Chapter 110: Lady Luck
The poker table was a sleek, rectangular surface, covered in a vibrant, emerald-green felt that was smooth to the touch. Padded underneath, it offered a comfortable resting place for players’ arms. Encircling the perimeter of the table was a cushioned vinyl railing, providing a soft edge for leaning and resting hands, and chairs at the white markings dividing the playing area and denoting each player’s spot.
Dasha became the fifth player, taking the southern seat. Across from him was the King of Vikings, ranked number three of the Sapphire Order, Frode The Unruly. A Viking said to be worth a hundred thousand men. A king that was said to have lost only five battles in his life.
At the west, a representative from the Templar Order, Marshal Roland Blackwood. His exploits spoke for themselves; a master strategist, he was one of the Marshals promoted during the Second Heavenly War. His eyes mirrored an eagle’s, bright yellow sclera with black pupils. The red fur cloak, armless black tunic with the glowing scarlet cross, and the black chainmail armour—yes, he was a Marshal, no doubt about it.
On the east was a man Dasha had not expected to meet at all: Master Li Xuanming, leader of the Orthodox Sect. His silver hair, neatly tied back into a traditional bun, framed an aged face. A face that Dasha had seen sketched in over a dozen books.
’I never thought I would meet him so soon.’ Hidden behind a mask, Dasha was able to analyze him without notice. ’This is perfect. I can steal the knowledge he’s accumulated over the years. Even a snippet of it is fine as long as its authentic and I can gauge a starting point.’
Finally, there was the poker dealer: Dionysus, the God of Wine, sitting in the space between Frode and Li Xuanming. In his left hand, a sleazy deck of cards and in his right a loose bottle of wine.
"The contestants are set," Dionysus declared. "Remember, each chip is worth five thousand points—"
"Let’s get on with it," Frode cut off. "If I can’t fight with my fists, then my cards better cut every inch of that man’s mask."
"Agreed," Marshal Roland added. "Wearing that mask in front of me is a disgrace. I would very much like to see who you are."
"Ooh, you got the smart boy rumbling." Frode grinned. "It’ll be an ol’ fashioned double-team."
"Do what you will," Dasha replied, neither dismissive or interested.