Kingdom Come Ch. 03

Blair has already situated herself in a better position than the original protagonist did throughout the course of the entire game, and it's only been a few days since the royal guard came bearing down on the campus. It's shocking how far being somewhat competent gets a person. Perhaps the developers wanted the original Blair to be a blank slate for people to project their fantasies onto. Fair enough, from a marketing perspective. Completely unhelpful when danger actually begins to creep in.

One of the ways to hurtle ungracefully towards a guaranteed game over is to waltz around school without any protection, considering there's a serial killer on the loose. The player can either choose to spend time learning protection magic after school, (the only club they're able to formally join, and subsequently never utilize in full because they keep getting bailed out of tricky situations by others,) or they can pretend nothing is wrong and get brutally torn apart in front of the love interest by way of a series of poor choices.

The universe's rules don't seem to strictly prohibit Blair from choosing an unexplored course of action, so long as it's within reason of what her character might do. (So no fraternizing with the nobles, or becoming a murder hobo amongst the students.) Not that either of those were truly options on the table, in Blair's mind, so it's just as well.

The lockdown remains in effect while the guard deploys their most handsome and slightly stupid enforcers to the front lines. Some are undercover, dressed in the campus's uniform, and left to intermingle with the students, both as investigative units and protective ones. There's a guard in royal attire stationed at the end of basically every central hallway, while others supervise various parts of the outside, never letting students past the magical bubble that's making their lives unnecessarily difficult.

The first love interest of the game has already made his appearance, and it's subtle without a doubt. It's intended to catch the player off guard, but luckily, Blair is a speedrunner of sorts, or at least in this universe, she likes to think of herself as one. If she can bypass tricky bullshit, she'll take her chances.

One afternoon, a few days after the new school year officially started and was then rudely interrupted by a string of unsolved murders, Blair decides to skip the formalities and jump straight into the thick of it all.

"You transferred rather late." She murmurs to the hot boy sitting next to her. They've conveniently been placed at the back of the medieval lecture hall, towards the windows overlooking a courtyard full of bored guards. "Tell me, are you one of those?" She nods towards the scene before them, and the boy's eyes widen. They're dark, matching his juxtaposed features nicely. His dark hair frames his face, making him look much younger than he is. He fits in perfectly with the other young adults on campus, but only by a narrow margin. His eyes are hardened, speaking of a terrible backstory that is somewhat lackluster by Blair's standards, but she tries not to hold it against the writers too much.

"Didn't the year just begin?" The boy says, taken aback. He grimaces, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Even if he doesn't want to open up to her immediately, it's just as well. As long as Blair can get his eyes on her sooner rather than later, she'll be guaranteed his protection well before shit is slated to truly hit the fan. If she recalls correctly, this was one of the longer daily life segments leading up to the romance.

"That doesn't quite answer my question," Blair says, smiling politely as she holds out a hand, not wanting to forget her manners. "I'm Blair, and you are...?" She asks, wanting to rush the process but minding how she looks. She keeps her voice down, listening to the drone of the lecture in the background, all stuff she's memorized by now. She keeps a blank notebook open nevertheless, keeping up appearances and doodling aimlessly in the margins.

"Ian." He says confidently, winking as he gingerly accepts her hand, shaking it and then quickly letting go, as if her skin had burned him. "And I'm not a guard, but I'm flattered that you think so highly of me." His attitude is blasé, but Blair knows better to take him at his word.

"In what respect?" Blair asks, picking up her version of a magic pen, always filled with ink, refilling whenever needed, and sketching the classroom layout. A practice in what she can see, just like she used to do on her drawing tablet back home. Kind of like still life, except weirder.

"That I could pull a feat of deception off like that." He murmurs, tilting his head as he curiously watches her draw the professor. It's all sharp lines, harsh from a few days out of practice, or in this body, an entire lifetime without it. Her hand is cramping, her body seemingly not used to spending hours hunched over a computer, unlike her real self, who was.

"Wouldn't it be the opposite?" She laughs quietly, bemusement coloring her tone. "If you were a guard, and I spotted you right away, would that not make your deception obvious, and therefore null?"

Ian pauses, rubbing his hand on his chin, expression playful yet thoughtful. It's kind of cute how he's overthinking it all. He could very well just come out and tell her, but she supposes that he likely has orders against that exact scenario, hence why trust is needed between the two characters before he admits it in a shocking twist everybody saw coming, except for those who fast-forwarded through dialogue segments.

"Ah, well, that makes sense, the royal guard wouldn't want that, now would they?" His eyes light up, grinning as he sheepishly admits to seeing her point. His boyish charm won't work on Blair as she's trying to bulldoze his walls quickly, but something about it is admittedly a little endearing. She feels her cheeks heat up slightly as his gaze lingers on her face, turning away briskly a moment too late, caught in the act.

"Do you have evening classes?" He asks, clearing his throat and quickly changing the subject, keeping it light and easy. A damn shame that he won't admit to his status, but she has time to spare, she'll get the poorly guarded secret out of the slightly ajar vault soon enough.

"Nope, I'm heading to extracurricular activities after this." She doesn't get to formally join the club, but she can at least hang out in it. The universe seems to view that as an acceptable loophole.

"If I were to hazard a guess at which activity it is, would you think that I'm psychic as well?" He asks, grinning and tapping her notebook as Blair rolls her eyes, now genuinely enjoying the easy back and forth between them. There's something interesting buried beneath the duty-bound surface of the first love interest, more than what the game normally divulges, and Blair wonders what it looks like, and if she'll be able to pry open his outer shell, or if a gentle nudge is all it'll take to have his secrets spilling.

Can she force her hand by being ignorant, or pointedly observant? What paints a larger target on her back?

"If you guessed correctly then I would think you're a guy with two eyes and at least a moderately high IQ."

"What's an IQ?"

Blair hesitates, silently berating her loud, annoying mouth. She's got to learn how to be more subtle and princess-y. This isekai stuff is hard.

"Will you join me?" She blurts out, glancing around the classroom conspiratorially, as if someone else might have heard her slip-up regarding someone's dubious intelligence tests from the future. Luckily, nobody is paying attention to their little conversation in the back. Most are too engrossed in the lecture or are similarly whispering amongst themselves. "My group meets to work on art projects. Perhaps you'd enjoy a change of pace from... being so observant."

He chuckles, instantly picking up on the double meaning in her words. He doesn't deny it outright, but refuses to capitulate to her assessment fully. "I could use a change of pace, you're right about that. Will you lead the way? Since I'm new to the school and all."

"Of course." She smiles, feeling as coy as Ian looks. It's an odd game they're being forced to play, knowing too much about the situation, and the other, and not being able to speak out. It's like a game of cards, where half of one's hand is on the table, while the other half remains hidden. Blair can reasonably guess what Ian is thinking, but a part of her is still left wondering, considering how far she's deviated from the script, moving their chance encounters up by a lot. Can she reasonably guess his hand, or does she need to bluff and wait some more?

The timeline has just gotten screwy, but the overarching narrative remains unchanged. In order to survive bad endings, Blair needs people on her side. Whether it be classmates who don't side with the asinine aristocracy that she so sadly happens to be a part of, love interests that can act as her knight in shining armor, or her new friends at the art club, the bonds that envelop her here give her a fighting chance. She's not the only one who needs it; she's doing this for her best friend as much as herself.

But when they finally get up to leave, and Ian trails so close behind Blair that she can feel the heat radiating from his body, she wonders if deep down her motivations are purely altruistic and protective, or if there's a secret part of her that just wants to skip straight to the sex scenes.

Ian is tall and built nicely beneath his tailored uniform. It's a little loose, as if to hide his build from the prying eyes of eagle-eyed students like herself. His body is unlike that of a typical college kid, one soft from years of cushy academia and all the creature comforts wealth brings. Even Blair is similarly weak, barely able to run up a flight of stairs without becoming winded. Just by looking at Ian, she can tell that he's not the same as her, built of something sturdier and much more rugged.

When they arrive at their destination, he holds the door open for her, and she gives him a quick bow, smiling shyly despite her better judgment as she hurries into the clubroom. It's one of many empty classrooms utilized after hours by students with similar hobbies, whatever that may look like, given the time period.

Luckily, some of Blair's core hobbies have translated nicely. She might not have television, games, air conditioning, or real plumbing that runs on science and not magic, but at least she can still do art, albeit with real ink and paint and not a tablet.

Ian whistles, looking around in amazement. The club moves quickly, and some of her newfound friends are already off to the races, each working on something distinctly artsy. Some are sewing dresses for the upcoming ball, others write, and a few draw. It's alive with a flurry of movement, excited chatter raises Blair's spirits instantly, and she feels grateful to have met this lively bunch when she did.

There are about a dozen or so of them, so another face is a welcome distraction from the students who've known each other for longer. A few pounce on Ian the moment they walk in, accosting him with this time period's variation of far too friendly and nerdy questions, and he gives Blair a betrayed look as she covers her smiling lips with a polite hand, turning and walking off to find some paint.

She said he could join, not that she would save him from her weird friends and their predisposition to asking too many questions. He's on his own there.

"Who'd you convince to join us?" Grace asks, a friend Blair made a few days ago during the lockdown debacle. She's a gifted seamstress with a penchant for seemingly collecting hobbies. She sews, knits, draws, and creates outfits all the time, gifting leftover projects for which she has no use. Blair has already been the recipient of a cute little pair of gloves, and she's been wondering where Grace finds the time in between her studies.

"Some guy from my class." Blair shrugs, and Grace snorts, holding a polite hand to hide her smile.

"Does all of the royal family speak as bluntly as you?" Her eyes twinkle with mirth, but she remains kind in her teasing.

"Nope, just me. It's the curse of being the youngest."

"I take it that most don't even recognize you as royalty around here, considering the discrepancy..." There's a somber note to Grace's words, and her eyes look sad momentarily. Blair sucks in a quiet breath, taken away by this girl's compassion, given that they'd only just met.

Blair's backstory is odd and almost entirely unrelated to the plot. She's not even sure why the writers decided to make her half royalty. It would have been just as easy to make her the illegitimate child of any random noble family, not the ruling one. But it's just as well; she supposes it gives the girl some interesting lore, if nothing else.

Blair notices Ian giving her an odd look, glancing between her and Grace, who both have somewhat sad expressions, though they remain reserved amid their awkward grief. The others pay them no mind though, and holler across the room, acting wild and rambunctious like nothing is wrong. Ian is the only one who notices amidst the chaos.

It's one thing to play the game and note some asinine points of contention, and another thing to be caught in the crosshairs of political intrigue.

For the first time since arriving, she feels bad for Blair's character and the situation she's in, and averts her eyes from Ian, feeling a bit guilty about bringing him here and then throwing a pity party in the corner with Grace. She just hopes things can progress more smoothly from here; she doesn't need sentimentality to start weighing her down too heavily. She needs to speed run these romance routes and avoid too many somber conversations with people who know of her childhood.