"How the hell did this happen?" A lot of people have wondered that over the years, for a lot of different reasons. But I don't think many people… other than the ones to make me ask that question, have had as good a reason as I to ask it myself.
It was a fine Sunday morning when it happened. No work today, which means I work really, really hard at the craft that means the most to me. Writing. I knew it the moment I woke up. An old joke went through my head from 'Pinky & the Brain' that I'd told myself a hundred times, and chuckled again as I asked it when my feet hit the floor. 'What are you going to do today Robert? The same thing you do every day. Try to write the best stories the world has ever seen.' I sometimes wondered if I was the genius or the insane person in that joke. I mean I was 'talking to myself' but I also 'knew' I was talking to myself. So how crazy could I be? It's kind of a thinker.
I didn't know that when I walked out of my room with an eighty-seven lbs labrador retriever following behind me, that I'd definitely think I was the crazy one. All I had to do was wait about twenty minutes.
The hardwood floors of my turn of the 20th century home felt cool to the touch of my feet, but not as cool as the blue tile when I entered my kitchen. I own my home, though not free and clear; that hasn't stopped me from savoring the fact that it's mine.
I went over to my slender black refrigerator and cursed the previous owner for not putting more space there. Shadow, my dog, whimpered a bit. I ignored him and reached up to get my coffee mug from the cabinet beside it. 'I really need to get one that says 'reader's tears' on it.' I laughed a little bit, thinking of all the thousands I'd managed to make cry… when Shadow whimpered again. He's a bit of a whiner, my dog. He's one of six, but he's not only the biggest, he's the biggest baby of the lot. That seems to be the rule, the bigger the dog, the bigger the baby.
I prepared the coffee pot, cheap Folgers shit today. Not the best, I like it fresh ground, but I'll take anything really, I'm not picky. Shadow whimpered again just as the tendrils of coffee odor was reaching out to my nose and telling me I was truly alive again. The hour was early, the sun not even fully risen when I realized 'why' Shadow was whining so damned much. I looked behind me, it's a straight shot from my kitchen, through my library, through my living room, to the front door, and somebody is out there.
Somebody who looks horribly familiar. But also equally impossible. I looked down at my dog, black labs have very expressive faces, and I can read his, the way he looks up at me, he's asking, "Are you seeing this shit?"
And yes. Yes I was.
My door is heavy, old, like the rest of this wonderful period home, but if I was crazy, it wasn't keeping the crazy out.
There was a very faint knock. I didn't move. I looked down behind me at the blue counter where my coffee was brewing. My heart was pounding in my chest, I couldn't believe my eyes. I could see her armor, I could see her hair, and I could see her sword, and through the vertical windows, I caught a glimpse of the crest on it. 'The Roble Holy Kingdom.' I thought, and swallowed hard. I've never been a coward, I can say that with confidence because I'm a war veteran, I had my courage tested. I passed. I did my job in difficult conditions, dangerous ones, and was proud of it. But this was something else.
The faint knock echoed and hit my ear. Shadow whimpered. "Wuss." I said to the big little baby. But who was I kidding? I didn't move either, my breathing grew harder. How…? 'How could REMEDIOS CUSTODIO BE IN LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY?!' I asked myself, only to briefly distract myself by wondering, 'What would the immigration rules for that even be like?!' Before I cursed myself for a moron. 'Dumbass… is 'that' really the question you need to be asking right now?' No. No it was not, and I knew it.
The knock came again. It was far more gentle than I expected out of that psychopathic fanatic. She turned away from the door, and I heard a voice. It made my heart skip a beat because even though she never had a voice, having never been animated, I'd heard it in my head a million times.
"You really should have let me knock." A young woman's firm, but silk smooth voice said from just out of view.
"One minute." I shouted, and locked Shadow in my bedroom before rushing to the brick red front door. I undid the chain at the top, turned the deadbolt, and undid the brass knob lock, turned, and flung it open.
There she was. I couldn't help but speak the name aloud. "Neia… Neia Baraja." I heard a faint 'ahem' and looked a little past her. A lovely, even beautiful, blonde woman was a few steps behind her. "And… Calca? And Remedios…?" I said their names with breathless awe and utterly doubtful about my sanity, wondering if doubting my sanity was a sign of sanity or not, I reached down to the storm door and turned the lock.
"You're taking this well." Calca was the first to speak, "Not exactly how you greet a Queen but… given the circumstances…" She gave me a very gentle smile to show me she was at ease, and asked, "Can we come in? I know it's early here and I don't know what time you people get up, but given how 'you' are dressed, I think we'll stand out, which is probably not good."
I smacked my face. I was wearing army fitness shorts, black with yellow lettering, and a black army fitness shirt, short sleeve, the lettering reading 'Army'. I was unshaven, and before coffee or a shower, I looked a bit of a mess.
"Right… you will. Might as well come in… all of you, but leave your weapons at the door, assuming nobody is here to kill me." I said with a roll of my eyes.
Neia clutched her bow. "I'm not letting this go. It was a gift from… never mind, you know that, don't you Robert."
"Yeah, yeah I know. Just leave the arrows then. The dogs are up, the wife and kids are asleep, just… just follow me, I just made coffee." I told them, and Neia perked up. Her eyes popped open.
"You've got coffee here?!" She said enthusiastically, her voice reminded me faintly of the actress who played 'The Baroness' on the live action G.I. Joe movie, couldn't remember her name, largely because I didn't care.
"Yes, we do, and as for why I'm taking this well, I'm borderline convinced I'm insane. I've been writing so much it's bled into my real life… and now I'm wondering what drugs I'll need to take and whether I'll have to be locked up or what. I can't change it, so… I might as well roll with it."
"R-i-gh-t." Remedios looked at me sideways, "About my sword…"
I turned behind me to look at Remedios, 'Not half bad looking in person.' I mused, and decided to keep that to myself. But I answered her, "I know, national treasure… but if anybody here intends to kill me, it'd probably be you, and unlike the Sorcerer King, I don't have a bodyguard. Also, I have no idea if I can take you or not. So… wait, we'll compromise." I walked into the library, I have a collection of antique weapons, including an 18th century Maasai spear which hangs over the passage between the library and the living room. "Just put it up there." I pointed to where the spear was. "Set that aside, and put your sword up there, a little ways away."
I was rather surprised when after only a brief hesitation and a glance at Calca, and a hateful glare between herself and Neia, that she did it.
A moment later I was in the kitchen, "Cream, sugar, ice?" I asked them as I got out three more coffee cups.
They took seats at the table and traded doubtful glances.
"You're the host." Calca replied in a voice that belonged in the pipes of an award winning singer.
"Cream and sugar it is. It's chocolate, Hershey actually. Decent stuff, but the coffee is just the cheap kind." I informed them from behind as I poured the rich black liquid, the very nectar of the gods, into three tall coffee mugs. Including my wife's Jack Skellington cup.
"One for you, you, and you." I placed the skeleton mug in front of Neia with a little smirk. She was wearing the Black Justice armor I'd designed for her in my fanfiction epics, so I was confident she'd like that. She did, and flashed an indulgent smile my way.
"Thank you." Calca said demurely and waited while I prepared mine with ice cubes and cream.
Remedios faintly grunted. 'That's what I expect from that one.' I thought to myself and then took a seat.
There was a deathly silence at the table until I'd taken my first sip, then set it down. The table was tan at the edges, with a green tile surface, my favorite shade of green too, pine.
Only when the faint tap of mug to surface faded, did I speak. "Alright… first off, all the questions. Everything, all of it, whatever 'it' is, and however 'it' is, just… fill me in. The fuck are you doing here in my city, at my house? Not to be rude but…" I jabbed my finger at Neia Baraja. "YOU...are wearing armor I designed. Command gear, not just the 'green' you usually do. Did… do… or whatever…" I threw my hands up and then let them flop at my side before reaching out for my coffee with my left hand.
"Look, the point is you're wearing equipment that only exists in my story. So… yeah, all the questions."
"Are you done rambling?" Remedios asked with a sour face.
"Ask my wife. I never shut up. But for the moment at least, spill it." I replied to the paladin.
Neia had a smug, self satisfied look on her face. "Ainz is a god. He can do whatever he wants. He doesn't need to stay in your story if he doesn't want to. So…" She shrugged, as if that said it all.
In a weird way, it did.
"OK, say I accept that as the 'how' and I'm still not convinced I'm not fucking crazy. So…" I swept my eyes over them all, took another sip of coffee at the same moment as the three of them, then when we set them down in eerie synchronicity, I finished my question, "why?"
"That's our question, actually." Calca said through shimmering eyes, she leaned forward, her hand letting go of the cup and sliding over the table almost to where I sat, and her eyes begged for an answer.
"Why? That's what we want to know. Why do you hate us so much? Why did you author lives for us that were… what you did? You turned her against me… let her hurt me… almost destroyed me." She shot her eyes from myself to Remedios, whose eyes lowered down in turn, unable to look at the Queen I made her betray. "You made me care about her…" She looked at Neia, and then to me with glassy, water filled eyes, "and made me spend the rest of my life worrying about what else could torment the woman who saved my life, and pitying her as a human sacrifice."
"You made me the pinnacle of human evil." Remedios chimed in, "Do you know how much it hurts to be burned? You destroyed me, you let me be destroyed, ruined my life. I'll be honest, coming to this world, yes, I came wanting to kill you. Most people in this world seem to hate me… I got a chance to read the fanfictions of others before we stopped over here, I know I'm not well loved. But you? You devoted the length of two books to destroying me and everything I stood for."
Neia gave a bitter look to me, her eyes of terror hard and unblinking. My own are brown and have always been described as 'dancing' and 'happy' one of my better features. Despite being a veteran, and looking like a thug or a mob boss (depending on how I dress) my eyes always give away that I am at heart, a joyful man.
But I could meet her eyes, because I loved that character. Her words though, said she didn't believe that. "And me… I read your work, the story of our lives as you told it. You let me be tortured… so often, you ripped me up and down, you made me try to kill myself. You made me almost kill… Skana, my wife."
If I had any doubts before, that clinched it, they're the versions of themselves from 'God Rising: The Cult of Ainz' otherwise known as 'The GRAU'.
Neia blinked back tears, "Why? Why do you hate me so much, why would you put me through all that? Now we're here, and all the questioning I've had in my life is… well I can finally demand an answer."
I took another sip of coffee and let my glance go from one to the other. "First a question… should I expect anyone else? Ainz? Demiurge? Keeno, Lakyus, Skana? Any of them?"
Three heads shook in denial. "My suffering finally ended. So this is where I wanted to come before I would finally die." Remedios answered glibly.
"I was resurrected just for this. It was a question I asked on my deathbed, and I was promised someday I would know." Calca added, her body shivered faintly, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror by my bathroom door and flinched involuntarily again.
"And me… well this was my one request before the last battle. Father promised each of us an answer from the author of our sufferings. I chose to look this way… because I wanted you to know, beyond any question or doubt, who I really was. That I was as you made me, I hoped you'd understand what you did, so you could and would, help me understand why." Neia answered in the soaring command voice that made her a legend in the version of her world I wrote.
"Fine. That's fair. As long as I'm not going to have to entertain explaining to Shalltear why I took Ainz from her, or Vanysa why…" I looked toward the distant door, and breathed a sigh of relief. "OK, no, never mind. As long as it's just you three. I'll answer your questions."
They drank greedily from their coffee cups, though to her credit, Calca remained the most demure as she savored the rich chocolaty flavor.
"I don't hate any of you. Alright, yes, Remedios I'll admit I'm not fond of you. But I don't actually 'hate' any of you. I wrote 'God Rising' the way I did because I wanted to tell a meaningful story. I touched the outstretched hand of Queen Calca, her soft pale hands were smooth as silk to my fingers.
"You, Calca, were originally a naive but well meaning ruler, your role in the story was one of growth in rulership. You were afraid to make the tough calls because you wanted nobody to suffer. And as a result, everybody did. I showed you growing into the role, but also kept your heart, kept you wanting the best. Neia was that 'intent' to you. In writing you as someone who cared for someone like her, I showed that you could make the tough calls, and still care about the harsh consequences of your choices. Please believe me when I say this, you weren't written just to suffer."
I squeezed her hand, "You were written to emphasize the growth of a ruler. A ruler who would balance their ideals with their duties. Yes, you suffered, but it wasn't for nothing."
"And me. You did the worst to me. I mean you had me burned… as a head… for I don't even know how long. You put me in a perpetual hell." Remedios seemed somehow 'indifferent' in the way she spoke, like it was all abstract to her.
"You are her." I pointed to Neia with my coffee cup.
"You have 'got' to be kidding me." The two women said in unison and glared hatefully at one another.
"Well, no. You're just two versions of the same path. You're both fanatics, you're both devout, you're both capable of doing anything for your causes. But there was one key difference." I got up and went to my cup, taking the offwhite, faded handle in hand, the sound of sloshing dark liquid was the only noise until I held the pot out. "Refills?"
Their heads shook, except for Neia's, she thrust her cup out like it was a weapon. "More."
I poured it into her cup and she smacked her lips eagerly. 'God, she's compelling. The people of her world have no taste in women.' I suppressed a dismissive snort and put the pot away.
When I returned to my seat and took a sip, I went on. "You, Remedios, were what happens to those who try to stand alone, while Neia, you are what 'can' happen to those who get help. The core of the God Rising Author Universe is that characters grow, not always positively. But beneath all that growth, there's a journey. Your stories were those of suffering and how to cope with it. I didn't do this to hurt you, but to help my world."
"That makes not a damn bit of sense." Neia said with a deep frown, one mimicked by Remedios herself.
"It's easy for the people of my world to fall in love with fictional characters, we see the best and worst of ourselves in them. When they're well written, their successes make us cry for joy, their pains make our hearts ache. It is 'safe' to connect with the unreal. You won't judge, you won't hate, you won't reject anyone. Seeing how Remedios fell down that dark path, suffering severe trauma from the war that destroyed her country…"
"And killed me." Calca interjected.
"And killed you… but that was Maruyama, not me. Go visit him sometime." I acknowledged, and pointed out to a bitter looking Calca who stared down into her nearly empty cup.
"At least I brought you back." I said softly, I have something of a 'Bob Ross' voice when I want to, very soothing, easy to listen to. Or 'Morgan Freemanesque' if you prefer. I may not have Neia's evangelistic talent, but I know how to speak and argue well, and I applied it fully to my unexpected guests.
So, I let the silence continue for a heartbeat before I went on with my explanation. "The thing is, maybe you are real… out there, or maybe I am crazy beyond crazy, I don't know. But I know why I wrote what I wrote. Because people who were suffering with depression, needed to have hope. People who wanted to die, who thought they were weak for how they felt, or because they felt at all… needed to see a strong person say, "I need help" and NOT see that character any weaker for doing so. They needed to see," I waved my cup toward Remedios, "that not getting help was destructive."
"Did you have to make me such a vile cunt?" Remedios demanded with crossed arms.
"Kind of. I did the same to Neia in a way. I'm kind of proud that a lot of people saw Neia becoming more like you, and knew it was wrong. I'm a little disturbed how many people cheered her on." I answered, and Remedios gave Neia a smug look, while Neia glared at me.
"Both of you had a serious character flaw, you lacked reflection. Neither of you gave much thought to your actions… you of course, Remedios, stayed that way. But Neia… grew up. Accepted her wrongs, and when she died…"
I paused and blinked several times, I felt tears coming up. "Sorry, just a moment."
Neia's mouth fell open when she recognized what was happening to me.
"When you died, Neia, I had people from as far away as China, as close as my own region, and in Europe, and in South America, all say, that they cried. They were happy, they were sad, they saw your life, your journey end, and no matter their race, their religion, their politics… they recognized that something wonderful and sad and beautiful happened. They saw you grow up, into a warrior, into a general, into a speaker, into a mother, into an advocate for justice that did not even give quarter to herself in the face of her ethics. You died a beautiful death, and lived a life in fiction that raised goosebumps around the world right up to the end."
I couldn't help but crack a smile, "I rewrote your death many times, long, long before we got to it. Yes, you both suffered, you all suffered, but none of it was for nothing, it was all to see people in my world, think, laugh, cry, heal, reflect, rejoice, and maybe understand themselves a little better in the end."
I gave a difficult swallow and smacked my lips before biting them. "You asked why I hate you. I don't. I wrote you as I did because I love my world, because I love a good story so much that you could stop me from getting out of a burning house by saying, 'Once upon a time'. And I wrote you as I did so that people could see you grow and hopefully, never forget you."
They were very quiet for a long time, a whole cup of coffee came and went while the three impossible people sat in silence at my kitchen table.
"I'm still not happy about it." Remedios grumbled.
"Oh… well… just a minute. You said you read fanfiction, right? Well have you read the latest official novel?" I asked her with a hard, sarcastic tone.
Three questioning expressions went to one another and back to me.
"Oh… well just one moment." I went to my bedroom, Shadow scrambled to his feet and got out of the way as I entered the bedroom and got out my laptop. I brought it in and took the tab off the Isekai Quartet episode and brought up a link to the translated Light Novel Volume fourteen.
"Here." I said and turned it to them after setting it on the table. "Go ahead, read what happens to you in the official story. I kind of like the mask part but…" I shrugged.
They sat there, occasionally absently holding out cups for more coffee until the pot was empty and I had to make more.
I didn't really mind, it was slightly annoying, but seeing their expressions as they read through the latest release made it worthwhile.
"I'm not even NAMED?!" Neia exclaimed when it ended.
"I died off screen in some unknown way?!" Remedios pounded on my table, shaking it and sloshing coffee on the green tile and into the offwhite grout.
"I stayed dead… I died a stupid, meaningless death and… nothing?" Calca turned her lovely eyes down into her lap.
"I thought you all deserved more, I honestly didn't expect you to be treated so ignominiously by the original author, and quite frankly Volume fourteen is the worst one. It reads like notes for a novel rather than the actual novel. A damn shame really." I took up the laptop and put it away before returning to them.
"I wrote you all, and everyone else in your lives, great and small, with purpose. Maybe you'll never forgive me, and for that I'm sorry, but it was worth it for what it meant to people here. If it helps, if I'd known you'd come to life… or were always alive, I would have reconsidered it. I'd just work at a bank and never create stories so that I'd never create suffering. But I honestly had no idea I was doing anything to anybody at all." I took up their coffee cups one by one and set them into the double sink, then refilled my own cup with the next third of the second pot.
"I don't have to, though. If you want… Neia, I won't write the story of Marcus Baraja, or Auralius, or Gottfried's sojourn into the Slaughterlands of the Devor Empire or the rest of the Triumvirate. I won't tell the story of the Rise of Aiwenor, Nua, Kaiji, Priceless… I can stop. It'll be hard not to create anymore. But if you're real, if this creates real suffering… maybe I shouldn't, even if it does have value here in my world." I looked longingly in the direction of my laptop where stories were already crawling at my fingertips, clawing against the inside of my skin, demanding to escape through my keyboard to live on screen and spread to the minds of readers around the world.
The trio looked at one another, and to my surprise, Remedios was the first to speak. "No."
"I agree with her…" Calca added with a slow nod.
"And I agree with… both of them." Neia answered abruptly. "I don't know if you're really writing our lives or just picking up what's happening to us, but nobody knows the power of a good story better than I do. So fine, create, write the rest of our lives. Do a good job of it, and give us all… including those yet to be born, lives worth reading about. I have to admit, I like the thought of people in entire other worlds hearing about the glory of His Majesty. Father will be pleased to know this, if he doesn't already."
I couldn't help but poke a bit, "Maybe he does, maybe this was just so you would know what he already does." I winked one of my big brown eyes at the clear sky blue of the Pope.
"Just do one thing for me." Neia's voice was grave, serious, and all I could do was nod to invite her to continue.
"I know something of what you have in mind for my descendants, my heirs and… well I saw the epilogue you wrote for me. I'm not stupid, if you do bring me back after the very end of the world, and if I have to pay another terrible price… please don't describe my pain. If there is any. And if you have a choice about it, try to make my end 'quick' would you? Nobody wants a lingering death. Oh, and one more thing. Don't write that story where my son gets eaten by the Devor… don't write that one."
"All I can promise is that it won't be written without reason. I'm not… gratuitous, I don't think. Unlike in my real world, in stories, I can make anything happen, but in those stories, as I write them, it's for a reason."
"That's better than I thought I'd get." Neia admitted reluctantly, "And for what it's worth, I am grateful you let me have a life, a good one, later on. If you were creating it, and not just writing what you saw."
Remedios managed a derisive snort, "I guess we should all just be glad we got space on pages, given what the original writer did with us."
"True enough, I still can't believe I stayed dead." Calca rubbed her forehead, "This is all still a bit much to think about." Her head shook slightly and the long blonde hair swayed behind the back of her chair.
"So… ah, are you staying here or… or what?" I asked as I finally, stupidly, but finally, considered the ramifications of their arrival in my world.
"No. We can't." Neia glanced down the way she'd come, and when I followed her gaze, I saw a gate begin to form through the vertical glass panes.
"No, no I suppose not. But you're all, really OK with what I did?" I asked, I'm not often anxious, never, if you want the truth, but as the three impossible figures stood up at my table and bowed politely, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a mix of excited and anxious at once.
"I think it's a little late to complain, and we got our answers. Fine, go on, write what you'll write, just… tell the best stories you can, for as long as you can. We've got our purposes, and I guess even in your story, even the worst of us…" Neia and Remedios traded hateful glares at one another, "have that truth as their own."
"Right… right." I walked toward the door, leading them behind me, I heard Remedios take her sword off the overhead place and put the spear back where it had been.
I opened the red door again, and watched them walk out, Remedios went through first, without a word, followed by Calca, who paused to wave and smile at me… in a way I could only call radiant.
Finally, Neia went to the entrance and looked over her shoulder to me, "Time for me to go. And, I guess, thank you, more or less."
"And thank you,." I said, my eyes didn't leave hers as I stood inside the frame of my door.
"Right, if you're ever in my world, drinks are on me. I owe you one after that coffee." Neia managed a bemused little snort before muttering, "I still can't believe that guy barely mentions me."
"Me neither." I answered as I shifted where I stood, sensing our time was ending.
"Goodbye, Robert, now hadn't you better get going, after all, you've got something to do today." She inclined her head politely, and stepped through the gate, and it vanished in an instant.
Had I not had my children and dogs and wife (not necessarily in that order, most of the time) in the house behind me, I might have rushed for that gate myself.
But the moment was gone, and I stepped backward, from within the frame, to inside the house, letting the storm door close in front of me, and shutting the red door at the same time. I recalled her last reminder. '...you've got something to do today.'
And as the door clicked shut, still wondering if I was completely insane…
I woke up. 'Alright, I'm up.' I thought to myself, 'It's Sunday morning, and I've got all day to write, and that's the only thing I want to do, for the rest of my life.'
I went to my kitchen, picked one of four mugs out of the sink, poured almost all the remaining coffee into the cup, and went to my computer to get my day started.
And I couldn't wait.
-END-
*Note: The above story was an actual dream I had just about two days ago… or was it one day, all the time runs together for me. Hope you enjoyed it and got a few laughs along the way. It's not often one gets to argue with one's characters, so… I was happy with the dream, and I hope you are as well.