Arnulf the Destroyer by Robert Cely Page A

retreating hastily from the victory celebration.  A chorus of female voices called out to him, pleading in their soprano screams for him to return, to even glance their way.
    Jenna alone didn’t scream.  She only watched; watched with the precision of the infatuated.  Taking in every detail of his figure, a smile broke out across her face when she noticed he wore no crest.

    Such a man was not suited to be a mere director or vice of anything.  CEO, Jenna decided.  That was the only position suitable for the dashing energy of Arnulf.  Perhaps he wasn’t there yet, but she felt certain he had to be close.
    The elevator dinged, bringing Jenna back to herself.  Unfortunately, there was always something to bring her back.  This thing they called the real world, real life, always waited outside the boundaries of the Kingdom, beckoning her to the drudgery of vain responsibility.
    Jenna knew full well the Kingdom wasn’t real.  At least not real in the sense that kingdoms were once real.  She knew the swords were wooden, the armor mostly padded plastic and the casualties fake.  The kings and nobles wielded no power outside of game time.
    But the magic was real.  The wonder, the fascination, the bravery and chivalry were as real as mortgages and power bills and insurance premiums.  Most of all, the romance was real, perhaps even more real, because it contained all the breathless passion of a lost age.
    Jenna stepped out of the elevator.  The lobby of Tritech was guarded by a semicircular desk that arched along the far wall.  A secretary smiled without warmth from behind the desk as Jenna approached.
    “May I help you?” the woman cooly asked.
    “I’m here to see…” Jenna paused.  The name sounded strange to her.  It wasn’t his real name.
    “Randy Yarbis,” she managed to finish.
    The receptionist made no attempt to hide her irritation.  With pursed lips she stared at Jenna for a moment, obviously debating within herself.  Jenna immediately pegged her as one of those girls she had never managed to get along with.  Pretty in a conventional way, more from artifice than nature, the secretary looked like one of those girls who wielded considerable social power.  She was of the breed that always made Jenna uncomfortable.  From elementary school on they had branded her an outcast for no apparent reason she could discern.  It could have been because of Jenna’s more natural beauty – dark hair, large, blue eyes, a natural flush to her pale features.  Or it could have been some unconscious social cue that divides kids, and even adults, into distinct camps of the cool and uncool.  For whatever reason Jenna was not one of them, and those who were one of them could always detect her outsider standing as clearly as if she had worn a badge of status.
    “What would you want with Randy?” the secretary finally asked.
    “Just tell him Jenna is here to see him.”
    The secretary took another moment to stare wordlessly at Jenna, as if to say that she didn’t have to comply if she didn’t want to.  Finally she pushed a button on her console.
    “A visitor for Mr. Yarbis,” she spoke into the headset.
    Mr. Yarbis? Jenna noticed the title with pleasure.  He must be important to be referred to as Mister.
    “Okay. Thank you,” the secretary replied to the voice on the other end of the headset.
    “I’ll have to find him,” she told Jenna irritably.  “He’s not at his desk.”
    The secretary pushed herself up.  Jenna watched the perfectly put together figure; flawless hair, navy blue skirt and high heels, walk through the clear, glass door and into the maze of cubicles beyond.
    Jenna stepped up to the door to watch the work of commerce, to take a peek at the business of real life. It looked dull, boring.  She found herself thinking that if this was the work of the real world then she wanted no part of it.  Who wanted to be stuck in a square of fabric walls and metal frames, like a cell in an insect