24. Basil - The Other Suitor (Patreon)

Chapter 24

The Other Suitor

Seeing the spread of Nether cards laid out by the half-dwarf, any worries I had about the quality of his selection quickly departed. Palms on the table, Hull hungrily leaned over the fan of Souls and Relics, and I joined him, though my hands stayed clasped neatly behind my back. The point of Nether – or at least what these grouping of cards represented, along with the one I’d already seen of Hull’s – wasn’t hard to tease out. It was a source type that utilized low cost, high damage cards, something that would seem otherwise unfair if it wasn’t for the additional price they demanded: the life of one’s deck. If the Root Imp or Demon Marauder were the only cards I had ever encountered of Nether, I would think that secondary cost too high. But with cards like the Ghastly Ghoul, Talisman of Spite, and Hull’s own Sucking Void Spell, I knew there were ways around such costs.

In fact, not only could such downsides be mitigated through the synergies before me, but they could turn to one’s benefit. For example, summoning the Root Imp and then using the Ghastly Gremlin to block the two damage the Imp incurred, putting the Gremlin into play. Both could thus be summoned for a single devoted Nether source – a pittance – letting the duelist strike for five damage on the first turn. True, the Gremlin would be destroyed right after due to Expire, but taking a quarter or more of an opponent’s deck in trade was surely worth it, and that was only one such powerful combination these cards presented. The Talisman of Spite could be incredibly useful, frighteningly so, particularly if avoided damage still counted toward triggering it. Once activated, it became a win condition unto itself, or with Sucking Void up, Hull could simply ignore the damage these cards caused for three turns, or even more with the Lesser Healing Potion, letting him utilize all of the strengths of Nether with none of the downsides.

Of course, I wasn’t about to show my pleasure to Findek the Mender. While my speech to Esmi had been true – I planned to reach as high in my life as Fate and Fortune would allow – I could also accept that tonight might be the only opportunity I would ever have to be involved in the trade of a card of Mythic rarity. That meant every barter, every purchase, from the most ill-handled to the best I had ever managed, had led me to this very moment. There was an art to it, a well made trade, not so different from that found on the dueling field, for when it was done, both parties knew who had emerged victorious.

And this…this would be my masterpiece.

Unfortunately, out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Hull was drooling over the feast laid out before him, or near enough it made no difference. Findek, shrewd trader that he was, had noticed my companion’s overeagerness, his pebbly lip twitching up at the corner in delight.

I leaned back, not hurrying the move nor slowing it too greatly, as either miscalculation could throw the game away. “I’m not sure if any of these will work with your deck, Hull. There was a trader, Belwin, who I spoke with that sounded like she would pay top coin for a Mythic, and she had some fine Relics for sale. Or we could go get that Vampiric Blade you were impressed with. Perhaps even the Boots of Speed, too. Hull? Hull!”

I elbowed him in the side, and he finally jerked upright, looking like a man coming up for air.

“Whatsat? Boots?”

“I said, why don’t we take a look around. There’s lots of other sellers in the area, and maybe another even has some Nether cards.” From all the questioning I had done when first entering the party, that was a bald-faced lie, but Hull didn’t know that and hopefully neither did this half-dwarf.

“Look around?” Hull said, like he had never heard the words before.

“Don’t listen to this pissant,” Findek said to Hull, eyeing me evilly. “Doesn’t even know how to barter right. You threaten to leave after a potential trade is discussed, you shit, not before it even starts.”

I smiled at him toothily. “No need to do that when there’s nothing of interest available.”

“Why you little…” the half-dwarf started, puffing up, but then his attention caught just below my chin, likely on the family pin I was wearing, and his jaw clenched shut. “What you fancy, boy?” he said to Hull instead, acting like he had forgotten about me. “Come on now, I don’t have all night.”

That was the precise reaction I had been hoping for. I hadn’t actually expected Hull to go anywhere – it was obvious to any looking that he’d trade a finger, maybe even a whole hand, for these cards – but if I could make Fendek believe we might leave, the half-dwarf would be more inclined to make a trade sooner instead of milking it for everything he could get.

Next, as an extra touch, I just needed to –

“Baseel,” an accented voice said, and I turned around to find a young man perhaps a year or two older or me. He wore bright colors: a red shirt and pants accented in swirls of orange, with a yellow sash over his shoulder that glistened with what looked to be gold stitching. At his shoulder was an older man, grim and wearing brown leathers, a red sash the only color on his person. The living guard meant this young man was important, but I couldn’t place him: his sharp nose, dark hair cutoff at his chin, and gold flecked eyes were all unfamiliar to me.

He, however, smiled as if we had known each other for years.

“Ah, there ‘ee is, my rival for thee ‘eart of sweet, Esmee.”

My chest tightened, and I was impressed that my response came out as evenly as it did: “Plutar?” I guessed.

He dipped his head, his straight hair falling beside his face like a curtain. He was still smiling when he straightened. “Just so,” he answered. “Might we share a word, you and I? Suitar to suitar?”

What could he wish to speak with me about? Calling off my engagement, probably, which I would never stand for. Or something else entirely? Looking over my shoulder, I saw that Hull had actually stopped fixating on the cards and was watching our exchange. He glanced at me briefly, and I had the oddest feeling that if I decided to punch Plutar in the face right then, Hull would have joined me, not a single question asked.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Hull. “Don’t buy anything.”

I turned to Plutar, and he led us away, his legs annoyingly longer than mine and able to cover the distance more efficiently. He took us to a high table with no chairs that a few others stood around. Waving his hand, fire arced through the air above their heads, and they quickly ceded the spot to us. I immediately looked at Plutar’s hands, but I saw no card there. Had he managed to cast one without me noticing, or was it a Fire source power or personal soul ability he had just used?

“Brandy,” Plutar said to his guard, before asking me, “Friend of yours?” He nodded back the way we had come in case I wasn’t sure who he was referring to.

But we weren’t here to discuss Hull, and I refused to act otherwise. “Why did you want to speak with me?”

He spread his hands innocently. “Why wouldn’t I? We are thee same, thee two of ahs.”

“We are not the same,” I answered, careful to keep my building anger reigned in. “I am engaged to be married to Esmi. You…are not.”

“Hmm,” he said, waffling a hand in the air. “Peraps.”

I could tell he was baiting me, but I couldn’t help but say, “There is no perhaps. It is a fact.”

The guard returned, depositing a squat glass filled with an amber liquid in front of Plutar. Then, the older man stepped back into the surrounding party guests, giving us space.

Plutar picked up the glass, smelling it like one might a fine vintage of wine. “I find that eet ees a matter of time. Recognizing what you weesh before eet ‘appens ees thee best way to make eet ‘appen. Don’t you agree?”

He sounded so relaxed, but the way his eyes stayed on me while he took a drink told me all I needed to know.

“Esmi has chosen to be with me. Time will not change that.”

“Did she choose?” Plutar asked, his expression skeptical as he lowered the drink. “I was told ‘er parents made thee match, no? Do they not teach strategy in Treledeen? How can you consider yourself a duelist if you do not focus on thee one who ees pulling thee strings?”

I had only interacted briefly with Esmi’s parents, but I wasn’t about to relinquish the point to him. “Esmi wants me to beat you. She gave me a water fabricator just so I could.”

He eyed my arms where such a device would be worn. “Wheech you are not using.” He wagged a finger at me as if I was misbehaving. “Peraps, she wished to give me a challenge, hmm? ‘elp me level my soul by giving me a stronger adversary than you could manage to be on your own.”

So, the proverbial blades were out now, the pretense of friendliness forgotten. “You have no idea what I can manage.”

He chuckled, and I did want to punch him then, but I restrained myself. Striking another competitor outside of the dueling platforms could be punished with a fine, if not expulsion from the tournament.

“I know all about your deck, Baseel. With eets focus on Soul destruction, and a single win condition, really? Esmee and I,” – he smiled languidly – “we had a laugh about eet. All she had to do was ask, and you showed eet all to ‘er. Just…like…that. Like a trusting child.” He leaned a shoulder on the table, as if imparting charitable wisdom to me. “She does not want a child, Baseel. She wants a man.”

My breathing was coming faster now, my mind both unable to accept what he was saying and yet completely believing, my earlier fears rushing to the fore. She had gone to see him instead of joining Hull and me at the trading tables? Had this become her plan when her attempt to ruin my deck with a last minute change hadn’t succeeded? Now all Plutar had to do was use his knowledge of my deck to best me, and her parents would surely decide that he was the better match for her.

“Oh, so sad!” Plutar declared. “Do not worry, Baseel. Your struggles, they are ovar. Unlike your last, pitiful ahpponents, I will not give you a chance to fight back.” He smirked, shot the rest of his drink back, and then departed, his guard sliding out of the crowd to join him.

I watched the Charbonders go, rooted to the spot. I wanted to shout from the top of my lungs that he was a liar, to chase after and leap on him from behind, grinding his smile into the flagstones, and yet all I did was stand there. I don’t know how long it was until I finally managed to turn back toward Findek the Mender’s stand, but what I saw there catapulted me into motion.

Hull held the beauteous emerald Mythic out toward the half-dwarf while none other than Prince Gerad stood over the trade, engaged in a shouting match with the erstwhile urchin. My feet propelled me forward, fast enough I prayed to stop Hull before he ruined everything.