The Golden Lie

The gates of the Republic’s capital swung wide.

Ray stood motionless for a moment, boots sinking into the polished white marble street.

A sea of color stretched before him —
banners of blue and gold, fireworks painting the sky, the cheers of thousands roaring through the warm night air.

The entire city was alive, drunk on joy.

Laughter spilled from taverns.
Children danced in the streets, sparklers in their tiny hands.
Merchants lined the roadways with stalls of fruits, blades, scrolls, and trinkets.
Everything gleamed with hope.

Ray blinked.
This was not the world he knew.
He pictured stuck-up aristocrats, power-hungry maniacs behind iron walls.

Instead, he found... life.
Messy, beautiful, chaotic life.
Maybe the Republic wasn't as rotten as he thought.
Maybe—

A voice slashed through his thoughts.

"Who let this fucking rat in?"

Ray turned. A man in flowing sapphire robes marched toward him, sneer carved across his perfect face.
The man practically dripped money — jeweled rings, manicured nails, a walking statue of wealth.

"The hall is reserved for captains and congress welps! Get the fuck out!"  he barked, nose wrinkling like Ray was something he’d stepped in.
Before Ray could even blink, a female guard rushed forward, bowing so deep her forehead almost hit the floor.

"Apologies, Captain Stewart. This man was requested personally by Sir Thomas."

Stewart stumbled mid-stride, face twisting.
"What would Thomas want with...this? Don't let another rat slip through without my permission, you understand me?"

"Of course, my lord," the guard whispered, face flushed with shame.

Ray walked forward slowly, letting his glare burn holes into the silk-robed bastard.

He could feel it already —
This place shined on the outside.
But it rotted at the core.

Jordan would have punched Stewart in the teeth without blinking.
Ray grinned to himself at the thought and kept moving.

Inside the grand hall, reality split in two. Ray had never seen anything so rich. In the game or in real life.

The place was magnificent — chandeliers of floating glass, marble staircases spiraling like rivers of silver, paintings that shimmered and shifted with life.

And yet, the room reeked.
Power. Money. Ego. Trechary. Shadows ready to stab you in the back. The very air made Ray feel like panicking. Ray felt the urge to keep looking over his shoulder as he walked down the hall.
Every corner filled with men and women whispering behind jeweled goblets, their eyes scanning, measuring, judging.

Ray kept moving.
A blur of red swept toward him.

Before he could react, a woman in a blood-red dress slipped an arm through his. Her faced was so pure, she looked as if she was the main actress to the newest play. She was a model even among all the gold in the room.

Hair like golden rays from the sun. Eyes like molten gold. Not a single flaw on her. As if she had never left this golden palace. As if the world couldn’t touch her. Almost hypnotizing.

She leaned close — too close — her lips nearly brushing his ear.
"And who might you be, handsome? Some new candy for me to suck on?"

Ray caught the faintest scent —
Poison.

He turned his head slightly, voice dry.
"No thanks, lady. I'm taken."

She laughed, a sound like breaking glass.
"Those are the sweetest treats, dear," she purred.

Before Ray could shove her away, a voice cracked from the grand staircase:

"Brooklyn, leave the poor bastard alone before I have you jailed for assaulting a royal guest."

Brooklyn clicked her tongue playfully, shot a wink at Ray, and vanished into the swirling crowds.

Ray staggered slightly, blinking the dizziness away. The poison was this potent from just a conversation.
Any longer and I'd be on the floor, he thought grimly.
He'd remember her.

At the top of the staircase, with the most shit eating grin, stood Thomas.

Short silver hair gleamed under the lights.
A silver-and-blue cloak draped across one shoulder; the Republic's emblem stitched proudly on the back — a pair of hands clasping before a globe.

"Ray! I didn’t think you’d show, you stubborn ass!"

Thomas waved him up.
Ray climbed slowly, feeling every eye in the room drag across him like a knife.
When he reached the top, Thomas clapped a strong hand onto his shoulder.

"Come on. We got a lot to talk about."

Thomas led him into a private study. It was twice the size of the apartment Ray grew up in.
Books stacked to the ceiling. A roaring fire.
Velvet chairs. Rich oak tables. Portraits of forgotten heroes.

A giant of a man sat near the hearth, reading a book thicker than a brick wall.
He nodded once as Thomas waved him away.

"Kieth. Give us a minute."

The man grunted and stood upright, the floorboards creaking under his steps. His pitch-black shaggy hair and full beard looking as if he needed to find a tree to chop down.
Kieth wore a stylish purple robe that looked a size too small. However, it would be hard to find any robe that wasn’t a bedsheet to cover him.

Thomas poured two glasses of something dark and strong, handing one to Ray.
"Drink. You earned it. For keeping alive."

Ray held the glass but didn’t sip.
"You dragged me all the way here for a drink?"

Thomas dropped into a chair with a heavy sigh.
"I dragged you here because I need you."

Ray leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"Not interested. I already told you that. You might be more stubborn than me."

Thomas ran a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through the cracks of his perfect facade. Thomas locked his bright light blue eyes with Rays.

"Ray, listen to me. I want you to be a Captain. A squad of your own. Resources. Weapons. You could find every Totem twice as fast with what we can give you."

Ray shook his head slowly.
"I’ve seen enough politics for two lifetimes. Keep your pretty badges. I’ll find the Totems my own way. Now you are just sounding desperate."

Thomas stood up, stepping closer.
"Ray..." His voice lowered into a harsh whisper. As if someone else was in the room. "The congress had James killed. They sold him out to the Kingdom for a seat at the table."

Ray’s mouth went dry.
"You're lying. Why would they?"

"I wish I was," Thomas said bitterly. "Half the Captains are bought. Half the Congress wants to stay here forever. I'm surrounded by knives... and I don't know who will stab me first. No one wants to leave this fucking game Ray."

He leaned closer, urgency burning in his silver eyes.

"I need someone real, Ray. Someone who doesn't want this world. Someone who still remembers the real one. Someone to watch my back as I break this congress apart and rip the weeds out"

Ray’s fingers tightened around the glass until it cracked.
The fire crackled.
The Republic's anthem drifted faintly through the window.
A golden city built on corpses.

Ray stepped back.
"I’m sorry, Thomas. But I’m not a piece on your board."

Thomas closed his eyes for a long moment. As if he reached his breaking point.
When he opened them again, he smiled — small, tired, and true.
"At least you're honest."

They stood there in silence. Two men staring at a world that neither of them fully believed in.
Finally, Thomas reached into his cloak and tossed Ray a folded map.

Ray caught it.

"Three more Totems have been spotted," Thomas said.
"Take it. No strings attached. Get them before someone worse does."

Ray tucked the map away.

As he turned to leave, Thomas called after him.
"Ray... for what it’s worth... this world could use a few more stubborn jackrabbit bastards like you."

Ray didn’t look back.
"The world had us once," he said quietly,
"and it threw us away."

He disappeared into the roaring night.