Les licornes poured out of the team bus and into their hotel in Bretsaar, babbling and chattering to each other like excited schoolboys on a field trip.
"It's insane!" Franky Adams, équipe nationale center forward, was saying to Emanuele Cutrona, the centerback. "They literally have artillery on top of the football stadiums!" He gestured skyward to emphasize his point.
"I saw that," breathed Emanuele in a tone of shock. "It doesn't look like a war-torn country, but you see those huge guns on top of the arena and it really drives it home, how recent the Bostopian Conflict was. It's terrifying."
"Yeah, it looks so safe, now," said Franky, glancing backward over his shoulder as he pushed his way inside through the hotel's revolving door, as if he expected to see soldiers carrying rifles in the street. "Hard to believe this was a warzone just a year ago."
"You nincompoops." The pair of chatterboxes turned to see Maynard Hebron, the team's right midfielder, standing behind them. "Those were not 'artillery' on top of the stadium. Those were cranes--like, for construction. They put them there because the place was a military logistics base during the conflict. Which means if they had an entire army base inside the stadium, I don't think this place ever saw any of the fighting--which ended two years ago, by the way."
"Nuh-uh," said Franky, holding up a finger in protest. "I read one of the tourism brochures on the bus. It said they had artillery on top of the stadium."
"You're thinking of Cop Limy Stadium," said Maynard. "It doesn't have artillery, it has one anti-aircraft gun on it. And that's all the way in Neorudo. Unless you're thinking of Dannin City Stadium, where they used to have artillery, during the war. They did use a lot of the sporting infrastructure here for the war effort, that's for sure. But Mertagne is hardly the war-torn wasteland you two seem to picture."
"Well that's good," said Franky, again with a glance outdoors. Was he waiting for a tank to roll past? "I still think it's crazy that the WCC voted to hold the World Cup here immediately after the war. I can hardly imagine the size of the bribes that must have changed hands."
"Oh, take off your tinfoil hat, Franky," said Emanuele, "now even I think you're going too far. Everyone knows they won the vote on the wave of international goodwill after the conflict."
Franky raised an eyebrow. "'International goodwill' can line a lot of WCC pockets," he said.
"Maybe don't say that while we're literally here, in the country," Maynard.
"Reçueçn isn't even a WCC member," said Franky. "We have no idea what goes on during those votes."
"Shhhhh!" Maynard and Emanuele shushed Franky simultaneously. Heads turned toward the trio, but the hotel lobby was almost entirely full of their other teammates. Helibert Wolf, who played right wing, and was standing just to one side, stepped into the circle.
"What are you guys talking about?" he asked.
"Well, besides Franky's insane conspiracy theories, we were talking about those crazy machines on top of the stadium we saw earlier," said Emanuele.
Helibert lit up with excitement.
"Oh, the cranes!?"
Maynard turned toward Franky to say "I told you so", but at the mention of his "conspiracy theories," Franky had rolled his eyes and stepped away.
"I can't wait!" Helibert continued. "I don't know if you followed the leaks from before, but apparently they have this huge glass stage that they are going to lower onto the pitch before the game, using those cranes."
"A glass stage?" asked Emanuele, incredulously.
"Yes!" Helibert's energy was almost contagious. "It's for the Glass Goblins concert, so it's part of the theme."
"Glass Goblins?"
"Yeah, you haven't heard of them? They're a Mertagnian electronic music group; I'm a huge fan."
"I've never heard of them," said Maynard. "What kind of music do they play?"
"Mertagnian Electronic."
"That's the name of the genre? It's kind of a mouthful."
"Oh, it's super avant-garde stuff, it's incredible." Helibert was gushing. "After we finish warming up before the game, they'll use the cranes to lower the glass stage onto the pitch, and then they'll play a set. They've got a crazy light show, and a real futuristic sound with synths and electronic instruments, and the whole thing is played by these huge holographic goblins they project through the stage. And then afterward, they can lift the stage right off the pitch with the cranes, just seconds before kickoff."
"That sounds like kind of a lot," said Emanuele.
"Yeah, and I still can't get over the fact that the stage is made of glass. Are we sure it's not going to crash spectacularly?"
"Oh no," said Helibert. "They do these kind of crazy shows all the time, and there's always some sort of stunt. They have plenty of practice. I'm sure nothing will go wrong."
The conversation was interrupted by Ägidius Heissler, the team assistant manager, walking through the group and handing out keycards. He gave them out, two at a time, to the players, who were all going to be doubled up in the hotel rooms. "Emanuele, you and Franky are sharing a room, right?" Ägidius confirmed. "He already has your keycard." He continued walking among the players in the lobby, handing out the other keys. "Go upstairs and get unpacked, boys," he announced, "and then we'll rendez-vous at dinner."
Ägidius had already started leading the way to the elevator, and most of the players had followed him, but Maynard, Helibert, and Emanuele lagged behind. "We won't all fit in the first elevator anyway," said Emanuele.
At that moment, the group's attention was caught by a food courier pulling up just outside the hotel on a motorbike. He hopped off his bike and pushed his way through the revolving door, carrying a large paper tote bag in one hand. He looked at the three players, still standing in the lobby, and assumed they were waiting there for a food delivery. He stepped toward them.
"I have a delivery for room 216?"
Helibert began to stammer something about them just having arrived themselves and not having ordered anything, but Emanuele looked down at the keycard in his hand. The keycard was inside a small, paper sleeve, and on that was printed in large, sans serif font, "216".
"Good lord, that boy is fast," he muttered. "That's me," he said, a bit louder, and stepped forward to take the bag from the courier. "Delivery for Franky Adams, yes?"
The courier glanced at his phone. "Yes, that's right," he said, and with a nod, made his way back out into the street. They watched through the door as he drove off.
"He's already at it again?" asked Helibert, raising an eyebrow.
"Dinner's in half an hour," said Maynard, "I don't know what he's thinking."
The sound of a second motorcycle pulling up outside the hotel called their attention again as a second delivery driver dismounted and made his way into the lobby. He looked at Emanuele, already holding one quite large bag, and his two friends, both empty handed. "Franky Adams?" he asked.
"Yeah," sighed Emanuele.
"Here you go," said the driver, fishing another large bag out of the boxy delivery backpack he wore, and handing it to Emanuele. "Enjoy," he said, and with that, he was gone.
"What is he even ordering," asked Helibert.
"Who knows," said Emanuele. "Normally every time he visits a new country he has some dish he's so excited to try and he talks my ear off about it, but he hasn't mentioned anything. Maybe he got a food video in his feed, or there was something on the TV in the hotel room when he got up there--there's no saying with him."
"Well take a peek," said Maynard. "I'm curious too."
"How am I meant to do that," said Emanuele, "my hands are full. This sh*t is heavy, too."
A third motorcycle pulled up outside.
"You've got to be kidding," said Helibert.
"Oh, he's just getting started," said Emanuele.
Maynard nodded. "This is your first World Cup with the team, Helibert, but Franky always does this. He thinks it makes him some kind of celebrity to have local delicacies delivered to him."
"And also he just loves eating," added Emanuele.
The third food courier had come into the lobby by now, hold yet another large tote of food, bigger than either of the first two. He addressed himself to the receptionist at the desk. The Reçuecians could hear what he was saying.
"I have an order for uh... F. Adams? In room 216. Do I just leave that down here, or... ?"
"Oh, uh, that's my friend," Emanuele spoke up. "I can take it up to him." He tried awkwardly to flash the "216" written on his keycard from beneath the large parcel of food he was holding."
The delivery guy walked over to the trio and handed them what was now the third tote of food. Helibert took it from him, since Emanuele's hands were totally full by now.
"Thank you," he said.
"Thank you," said the courier, and he went on his way.
A buzzing noise came from somewhere behind the bags Emanuele was holding. "Maynard, could you fish my phone out of my pocket?" he asked.
"Here, let me just take this," said Maynard, taking one of the bags from Emanuele so he had a free hand. Emanuele pulled out his phone to check his notifications. It was a text from Franky.
"I ordered a few things," Franky had written. "If ur still down there, can u bring them when u come up?"
"Oh my goodness, this guy," said Emanuele. He glanced over at Maynard. The midfielder was holding the bag with his thumbs, and pulling the mouth open with his fingers to peer inside. Emanuele rolled his eyes.
"Wow, this is a lot of dumplings," said Maynard.
"Wait, really?" asked Helibert. He was looking into the bag he was holding as well. "It's all dumplings in here, too."
"I told you guys," said Emanuele. "He gets on one of these kicks and he goes way too hard on just one things. Has to try a version from every different restaurant."
"But dumplings?" asked Helibert. "Is this because we're going to play Yue Zhou?"
"He probably read some magazine article about Mertagnian dumplings," said Emanuele.
"This has got to be forty, maybe fifty, sixty dumplings between all three of these orders," said Maynard.
A car pulled up out front and a forth food courier got out. Emanuele groaned.
Maynard didn't bother waiting. He walked to the door to meet the courier. "For Adams?" he confirmed, and relieved the delivery man of his load--a fourth, large food order. Maynard glanced inside. "More dumplings!" he sang out.
Helibert laughed.
"My whole hotel room is going to smell like dumplings," Emanuele moaned.
"Friend, you are going to smell like dumplings," said Maynard.
"Better than Franky," said Helibert. "If he eats all of these, he's going to become one."
"Oh, whatever," said Emanuele. "Let's take these up to the room." He began to lead the way toward the elevator. "Surely he won't eat all of these? He'll be sick for a week."
"I thought you said he has lots of practice?" said Helibert. "I'm sure nothing will go wrong."
