Dokeshi March: Chapter 53 (Patreon)

Chapter 53

“Debtors, Bettors, and High Rollers, welcome to the Dokeshi March Poker Tournament Finals!”  The casino manager was back on his small stage, announcing the start of the final round.  Grant was doing his best to hold in his impatience.  As soon as he had agreed to the Dokeshi’s deal, everyone in the crowd had instantly switched from fearful to excited.  For them, it was a no-lose situation.  Either way, they would be getting food shipments soon.  Now it was all about the entertainment provided by the game.

“The first of your finalists should be a familiar face.  This is the third time in as many years that we have seen Fryer Puck at the last table.  He still hopes to win the money needed to buy the cure for his sick wife, who has only gotten worse as time has gone on.  Last year, he bet his business that produced turkey fryers.  This time, his collateral for his entrance fee was his life!”  The crowd roared at the announcement.  “If he loses, he dies.  If he wins, it means his wife continues to live.  Now, that’s some motivation to succeed, am I right?”  The crowd responded to his goading with roars of approval.

“I think I might be sick.”  Suki had joined Grant, who was hurriedly eating a dry heel of bread and sliver of cheese between gulps of water.  “What is wrong with these people?”  Grant could only shrug at her.  He had seen similar reactions in both District January and District February, so he wasn’t particularly surprised.  “Thanks for saving me from these people, by the way.”

“It was no big deal.”  Grant wasn’t going to spend the next five minutes explaining to her what he had gone through to free her.  He needed that time to eat.

“No big deal, huh?”  The corner of her mouth upturned in a small smile before she took a bite of her own food.  She had been kept in a similar situation as Grant, except her cell had been incredibly bright all the time.  At least they had let her sleep.

“Our second finalist is here for the first time.  She has bet her entire life savings - including her family’s ancestral lands - for a chance at finding out who killed her father!”  The cheers seemed even louder this time.  “That’s right!  The Dokeshi’s Vassals have already identified the person responsible for his death, but she lost the game of chance that determined if she could learn who it was!  If she wins, this will be her chance at justice.  If she loses, both her and her elderly mother get to live on the streets!”

“Okay, that one is pretty messed up.”  Grant was appalled at how the court system involved gambling like everything else in this District.  Appalled, but not surprised.  “This place needs reform worse than District January needs a thousand personal trainers.”

“You can say that again.”  Suki tore off another bite of bread in a rather unlady-like fashion.  “Why did no one ever tell me how good bread is?”

“I know, right?”  Grant took a bite of cheese, trying to keep the ratio of bread to cheese as even as possible.  “You should really try regular pancakes sometime.  It will blow your mind.”

“Our third competitor is none other than the son of Lord Monday, here to play for his father’s freedom!”  The expected roar of the crowd was somehow even louder.  “That’s right!  You all remember last year, when his father gambled away his freedom in exchange for his son getting to continue the noble line.  Well now, his son has gambled his entire lineage for the chance at freeing his father from bondage!”

The next three competitors were just as heart-wrenching, he was sure, but Grant stopped listening.  Knowing that he was destroying these people by winning wouldn’t help him sleep at night, but stopping the cycle that allowed their situations to even exist in the first place was more important.  The sudden swelling in his chest caused him to choke on his water, but he pushed past it and kept drinking.  This bread was almost as dry as his food bar.

He wasn’t happy about it, but the responsible part of Grant knew he had to win, otherwise there would be a dozen new Fryer Pucks, and grieving children, and imprisoned fathers, every single day Dokeshi March was in power.  Grant was sorry for their loss, but he needed to win.

“Without further ado, let the tournament commence!”  The announcer was finally done introducing everyone.  Grant had missed what they had said about him, but it didn’t really matter.  What mattered was taking first.

Grant took the chair directly across the table from Dokeshi March, and spent a few seconds to make sure he hadn’t been short-changed on his chips.  It would definitely be something the Mad Jester would get a kick out of doing.

“I don’t need to short you on chips to beat you, Lord January.”  Dokeshi nodded at the dealer to start shuffling.  “Or do you prefer Lord February?  No matter.  When I beat you, I will simply call you a delivery boy.”

“And I won’t call you anything, because you will be dead.”  Grant was feeling the strain of being this close to the man responsible for all the suffering he had seen, and he was unable to do anything about it.

“We will have to see, won’t we?”  The twisted smile of Dokeshi March made Grant’s skin crawl.

“Blinds, please.”  The dealer was the same one Grant had at his table last time.  He guessed Dokeshi wanted as many guards as he could get.  The man quickly dealt the cards, clearly having practiced his card skills over the last few days.  “First round of betting starts with Fryer Puck.”

“I raise.”  The man pushed in half of his stack, making the bet fifty chips.  He was visibly sweating, and Grant felt a sharp pang of regret.  It still bothered him that he would have to beat a man trying to win medicine to save his wife’s life.

“I call.”  His bet was met by three others at the table, but both Grant and Dokeshi March folded.  The betting between the four was fast and furious, and before Grant could blink, the hand was over, and Fryer Puck was on his feet in indignation.

“I had pocket Aces!  How could I lose with pocket Aces?!”  He had gone all in on the first hand, and was already disqualified.  Grant saw Dokeshi March give a slight nod to the hulking form of Cuddles, who had somehow squeezed his bulk into a throne-like chair off to the side of the table.  He stood up and pulled a massive hammer from off its resting place on the wall.  “It isn’t fair!  Math doesn’t lie, and I-”  Before Grant realized what was happening, Cuddles swung the hammer like he was playing stickball and knocked poor Fryer Puck’s head off of his body, sending a spray of blood and gray matter over the spectators.

“You son of a-”  Grant stood, his sword already out of its sheath, and a faint glow running along the edge of the blade.

“Now-now, Lord Grant, you agreed to play the game as it was meant to be played initially, before our little side bet.”  Dokeshi had his scepter in his hand, its crystal glowing a clear, white light.  “That poor soul bet his life as collateral to join the tournament.  What did you think would happen when he lost?”

Speechless, Grant sheathed his sword as he sat down.  It wasn’t until his blood stopped roaring in his ears that Grant realized the crowd was also roaring.  In approval.

“They do love the show, don’t they?”  Cuddles wiped the head of the hammer off on the clothes of the dead Fryer before grabbing the dead body and hauling it away.  “Heehee, I do too!”

“I assure you, the man knew the risks when he made the bet.”  Dokeshi’s smile did reach his eyes this time.  “If that makes you feel better, anyway.  He simply forgot my number one rule.  The House Always Wins.”

The other players at the table were all freaking out a little, but it was a blend of fear and determination that Grant could respect.  He had been in similar situations several times.

“Blinds, please.”  The dealer collected up the cards and was already shuffling them, after wiping a few spots of blood off the two Aces that Fryer Puck had in front of him.

Somehow, the only person not nervous was Dokeshi March.  Even though his life was on the line as well - possibly for the first time ever - he didn’t seem to be bothered.  Instead, the man was playing the crowd, and they were eating it up.

“Oh, you wish to check?  Well, no man checks my cards for free Lord Monday.  I raise you twenty!”  The crowd cheered at the by-play, and Grant was sickened by their heartlessness.  A tiny voice in the back of his head weighed the pros and cons of letting this nest of sharks starve to death before snapping out of it.  This group of wealthy people in their silks and finery were not a proper representation of the people who lived in District March.

“Oh, what a surprise!  Lord Grant folds again.  What a genuine shock!”  Grant ignored Dokeshi March every time he tried to goad him into playing.  He would play the cards he was dealt, and not react to the goading of the madman.

Grant ended up winning two hands by the time the blinds made their third raise, which was just enough to keep him floating at roughly where he started, at a hundred chips.  Another two players were escorted out in chains during that time, leaving only five competitors at the table.  He was having a hard time concentrating most of the time, due to the awful itching sensation at the small of his back.

“What is up with my clothes?  First it was my chest, and now my back?  Did I accidentally touch some itch-weed at some point?”  Grant tried rubbing his back against his chair, but it didn’t do anything to help.  He was distracted from his misery by the definite sound of someone making a terrible mistake.

“All in!”  The finalist was one of the two that Grant didn’t listen to, but when he saw Cuddles stirring in his chair, he knew what was coming.

“Oh, so close, yet so far!”  Dokeshi March laid out a flush that was exactly one card higher than the one the man had.  “I’m sorry.  Better luck next time!”  Cuddles used a sickle this time, sending the head into the crowd in a solid piece instead of chunks.  “Or not!”  The crowd was loving it, and Grant was ready to burn the place to the ground.

“Okay, folks!  It looks like we are down to the final four.  It’s time to take a quick break, and then we will be right back at it!  Players, please be back in your seats in ten minutes.  If you take any longer, you will automatically fold, but your blinds will still be removed from your chips.”  Dokeshi March quickly stood, and made his way upstairs to his private booth.

Grant stood and stretched, his ankle giving him a twinge of pain.  All the catching up on lost water had quickly developed into a strong urge to use the bathroom, so he headed to the nearest one to the betting table, bypassing Suki who tried to talk to him.

As he was relieving himself, Sarge spoke to him for the first time since he had reunited with Suki.

<I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m pretty sure four people are waiting for you to open the door of your stall.  And one of them is very big.>

“It’s Cuddles, isn’t it?”  Grant quickly finished and buttoned up.  “Why did it have to be Cuddles, in the bathroom?”