Chapter 31: Treasure Trove
The room was huge, and every inch was made from wood. Natural grain ran in every–the walls, the floor, even the rafters overhead.
The sprawling space was longer than it was wide, large enough to have fit most of Nial's old house–before his parents abandoned him. The hardwood floors were scattered with persian rugs, and one entire long wall covered in chests and trunks stacked on shelves that ran from floor to ceiling. The length of the room was filled
On the opposite wall from where he entered, there was a massive, four-poster, king-sized bed easily large enough for Nial or Dorian to lay straight without feet even close to the edge. A bench lay along its foot and a very tall, heavy looking free-standing wardrobe against the wall. Furniture sprawled the length of the room in a series of couches, lounges, and chairs arranged in small circles around wide, low tables.
The many sitting areas reminded Nial of old-fashioned versions of the spaces they made at conferences for people to hang around and talk while they were waiting for their next event. But these were furnished like they'd been there since the eighteen hundreds—low, thick chairs covered in leather, pinned with brass buttons, or upholstered in heavy velvet or embroidery.
To Nial's right, near the door, a kitchenette had been built in, with cabinetry above and below a working countertop, a fridge and even a stove.
Despite the large space, it all felt warm and safe. It took Nial a moment to realize that the sense of safety was in part because there were no windows. There were unlit lamps and candles on some of the tables, but all the light that greeted them glowed from lanterns mounted at intervals on the walls.
Nial was taken aback, trying to absorb it all, wondering where this room was if it wasn't in Elysium.
Dorian was already stripping off his cloak, whirling it from his shoulders and letting it fall over one arm as he strode the length of the room,
"This is your lair?" he said to Dorian.
Dorian didn't even turn. He prowled past the furniture, throwing the cloak on the end of the bed as he passed it, then dropping to crouch in front of a large, metal box in the back corner that Nial hadn't even noticed because it sat in the shadows of shelves.
Dorian squatted in front of it and began fiddling with something on it. Nial heard a whirr, and a click, then Dorian swung a large, square door open and Nial realized it was a safe.
A safe from the modern world.
"How did you get that here?" he asked quickly, starting towards Dorian.
"I built this room around it," Dorian muttered, digging through something in the safe like it was the most important thing he could do, then hesitating and relaxing. Sitting back on his heels before quickly closing the door before Nial reached him to see what was inside it.
"Find what you wanted?" Nial asked him darkly.
Dorian looked at him over his shoulder like he was considering whether to answer or not, then nodded. "I did, actually."
Nial waited, but Dorian didn't continue.
"Cool."
Dorian straightened and strode straight past where Nial now stood a few feet away, back towards the door.
"Did you decide to leave Scar out?" he muttered as he passed him.
"Oh, shit! I forgot."
Dorian shook his head, but he smiled. "Please, by all means, forget about her completely."
But Nial was trotting past him, straight for the door which he pulled open, then froze.
He was faced with a blank wall of cement blocks.
"What—"
"It's okay. That's what exists here in this world. You can reach through."
Frowning, Nial reached tentatively for the bricks. But just as he began to feel the cool air around them and expected to see his fingers come up against the rough surface, his hand passed out of sight, through the blocks.
A moment later he felt fingers close on his, and when he drew his hand back, Scar's small, elegant hand—she'd taken her gloves off—appeared, followed by her arm, and then the rest of her.
"Thank you," she said to Nial quietly, with a small, uncertain smile. Then she looked at Dorian who was now off to the left, looking into a refrigerator that looked like it was from the nineteen fifties.
"Wait… there's electricity here?" Nial asked as Dorian drew out a cold beer, glanced at Nial, then closed the fridge.
"There's electricity in this world. This room is in this world, Nial. It's only the doorway that is… elsewhere."
"How?"
Dorian turned to face him, ignoring Scar completely. "You tell me?" He leaned back against the granite countertop and sink and cracked the beer can, then took a long draw from it without breaking eye-contact.
The smell of beer reached Nial and he frowned. "I've never even been here before, how would I know?"
"You made this place. Or rather, the access to it. I did the… décor," Dorian said with a lopsided smile, flapping his hand to indicate the room.
"I never would have guessed," Nial said dryly, scanning the heavy, wood furniture and dozens of old chests and trunks on the shelves. "It looks like a pirate's lair."
Behind him, Scar snorted, but Dorian ignored her.
"So… we're here now. Great. But you told Moren we aren't staying. So what are we doing?"
Dorian opened his mouth, but it was Scar who piped up from deeper in the room.
"He's hiding," she said quietly. "Like a rat in a hole."
Dorian shot her a glare over Nial's shoulder. Nial turned to find her laying on one of the couches, her arm resting on her stomach—but Nial didn't miss that it was the arm on the injured side. And she wasn't moving. And she looked very pale.
"This is our chance to regroup," Dorian muttered. "I have resources here. And things that will help us gather more. It's time to make a firm plan—and we needed to do it in a place where we could rely on staying out from under Duff's eyes."
"Like I said. Hiding."
"I am not afraid of him—"
"Hiding is actually the smart idea, if he got close. But damn, Dorian. Your timing was fucking risky."
"If we'd gotten into the Spectrum unnoticed and made it here, we would have been utterly safe. He'd never expect us there."
"And if a player logged on during that time between landing here and getting into this… nest?"
"You've developed an appetite for nests, have you?" Dorian hissed.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, you know I've never—"
"Do I?"
"Seriously, Dorian? I wasn't the one spending months with the Saphs."
"I did not spend months. Besides, those were business ventures."
Scar snorted again. "If that's what we're calling it now."
Nial, while thrilled to hear that the Sapphic tribe from the game were also real, lifted both hands, trying to get both of them to stop. "I thought the Saphs were women who liked… other women?"
Dorian flashed him a grin. "Oh, they do. But many of them also like men." He scanned Nial to his toes and back, then shrugged. "I'm not sure you qualify yet. But we could ask—"
"Would you stop taunting him!" Scar snapped from the couch, pushing up to sit, but still keeping that arm curled around her sore side. "You're such a fucking asshole!"
"You're welcome to leave."
"Not if I want Nial to have any chance of making it through this without becoming… like you!"
Dorian blinked like she'd flicked water in his face. Then his eyes narrowed. His hand gripping the counter behind him turned white-knuckled and he leaned forward like he would push off and go for her.
Nial tensed. "Dorian, no!"
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