers of Kaiba Corporation's streaming web service didn't need a stadium or enormous viewing screens, but for the select few like himself who had been invited to purchase a ticket to view the proceedings from inside the virtual world — well, wasn't it reasonable to expect some special seating near the dueling stage, a grandstand (such a marvelous word, grandstand) or sky-boxes or jousting bleachers or some such? Not that he'd been looking forward to rubbing elbows with the teeming dozens, but he certainly hadn't expected isolation. Was this part of the fantasy theme? Was he to be transported from this little cottage to a central location via horseback or carriage? If so, it was a poor design choice. Virtual horses might be less expensive and more predictable than real ones, but the logistics of gathering people by this method hardly seemed worth the payoff.

Well, it wasn't the first time Seto and his people had done something he couldn't fathom, nor was it likely to be the last. As he pushed himself up from the wooden chair — intending to wait outside for whatever authentic vehicle would take him to the proceedings — he caught sight of himself in a mirror. He hadn't realized until now that the robe-wearing magician avatar the VR had given him had replaced his eye-patch with what appeared to be a normal left eye. The change was oddly affecting: he spent several seconds admiring his image, noticing now as well that his hair — held back by an ornate jeweled contraption across the back of his head — had been lengthened far past its usual shoulder-length, and now fell almost to his waist.

"Interesting," he murmured as he stepped over the cottage's threshold. "So you can still surprise me a little after all, I see."

Outside, he found no clear indication of a place to wait. No rustic hitching-post, no bus-stop masquerading as Ye Olde Signpost, no helipad disguised as a flagstone courtyard. There, was in fact, no indication of any mode of transportation. "How on earth …?" Was he expected to walk?

He returned to the cottage and climbed the distressingly rickety ladder to the upper floor to look out the windows, but he saw no sign of any roads or footpaths leading away from the cottage — not that there was any discernible destination to walk to. Absolutely nothing broke the horizon or the sea of glowering dark green treetops that surrounded him. "This is ridiculous." How was he expected to watch the tournament? Was Kaiba-boy going to do something outrageous like project the festivities on the dome of the sky?

He descended the ladder, feeling a chaotic, swirling irritation amplified by not having anyone handy nearby, no one to strike out at or give inane suggestions to or simply ask to make the problem go away.

"Well," he said. "It's up to me, then."

He sat down by the fire. All the things he didn't know started to crowd in, but he firmly pushed them away. He was going to start with the facts, with what he knew for certain. Number one, he knew he was experiencing a virtual reality created by Kaiba Corporation. Number two, the virtual reality software was constantly monitoring his — or rather his avatar's — actions and location, and so it was reasonable to assume that everything was well in hand; and Number three, no matter what happened in this VR world, his physical body was entirely safe in the luxury VR pod he'd rented.

Now to things that weren't necessarily facts, but suppositions of which he was fairly certain. He didn't think he'd been kidnapped, as no threatening person had yet appeared. Neither did he think that he was being subjected to an elaborate insult or prank, as he had known the Kaibas for years and being snubbed in such a petty way wasn't the sort of thing they would stoop to. In fact, he considered Seto and himself so much kindred spirits as far as their fondness for grand gestures was concerned that he was absolutely certain that if Seto did still carry smoldering embers of vengeance about Duelist Kingdom he'd do something far more maliciously imaginative than strand Pegasus in a forest.

Taking all of that into account, the most likely explanation was that he'd been placed into the cottage accidentally, because of a glitch or an oversight. Some technical difficulty or other, that would be swiftly remedied. The best thing to do was stay calm and stay put. With every confidence that all would be fixed in an hour or so, Pegasus again climbed the ladder to the cottage's tiny "loft" (really, it was no more than a glorified ledge!) and settled down to nap on the narrow, lumpy cot that was the cottage's only bed.

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When he woke to find himself still alone and un-entertained he wondered at first if he ought to be miffed, until it occurred to him that perhaps he wasn't supposed to be a passive spectator. Had the ticket price been exorbitant because it included participatory problem solving, like those cruises staged for mystery lovers? The Case of the Stranded Spectator, whose plot would only unfold if he took action?

What an exciting notion! If true, there ought to be clues in the environment.

He hurried down the ladder — the long robe looked magnificent, but it was impractical for climbing — and began to search the clutter of magical volumes and parchments on the table. The indecipherable script, however, didn't give up its secrets. Next he went through the cottage's various cabinets and chests: a few items glowed when he touched them, but nothing more. There were no ornate timepieces, no basins of silvery fluid, and no caged birds. Feeling a bit silly, he finally tried asking the mirror for help, but all he got for that was a giggle.

Which came from behind him.

He whirled. "Who's there?" There was total silence for a moment, and then he heard humming. He edged toward the sound; as far as he could tell, it was coming from a wine bottle on a shelf. When he reached out to pick up the bottle he discovered that it had a face — a discovery he made when he put his finger up one of its nostrils.

"Casse-toi!" the bottle hissed.

Startled, Pegasus managed to put the bottle back on the shelf without dropping it. When it grumbled, he reached out and, cautiously touching only the cork, turned the bottle to face him.

"Was it you who laughed at me?" Pegasus had the momentary worry that his thought processes had somehow become scrambled upon entering the virtual world — he was, after all, currently attempting to converse with a wine bottle — but he decided that VR was like the dream world. When one was dreaming, one followed the logic of the dream, not the logic of the real world. He scrabbled in his brain for dusty scraps of French: how did one beg for help again? "Tu dois me tirer de là !"

The wine bottle blinked (blinked? it blinked?) and began to count. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix ..."

"Yes, I get it, you can talk, but that's hardly helpful." He turned the bottle so that it faced the wall again.

"Hello? Anybody here?"

It took him a moment to realize that the voice was not the wine bottle. He hurried outside.

A handsome young man riding a horse was facing the cottage. Short, dark brown hair, Regency-inspired clothing, with a large sword-sheath hanging from his belt.

"Finally!" Pegasus said. "Will I be riding your horse, or will a second horse be appearing?"

The young man looked puzzled. "Are you Halvir Hroptor?"

"Who?"

"Halvir Hroptor. He's the most powerful curse-breaking sorcerer in the kingdom." The young man frowned. "They said he'd be here."

Oh, so he was going to have to role-play himself into a ride? That was moderately inventive. "Why yes, I am. I'm … Halvir," Pegasus said. "I require your … steed. For my magical business. Which is very important." He added for good measure, "Do not vex me, boy, or you shall suffer my magical wrath!"

"No need to get pissy," the young man said. "But you got some magical business right here, with me."

The young man's crude speech and brash demeanor clashed with his regal appearance — in a very familiar way. "Let's skip to the end," Pegasus said. "I expect to get more than rehashed pseudo-medieval ambiance for my money, Kaiba-boy."

The horseback rider looked startled, then annoyed. "Kaiba? I'm not — wait a minute! You ain't by any chance Pegasus, are ya?"

Pegasus couldn't think of a good reason to hide his identity, so he nodded. "Yes, I'm Pegasus."

"Huh. I didn't recognize you without the — " The rider waved one hand awkwardly, looking suddenly embarrassed.

"An eye, an eye-patch, a gaping socket?" Pegasus offered, pleased to see the fellow squirm. "Do I know you?"

"I'm Joey Wheeler. I came in second — "

"Oh, yes, of course," Pegasus said. "You used to be blond, as I recall."

"Yeah, I forgot!" Joey raised a hand to his hair. "For some reason they made my avatar a brown."

A brown … Pegasus shook his head. "Why don't you come inside the cottage and tell me why you're looking for this Halvir person?"

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Fifteen minutes later, having heard a fantastic tale about waking up in a field, fighting demons, being "cursed" after using an enchanted sword, and then sent to a lonely cottage in search of a silver-haired sorcerer, Pegasus said thoughtfully, "I thought at first that this virtual world was experiencing a malfunction of some sort, but the way your story seems to dovetail with mine … I think we're intended to take part in an unfolding adventure."

"Nah, I don't think so, " Joey said. "Kaiba's virtual programs always screw up."

"Always?" Pegasus was amused. "Do you have data to back up this claim?"

"Sure," Joey said. "There was the time we almost got eaten by a five-headed dragon, and the time we all got turned to stone in Noa's VR, and the time …."

"Alright, alright, I concede," Pegasus said. "It's disappointing, but I suppose we'll just have to wait until it's fixed."

Joey looked around the cottage. "Yeah. Though it's been fun being a prince."

"Lucky you," Pegasus said. "I'm a sorcerer without any magic."

"None of this stuff works, huh?" Joey picked up a small sphere and shook it.

The sphere began to glow. "It's about time!" a tiny voice said. "Now put me down! You're scrambling the monitors!"

"Sorry!" Joey said, hurriedly placing the sphere back on the table. "You sound like Mokuba."

"I am Mokuba."

Joey poked at the sphere. "How'd you get in there? Did you get cursed too?"

"Yes, a curse of miniaturization," Mokuba said, in a tone conveying immense eye-roll. "Wheeler?"

"In the virtual flesh!"

"Do you see anyone else nearby?" Mokuba asked. "They're probably very close."

Pegasus found it impossible not to gloat. "Dear me! Have you lost track of all the little dots?"

"Let me guess — Pegasus." Mokuba sounded sour.

"How embarrassing," Pegasus said. "Are you saying that KaibaCorporation's vaunted Duelist Tracking System is having a problem interfacing with its own virtual world? What will the internet say, when news of this is splayed wide?" He chuckled, "I'm so glad I have a standing limit order for your stock: I do love picking up shares at bargain prices."

"Nothing is splayed," Mokuba snapped back. "The webcast isn't live yet. Sorry to disappoint you. No — wait — I'm not."

"You'll have to start streaming soon," Pegasus said, "Unless you want everyone to know you're having trouble getting it up." He'd decided to save the phrase 'technophile dysfunction' for annoying Seto.

"Hardly," Mokuba said. "Everything's under control."

"Really?" Pegasus prompted. "So you've called just to say hello, is that it?"

The glowing sphere dimmed slightly, as if it was scowling.

"You might as well tell me," Pegasus wheedled. "Perhaps Joseph and I can help?"

Mokuba sighed. "The program is masking the in-world IDs, so we're checking each location manually against the list of participants." He paused. "It's just the two of you there, right?"

"I'm not sure … the wine bottle talks," Pegasus said. "Could it be a duelist? I can't wait to see what sort of cards it favors."

There was a long pause. "Very funny."

"I'm serious!"

"We're done," Mokuba said.

"Hey," Joey asked, leaning in toward the sphere. "Why don't you just stop the program and reboot? Or re-install it?"

"That's not an option we're exploring right now," Mokuba said.

"So is that ID thing why my Monster cards don't work?" Joey asked, then said to Pegasus, "Usually they work in VRs."

"Probably," Mokuba said. There was a pause, and a very very faint sound of a distant conversation. "Have you tried any other cards?" Mokuba asked. "Trap or Magic?"

"No. Should I?"

"You won't need them, but — "

"Got it," Joey said confidently, taking out his deck. "I'll keep 'em handy. Just in case."

"This sounds quite the mess," Pegasus said, watching Joey clear a spot on the table. "How many of the staff has your brother eviscerated for this snafu?"

"I can't say," Mokuba said.

"Maybe we should just exit," Joey said, setting down his Chasm of Spikes and Scapegoat cards.

"You can't," Mokuba said. "The EXIT function is locked."

"Locked?" Joey was staring at the sphere. "Locked like, we can't leave?"

"Oh my God," Pegasus gasped in sudden comprehension. "We'rehostages, aren't we? The tournament's been hijacked."

Mokuba didn't answer — which in itself was answer enough.

Pegasus was incredulous. All this time and Seto still hadn't made his network invulnerable? It was almost as if he enjoyed having his system invaded on a regular basis! "And I assume you're not going to risk a re-boot in case the hacker set booby-traps?"

"Booby traps? In VR?" Joey said. "It ain't real. What's the worst that could happen?"

"A feedback loop that could fry the brain of everyone who's connected to a pod," Pegasus said dryly.

"Oh," Joey said. "I see your point." He leaned toward the sphere. "Much appreciated."

"Whoever it was," Mokuba admitted at last, "is good. Really, really good. They replaced our core program directories and data tables with their own, and added a massive number of new files. All of them with proprietary encryption."

Pegasus nodded. "It'll take time to go through all of that." He frowned. "One thing puzzles me. Why are you wasting time checking who's where? Surely a simple count of the fireflies in the box would be enough?"

Mokuba's answer was chilling. "We're one short."

"Ah." Pegasus folded his hands. "And your brother is one of the fireflies, and you haven't found him yet." It was the explanation that made the most sense.

"No, I haven't found him yet."

Under the circumstances, Pegasus decided that it was time to suspend the jabs and needles. "Don't worry. You will."

"Thanks."

"So, the person or persons who did this — do you know what they want?" He hoped he sounded sufficiently olive-branchy. "Or are they just causing chaos for Chaos's sake?"

"I don't know," Mokuba said. "As soon as we have any updates we'll communicate through a game sprite or a flaming telegram." The glowing sphere went dark.

"A what?" Joey asked. "What the hell is a flaming telegram?"

"I'm sure we'll know it when we see it," Pegasus said. "Now, Prince Joseph, since you're now old enough to drink, why not fetch a second goblet and join me in finding out what the contents of a talking bottle tastes like?"

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The wine, though it presented as a Rioja Reserva, was mediocre at best.

Joey grimaced and struggled not to spit out his first — and only — sip. "That's … well, that's different," he said, avoiding the wine bottle's glare as he pushed his goblet away. He picked up his Scapegoat card. "Do you think we're gonna be attacked in here?"

"I can't imagine that we will," Pegasus said, but at Joey's frankly apprehensive expression, he added, "but I'll contribute my cards as well." He held out his hand, and as his deck materialized it almost made him feel as though he were an actual sorcerer.

"Were you going to duel too?" Joey asked.

"No," Pegasus said, thumbing through his cards, "but I always carry my deck. Old habit." Fortunately, he'd brought quite a few Magic and Trap cards; as he sifted them out onto the table he asked, "How exactly would one go about using a card to defend one's-self? Aside from attempting to throw them?"

"Well, with Monster cards, you just hold up the card and yell out the name."

"I see." Pegasus picked up a Trap card. "Like this? Chasm of Spikes!"

A small smoking crater lined with metal spines suddenly appeared in the corner next to the fireplace.

"Whoa!" Joey picked up a Magic card. "I summon Scapegoat!" Nothing happened, and he looked crestfallen.

Pegasus, on a hunch, asked, "Do you mind if I try?"

"Sure, go ahead."

A moment later the four colorful defenders floated next to the table like sleepy dogs waiting for a treat.

"How did you know it'd work for you when it didn't work for me?" Joey asked, clearly peeved.

"Apparently one of the rules of this place," Pegasus said, "is that sorcerers can do magic and princes can't."

"That sucks," Joey mumbled.

"Well, Your Highness," Pegasus said, "it's getting dark outside. Shall we turn in?" It was an old habit, he supposed, to say such things. "Your sheep can stand guard."

"Okay," Joey said warily. "I'm, uh, the floor by the fire will be good for me."

"If you say so," Pegasus said, climbing the ladder to the upper level. "Sleep well."

Of course, the cottage was so small that he had an unobstructed view of the ground floor, and couldn't help by notice how very reluctant Joey seemed to be about settling down for the night: he'd stayed at the table, ostensibly studying the text on each card in the pile. Between each card he'd glance up nervously at the loft.

"Is something wrong?'' Pegasus finally asked, leaning over the edge of the cot.

"Er … well, see, the monks at the castle told me to make sure nobody comes near me when I sleep," Joey said. "So you have to promise not to touch me."

"What a very odd thing for monks to say."

"It's because I have to wear ..." Joey rubbed the back of his neck, "um, specialmagicalhandcuffs."

Magical handcuffs? Pegasus tried not to laugh: was this some Easter egg the KaibaCorp programmers had slipped in, or was it custom mockery from Seto himself? He considered suggesting not taking immersion in the VR world so seriously, but such complete naivete — simultaneously so idiotic and so charming — was far too entertaining to squelch. "You have my word, Joseph," Pegasus said. He made an elaborate show of pulling up his blankets, then turned his head enough that his hair fell over his face, allowing him to pretend to sleep while seeing what naughty, shameful antics the "prince" was going to get up to.

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An hour or two later, Pegasus stifled a yawn.

Joey, sadly, had done nothing remotely interesting, let alone naughty. He'd gone outside — apparently to retrieve the 'magical handcuffs' from his horse's saddlebag — taken off his jacket and boots, sat down in front of the fire, clamped something around his wrists, curled up on his side, and soon was snoring.

"Magical handcuffs my ass," Pegasus scoffed. Still, he was curious to see what Kaiba's designers had thought such a thing ought to look like, and so he slowly and cautiously slipped from the bed and descended the ladder to take a closer look. "After all," he muttered as he crouched down in front of the sleeping man, "I didn't promise not to look."

The restraints were made of a rose platinum metal. A short chain connected the wide cuffs, which were embossed with several lines of magical-looking text. "But why would they want you to wear restraints when you're sleeping?" Pegasus whispered as he pressed the release.

A blast of air knocked Pegasus back against the fireplace, dazing him. As he grasped the stone of the chimney to pull himself up, he was thunderstruck.

The "prince," who had gone to sleep as a somewhat generically-handsome fellow, had been transformed into something exotically feral. His hair had doubled in length and unruliness; his face and body were marked with wild, swirling, war-paint-like stripes; and his formerly-civilized hands now sported long demonic claws.

Pegasus, his heart pounding, realized that perhaps the monks had known what they were doing after all. "Good kitty, nice kitty," he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. He began to edge toward the table, hoping to put it between himself and whatever the prince had become.

For his part the "kitty" stretched and then rolled gracefully to his feet, his glittering black eyes never leaving Pegasus's face. He seemed to understand that his prey was trying to escape and growled softly, baring his teeth and licking his lips. His incisors looked lethal.

"You," Pegasus said, maintaining eye contact while slowly reaching back toward the cards on the table, "are entirely what I should have made Vampire Lord to look like." He then snatched up a card and shouted as he held it before him, "Tears of a Mermaid!"

Pegasus fully expected that the next thing he'd feel was his virtual flesh being sliced and diced, and so it took him a moment to realize that the spell had worked and that the "prince" was completely immobilized.

He was so relieved he had to sit down, immediately, and hug the small table with both arms.

His captive, meanwhile, howled and writhed in frustration, managing to shred most of his princely clothing in the process — and revealing that he was indeed fully frustrated in every possible way that it was possible for a male to be frustrated.

"Well, well," Pegasus said, chuckling a little. "Mokuba ought to be happy that I've solved at least one mystery for him. I've found his missing firefly."

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Author's notes: French slang and curses from the ielanguages and francetravelguides websites.

Next up: The Lagomorphous Protector

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(03) 25 Nov 2013 ~ Nits, how you vex me.