14. Basil - The Trouble With Winning (Patreon)

PRE-CHAPTER NOTE: Chapters 11 and 12 have been slightly changed to reflect a minor retcon. The Dueling Dome now also allows duelists to focus in to see a card aura that can tell them how many cards their opponent has remaining in their Mind Home.

Chapter 14

The Trouble with Winning

Other duels around me finished soon after the one that featured my upcoming opponent, their hazy domes coming down in a shower of glittering sparks. During this, Warrick tried to engage me in conversation a few times, but I responded noncommittally to his questions, unable to get the sight of the giant summon out of my head. Colossal it had been called, and it certainly lived up to the name. It didn’t take long for Warrick to figure out my mood, and he was a good enough friend to stay with me in companionable silence while I brooded.

It was perhaps inevitable that I found myself wondering what options would have been available to me if I hadn’t so blithely and foolheartedly given up my previous ante win. It was a bitter sort of thinking and in truth didn’t serve me. I was still frustrated by my interaction with the filthy, rude, and ungrateful urchin, but it wasn’t as if I could use Nether to summon the card myself. Also, a crier had announced that the next round would be starting within a quarter hour, enough time for our Mind Homes to refresh but not enough for me to engage in bartering. Even if I could have, what would I trade for? All I had seen was a single card from my next opponent and none of its abilities. Swapping blind wouldn’t help me anymore than using a deck I had never played before.

Reflexively, I pulled one of my summon cards into my hand, and seeing the gold bordered Soul that Fortune picked coaxed an unexpected smile from me.

The Winged Knight was a particular favorite of mine, in large part because she was such a good listener. There had been more than a few nights we had stayed up late speaking to each other. One time, when I had been feeling particularly bold, I had promised to upgrade her all the way to Mythic, so she could recover her name and the rest of her memories from when she was alive.

Warrick, with his tall, lanky build, was easily able to peer over my shoulder.

“Planning to call her out for some advice?”

I blushed. Warrick was the only person I had admitted to having such drawn out discussions with a card. It wasn’t exactly improper behavior, but doing the activity alone in my bedroom, late at night, didn’t sound dignified to me either.

“No,” I answered quickly, tucking the card behind my ear so she could return to my Mind Home. “Sometimes holding them makes me feel better is all, more grounded and in control.”

“Perhaps that’s why you’re a better duelist than me,” Warrick answered with a touch of resigned boredom. “I’d be rid of each and every one of them if I could. Too much responsibility for my tastes, having to worry about a mess of other Souls. I barely have enough energy to take care of myself.”

The comment was a variation on an attitude my friend had adopted for the last year or so, ever since his marks had started falling in his classes at Biddlewyn, the school his noble house was in charge of,  and his dueling record had gone from poor to abysmal.

“The church is always looking for new tenders,” I replied, which had become my standard response.

He pulled a face. “And talk to people about cards all day? I’d rather clean latrines at Biddlewyn. At least that way I’d have some time to myself.” His displeasure turned to a grin, quick as a card draw. “Or better yet, I can be one of your hangers-on once you’re a famous duelist. If Losum and Reggie are any indication of what it entails, the lack of responsibility will be a perfect fit for me. Let’s go get you that second win.”

He said it so casually, and I supposed that’s how it looked to him standing on the sidelines, a simple feat to repeat. Instead of lingering on the lump that had suddenly appeared in my throat at his words, I put feet to motion. One of the many tournament helpers that darted about dressed in their robes of garnet and gold was able to direct us toward the appropriate location.

When we arrived, already standing upon the platform was a boy around my age, with a large chin and square cut clothes. He was one of the two duelists I had seen leave the stage where the Colossal had been summoned – the other being a rather hardy looking girl. I had guessed that Throice would be the boy, but at the time I hadn’t been entirely sure. Seeing him closer it couldn’t have been more obvious that he was the owner of the metal creature: chunky gears in the place of buttons on his shirt proclaimed his association, along with a series of smaller cogs running down the side of his pants and then two large ones on his boots where buckles should have been.

Warrick gave me some words of encouragement, patting me on the shoulder before he headed to the stands, but I was focused on simply walking up the wooden steps on the side of the platform. They were each only half a foot high, yet with my heart beating faster, they seemed taller than Pirtash Peak, a place I found myself wishing I was, the wind in my hair and crisp air filling my lungs.

Shouldn’t this be getting easier? My earlier win had positioned me closer to my goals than I had ever managed before. I was on the path to impressing Esmi and her family, as well as my own, taking steps that would let me capture the life I wanted to live. So why did I feel so unsure of myself? I had thought on this tournament so many times, planning to give it every ounce of effort I could muster when the opportunity was finally before me, and now I balked at going further?

The ridiculousness of that thought propelled me up the steps and across the platform until I reached a place an appropriate distance away from my opponent. Oddly, he turned to the crowds that were gathering on the Coliseum seats behind us, more hurrying to find a spot as it became evident that our match would soon begin.

“I am Throice of the Artisan Guild!” the boy called up to them. “The marvels you will see today are but a taste of the impressive works we artisans labor day and night crafting. Works whose genius and accessibility to any, no matter what source type you cultivate, could revolutionize Treledyne! But in order to do that, in order to make all of your lives grander, we artisans deserve, and need, a place among the nobles. A Ninth House!” he cried out, to my shock, and surprised murmurs among the crowd rippled after. “When the time comes, we desire your sup –”

A shimmering Dueling Dome came down around us, and he abruptly cut off his speech. The spell was followed by a clear, no-nonsense woman’s voice.

“That is quite enough, Duelist 11,” she said, “as I am told you were informed at the start of your last match. If you make it to the winner’s stage of five, you may say a few words at that point. Until then, you are to use these platforms for the sole purpose of dueling. If you conduct yourself otherwise again, you will not only forfeit your place in the winner’s bracket but the entire Rising Stars Tournament.”

Unlike my previous opponent, he didn’t look outraged by the announcer's words. Instead, he took the chastisement in stride, inclining his head to the air respectfully. The idea of another noble house was strange to me, but I cared more about how many cards my opponent had in his deck than his politics, and with the dome around us, I could find out.

A squint and careful count didn’t make me feel better in the slightest. He had a full complement of twenty, the same as me. I supposed it made sense. If the Artisan Guild wanted to have a mouthpiece, it would be in their interest to equip that person as well as possible.

The announcer had paused before continuing, perhaps to ensure that my opponent would indeed remain quiet, and then she intoned the usual refrain, after which the now sizable crowd cried out, “SO BE IT.”

With those words I felt the familiar tug behind my ear that I could participate in a thousand tournaments and still never grow used to. It was my ante card, and the gold afterimage I saw streaking away from me, clenched my heart. The Twins were known to often pull the most valuable card a duelist had for ante, but I would have greatly appreciated it not being one of my three Rares two times in a row.

Reaching a point above the Dueling Dome, my card went from a trail of flickering light to a full blown image that all could see.

In an attempt to distract myself from how much worse off my deck would be if I lost my only board removal, I focused on the card that hovered beside my own, the one that would be mine – and that I would actually keep this time – if I could but win again.

It was only an Uncommon, which perhaps meant my opponent didn’t have much of value in his deck – a pleasant thought. As for the card itself, it was certainly curious. A Relic made sense for a self-proclaimed artisan to have, but in order to be worthwhile, he would need to be using multiple Relics as Souls. I had only seen a few of those in the past, like the Spawning Pool from my mother’s dowry, and I had trouble imagining a deck having enough of them to make this card useful.

The Colossal though…it must be a Relic Soul.

The ante cards vanished, and I returned to my earlier brooding of how I would defeat such a monstrosity. My Assassins might be able to kill it, but something that big and made of metal? It would surely have Armor, and if it possessed 2 points of protection or more, not even my Master Assassin would be able to harm it unless I attacked with multiple Assassins at the same time.

In a situation like this, I needed to either defeat my opponent quickly, before he could muster the resources necessary to summon his giant, or I needed a way to kill the Colossal when it was out. Either way, I wanted to draw my Headsman. It had high Attack, so it could shave large chunks off of my opponent’s deck pool, and it had the potential to kill anything once it was Devoted, no matter how much Armor or Health the target had.

My ante card slipped back into my Mind Home, restoring a sense of completeness to me, and the announcer said, “Competitors, draw your cards.”

Since my Headsman took 3 source to summon, I didn’t want to risk being forced to go first, which using Air source in my opening gambit would likely make me do. So, to be safe, I drew two source from my soul with my left hand. The first glass card coalesced into my fingers, showing a rolling storm. I stopped breathing until, half a second later, the second formed beside it, picturing a row of wheat with a sun above – Order.

As for my summon cards, none of them were the Headsman I was hoping for, or even any Souls. Instead, I drew a Relic and two Spells.

The Helmet was actually a gift from Fortune, and I mouthed a quick prayer to his benevolence. While useless against Spells and swarm decks, it was the perfect thing for helping me survive against a large, single threat. Execution also had the potential to be good in this match, but without any idea how much Health the Colossal had, I didn’t want to risk keeping a card that wasn’t a sure thing. Lastly, Protection was almost always useful, either as a Spell or an efficient way to block an incoming attack with a card in hand. However, I wanted a Headsman – or any Soul really – in my hand now, so I put them both behind my right ear, sliding them back into my Mind Home. The two Spells would go to the bottom of my summon deck, but it was worth it to get the cards I really needed – or so I told myself, doubt already making me second guess the mulligan.

You can win this, I told those feelings. You won the last handily. To which another part of me quickly responded, Against a two card deck, you did. This one has ten times as many and whatever in the Twelve that summon was. You’re going to lose, and Esmi’s going to see it happen.

That second voice cackled in sad triumph as the two new cards coalesced into being, pulled from my Mind Home with a tug. They were also both Spells.

I don’t think I had ever been so sad to see one of my three Rare cards in hand before. Equality could possibly help me deal with the Colossal, but only if I had no Souls on the field, which seemed like a fool’s choice if I was trying to defeat the other duelist quickly. Of course, my opponent probably ran other Souls too, of the Relic variety it seemed, in which case Equality could get me out of a bind. And if nothing else, I could use it to block for 3. I didn’t quite believe the positive twist I was putting on the draw, but it was enough to keep me afloat and focused on solutions.

Penitence, though not a Soul, was actually an excellent find. It was the other half of my Headsman combo, an absolute necessity, because it let me force the opposing Soul into a state that the Headsman could use its ability. I would have undoubtedly preferred to get the Headsman part of the pairing first, so I could summon the Soul right away, but still, this was a card I would eventually need. My mulligan had worked, somewhat at least.

“Opening gambit, if you please,” the lady announcer said, continuing to be much more formal than the one from my previous match.

I played my Order source as I had planned, and my opponent also brought forth a ball of Order.

“Fortune’s choice,” the announcer intoned, and those people watching our match loudly repeated the words. Whenever two duelists used the same source type, it fell to the male half of the Twins to decide who summoned first, much like he decided which face of a coin landed when flipped or side of a die.

I held my breath in anticipation, hoping that Fortune would choose my opponent, and sure enough it was his source ball that rose into the air first, beginning to slowly circle his head, while mine hung an extra few moments just above my hand. I saw the artisan work his large chin side-to-side in annoyance, draw two new cards, grimace, and then look back up without playing anything.

A tiny thrill of victory shot through me. If he was playing a slower deck too, mine was well designed to counter it.

I might truly win this yet.

My pearlescent ball of Order began to orbit me, and only a moment later, I felt my mind relax, which meant I could pull more cards from it. Wanting to dig for my Headsman, I did just that, pulling two more Summon cards into my right hand.

A little laugh escaped me. Finally some Souls, but not ones I wanted. My Winged Knight or even Carrion Condors would have been better, because while Assassins were excellent at killing other Souls, they weren’t the best at striking summoners because of their low attack.

To give myself some time to decide my next play, I went ahead and summoned the Air source that sat in my hand. The card that acted as its container fractured into a tiny stormcloud that drifted up to join my Order source.

Knowing I only had a few seconds remaining before my opponent would be able to draw new cards and summon source, I muttered to myself, “Might as well.” I Focused both of my own sources for 2, the free nature of Air and calm balance of Order flowing through me and out my fingertips, infusing the Helmet card I held. The Relic briefly warmed and then vanished from my right hand, appearing in the air in front of me as a fully formed piece of equipment. I grabbed it with my free left hand before it could fall, quickly fitting it onto my head. The metal was tight against my ears and came down a bit farther over my eyes than I would like, but still, I found the familiar weight and the closeness of it comforting. I had some protection now, and since they were only Focused, my sources would be available to me again soon.

My opponent didn’t seem particularly concerned by my play, but neither did he seem pleased with the two new cards he pulled into being – his reaction buoying my hopes yet again. With a flick of one hand, he summoned another Order source. He then surprised me by Devoting one and Focusing the other, both of them losing their luster, the devoted one drooping in the air, floating lower than the other. Those 3 source summoned a card that the magic of the Dueling Dome let me see with perfect clarity for a split second.

Its gold border marking it as a Rare was worrisome, and its stats were certainly nothing to shrug off. Then I saw its abilities and an audible groan escaped. Strong was utterly terrible for my deck to fight against because it meant that all of my Souls with 2 attack or less – which was most of them – wouldn’t be able to block. My Assassins suddenly felt even more useless than they already had.

And then the Golem took form in truth in front of me, its metal body slipping from the air and onto the wood platform with a heavy thud. It wasn’t anywhere near as large as the Colossal I had seen, but it was still quite big, easily eight or so feet tall and its wide body was as thick as three or four people fused together. Steam blew out the grate it had in place of a mouth while the crowd oohed and aahed over the unique summon – I had certainly never seen its like before. Uncaring of the spectacle it was making, the Golem opened and closed its overlarge hands, one of them easily able to crush the head of a grown man. Orange lights flickered along its arms, but nowhere more brightly than its eyes – they glowed and crackled, and I imagined its innards were made of the same lava that was said to boil in the heart of Charbond’s volcano. The Golem then turned those menacing eyes on me, and I was sure of it.

In my years dueling, I had faced off against many a frightening Soul. However, I had yet to gain the cold calmness that Tipfin always talked about master summoners possessing. A true duelist, he would say, trusted in his cards and deck for protection. Only once those things were depleted did one truly need to worry. I tried to tell myself the very same, but I half wondered if I might wet myself a little if the Hulking Golem charged me now. Attacking the same turn it was called forth would exhaust the Relic Soul, but my opponent might judge it worth the cost.

The artisan duelist chose not to commit to the attack, and the familiar sensation of my mind relaxing, shedding its previous tightness, drew my attention. I immediately pulled two new cards from within, choosing both to be source. I wasn’t entirely sure of the play, desperate as I was to get to a Headsman, but I also knew that I needed to start using the cards I had. Ideally, I wanted another Order source, as that would let me summon a regular Assassin without needing to Devote any of my source. Seeing both cards appear in my left hand, I was glad I had chosen to pull two instead of just one. The first was Air, just like my opening hand, and would have been woefully inefficient for summoning my current hand, and the second was Order. I cast the Order so fast I barely felt the heft of the card before it was gone.

A heartbeat later, three source circled me, and with a thought, I Focused them all. This time I had twice as much Order flowing through me than Air, and I felt a more profound sense of calm. In fact, the sensation was so well needed, I entertained only summoning Order leaning cards from here on out to capture this feeling as much as possible for the rest of the duel. ‘A more relaxed duelist is the one more likely to win,’ Tipfin would often say.

Like with the Helmet, the Assassin card broke apart in my hand and then reformed in front of me. It was there one moment, around my height and gray cloaked, and then it vanished. This was its Stealth, and while I could still sense it, I knew that for as long as the Assassin stayed this way, the opponent and its Souls wouldn’t be able to attack my lone Soul.

Another burst of steam issued from the Hulking Golem across from me, and with the crowd a touch quieter than before, I could hear whirring and whining come from the Golem’s metal body as it turned its torso instead of its head side to side, apparently looking for where the Assassin had gone to. For a split second, I had the urge to send my Soul charging into my opponent’s. He didn’t have any source available to surprise me, and my Assassin’s Venom would kill the Hulking Golem since the Relic counted as a Soul. Also, destroying the Golem now without another Soul on the field would negate its Dying Breath ability.

Despite these reasons in favor of the attack, I hesitated. In the ensuing fight my Assassin would also be destroyed, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to lose my only troop so soon after summoning it. In addition, I always hated my own Souls dying when I didn’t have a Carrion Condor out to benefit from the sacrifice.

My dithering lasted long enough for my opponent to draw two more cards and his source to partially refresh, and I cursed myself, the window of opportunity gone. I could still issue the command, but now he might be able to counter me. That might seemed all the more likely when he played another source, giving him two that were refreshed and ready to use. They didn’t stay that way long, both losing their luster almost immediately, and a new card came forth.

In reality, this Golem was only around six feet tall and came up to the first’s chest when they stood side-by-side: one gleaming silver, the other the copper-gold, their bodies seeming like reflections of their rarity. I clenched my teeth in mounting frustration. Not because of the new Souls stats or abilities, but because the Hulking Golem now had a target to buff with its plus 1 Attack when it was destroyed. Holding my Assassin back had decidedly been the wrong play, and now I would pay the price for that. My annoyance spiked when the Hulking Golem then came stomping toward me, its large footfalls shaking the wooden platform we were on and vibrating up my legs.

It ate up the space between us quickly, and if I tried to use my Assassin to block, it would be brushed aside due to Strong. The Golem lifted a large hand, smashing it down on me, and I flinched as time froze for Fate’s Grace. Fear and frustration roiled within me, and if I could have moved normally, I would have been tempted to shout myself hoarse to try and get them out. The reaction was far from my norm, but I simply couldn’t believe how poorly I had played the last turn. What if I lost because of this? What if all I was good for was beating random dirty duelists and their odd decks?

Time was beginning to speed up, the metal fist descending, but those facts didn’t help with my decision. All I could think was that I shouldn’t have been in this position in the first place, having to pick which cards to lose to stop 3 damage. If I had attacked with my Assassin, the Hulking Golem wouldn’t even be here anymore, let alone about to brain me. The cards I had available to choose from only made matters worse. To sacrifice a card like Equality or my Master Assassin so early would be another misplay, I was sure. And Penitence? I needed it for my eventual combo; I couldn’t get rid of it now.

There was also the Helmet I was wearing – it could absorb the entirety of the attack. But to use it up for just 3 damage when the Colossal would surely do more felt equally wrong.

Disliking all my options, I finally decided to simply take the hit directly. I was afraid it was another wrong choice, but I didn’t know what else to do. Time resumed, and I turned my body so that the massive fist crashed into my shoulder instead of my head, thus preserving the Soulforged Helmet I wore. Instead of the attack breaking my bones, or crushing me to the ground, as I’m sure it would have if I wasn’t blessed to possess as many cards as I did, the fist ricocheted to the side, away from me. As it glanced off, three cards were stripped from my Mind Home, appearing in the air briefly where the blow had struck before bursting into shards.

The first of them was one of my two Headsman.