Land Swap Game

     But wait. Roo Island doesn’t have a university, does it? And why are all these Blumaroos wearing top hats and monocles? Are they trying to be gothic?

     Let’s find out, shall we?

     Exploring Roo Island University

     A quick glance around these hallowed halls and I could see hundreds of students. They chatted about completely normal things: the mystery meat sandwich in the dining hall, their upcoming exam in game theory, the scientific study of using different materials to create a completely fair, completely unweighted pair of dice. Multiple posters about the cultural significance of Dice-a-Roo lined a brightly lit hallway. One particularly eager physics student shared with her classmates that the Roo Island Merry-go-Round was exhibiting centripetal force.

     Gardens lined the courtyard, many of which depicted famous Blumaroo heroes of lore. I recognized one of them as Sir Rohane, the Meridellian knight and “Hero of Five Lands,” although it looked as though his crest was a purple and black circle instead of a red and blue shield. A few students were huddled around in small groups. When I stood on my tiptoes and craned my neck over a shorter Aisha’s shoulders, I saw what looked to be a tabletop game on a stone table. “Tseuqoen II” it read. While a few of the group played this game of funny-shaped dice and miniaturized figures of Neopians, many others took steady notes, their brows creased with concentration.

     “Our loyal viewers at home would love to know more about what you’re playing,” I began, holding my purple quill and notepad in hand. “Is there anything you’d like to say to The Coconut fans all over Neopia?”

     At first, no one said anything. When I asked a second time, a bespectacled green Tuskaninny cleared his throat before saying, “this is a closed beta test, Miss. No outside feedback is allowed.”

     With that, and the silent glares of his scholarly companions, I continued forth. Unlike before, the Island seemed to be a bustling hub of learning, with pop-up stands as far as the eye could see. Who knew there were so many scholars who focused on gaming? A few Neopians handled calculators and an abacus to calculate the probability of winning a card game. Fascinating though it was, I wandered off until I found an incredibly fancy room aptly named “The King’s Corner.”

     I had the pleasure of speaking with the headmaster, a Neopian I immediately recognized as King Roo. I tried to bow, but he held up a hand, causing his long, elegant robe to shimmer.

     “There is no need to treat me so formally,” he said with a warm smile. “We welcome all scholars here, no matter how good or bad their luck has been.”

     When I asked him how long the island had hosted a university, he looked at me with concern. “Why, for generations! We’ve always roll a natural twenty for the land of Neopia, my dear.”

     Not wanting to seem rude, I pretended to understand. If there’s anything I learned from doing journalism in Wraithland, smiling and nodding can be two very important skills for survival. That and a steady supply of fance tops, purple and banana yellow socks, and being fluent in flaming coconut. Especially that second one, though. You never know when you’ll need to befriend a Petpet.

     “What about Brightvale?”

     The Blumaroo’s face fell as he shook his head. “They rolled a natural one.”

     What about Brightvale?

     After I won a debate session (I learned from the best—despite being a philanthropist, Mr. Coconut can argue better than anyone I know) I won the right to board a boat and leave the island. Unlike Roo Island, Brightvale looked much more run down.

     Carnival game carts lined every street. Neopians as young as five played Tyranu Evavu for a Neopoint or two. Those who could win at these games of skills got the greatest prize of them all: knowledge. Books had become scarce here, difficult to obtain, symbols of wealth and power. And those who could win them hoarded them like a choice cut of meat.

     Where the University once sat was a large gambling center. A few Neopians carried books under their cloaks, their well-earned prize, while others left there, dejected.

     Curious, I entered. There were some smaller books, children’s books from the looks of it, being gambled over some basic games of chance. Behind a glass case, however, sat what I could only assume were the “grand prizes”. One featured a portrait of a stern-faced Skeith who I recognized as King Hagan and his namesake as the title. The other, ironically enough, titled “Keeping the Peace.” It did not seem as if this place had much peace to be found, however.

     I noticed a few stories from among the list of protected materials: “Caught Between Kingdoms,” a story about a former Kass general turned ally of Meridell, “The Knightmare,” a saga of a knight rescuing his friend from his subconscious nightmares, and even one about a prank gone too far between Altador Cup captains. Funny, really. I think I recognized the author for all of these—sometimes a writer of parody, other times an enormous ham. I wonder how she’d feel about all of this.

     Some of the city looked to be pristine, with marble walls, cobblestone pathways, elegant dances, and learning, always learning. And yet, there were many others with whom this fortune was not shared. I did not hesitate for a minute that Mr. Coconut would wish them all a GOOD NIGHT.

     Part of me wondered: if this alternative Brightvale could be in such a state, then what of Meridell?

     What of Meridell, indeed.

     Who knows if they never had the orb, or if it had simply backfired.

     Fabio Von Shmoobenduffle would have been busy. Who is he, you ask? Ah, just a cultural icon, a writer for the Neopian Enquirer, and one of Neopia’s greatest necromancers to ever grace Neopia. His words, not mine.

     At least Darigan Citadel is offering aid—oh, I suppose they’re called “Darigan Castle” according to a very friendly, dapper-looking talking Meepit named Sir Pendleton. Medicine, food, and shelter, all gifts to improve relations between the two nations. Some of the leading minds of Darigan have been working to nourish the soils, cure diseases, and make life better for the Neopians who are living there.

     Based on the décor in the town square and the joy of all those around, it's a holiday of note. “Valenristmareen” is what a neon orange sign with tinsel, hearts, and pumpkins says.

     The moment I held out my quill in hopes of interviewing a Darigan—or is it Meridellian??—Jubjub dressed like a ghost with hearts and candy canes painted on the white sheet… the world started to spin. Was it the “probably delicious, I promise,” sandwich that an Eventide Draik told me to eat at the Roo Island University dining hall? Or walking backwards for three miles on my way to work today?

     A calmness filtered through the morning air. In the distance, the flags of a magnificent castle—Meridell’s Castle—waved over the relative peace. No longer did it look like it did before, but as it always had before. “Normal,” as it were.

     Was this all just a dream? A weird, bizarrely real, daydream?

     I looked at the notes in my notepad. The interviews, the drawings, they were all still there. I was there. Lena, interviewer extraordinaire.

     Now, the only problem remains: what do I call my masterpiece?

     The idea came to me in a flash of genius. A Chet Flash, you might even say.

     “Land Swap Game,” I wrote in cursive letters, underlining it twice.

     It was the perfect article. Now, if only I could convince them that it wasn’t an April Fool’s Day prank.

     Maybe one day they’ll understand as well as I do.

     But until then, good night, Neopia, and GOOD NIGHT mr. coconut.