This, in itself, was a gamble by the Guildmaster.
The Solarium sold itself by its name – instead of foreign plants and warm sunlight, one would come to the Solarium to spend time with the “exotic flowers” and bask in the “gold and riches” that pervaded the air like sunlight. The term ladies of the garden persisted here, twisting into flowers of the garden when the proprietor had a romantic whim.
The structure was built on a man-made hill, so the basement was above sea level, hidden but safe from flooding. It made the Solarium visible from a far distance, bright and beautiful to see.
Both gambling and prostitution were legal here. There was nothing to hide.
The basement was not such a pleasant thing. It was still luxurious – and should be, with all the coin passing through – but it was a windowless circle, stone-walled with tapestries and drapes to muffle the sound. The kitchen, bar, and storage room all lined the far wall, simply a heavily guarded crescent of secret rooms to the patrons.
Hallvar sat in one of these rooms now. It felt like an interrogation in a cop show, except instead of water, the disoriented adventurer was given a glass of this-world whiskey. The armchair was comfortable with dark red fabric. Hallvar did not think about the color of the fabric too much or the likely reason some of the texture felt crustier than the rest.
The guildmaster was in another room, one well-decorated and far more comforting in nature. It was the proprietor’s nighttime office. The girls – and guys – needed more minding during the day, but at night, the basement was a constant source of glee and stress.
“Why should I humor this?” the proprietor demanded. She wasn’t unkind in her words, but of all people, Viktor Veðraldi, alleged assassin and general hardass, did not need coddling.
He was a regular client – of the casino, not the garden – so Tejashree put more value into his requests, however irregular.
“Because I’m offering to pay up to 50 heads to offset the loss if he fails.”
It was a substantial amount of coin, enough to intrigue Tejashree. She could earn that money in a good month easily, but to someone like the guildmaster, who intentionally lived on the outskirts of the city and kept his business firmly out of the grasp of nobles (and their patronage and coins), that was a significant sum.
“Or a favor?” she countered.
Viktor blinked at her, the picture of a disapproving tomcat with his yellow eyes. “If you insist, we can negotiate terms for a favor. I do not accept blank contracts of any nature.”
Tejashree tried to hide her excitement. She had a competitor in the Whitwater district on the other side of town who kept hiring mercenaries to damage her deliveries of liquor and food.
“I will not pay any coin if you choose this favor, however.” The guildmaster spent too many years in the business of treachery to miss Tejashree’s shifting emotions. “So, if the Foreigner racks up a loss, it’s on your hands.”
Meanwhile, a system mage was grumpily arguing with a guard, trying to get any results from this foreigner.
Hallvar had no idea what was going on. A lady in a dress kept waving in their direction, not as a greeting, but as if casting a spell. This was the fourth or fifth time, and it seemed to aggravate her.
She yanked their hand from its rest on the armchair, stabbing a thumbtack into Hallvar’s palm. They hissed in surprise; the lady’s waving motions persisted, this time with the bloodied tack in hand.
Nothing. She kicked the wall and made her irritated exit. The guard looked at Hallvar with widened eyes before leaving too.
(Even babies had stats in the system. For someone to be born without access to the system was a terrifying possibility to the locals.)
Eventually, the looming man returned and gestured for Hallvar to follow. Still confused, they showed the man the point of blood on their palm; the man patted them on the back in a clearly condescending way. Well then.
A sharp-looking woman greeted Hallvar. She had fine clothes, copper skin, braided black-grey hair, and a knife at her side. Staff and patrons both avoided moving too close to her, giving her a wide berth as she gestured cheerfully at Hallvar.
The lady in charge.
They were placed at a quickly emptied table on the edge of the circular room, back to the wall, but not before a lithe figure passed a red glowing stick around their body. As long as there wasn’t a cavity search, Hallvar was fine with whatever this was. They had a feeling argument or protest wouldn’t be welcomed.
Viktor proceeded to draw out instructions on a slip of paper, details on how several games worked. An image-only deck of cards and a dice game involving a cup. Hallvar understood the first to be similar to blackjack. Draw two cards, either draw more or wait, then reveal. Dice games were dice games; hit the right number or combination and you win.
The lady made a loud announcement to the room, which unsettled Hallvar further. If they started at head-height of confidence levels today, Hallvar was firmly at feet level now, their insecurity using a rusty spoon to dig even deeper.
The looming man stepped away to watch from a distance, just as the frustrated mage from earlier reappeared to… to blindfold them?
Oh, this guy no longer had the privilege of being looming man in Hallvar’s internal monologue. He was now That Motherfucker and That Motherfucker only.
The guildmaster was not permitted to linger on the foreigner’s side of the table, lest any cheating occur. Though Viktor had a stealth skill that could hide cards, it would ruin the experiment.
System mages, while humans with personalities of their own, were considered neutral, trustworthy parties. This mage was fiery and ill-tempered, but still she stood behind the foreigner to check that the numbers and cards were not tampered with magically.
While her employer spoke, she ran the foreigner through the card game and the dice game, ensuring this idiot knew what to do.
Tejashree’s announcement was teasing and tempting; she knew her audience well. They were people who wanted to prolong the chase and sought out pleasure and gains above all else.
The Foreigner was sold as an amusement, a cursed individual whose stats were unknowable. The guildmaster’s reputation was put on the line. Apparently, he claimed that this Foreigner could outluck aces and pairs alike – those people with Luck 1 or Luck 2 – and do so while blindfolded.
Viktor stood stoically, highly amused by this situation but unwilling to damage the façade of arrogance Tejashree was building around him.
The loss of coin would hurt. A favor would be irritating and overly complicated. But learning anything of the Foreigner’s stats would be more valuable than gold itself.
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The first challenger was Tejashree herself, in a loud, public match. She declared the card values to the audience, assuring them that the cursed Foreigner could not understand a word of what she said, before proceeding.
In three rounds, the foreigner won once, lost once, and then tied with perfectly matched cards.
A tray of coins drew a murmur from the crowd; Tejashree paid out for each win according to the winner, then threw a coin in the center for the tie.
(Her winnings went back to the tray. The system mage shuffled the Foreigner’s single coin onto a separate tray, as if expecting more.)
From there, it only took a few challengers to intrigue the high rollers. This was a spectator sport, something the casino had never witnessed before.
People simply didn’t have unidentifiable stats. Only aces and pairs were allowed to gamble on regular nights, checked at entry by the system mage. Higher luck values were so rare that gathering enough contestants took a long time, and even then, they always had luck amulets or rings.
The red rod detected luck magic, so anyone whose luck was augmented would be kicked out.
The guildmaster had plenty of information after a few hours, watching at a comfortable distance. The foreigner’s luck was indeed high, easily a 2 naturally. Viktor suspected it was a 3, but blind and nonverbal experiments could only yield so much.
He gestured for Tejashree, tempting her with a softly spoken request.
“Make the boy drunk and provide a name for your favor.”
In quick succession, Tejashree relayed the first order to a server. Hard liquor passed from tray to the system mage, who declared the drink non-magical, to the confused Foreigner’s hand.
Tejashree gave a name while a growing crowd cheered at a win from a challenger; Viktor knew who the name belonged to. It would be socially and politically uncomplicated, the best type of contract.
“Keep the boy’s winnings but pay him 2 heads.” It was enough for a horse. The guildmaster refused to spoil the hero, after all.
“And spend 30 heads on quest listings at my guild over the next year, which will not be posted. I will keep record in case you conveniently forget.”
The proprietor agreed, pleased at what the future could hold for her. She tried to stand up, but Viktor’s uninjured hand was locked onto her elbow, stronger than Tejashree would have guessed.
He made hard eye contact with her, and she shivered.
“That price is the favor. This blindfold trick is lucrative to you. Don’t expect to be favored again.”
➳ ➳ ➳
Hallvar was painfully disoriented by the time the casino closed for the night. Hours upon hours of gambling until their mind went numb from exhaustion and liquor.
In the first few games, Hallvar just picked at random. Once their butt started to go numb, they skipped worrying about what effect randomization had and went with their gut.
Their gut won a lot, judging by the sounds of the room.
Someone escorted them, still blindfolded, to and from the toilet which was extra humiliating. And the drinks kept coming.
Were they trying to diminish their chances of winning? How would alcohol work, if Hallvar was guessing regardless? There was no structure, no logic process in this blind game!
They nearly threw up from the bright (dim) lights when the blindfold was removed. The room was spinning, Hallvar was stumbling, it was a terrible, terrible ordeal.
When guards loaded the pathetic creature into a carriage, Hallvar failed to stay on a seat. They sprawled across both benches, butt planted on the floor of the not-car.
When they spotted That Motherfucker, Hallvar leveled a kick at his arm, which was dodged easily. It took another thirty seconds before Hallvar sorted out their right from left, upon which they felt a little terrible.
That was definitely the looming man’s bad arm. Oh, no, did that make Hallvar an awful person? Was there ableism here? Was it ableist to kick a disabled man who fucking deserved it?
“Ugh,” Hallvar groaned, the moonlight still a bit too much for them. “You suck. This sucks.”
The guildmaster did not need a translator to interpret the foreigner’s words.
“It had a purpose,” he explained, unusually benevolent despite the incomprehensible nature of the foreigner.
Hallvar continued complaining, running a hand over their face and eyes as if to wipe off the nasty sensations. “I like drinking, I don’t like to get drunk!”
The silence settled in the carriage unwillingly, grumbles from the supposed hero fading out in favor of quiet suffering.
Hallvar remained conscious with all their willpower focused on not vomiting in this nice carriage; the rocking and bumps of the road felt like battling seasickness and vertigo while tossed around in a dryer.
As soon as the driver announced their destination, Hallvar launched themselves out of the carriage to heave. It was mostly alcohol, which burned terribly.
The guildmaster almost pited the boy.
Viktor lost all sympathy for the foreigner as he couldn’t make it to Stella’s home alone, awkwardly leaning on the guildmaster for balance.
The elf helped drag the foreigner to the bathroom and threw down some towels and blankets for later.
She turned on her heel to face the guildmaster with a sharp glare that Viktor could be proud of.
“What happened?”
“He spent some time at the Solarium.”
Stella stared down the guildmaster. She was clever to a painful degree and more stubborn than a tired workhorse.
“He didn’t travel across the entire capital on his own.”
“On foot? I don’t believe his boots are worn in enough for that journey.”
“I will use your first name,” Stella threatened.
“Will you?” The guildmaster’s smirk was lost in the dark entryway. “Intriguing but not compelling, I am afraid.”
Stella bristled at the way the guildmaster brushed off her concern, ignored her questions. “Why is he like this, Viktor? What did you do to him?”
“That does have a taste of a blade to it, my dear. Well done. It would be far more believable if you were armed.”
A staff flew into Stella’s outstretched hand like a thrown spear. It was yellow wood with brass details, a simple sphere of citrine atop it. She easily twisted her wrist to point the dangerous end at the guildmaster.
Elves.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is his affection worth this?”
While Stella certainly acted aggressive and was an incredibly capable mage on her own, Viktor felt no real threat from the woman. It was like an apprentice swordsman raising a blade to the master.
“No,” she answered firmly. “No affection is.”
She lowered the staff, her eyes still keenly focused on the guildmaster. “You claim that I will be your successor, yet you treat me like a child. If you intend to play games with me like you do with the Court Mage, I will earn my right to the truth.”
The room lit up as sparks of electricity arced up the staff, bouncing inside the crystal.
She faltered as a weight sank into her chest, lines of text from the system streaming past. Though her stats and passive skills did their best, they failed the majority of challenges Viktor set forth. Debuffs and afflictions alike forced Stella to lean on her staff like a cane just to remain upright.
The guildmaster watched with no remorse as the elf struggled. Paralysis was uncomfortable even without the body-dulling effects of the string of debuffs.
The silence was broken by sounds of the foreigner being sick in the background, an almost humorous thing in comparison to this… spat.
Viktor approached the girl, leaning in until he was face to face with her. He weighed his options. It was safer to ignore her requests, to lie and manipulate, but… she did have a point.
“I enjoyed our quarrel. We should do it again. In the meantime—”
Stella collapsed as the duelist cancelled the debuffs, though paralysis would have to wear off on its own.
He crouched down lower, whispering sharply.
“You think you know everything; I am protecting you, child.”
Yet, time had softened the guildmaster. He could acknowledge his successor’s right to pertinent information. Especially when there was still fire in her eyes as she glared at him.
Viktor whispered quickly, as if the longer he lingered on a word, the more dangerous it became to speak.
“The King-Consort summoned four heroes, not the usual five. The absence of language is a side effect of the summoning; only royalty can fix it. Gambling and drinking informed me that our friend has unusually high endurance and luck.”
Stella processed this knowledge with a blank stare, but the guildmaster wasn’t done.
“The rumors that I was convicted of treason are true, Stella. What do you think the King-Consort will do to the Guild, to me, if he suspects I stole a hero?”
To her credit, Stella kept her wits about her.
“Does the Court Mage know?”
“Yes. We are waiting for the Queen to return. She is more forgiving than her husband, who will hang us all if he learns enough to make accusations.”
She swallowed, her throat dry with guilt and worry. “I brought him here.”
Viktor sighed, helping the woman to her feet and leading her slowly to the sitting room where she could rest until the affliction wore off.
He put a hand on her head, far too gentle for his harsh demeanor.
“I have spent a lifetime in cruelty and manipulation. The only honest companion I earned for it was through sheer luck and binding magic. Don’t lament your kindness. It’s a good quality to have.”
With that, the guildmaster left. Somehow the knowledge felt heavier to Stella than the debuffs did.
She checked on the foreigner when her limbs were able to move. He was asleep on the floor, looking extra pale and exhausted.
Well, there was nothing to do tonight. Stella threw a blanket over the apparent hero and went back to bed with too many questions and not enough answers.