One side of the dance floor was cleared off, as plush couches were brought in, and various games of chance were laid out.
Seraphine emerged from the crowd behind Eric, with her husband locked arm in arm. Eric spotted her and bowed the appropriate way, then addressed them, “Magistra Seraphine d’Orveil and Cryomancer Tristan d’Orveil—your estate is gorgeous, and the food has been excellent. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
The man, a powerful Reaper just like Eric, replied in his deep baritone voice. “You caused quite a stir on the dance floor earlier, Blackflame Mage Eric Mercer.” Tristan glanced out at the tables being set up in the couch area. “We are bringing out various games of chance at the moment, though I do not believe you have funds to participate.”
Seraphine handed Eric a small pouch that clinked. “A present from us to you.” Eric accepted it without complaint, as if he had said anything, it would have been seen as poor form. His place was to accept the gift in silence as a sign of respect, and then wait for her to speak again. Thankfully, she did not leave him waiting long. “I would recommend the rishik-tal table,” she continued. “It is an excellent game for beginners. There is hardly any strategy involved.”
Eric shook his head. “Thank you for the insight. I will be trying my hand at the game of print-tal, instead.”
Seraphine and Tristan’s eyes shot open with surprise. Tristan spoke first. “That is brave. A risky card game. We did not gift you that much coin, and the strategy aspect is not to be trifled with.”
“Where did you even learn how to play?” Seraphine asked.
“There were books on the shelves,” Eric replied. “The lounge in the estate has quite the selection. Let’s just say that a few specific games called to me. Plus, it has some similarities to games where I’m from.”
His words—saying ‘called’—had the intended effect. Seraphine’s polite smile became slightly more authentic. “Well, it is a game of chance and luck. Perhaps destiny spoke to you through that book.”
Tristan hummed in agreement. “If you like, we can send my sister-in-law over to help guide your gameplay. Overseer Xeraphine d’Orveil. You met earlier.”
“I would like that,” Eric replied.
He knew this was their play at trying to get him into their family, using the younger sister who was twenty years old. Though she was young, he knew Xeraphine had been raised by the same fierce matriarch who’d brought Seraphine up. She would be mature and wise beyond her years thanks to that rigorous childhood.
They might not be from old money or one of the old-blood families, but Seraphine had significant pull in politics of the kingdom because of their rapid rise.
Seemingly out of nowhere, Xeraphine materialized from the crowd. “You wish to gamble?” she asked.
Eric looked back to say goodbye to Seraphine and Tristan, though both were already engaged in other conversation, so Eric turned back to Xeraphine. “I believe earlier you said I could call you Xera. May I still?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You may,” she said, lips tight and voice direct.
“Then please call me Eric.” He extended his arm, and she expertly and rapidly looped hers through his. He took the lead, heading over to the corded-off area. Various high nobles were sitting at the different games of chance or skill, and Eric took a seat on the couch at the single print-tal table. Xera sat on the armrest of the couch next to him, hand draped onto his shoulder in a refined manner. Perfectly proper and etiquette-appropriate, if leaning towards the edge of risqué behavior.
Eric looked at the dealer, a servant clad in a deep, red outfit of the same make as his fellow servants, with only the color marking him as a different role. Eric put the sack of coins on the table. “I will play.” He glanced around at the different high nobles and richer merchants who had been eyeing the table. He made sure to crack a smile. “Anyone here want to have the chance to show a Summoned how it’s played?”
That invitation was all that was needed. Several of the higher nobles sat down and introduced themselves. Eric carried himself perfectly through the introductions.
After the introductions, but before the setup of the game was finished, Xera leaned down to his ear. “I shall watch them for their tells. But if you want my help, you will also speak with me as you play. Any questions?” It was curt, cool, and precise. No nonsense and to the point, just like her.
“None,” Eric whispered back.
Print-tal was a complicated game of chance, then strategy. It was a sadistic blend of Seven Card Stud and Chinese Checkers. The game was played in two phases, and the winner of the second phase took the whole pot.
The first phase played out just like Seven Card Stud would back on Earth, with the exception that there were not betting intervals: each player was dealt seven cards, given a chance to compose their best hand of five, and then would reveal at the same time. The person with the best hand would go first in the second phase, the second best second, and so on. The types of hands were very similar to those in the Earth-poker variant.
Of course, the names of the cards were different from clubs, spades, hearts, and diamonds. But even with seven different suits of cards, the principles were close enough that Eric had rapidly picked it up, because he’d played Texas Hold ’em with his family back on Earth every holiday.
The second phase played out quite similarly to Chinese Checkers, with the primary change being that the board was much larger, as up to ten people could play. Not only that, but instead of ten marbles, a person had to navigate thirty across the span of the board, and there were rules where if one got their piece into the opposite ‘win’ zone, they could move again.
The players would go in descending order of who had the best hand from the first phase down to the worst, and the person who had the best hand would get moves equal to the number of players present. If ten people were playing, the best hand got ten moves in the corresponding second phase, and so on.
The game could be over in a matter of minutes, or extend for hours, and it was popular.
On Elyndor, he had played print-tal in the dingy, run-down places of the world while he was out doing his version of Doctors Without Borders. Everywhere he’d gone, he’d been able to find players. Some were skilled, some were horrible—all taught him valuable experiences about how to read people and play the game.
For their current game, the pot was set atop the table in clear sight of everyone, and the coins were all poured in with satisfying tink tink tink noises until it filled to the brim with a lifetime’s worth of wealth for a modest businessman. A truly life-altering amount for anyone in the middle or lower city. There was a good amount of scrip shoved into the pot as well—redeemable cloth currency that could be turned in to a GBA branch for coinage.
The cards were dealt, and Eric quickly set to work putting together a straight flush.
Xera glanced down at what he was doing. “Interesting,” she whispered. “Not going for the highest possible outcome?”
Eric had the equivalent of a royal flush, but he wanted to have a come-from-behind win. It would be more impressive that way. However, he also wanted to let Xera help him out. From the little he knew of her from his prior timeline, he had known her to be fiercely intelligent. “Is there a better one?”
She leaned down, her neck and chest quite close to his face, and she shifted the cards in his hand. “I’d do it like this,” she whispered. She was fully focused on the game and the opponents, not Eric. He was sure her movement was intentional though, as she pushed her bosom into his cheek as she finished arranging his hand in his grip. “Play this hand.”
Eric glanced around the table, each participant focused solely on their own distribution of cards as they put together their desired set. “Thank you, Xera,” he softly said.
She gave him a slight tap on the shoulder and, voice low, said, “Tell me a bit about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?” Eric asked, glancing up at her. She had the same look as Seraphine: sharp cheekbones and a regal jawline, with hawkish eyes and a small, slightly pointed nose. She reminded Eric of the old film version of Cleopatra he’d been forced to watch in his high school Social Studies class.
“I’d love to hear a bit about your childhood.”
Eric kept his eyes on the other players as they began to set down their chosen hands. “My father was similar to a Service Class. He worked on something called automobiles. Think of them like carriages or wagons that propel themselves.” This comment caused some of the nearby merchants who had joined the game, and some of the surrounding ones who had been conversing, to quiet and listen in. “I worked with him, helping out here and there, even learning how to build one from the ground up. But more importantly, I focused on my schooling. I was going to be a physician before I was Summoned.”
Xera smiled a tight, perfectly practiced smile. But there was warmth to it. “And yet you became a Reaper rather than a Warden.”
Eric looked into her steely blue gaze and grinned. “Oh, that. Well, what can I say? I guess some people are naturally lucky. Or, maybe it was fate?”
That same little flash of recognition flared within Xera’s gaze as Eric had seen with Seraphine.
Oh yeah, I know your whole family visits Divination Mages frequently. They’re not cheap, but that’s one reason you rose to prominence. That father of yours was able to grow your wealth so quickly because he paid for predictions of the perfect business moves. Lucky for him, that Divination Mage was actually pretty spot on with his educated guesses.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Xera’s gaze drifted to the table. “The round begins.”
Eric looked at the cards as the dealer began to flip each hand put down by the players and place them onto a grid, based on whose results were ranked higher. Eric ended up placing first. He smiled and gave a little flourish of his hand as he dipped his head. “Fate smiles on me.” He began moving his pieces on the board for the second phase of the round, establishing his setup in the most optimal, central path he could.
“A traditional opening, I see,” one of the merchants commented, “textbook, even.”
Eric replied to him as the other players moved their pieces to varying states of setup. “Your counter is textbook as well. Feel free to be . . . inventive. Especially against someone with just book learning. I’m sure you could teach me a lot.”
The man smiled, though there was a hint of ire hidden beneath the surface.
The problem with the game of print-tal was that there were correct and incorrect moves in the second phase of each round when the pieces were moved. That meant there were only a set number of moves that made sense when countering someone else.
Eric had played this game all across the world, however, and had seen a variety of tactics. Many were unconventional tactics, ones that his opponents would never know about because they were not as well traveled. They might be merchants, but they were not the type to go and trade, these were the financiers of caravans, not travelers themselves.
Eric was taking a gamble—set up the traditional way, and then intentionally make some poor hands so that his opponents could continue to set up, and then when he did get a good hand, he could take advantage of their positions to leapfrog his pieces in one fell swoop to clinch the victory.
Xera squeezed his shoulder very softly and leaned in to whisper—her words were laced with delight as she said, “You’ve set the stage well. Are you going to use the Triskaur Tactic?”
Eric put his left hand on hers and gave it a gentle squeeze in return. All the answer she needed. The fact that she had used the name for the move employed in the seedy undercity of Flescion’s capital let Eric know that she was very well-informed.
She replied in a whisper, “That book you found in the estate must have been quite enlightening to have that contained in it.”
“It was,” Eric replied.
The dealer cleared the table of the cards and began the next round. Eric quickly took in the board as the cards came out. The moves were expected, so he began mapping out what his next turn would be.
I need to be in the middling rankings on this hand.
He picked up his cards and began arranging them into what he thought was a middling hand, but Xera squeezed his shoulder gently once more. “The two merchant lords to your left have excellent hands, judging by their expressions. The one opposite you is sizing up excellent cards as well. The rest are middling.” She leaned down, once more brushing her bosom against his chin, as she tapped the different cards. “This hand should do.”
Eric followed her intuition, trusting in Xera’s judgement as she knew the exact tactic he was employing. The hand he put together and then set down with her guidance was riskier than he would have liked, given his strategy, but he trusted Xera’s insights into the other players. She had been around nobility her whole life, after all, and being able to quickly identify tells was key in taking advantage of the situation.
“Another question,” Xera said softly. “What is your favorite color?”
“Absence of color, as well as all colors combined.” Eric smiled. “White and black. Maybe that’s why I became a Reaper?” He raised his hand and activated Blackflame Bolt. The crackling, sizzling, arrow-sized flame burst up from his palm and he held it there, ready to be fired off. People around him gave looks of minor concern, and Xera pulled away from the sudden surge of heat.
“Blackflame is mesmerizing,” Eric said as he turned his hand over, watching as the flame coruscated around his palm as the heat carried the blaze up. To him, it felt like he had dipped his hand into a pool of water. Turning his palm back up, he let the mana cease and pulled the mana back into his body.
“Very interesting,” Xera replied as she moved a little closer on her raised perch. “I’ve asked you two questions, do you have one for me? Tit for tat?”
Eric looked sideways at her. “What is your favorite food?”
“I am partial to roasts with gravy. But that is a treat I rarely indulge in.” She gestured to her slim figure. “I value my visual aesthetics.”
Like a model who is trying to keep the pounds off. Trok nobility care so much about beauty standards. At least she is doing it the healthy way through diet and exercise, and not using Rotes to exhaust mana and then cannibalize excess fat stores. She has at the very least studied physiology, or possibly even anatomy.
There was a moment, just a brief one, where Eric saw the form of the Admiral in his mind’s eye flicker over Xera’s. A muscular physique that dwarfed him. But Xera’s identity was a far cry from that more bearish woman. Whereas the Admiral had been gregarious and jovial, Xera was reserved and cordial.
Eric preferred the latter over the former.
The cards were all revealed, and Eric scored solidly in the middle of the pack. The merchant who had spoken earlier had the highest set, and he continued the traditional setup with no variation from the expected best play possible. When Eric’s turn came up, he moved his pieces around the edge of the board, preparing to execute a devastating victory out of nowhere.
The next hand was dealt, and once more Xera gave him little prompts about the optimal move to make based upon his cards. However, it was a shitty set, and Eric knew he would not place in the top for the first half of the third round.
That’s fine, I can continue to set up.
“My turn for another,” Xera said. She draped an arm around his neck. “What are your plans for the future?”
“I’m going to spend a good amount of time in the Twilight Depths. In between, I plan to court wonderful ladies such as yourself to find a suitable match who doesn’t mind a risk-taking husband. I desire the pursuit of power to serve the kingdom effectively when I am called upon to do so.” He glanced at her with a sly expression. “I think that your analytical mindset and tactical intuition would pair very well with my goal-oriented mentality.”
“Hmm.” She pursed her lips, breaking the icy exterior once more. “How do you feel about the stereotyped gender roles of marriages?”
Eric chuckled, then turned his gaze to the results of the hand reveal. Lowest place. He’d get a single move during the second phase, which given his current setup on the board wasn’t a horrific setback. He shrugged as he glanced back to Xera while the other players took their moves in turn. “Back where I’m from, women could do almost anything men could. I’m all for a woman being stronger or smarter than me—just as long as they care about who I am.”
He glanced at her arms, noting how the elegant dress was unable to hide the muscle beneath. “Some back on Earth are into dominant, powerful women. I would count myself among that crowd.”
That seemed to pique Xera’s interest above anything he’d said thus far, and her steely fa?ade dropped entirely. “Interesting . . . very interesting.” She put her fingers on his face and gently pushed his gaze to the board. “Your one move.”
It was a subtle power play, her putting her hand on him and pushing his gaze in a direction. She was testing to see if he would allow for her more dominant persona to be imposed upon him. Male Trok nobility who were rigid in their gender role stereotypes of men being the strongest in the relationship would resist such a gesture. He didn’t really mind a partner being stronger than him; and allowed her to turn his head.
Eric felt a little bit of tension in his gut. His immaculately prepared position was no longer as optimal as it could have been. If he didn’t get first rank on the next hand, he would not be able to recover. His gaze glanced over the pile of coins.
The money wasn’t the focus—he just wanted to play the game. But by looking longingly at that pile, he showed his obvious desire for the money, continuing to build that merc-with-a-heart-of-gold personality.
If he lost, so be it, he would treat it as a graceful defeat. But if he won, he would have a nice bit to add to the estate’s funds. In either case, he was establishing his persona more publicly at this place, which was his goal. No matter the outcome, he would be reinforcing what had already been circulating since his demonstration upon arrival.
The next hand came out, and Eric felt relief wash over him—he had an excellent set of cards. He began putting together the best possible hand, and Xera had no notes this time. He set his hand down and locked eyes with the merchant opposite him that had talked before, who had also put his hand down.
“Blackflame Mage Eric Mercer,” the man said with a smarmy voice. “You look pleased.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Eric said with as big of a grin as he could put on. “A gorgeous lady is waiting on my every word.”
“Given your position on the board, I would not be smiling,” the man replied with a smug smile.
Eric looked at the coins, intentionally letting his smile dip a bit as part of the show. “Never doubt the value of an enthralling woman. And even if I lose . . .” He gestured to the coins. “This pales in comparison to what I can earn in the Twilight Depths.”
The merchant raised a brow. “Intriguing. You’d risk life and limb for money?”
“I wouldn’t be the first, nor the last. There are a lot of ways to make lots of money. Dungeon diving is just one route to a cushy life. Got any ideas? Like I mentioned, I helped my father make those automobiles. I’m sure with the assistance of a few Artisans I could design an equivalent here. Get my hands dirty, as it were.”
There were mutterings around him from the merchants who were not playing. They began to not-very-subtly discuss pooling of resources. The merchants wanted some of Eric’s time, so they could sit down have him sketch out designs for the vehicles which, by their description, did not need steeds.
And there we go. All of the merchants who are listening in know that I’m willing to work for coin. I should be getting some job offers and contracts in the next few weeks.
Eric spoke. “Now, let’s take a look at the flip.”
The dealer flipped the cards, and Eric let out a whoop of excitement and pumped his fist into the air. He had the highest hand and would go first. The gesture was partially for show and partially real excitement. He made eye contact with the rest of the nobles and merchants and the table. “Game over.” He rapidly moved his pieces, jumping them over the others in an intricate pattern, fully clearing his pieces off of the board in the one fell swoop.
The nobles were stunned; the upper-class merchants were flabbergasted. Eric smiled as he was handed the massive sack, bulging with coins.
Xera stood up, and Eric rose with her. He bowed to the opponents, who stood and returned the gesture. Then, Eric pulled out some coins to hand to the dealer, who gave him a deep bow in return. Eric turned and, arm-in-arm with Xera, headed to the side of the hall.
She positioned him to be near the wall, concealed behind a tasteful statue of a scantily clad woman in an upright pose. She pressed him up against the flat surface. “You are interested in powerful women? I can deliver that. You like strength? I have plenty. You like someone with a dominant persona? Here she is. You won’t find a better match in all of Trok. We might not be old money like the Baxter family, but the d’Orveil family’s star is high in the sky, and growing brighter by the year.”
Eric chuckled. “I have no doubt. I can see how well you take care of yourself, and your family’s success is obvious. It’s inspiring, to be sure.”
“My sister has informed me of your routines. Improving one’s body and one’s mind, in addition to working to advance your Class? That is admirable, and is a desirable feature in a partner. I’m not the type to hold you back from your goals, either. If you want a partner who doesn’t mind your dungeon-diving, I’m the one for you. I won’t clutch the carcharorl and beg you to stay.”
Xera lessened the pressure against him and gave him a sincere smile. “If you ever want some additional motivation, I can arrive in the morning and give you just that. Perhaps in my bathing attire next to the hot spring pool.”
“Now that sounds like it would be plenty motivating,” Eric replied with a broad grin spreading across his face as he imagined her in that type of outfit.
“Good. I’ll call on you next week, bright and early . . . and I’ll even bring along my personal chef to make us a delicious meal.”
“Sounds like a date,” Eric replied. She raised her eyebrows with curiosity. “Ah. A date is what it's called when two interested adults go out and do some activity together,” he clarified. “It’s a more casual form of courtship than properly calling on someone. But, it effectively means the same thing.”
Xera smiled, though a loud clang from across the room drew both of their attention before they could say anything further. She sighed and looked back at him. “Apologies, but duty calls. Until our date, then.” She stepped back, gave a little bow, and departed, vanishing into the crowd.
Eric was almost immediately surrounded by more of the varying nobility who wanted to introduce themselves. As they pressed in, he cast a wistful gaze at her departure through the throng.
- This brings the possible sub-romance plots to a close. Three options on the table. Old blood family (Misty Baxter), new meteoric rise family (Xeraphine d’Orveil), and the previous timeline love (Luciana Escarin). These sub-plots will come up occasionally, but are not the focus of the story.
- Luciana won’t appear for a good, long while.
-
As of today (2.28.26 @ 10:16 am), I'm in the midst of Book 2 (about 90,000 words in), and I haven't even reached the Bhlast Diplomatic Summit yet. So she might not show up until Book 3 for all I can tell given my current pacing.
- The other two will appear in little bursts between ‘dungeon dives’ which start up again in Chapter 27, in their own designated "Date" chapters, which will occur on multi-chapter drop days (so you can skip the Date chapters if you desire, since romance sub-plots are not everyone's cup of tea).