Chapter 120: Fun and Games (Patreon)

Author's Note:

Good morning! Just a friendly reminder that next week's schedule is different. There won't be a chapter on Tuesday or Thursday, and all chapters will be posted on Wednesday at 8am pst.

Thank you for reading, have a great day!

“Jessica,” Al’s exasperated voice rang in her ear, “You don’t have to give us updates every 5 minutes.”

“Roger, Big A, I hear you loud and clear,” Jessica replied cheekily, trying out some of the slang lingo Eluna had been telling her about. The strawberry elf struggled with her Chatgem, and Jessica jokingly asked if she’d never seen one before, as if the [Saint] didn’t use one in the heroes’ party. Surprisingly, no, they didn’t, which really threw Jessica for a loop, but she supposed the novel inventions must have been created at a later date. The party used something similar, though, based on an ancient gnomish device called a radio. Apparently, there were specific words and phrases one was supposed to use while speaking into it, and Jessica thought it was hilarious.

“You aren’t listening, are you?” Al sighed again. “I just said we’re fine. You guys can explore on your own; we’ll meet you in time for dinner.”

“That’s an affirmative, Big A,” Jessica replied with a smirk. “10-4, I’ll update you with our 20 when we hit the objective.”

Smooth.

Silence hung on the other end for several more seconds before Ellesea’s gem unmuted with a giggle, and Al sighed…explosively.

“I’m going to ignore you now.”

“All good, over and out.”

The tall strawberry next to her hummed, and Jessica swore she could feel the disapproval mixed with amusement.

“Are you sure you should be teasing him like that?” The elf asked in her melodious voice. Jessica thought about it. Like, really thought about it. She probably shouldn’t, but…the opportunities were too good to pass.

“You’re right,” Jessica relented. “I’ll give him a break.”

For at least the next 5 minutes.

“And I don’t get it,” Eluna mused. “You’ve had a Chatgem longer than I’ve been in the party. You never talked like this before. Why start now?”

“Because it’s funny?” Jessica cackled. “I mean, does anybody know what half that crap means? It’s just a bunch of garbage, anyway.”

“Sure,” Eluna said with a smile. “So long as you don’t abuse it, we’ll be fine.”

It was just Jessica and the [Saint] exploring the hallways of Phantasia. Talk of wanting a nap came up, but really, everyone else just wanted to rest. Traveling life was hard on the body, even for adventurers. Honestly, Jessica was all for taking a nap, but she had her eyes on a bigger prize: that tantalizing all-you-can-eat buffet. Sure, whenever Melia cooked, Jessica ate as much as she wanted, and maybe a little bit more on the side…and that was the problem. She needed to get her steps in. When she approached the strawberry about wandering down the halls, trying to fill in their punch cards, Eluna was initially on the fence. All it took was the word “exercise” to turn her reticence into a steely resolve…and Jessica wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout castin’ out any demons. Though that was a decidedly different form of “exorcise”...and not the kind of demons they were preparing to fight anyway.

The next [Miniature Aetherstone] was finally in their sights, so the pair picked up their shuffle into an exaggerated powerwalk. A few casino-goers gave them curious looks, but those old bats had bingo wings and could do with a brisk jaunt themselves, so Jessica paid them no mind. The resort attendant stationed near the [Aetherstone] watched them attune to the crystal with a warm smile and nodded to them as they approached.

“Are you on a Crystal Crawl?” The somewhat provocatively dressed lady asked. The woman was a rabbitkin, which gave her an instant +2 points in Jessica’s book, but the [Hunter] didn’t know how to feel about the rabbit wearing a bunny suit. Sure, it was dress code for the casino, and hey, sex sells and all that, but something about this was just too on-the-nose. But Jessica wasn’t going to complain; the last [Stone] she and Brandy made it to was staffed by a Northern Barbarian wearing a sleeveless tuxedo that was one size too small. During that encounter, Jessica and Eluna slowed down.

“Sure are,” Jessica grinned, handing over her punch card. The rabbit was technically a tiny bit shorter than her, so Jessica got to watch the woman’s rigid ears sway around as she concentrated on adding another tally to the card.

“Here…you…go!” The woman chirped brightly. It was- by all laws of mortal man, not just Jessica’s opinion -impossible to be upset with a bunny. Jessica swore they had an AoE buff that gave everyone a 10% boost to happiness.

“Fantastic,” Eluna grinned, thanking the woman and retreating several feet so they wouldn’t be in the way if anybody else wanted to use the [Stone].

“So here’s what we’re looking at,” the [Saint] said, pulling out a folded-up map. They were free, courtesy of the resort, and had stylized little pictures of various activities and points of interest imposed over a diagram of the building. “We’re here, at the northwest Solarium [Mini]. That’s all the hotel [Minis] for the Solarium, and it brings us up to 9 total.”

“Just need one more,” Jessica grinned. “Then we get comped at the buffet.”

“I wonder which buffet it’s good at?” Eluna muttered.

“Should be all of them, no?” Jessica asked. What good is a free pass to a buffet if you can only use it at select locations?

“I don’t know,” Eluna countered. “There’s buffets all over. Since we’re clearing the Solarium [Minis], is it region-locked to the Solarium buffets? Like, is the food specialized in each buffet? If the Solarium is themed around Oasis, I could see a lot of curry options, but what if we’re looking for, say…seafood?”

Jessica frowned. She didn’t think of that! Eluna was a Crawl pro. That totally sounded like something a mega-company would do to maximize their growth and exposure! But then again, maybe not. This place was practically a gold mine, and they gave away stuff for free literally everywhere. Somehow, Jessica figured the Crawl rewards were less a scheme and more a legitimate prize. But she was a quick thinker, and more importantly, an optimist, so she recovered quickly.

“Only one way to find out,” Jessica grinned. “We need that 10th punch. Where’s the next [Mini Aetherstone]?”

“We can either try moving into the entertainment sector of the Solarium or start on a brand new wing of the resort,” Eluna explained, scanning the map. “Looks like the Gaming Hall has…7 [Minis]? While a new wing would have anywhere from 25 to 30.”

“Hmmm,” Jessica said thoughtfully, putting a hand to her chin. “What’s the strategy here?” She muttered. “We could probably scoop a whole bunch of quick punches by going to a new wing, but we’d be splitting up the objectives. We’ll need to come back here eventually for the stragglers if we miss out. I’m leaning toward the Gaming Hall, honestly…but hey. Isn’t that where Melia and Y’cennia wandered off to? Yeah, let’s do that. Cennie’s an Oasis native; I’m sure she’s got the hidden tech to maximize our quest.”

​

Y’cennia thought she was a pro. As a former resident of Oasis, she spent a good chunk of her youth scrambling around the Phantasia. Like most curious or rambunctious children, she’d try to scamper into sections of the casino kids weren’t supposed to be in. She knew her way around the Four Seasons, which is what the locals sometimes called the different hotel wings of the resort, and she had a good feel for what machines were hitting and who was sitting in a cold seat.

She could also spot a whale a mile away.

A funny term for somebody packing more coin than brains, willing to blow huge purses on meaningless bets simply because they could. To somebody with hundreds of gold, what was a handful of silver?

But there was a reason they were called whales…and not some other giant creature. Whales were mostly harmless, weren’t they? They were huge, and if Y’cennia knew anything about the value of monster parts or animal products (which she did), then whales were lucrative marks. The cash cow of the sea. If a fisherman could bring in a single [Whale], that would set up a village for…months, right?

Granted, Y’cennia’s familiarity with seaside fishing villages was shaky at best.

However. Regardless of all that, they were whales…not something decidedly more dangerous. Like [Leviathans]. Nobody wanted a [Sea Dragon] floating up to their boat, and Y’cennia could imagine a casino might react just as poorly. What would they do if a dragon meandered through their front doors?

Well, apparently, let them rent out an entire floor of penthouse suites. The clerk at the desk seemed to understand what Lady Meliastraza was, which meant the entire casino infrastructure knew. In fact, they were already acting on that tidbit of information, as a whole slew of helpful staff members tried to trail them stealthily, ready to pop out and offer any services the little gnome might need at the drop of a hat.

And they were right to do so, because Lady Meliastraza had already spent more money on a single claw machine than some people make in a month.

The very LEAST they could do was bombard the gnome (and her entire party) with enough free drinks to put both major soda manufacturers out of business. Or let them retire. Y’cennia wasn’t sure who was actually losing out on the free drink racket. Probably the casino…but Pop-C and Carbo had to be giving them discounts on bulk orders.

However…none of that really mattered, and it was only taking Y’cennia’s mind off the fact that a tiny gnome was being trailed by a giant maid, toting around a giant stuffed animal. Layalee could have just crammed it into her inventory…but then again, Y’cennia figured, after all Lady Meliastraza went through to win that ridiculous thing, she’d want to brag about them, too.

And she had to keep her mind on something, or else it would inevitably wander back to how much money the gnome spent on that outrageous machine. Which she was now doing, so she let out another defeated sigh.

The machine in question wasn’t really meant to be played, not by common casino-goers. It was like one of those huge jackpot slots that looked to be the size of a small shed, with a giant handle the size of a tree trunk. More of a gimmick than anything, meant to create a spectacle. Oh boy, it sure did, whenever the casino decided they’d raked enough out of their patrons and let some poor schlub win.

The claw machine that Meliastraza played? It looked like an entire swimming pool. Each plushie inside was roughly the size of a genuine [Melii Bear], and the claw itself was larger than the gnome. It could easily grab two Meliastrazas, three if the angle was just right. A single attempt cost roughly 10 silver…and Meliastraza put in a chip the casino had exchanged for a gold coin.

All of this…because the claw machine had a stuffed [Thresher]. These machines often had a stock of rotating themes, and the flavor of the month was Lakeridge. Or if it wasn’t, it was close enough that Meliastraza zoned in on it and connected the dots instantly, spotting the boggly-eyed [Gorblin] plushie next to it. The gnome simply had to have them as a reminder of the party’s first outing.

Y’cennia would rather remember it for the fish dinner they ate, but thinking about that glorious feast was making her hungry. Perhaps that’s what they’d do for dinner…visit the Autumnal. Unlike the Solarium’s banquet halls, the Autumnal specialized in seafood.

In the gnome’s defense, she did win the prizes much sooner than anybody had a right to. Y’cennia never believed Jessica when the [Hunter] tried to claim “luck is a skill,” but Meliastraza made her want to reconsider. Or maybe it was how she not-so-vaguely threatened bloody murder toward the machine under her breath every time the claw failed. Even an inanimate machine would relinquish its treasures in the face of that much bloodlust.

Y’cennia might have been willing to chalk up one win to the whims of an overly-excited and curious dragon with loose purse strings. But the gnome moved on to the next attraction and won there too. Weren’t casino games supposed to be unwinable? Especially ones that relied heavily on chance?

For example…one of the minor games, not a big winner like the slots or any of the card games, but a little something to pass the time in a fun way. Y’cennia would call it a…treasure-hunt guessing game. There were different styles, such as “find the weak spot in the rock,” or “chop down the tree!” One was literally a “find the buried treasure.”

Basically, the game was a large circle with an attached pointer. For the rock version, the pointer was a fake pick; for the tree it was an axe; and the dig spot featured a shovel. Basically, all three activated the board by touching the pointer anywhere on the circle. Once play cost a single coin, and a player got 5 guesses. Once the pointer touched the board, it would make a noise and send out a pulsing ring of light. The closer the player got to the hidden mark, the more exciting the noise and the brighter the color. If the player missed entirely, they’d get a buzzer and a red X, while if they were in range of a win, a bell would chime and the circle would pulse outward. Somewhere in that circle, the prize was hidden. A missed guess inside the circle would give a yellow X and a smaller circle, further narrowing it down. If the player could pick the location successfully within those 5 guesses, they’d win. Depending on how many guesses it took, the prize would be greater. If a player found the spot using all 5 guesses, they’d get their money back. 4 guesses earned 2 coins, 3 guesses earned 5 coins, and 2 guesses earned 10 coins.

If a player managed to score the hit on the first guess, they’d get a whopping 25 coins.

Now, technically, that was only 25 copper. The machine ran on the cheapest casino coin, which was the equivalent of a copper (even if it could only be bought in bulk of 10 or more), so Y’cennia figured the casino didn’t mind too much if a small subset of their clientele dedicated their lives to getting really good at them, because even if they managed to skill themselves up so they could win at 3 guesses every play, they’d only be netting 4 coins a play. And, at…4 minutes? 5 minutes per game after all the flashy lights and sounds and the whole rigamarole?

Not exactly stealing from the casino, right?

Some of the high rollers at the poker tables banked it away nightly, and a single win at one of those jackpot machines would probably overshadow every small game like this tenfold.

But that was a normal player who probably lost once every 10 plays and might have gotten lucky somewhere in there, too. Slightly skilled, but understandable.

And then there was Lady Meliastraza.

She won every single one.

First! Try!

She walked up to the machine, stared at it, giggled, had the huge maid hand her the pick…and instantly hit the hidden bullseye.

Again.

And again.

She won 24 times in a row before she got bored.

Y’cennia was sure they'd get kicked out. Or at the very least, asked to play a different game. Fortunately, their helpful casino steward follower was likely remembering how much the gnome previously spent on the claw, so they let the measly winnings of 4 silver slide.

Yes, Y’cennia thought she was a pro. She once bragged about having a 5-game winning streak on one of these machines. Boy, how she regretted that now.

“How did you do that?” She finally hissed at the little gnome once they wandered away. Lady Meliastraza giggled again, smiling so hard her huge amethyst eyes turned into little crescents.

“I cheated,” she said through her massive grin. “The enchantment they use to program the game is very bright. It’s ingenious, I’ll give them that; but with so many constantly moving parts, the winning spot is always active once the game starts, so it’s like staring directly at a light.”

Y’cennia just stared at the dragon-in-disguise. She was pretty sure the [Enchanters] who make these things get paid specifically to prevent this. But hey? Who makes a parlor game dragon-proof? Bad luck, guys. But that made Y’cennia wonder. Her eyesight was very mundane and she had no idea what magic looked like. Were all the games magically enhanced? Even the slots or roulettes? What did the world even look like to a dragon?

“Are all the games like this?” Y’cennia asked. “Can you see the inner workings of every one?”

“Sure can!” The gnome giggled. “So long as they have magic.”

“Huh,” Y’cennia muttered. Her eyes inevitably traveled toward the den where some of the more lucrative games lay. “All of them?”

Meliastraza followed her gaze before giving out a very dragon-like chuckle. It was somehow very boastful and full of greed, and yet also ready to take on any challenge.

“Let’s explore, shall we?”

​

Alastair, as a [Paladin], a man of the cloth, was not incredibly interested in games of chance. He wouldn't be swayed by gambling, and though he wouldn't begrudge anyone else their vices, he wouldn't indulge in them himself.

So Ellesea left him in the room, trying to meditate while Jessica chirped in his ear every time she and Eluna tagged a new warp point. Honestly, from what little she listened to on the Chatgems, Ellesea almost wished she'd gone with them. The pair sounded like they were having an absolute blast, but Ellesea had something more important than rounding up [Aetherstone] travel locations (and racking up freebie casino points).

Deluxe Arcana Menagerie Assault.

U’lindala was the birthplace of the collectible card game that had taken the world by storm, and even the nobles of Horizon weren't spared the “gotta collect ‘em all” craze. Not only did it cash in on Humanity’s need to find rare items and hoard them; each card from every set was based on a real-life individual or monster. Some people treated their collections like encyclopedias or almanacs, proudly displaying binders filled with rank upon rank of monsters, heroes, and famous people (both good and evil). Others merely bartered cards and swapped them out as rarities changed, following the ups and downs of the card market. Only a select few could claim to own them all…and even then, Ellesea was doubtful.

After all, at some point, the game grew so popular, cards started dropping from monsters in dungeons.

And if having Chaos’ endorsement wasn’t enough of a symbol of approval as the world’s greatest game, what was?

The game itself was rather simple; anybody with half a brain could play it. Could, yes, but if they wanted to be any good, they needed to have a mind for math and patterns, which was what separated the good from the truly skilled. Ellesea prided herself on being “adequate,” having won a number of small tournaments run mostly by fellow [Mages], but it was hard to rank herself among her peers once she’d grown accustomed to their playstyles. Everyone had their favorite decks, and since students were not always known for having extra pocket money, those decks hardly changed. Until a new expansion dropped, anyways, and everybody and their mother forked over their lunch money for a chance to get the newest SSRs to hit the streets.

So what better place to test herself than where it all started? And, of course, there was no better arena than the DAMA hall at the Wellspring Phantasia.

Ellesea made sure to change into the nicest spare dress she had. It wasn’t as suitable as her robes for casting, nor did it have any upgraded stats, but she wouldn't let anyone look down on her as a plebeian covered in dust, coming straight out of the desert. She made sure her wide-brimmed hat was just as spotless as she tilted it jauntily and picked up her staff. Just because she was about to put on a veritable card-clinic did not mean she stopped being a [Mage].

Ellesea paused.

She was an [Arcanist] now.

A smile wormed its way across her face as her step gained a little bounce. Perhaps she needed a new title. No longer was she the [Menagerie Mage]! Perhaps the [Arcanist of Arcana]? Or maybe the [Assault Arcanist]?

It would come with time.

But would rebranding also require shuffling the deck? Ellesea wasn’t sure she was ready to abandon her old tried-and-true strategies. She had several prebuilt hands she could deal out to fit any opponent, and it might be hard to incorporate another. There was only so much room in her brain to memorize the 1000+ DAMA cards, which only seemed to grow every year.

​

Ellesea made her way to the bottom floor of the Solarium and entered the “Deluxe Hall.” Dozens of tables were evenly spaced around the room: some empty, some staffed by casino members, and others taken by players engaged in lively matches. Yes, some even had a single player waiting for a challenger, though Ellesea always felt nervous when facing the unknown. Were they secretly a ringer? Players looking for a quick win from a deceptive deck?

Fortunately for ranked play, a referee judged all decks before an official match, and anyone looking to play would be told their skill level. Ellesea didn’t want to lose in front of the many spectators milling about, so she found her way over to a young wolfkin man playing a Silver deck.

Ellesea’s main deck was Sapphire, two ranks higher, but she still had backup copies of the decks that took her to such great heights, so she could use them too.

“Hello!” the man said in an energetic voice. “Looking for a quick match? I’m still learning the basics, but I’ll do my best!”

Ellesea smiled encouragingly. It was easy to get discouraged by continuous losses, and many players quit before they could truly begin to enjoy the game.

“You’re silver, yes?” Ellesea asked, more to make small talk than to confirm. “I’m a bit higher at Sapphire. I’ve got a Silver deck; do you mind facing an experienced opponent?”

“Don’t go easy on me!” The man challenged confidently. “The best learning comes from adversity!”

Well, she could admire his spirit if nothing else. She’d just have to see if he had more to him than pithy platitudes.

“Since this isn’t a ranked match, let’s flip to see who goes first!”

The man showcased a DAMA commemorative coin from last year’s Majors tournament. It didn’t mean he made it into the bracket, but he was a big enough fan to attend the finals in person. If he were an Oasis native, travel would have been trivial, and Ellesea was a tiny bit jealous. She couldn’t attend (for a multitude of reasons), but she wanted a coin like that!

He flipped the coin and watched it land on the velvet playing table. He’d chosen red, and the coin was blue, so Ellesea went first.

“Very well,” she said clinically, selecting the 5 cards to use as her hand for this match. She shuffled them as best as she could (considering there were only 5 cards) and placed them face down on her side of the table. Across from her, her opponent did the same. Once they both flipped their first card, the match would begin.

“Ready?” They both said at the same time. “Set? Go!”

They flipped their cards and Ellesea immediately went into hyper-focus mode.

The rules of the game were simple in premise, but difficult in execution. The board was a 9 x 9 grid, and the goal was to have more of your cards active than your opponent. Players took turns placing cards in a single slot until all slots were filled. Different cards had different effects, some designed specifically to counter others, while others could be considered “throw-aways” or simply “all-around strong.” Just because a card was weak didn’t mean it was bad; depending on the current rules of the match (selectable from a list of possible sets), weaker cards could be very strong. Part of the strategy was knowing the best time to play any card.

Because there were so many variations of the rules, including regional modifiers favored in distant cities, it was a hard game to master. But Ellesea was not a novice; she knew what she was doing.

“I’ll choose…[Forgemaster Pyronius], and I’ll go here,” Ellesea decided. [Pyronius] was a [Firelord] from the [Incinerated Spire], the best card in Ellesea’s Silver rank [Elemental] deck. Silver decks could have only one 5-star card, with up to 2 4-stars and fillers for everything else. As her sole 5-star, it would be hard for her opponent to capture, so she put it in the center to start with strong board control.

“Oooh,” the man enthused. “That’s a nice card! From the [Firelands] set?”

“Indeed,” Ellesea preened. It was one of her few complete collections.

“Well, I can’t let that stand!” He retorted confidently.

…if only his okay was strong enough to match. He put his card, a standard 3-star [Orc Warrior], in a very…poor place.

“Is…that where you’re playing?” Ellesea asked tentatively. She wasn’t sure if the man was just absentminded or just a bad player. She didn’t want to assume, and didn’t want to call “board lay” on a novice opponent.

“I think so?” He said, a mix of confusion and confidence. Eventually he shrugged and grinned at her. “We’ll see how it goes!”

Ooookay, Ellesea thought. This will be a very quick match.

Long story short: it was. Technically, all DAMA matches always played the same number of cards, but the play clock never needed to run the full 60 seconds per turn. Ellesea won in a commanding fashion, losing only a single card to her opponent because of a tactical move that secured her an extra two.

The man didn’t seem dismayed in the slightest, despite having his posterior presented to him on a silver platter, and even cheerfully asked if she wanted a rematch. Ellesea politely declined and decided to find someone of a more…suitable skill level.

​

As Ellesea wandered around looking for a better opponent, she ran into somebody she never expected to be into DAMA.

Lady Meliastraza.

Technically, Ellesea didn’t see the gnome straight away, but a rather suspiciously familiar catkin. Since this was U’lindala, the beastkin homeland, Ellesea didn’t want to assume, but…that orange hair with black striping was too recognizable to ignore.

“Y’cennia?” Ellesea called out. The catkin’s ears swiveled toward her before the girl’s brain actually caught up, and half a moment later, the body turned to reveal the…slightly strained face of an erstwhile [Alchemist]?

“Cennie?” Ellesea asked in a hushed tone, rushing forward. “What’s wrong?”

Y’cennia didn’t look panicked or in any real trouble (not like she could have been with one of the [Retainers] standing nearby), but she certainly looked vexed.

“I…want to backseat,” she mewled. “Badly.”

Ellesea scoffed. Backseat? In a card game? Not that Ellesea didn’t understand the desire; it could be frustrating to watch somebody play differently than your preferred strategy. Who had ruffled Y’cennia’s fur so thoroughly?

Ellesea leaned around the fidgeting catkin where, unsurprisingly, a very excitable gnome bounced up and down on a raised, cushioned seat.

“Hmmmm,” Meliastraza frowned thoughtfully, muttering to herself. “What’s the play here…?”

It took all of Ellesea’s considerable willpower not to blurt out a suggestion. Y’cennia was right: the urge to backseat was dire. The ruleset of Meliastraza’s match demanded that both players reveal all cards, so everyone had full tactical information. This wasn’t a beginner style of play, and Ellesea’s eyes bulged the moment she realized what cards the gnome was using.

“You have an [Ancients] deck?!” She nearly screamed.

“Oh?” Meliastraza instantly perked up. Her eyes brightened the moment she saw Ellesea and she began bouncing harder. “Oh! Elsie! You’re here too! Do you like to play?”

“Miss, might I remind you that it’s your turn?” A referee said tactfully. “The turn clock is ticking.”

“Oh…right!” Meliastraza nodded. She frowned, shook her head, and placed a card.

It…wasn’t the move Ellesea would have made, especially not with a genuine [Amili the Innocent] card! The [Priest] might not be nearly as famous as the [Saint], but she was a legendary human healer! Her card harnessed the power of faith to buff nearby cards! And the gnome put her in the corner!!!

…eventually, Meliastraza lost, but not for lack of trying. Or rather, she tried hard, but her overpowered cards carried her.

Sadly, they couldn’t carry her forever, but the gnome didn’t seem overly upset about her loss. Nor did her opponent seem too excited over their win. The woman almost seemed relieved that it was over, and quickly got up from the table without considering a rematch. A decent portion of the large crowd gathered around the table seemed eager to challenge the gnome, but now that Meliastraza was engaged in conversation, they seemed hesitant to approach.

“Do you play?” Meliastraza asked, slipping off the chair and landing on the floor. The crowd groaned a little and sadly watched her waddle away.

Do I play? Ellesea scoffed internally, but she kept her ego in check. Especially after seeing the hand Meliastraza had chosen to field, she didn’t want to be too presumptuous.

“I dabble,” Ellesea said, trying to sound humble, but it came out rather arrogantly.

“Oh, what rank are you?” The gnome bubbled. “I’m surprised my rank carried over! I’m Platinum, but I think I’m rather rusty and it’s not my current skill.”

Platinum? Ellesea’s eyebrows rose. That was two steps above her own rank. It went Copper, Silver, Gold; Sapphire, Emerald, Ruby; and then Platinum, Truesilver, Mithril. There were talks about adding an Adamantine tier, but didn’t that mean Meliastraza was incredibly skilled at the game?

Or maybe…as much as Ellesea didn’t want to consider it…she had “bought” her way to the top? Not really, as people couldn’t pay money to advance ranks, but better cards naturally produced better results.

And if Ellesea knew anything about the dragon in disguise, it was that she loved collecting things. And as Meliastraza proceeded to gleefully exhibit her binders, plural, of cards (like a library or museum dedicated to the game), Ellesea was overwhelmed.

“I have the entire original collection!” The gnome beamed. Strangely, it felt less of a brag than when Ellesea tried to downplay her accomplishments.

“That’s…over 600 cards,” Ellesea said in a weak voice. “Some of them Ultra Super Rares!”

“Oh yeah,” Meliastraza nodded earnestly. “I had to do some serious grinding to find them all.”

Ellesea didn’t want to know what sort of grinding a dragon did, not in any sense.

But before they could really move on, somebody in the crowd challenged Meliastraza to a match, and the gnome excitedly agreed. Ellesea and Y’cennia both watched numbly as Layalee placed a cushion at the current table and helped Meliastraza onto it.

The players got down to business and once again the gnome displayed a staggering propensity for being…mediocre.

“Do you see?” Y’cennia asked in a whisper. “That was not an optimal move.”

Fortunately, Meliastraza was so invested in the game she didn’t react to the criticism.

“How long has she been at this?” Ellesea asked, watching the opponent take a card that should have been guarded.

“Almost 2 hours,” Y’cennia replied shakily. “And she’s won less than half.”

“So many losses?” Ellesea groaned. Y’cennia shook her head.

“That’s not the worst part,” she lamented. “You want to know why so many people are eager to challenge her? Somebody found out Lady Meliastraza has deep pockets, and she'll meet any bet a challenger suggests. So long as they’re confident in their skills, players can really make it big. One or two people have already made a fortune off of her.”

“Ugh,” Ellesea groaned, closing her eyes. “Have we finally found the counter to the ultimate dragon? A foe she can’t crush with overwhelming strength?”

“Yes,” Y’cennia agreed sadly. “Deluxe Arcana Menagerie Assault presents the humble card game…[Slayer of Dragons].”

​

Queen Moeldywn Eutevor sat impassively on the throne. Below her, noble representatives bickered, while the commoner delegations sat restlessly.

Today’s topic of agitation was merited, but unnecessarily drawn out. It was yet another policy Philip had allowed to progress without considering the long-term ramifications, and now Moeldywn was forced to intervene.

Specifically, it involved colonizing part of the wetland coast north of the great mountain range that separated the human and dwarven lands. Not even considering how the dwarves might feel about sudden expansion of their human neighbors, who had always been on good terms, this reckless venture was doomed to fail before it began. Even in peaceful times such as they were when this plan began forming, creating a settlement took time. Time they no longer had with the imminent threat of a demon invasion.

“Consider the benefits of verdant timberlands,” one of the pro-expansion leaders said. “With the exception of Serenity Forest, we are lacking in viable forestry.”

“And where will you secure the tools?” Argued one of the opponents. “Whose iron will you take to forge the saws? Smith the axes?”

Moeldywn found it telling that the man was arguing economics and logistics instead of outright denying it as a possibility…which she had already done.

But part of being a ruler was knowing when to rule…and when to let one’s subjects air their opinions. Yet this circular dialogue had gone on long enough.

“I have told you before,” Moeldywn said with authority after a break in the back-and-forth. “A new settlement in the north is out of the question. We will not entertain the idea. We have neither the time nor resources to devote to such a foolish endeavor. Let us move on.”

“But your Majesty,” the first man reasoned, “King Philip-“

Those were the wrong words; Moeldywn’s temper flared.

“Lord Holt,” she asked in a seethingly calm tone. “Is your vision well? Do you need to see a physician? Certainly you can see that I sit on the throne, not Philip. Need I remind you what brought us to where we stand today?”

The man froze and fell silent.

“No, Your Majesty,” he gulped, sitting down.

“Good,” Moeldywn sighed, attempting to ease the tension in her neck without aggressively cracking it. “Representative Aubureen,” she addressed the other side of the delegation. “What have you to say about-“

About what, Moeldywn never got to finish, nor did the woman get a chance to answer. At that moment, the doors to the chamber floor flew open, which should normally only happen at the bookends of the day or during a recess.

Several cries of surprise and outrage broke out around the room and Moeldywn shot up from her seat.

And yet, as soon as the figures in the doorway came into focus, the room fell silent…while Moeldywn’s heart beat rapidly in her chest.

“[Ambassador]…?!”

“He’s alive!”

“He lives!”

“What is that smell?”

The room quickly fell into chaos, but Moeldywn ignored the cries of the flustered nobles, self-important [Peacocks] that they were.

“Guards,” she called out urgently. “Escort the [Ambassador] to the throne.”

The man looked like he’d seen better days. He might be rank 6, which was respectable for an administrative figure, but he was still in his 60s, and whatever clothes he had been wearing were in tatters. His shirt had been shredded to ribbons, and indeed, he was using the remains as makeshift bandages to wrap around his chest and left shoulder. His right arm was in a shoddy sling and he clutched it with a grimace, and there was a nasty gash in his head that appeared to be infected.

Clearly, this man needed to see a healer, posthaste.

But his adamant resolve made it clear he would not be gainsaid.

Such devotion and loyalty should not go unrewarded.

One guard handed his weapons to another and rushed to assist the old [Ambassador]. But he wanted to retain his dignity, and would not allow himself to be carried. Instead, the guard gently lifted the man’s arm over his neck and took the burden of weight off his feet.

“[Ambassador],” Moeldywn said, gripping the arm of the throne in empathetic support. “You’re alive.”

She realized how crass her words might sound and grimaced.

“We are, of course, delighted at this revelation,” she rectified quickly, “And we are immensely relieved.”

Personally, Moeldywn thought her reaction was merited. No word had reached her about the man’s whereabouts since the day the [Ambassador] was exiled from the demon realm. Not from the official envoys or her private army of spies.

“Did the carriage Philip sent reach you in time?”

Suddenly, Moeldywn realized this was the man’s first time seeing her on the throne, not her grandson. It was a testament to the man’s wits and long years of service that he appeared unbothered.

“Bah,” he scoffed with a dry, crackling laugh. “They’re probably dead. Or turned back at the gates, if they’re lucky; but to answer your question, oh Queen, no. It did not.”

“So how…?” Moeldywn began, but she was interrupted.

“I beg your forgiveness,” the man said staunchly, and Moeldywn could feel his resolve. “But I have not traveled hundreds of miles on my own two feet, braving the heat of deserts and the torture of the wastelands to bandy idle words at your seat. I have but one thing to say before I retire to an infirmary to heal and rest, should the gods not welcome me into the nebulous beyond with open arms. Queen Moeldywn Eutevor, I, [Ambassador] Hammond Ward, do fulfill the details of my office with this final report: Igor Wrathchild, the previous Demon King…is dead.”