The Quellers - Dan Wright (chrome ebook reader .TXT) 📗

There were more than enough places in the country of Celtland where someone could go to make their fortune – both honest, and dishonest – and the city of Faye was no exception. It was a prosperous city that would welcome anyone, so long as they had the coin to show they were worthy of their time. Sure, the thieves in this area could make enough money to retire in just one robbery; but that was the price you paid for living such a high cost life in areas like this one.
Five men sat around a large table in the Harlem Scorpion Tavern, one of Faye’s most notable gambling dens. Each of them held five cards in their hands, all carefully trying to conceal it from the other person sitting next to them. They all had blank expressions as they waited for the first man to make his move.
Right now it was Arnis’s turn, a fabulously dressed fop of a man that was trying so hard to contain the smirk that wanted to form on his face. For he knew that the hand he had was unbeatable and although his opponents didn’t know it, he would soon be gorging himself on their fortunes they so foolishly bet.
‘I’ll raise two hundred gold coins,’ Arnis said, adding more gold to the already enormous pile that was in the middle of the table that would probably create a hole if more was added to it. A hushed gasp rose from the onlookers around the table, it was a fairly confident raise for someone playing this game. Arnis turned to the smartly dressed fellow to his left. ‘Your move, Uluak.’
Uluak checked his hand; he had two swords, one shield and a dragon. A good hand for this game, but judging by the high raise of Arnis, it was probably not enough to counter what he had. Of course, Arnis could have been bluffing, but Uluak had already lost a thousand gold pieces in this game already and his wife would kill him should he lost too much tonight. He was on a tight rope with her as it was; any more of this and the collectors would be at his door. ‘I’m out,’ he said, putting down his cards.
Arnis allowed a slight smirk. All he had to do was eliminate the last few competitors from the game and all the wealth on the table would be his. He looked towards the other end of the table, towards the player directly opposite. ‘Well, Tyrus, what will it be?’
Tyrus was a dumpy little man with a long overcoat and a large moustache. His shirt barely contained his plump belly, fed well on roasted pig almost every other day. He had so many gold rings on his hands that it was any wonder that he could lift them up at all. He carefully moved his eyes down to the cards in his hands, barely making any other move. With his other hand, he pushed forward two more bags of gold towards the middle of the table. ‘I’ll raise four hundred.’
Another gasp went up above the crowd, Arnis lowered his smirk. I see this fool will be harder to get rid of, he thought, but he’ll soon realise the error of his mistake.
The other two players to Tyrus’s left instantly declared themselves out. Neither could match a gamble that large. ‘Well then, Tyrus,’ Arnis sniggered. ‘It’s just you and me now. I’m surprised that you managed to last this long. Everyone here knows of your bad luck in this den. I’m surprised you still have any money left to gamble.’
‘Are you going to play or just bore me to death with your drivel?’ Tyrus asked, nonchalant.
Arnis tried to swallow his pride and ignore this insult, knowing that he would make him suffer soon enough. ‘So, you are in a hurry to lose your gold,’ he sneered. ‘Very well, I will humour you.’
He pushed a further three bags of gold towards the middle, the centre of the table starting to look like it would collapse at any second. ‘I’ll raise six hundred.’
Tyrus stood still, his eyes turning towards the cards in his hand. The onlookers waited patiently as Tyrus took his time making a move.
‘Why do you delay?’ Arnis cried, clearly not as patient as the others. ‘Make your move now.’
Arnis could not wait to get his hands on the gold in the middle. There were so much Celtland gold pieces in the middle that it would mean he could spend the entire week without having to do any work. His lips salivated with the thought of drink and women that he would be spending this coin on. But he was annoyed that his only opponent seemed to be delaying in his move.
Finally, Tyrus made his move. He pushed whatever bags or loose bits of gold he had over towards the middle of the table, nearly making it collapse with the weight. ‘I’m all in.’
A gasp of horror filled the den. Arnis could feel his heart leap as Tyrus put the gold into the middle of the table. He could not believe his luck in that Tyrus would make such a foolish move. Now he had enough money to last him the entire year. This alone would make him one of the richest people in Faye. His eyes glanced over the glowing mass of metal, he wanted to reach out and touch it, feel it between his fingers. But he had to wait. For the game was not over yet.
‘Well, Arnis, are you in?’ Tyrus asked.
‘Ha, ha, you fool!’ Arnis shrieked uncontrollably. ‘I know you were a bad player but I never expected this from you!’ He instantly pushed whatever gold left he had to the middle, the table just barely supporting the weight. ‘There, that is it. Let us see what we have!’
He was too hasty in placing his cards on the table, proudly showing off his winning hand to the others. ‘Four dragons and one sword!’ he cried aloud. ‘Oh how I love you, Tyrus. You are a godsend to all Dragonheart players! Now I shall bathe in this money when I get it home!’
‘Hold on, Tyrus,’ Uluak said, restraining him. ‘We have to see Tyrus’s hand before you are declared the winner.’
‘What does it matter?’ Arnis yelled. ‘No one can beat that hand!’
‘None the less, it’s the rules.’
Arnis huffed. ‘Go on then, Tyrus, what hand do you hold?’
Tyrus laid his hand out across the table for all to see. He had a sword, a shield, a helmet, a cup and a dragon – in that exact order. ‘Straight run,’ Tyrus exclaimed, smirking.
Arnis’s smile dissolved. His hands started shaking in terror as if he had heard his life was at an end. ‘No, impossible!’ he screamed. ‘You... you can’t possibly have got that hand!’
Weeks of deliberately losing games in the hope that he would attract Arnis’s attention had finally paid off. Arnis had been ruling these dens for as long as anyone could remember, but now Tyrus had finally put the devil in his place; and at the same time asserted himself as the new king of the dens.
‘You cheated!’ Arnis screamed, standing up and shouting. ‘There was no way you could have beaten that hand!’
‘Sit down, Arnis!’ Uluak growled, pulling him back. ‘You lost fair and square, stop behaving like a child.’
Arnis felt his heart sink into his chest and his hands go cold as he saw Tyrus pull the large sum of gold to his side. He fell into his arms and wept in defeat as the new crowd cheered for the victor.
‘My friends, drinks on me tonight,’ Tyrus shouted to the onlookers. ‘And Arnis... do not think of me as heartless. I would not dream of leaving you without a penny to your name.’
He picked up a small penny from his winnings, throwing it towards Arnis’s direction. ‘That should at least help you get a coach home tonight.’
Leaving his opponent wallowing in defeat, he stood up walking through the crowd towards the bar. In the corner of the den, a man in a long hood covering his face looked up towards Tyrus. He went unnoticed as this hooded man blended in with the rest of the crowd.
Tyrus leaned with one elbow on the bar, towards the barman. ‘My friend, a glass of your finest Celtland mulled wine if you please. And make sure there is enough to go around.’
He plodded a huge bag of gold on the side of the bar, the weight alone making the barman shiver in delight. ‘Coming right up, sir!’
The barman turned away to prepare the drink. Tyrus reached into his jacket to pull out his pipe, deciding to have a celebration smoke for his victory. He filled the pipe up with freshly made Celtland weed and put it to his mouth. But he could find no matches to light it, much to his annoyance.
‘Would sir care for me to light his pipe?’
The sweet voice he heard behind him caught his attention. He turned round, spotting a beautiful woman standing behind him. She had long, red hair and almost perfect skin, the corset of her dress pulled up so tightly that her womanhood was quite clearly visible. She held out a small flame between her two fingers, but it did not look like she was holding a match. Instantly, Tyrus was transfixed with her beauty and almost forgot himself.
The woman placed the flame to the end of Tyrus’s pipe and he could still not see a match between her fingers, but he didn’t much care for that, he had other parts of her body he was more interested in. She lit the end of his pipe and blew out the fire, placing her arm around Tyrus.
‘So what is your name, my dear?’ Tyrus asked her.
‘Alix,’ the girl replied, brushing back her long red hair. ‘And may I just say what an honour it is to finally beat the man who put that fop Arnis in his place. He was a great annoyance to us all.’
‘The pleasure is all mine, my dear.’ Tyrus chuckled. ‘You will join me in a drink, won’t you?’
‘My lord, I would be honoured.’
Tyrus exhaled some smoke from his pipe before handing it over to Alix. ‘Would you care for a taste? It’s the finest Celtland weed this side of the province.’
Alix took the pipe from his hand and, for a few moments, he felt her touch against his. Her skin felt warm and smooth. As Alix placed the pipe in her mouth, she started to slowly inhale, her chest rising slowly. Tyrus almost couldn’t take his eyes away from it; it was almost as if Alix was deliberately making him look at her. She held her breath for a short moment, before gently blowing the smoke in his face. Even with the terrible smell of the weed, her breath felt smooth and warm. ‘It must take a man of great cunning to beat a man such as Arnis so easily,’ Alix purred. ‘And one of such... handsome appearance.’
‘You think I am handsome?’ Tyrus asked.
‘Does sir think me forward in saying that?’
‘Not at all, my dear. I find it quite flattering.’
The mulled wine was taken over to Tyrus, held in goblets of expensive gold and not like the usual cheap clay goblets that were normally given out. Tyrus handed one to Alix and he took the other. ‘Cheers.’
They clinked their goblets together and drank. Tyrus took a sip of the mulled wine, as