Firebrand

Chapter 98: A Pair of Emperors

Chapter 98: A Pair of Emperors

A Pair of Emperors

Going through his day, Martel felt a tinge of cold feet. Even though his plan with Maximilian echoed what he had intended to do on his own, it felt different. Alone, he retained the option to back out at any time. He could sit down at the table, change his mind, and leave. Going to a gambling den with Maximilian felt like a commitment to see it through, and Martel could not be sure he had the stomach for it.

He paused practising his spellcraft in the Hall of Elements, looking at his teacher. "Master, if I needed money, how might I earn some?"

"It was my understanding you do work for Master Jerome in the workshops."

"I do, but with my growing magic skills, I wondered if I might find other work – more challenging, and with more pay?"

"Master Jerome might have such tasks as well, but if he hasn't offered them to you, I imagine he doesn't consider you ready. Certainly, such work is usually reserved for acolytes." His teacher gave him a scrutinising look. "Is something the matter? Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"No, not at all. I just have a friend, I wanted to do something nice for her." Martel took a deep breath. "Let me try air and water together this time."

~

A young nobleman and his valet moved through the city to reach the slums. Unlike his usual robe, Martel wore a shirt and doublet made from flax and wool, though neither he nor Maximilian had any crest or other such markers of identity.

"I guess if we don't want to be recognised, it's good we are as far away from the school as possible," Martel mused. While a few people did know him, such as Weasel's gang, he was not worried they would report on his whereabouts to the Lyceum.

"Not much choice either. All the places in the other districts, they are part of the Gamblers' Guild. If we want unlicensed games that do not check for magic, we have to go to the copper lanes."

"Why is it called that?" Martel asked. He had picked up the name from others using it, but he had never heard an explanation why.

Maximilian smirked. "In the northern districts, people count their wealth in gold. In the market or the harbour, they count it in silver. In the copper lanes…"

"They count it in copper pennies."

"Do not worry. Where we are going, there will be plenty of silver for both of us."

~

Maximilian led them down the street to knock at a door that looked just like all the other houses. A small hatch opened to let a bald man inspect them before they heard the door being unbolted, and they were given entrance. When they stepped past the threshold, the entrance became closed behind them, and the guard at the door turned towards Maximilian.

"Who is this?" He nodded towards Martel.

"My servant. It takes me quite a while to stagger home some nights, so I thought I should have some assistance," Maximilian explained. He dug out a few pieces of silver.

The bald man rolled his eyes. "Fine. Four silvers."

"What?" Maximilian protested. "He is not going to play." He pointed with his thumb at Martel. "He does not have a single coin on him. He will not take a seat for a moment all night, I guarantee you."

The doorman squinted, looking at Martel. "Fine. But if he touches a single die or a card, you are both out of here. Give me two, then." He extended his hand, and Maximilian paid the agreed amount.

This first obstacle overcome, the young nobleman led his companion into the gambling house itself. Undetectable from the street, several houses had been smashed together to create a large, open room. A few wooden beams provided support for the ceiling; in between, numerous tables had been scattered.

It looked confusing at first, especially compared to the stylish decorations of the licensed gambling establishment that Martel had visited the other day. The tables stood haphazardly with different numbers of chairs. He could not tell who worked here and who came as patrons.

Maximilian waved his hand dismissively in one direction of the room. "People playing against the house. Sure to lose their money. Come along."

Martel glanced towards them, mostly men seated at tables with cards in front of them, before he followed his friend to another part of the room.

Here, men sat with dice around the tables. Some seemed to play in pairs, while others in larger groups. "Anyone care to wager a bit on a simple game of Emperor's Fool?" Maximilian asked.

"Yeah, I'll play. Not having luck with the Legionary's Round." A man separated from the larger group, moving his chair to another table, so Maximilian could sit down opposite him. He looked typical for the slums, with old clothes, unkempt beard, and calloused hands. He hefted the clay cubes in his hand. "Local dice. Courtesy of the house. You satisfied?"

Maximilian placed two silvers on the table between them. "First throw is yours."

The man met Maximilian's bet and rolled the dice. Emperor and fool.

Maximilian replicated the movement. Two different elements. Emperor won.

Standing behind the chair of his supposed master, Martel tried to look relaxed. They had agreed to let luck run its course for the first rounds; Martel would intervene once bigger stacks came on the table.

Another wager of two silvers. The middle-aged man got an even better throw, showing a pair of elements. Another loss for Maximilian.

"Five silvers," the young nobleman grumbled, playing the part of a gambler chasing his losses. Acting impatient, he picked up the dice, rubbed them between his hands for good luck, and let them roll on the table, one after the other. A pair of fools came as a result with Martel clenching his hands together behind his back.

The other player scooped up the dice and swiftly let them fall. Once again, he landed on a pair of elements. With a cackle, he pulled all the silver towards himself. "You've got bad luck, it would seem."

"Indeed," Maximilian growled. "If only my lucky stars would wake up. Another five. You roll first." He counted out the coins and stack them on the table.

Taking a swig from his mug, the other gambler mirrored the bet and picked up the dice. He let them roll. The first came to a quick stop on a crown. The other looked poised to stop on that symbol as well, giving him the best possible result. Wrenching his hands, Martel stared until the die finally took another turn, showing an element instead.

He did not have time to relax. Maximilian scooped up the small cubes and sent them rolling. Almost sweating from the pressure, Martel concentrated like his life depended on it. A pair with water showed. Winner Maximilian.

"Aha!" The viscount picked up his silver, leaving half as his next bet.

~

An hour later, the nobleman and his valet left the unassuming house. Maximilian tapped a purse heavy with silver inside his tunic. "By my count, subtracting expenses, that is seventeen pieces of silver for each of us. Not bad for half a bell's work."

"It really isn't. We could probably have stayed," Martel considered.

Maximilian shook his head. "You win long enough, even with honest means, it always ends with someone getting mad at you, accusing you of cheating. Since we are vulnerable to such accusations, it is best we do not invite any suspicion."

"You know best," the novice conceded. It did not matter either if they had to do this over several nights. Two more outings like this, and he would have enough to solve Shadi's problems. "What will you do with your half? It's not like you lack for money."

Maximilian assumed an offended expression. "I have a lifestyle to maintain."

They continued along the dark streets of Morcaster, populated mostly by others enjoying entertainments of the night or people planning to take advantage of the former.

"Those men we took money from… Do you feel bad that they didn't actually have a chance to win?"

"Martel, never gamble coin you cannot afford to lose. Odds are, any coin they did not gamble away, they would have spent on drink. The only difference is whether we or the house would gain that money, and I consider us the worthier recipients."

That made a certain amount of sense, and Martel's conscience was happy to seize it. "Do we go again tomorrow?"

Maximilian smiled. "We go again tomorrow."