Tristan dismissed the map and looked up. He saw an older couple in their thirties smiling down at them. He shook his head, and they sat on the other side of Eila, who hastily moved her two plates of food.

“Name’s Junner,” the man said with an easy smile. Beside him, the woman introduced herself as Amanthi.

Tristan croaked, “Tristan,” before clearing his throat with his drink. “Sorry,” he said, coughing.

“Eila,” Eila said, looking embarrassed. “I was hungry,” she explained quickly, gesturing to her two plates.

Junner laughed. He was a broad-shouldered man, handsome and with the kind of carefree attitude that usually accompanies the wealthy. He wore a white collared shirt and loose, flowing pants with sandals. A blue half-cape was draped over his shoulders, and there was a silver pin attached to where his half-cape met the lapel of his shirt: it was in the shape of three bars.

I want a cape, Tristan thought, taking a sip of his Sunbath.

“Sorry for intruding on your meal,” Amanthi said, smiling. She was tall and thin, wearing a gauzy, strapless black dress and heels. A blue scarf the same tone as Junner’s cape was tied around her thin, bird-like neck. She also had a metallic three-bar pin, but hers were gold. She wore hers as an earring, dangling down from a thin line on her right ear with the other ear left bare.

“No problem at all!” Eila exclaimed, then blushed when she realized how loud she’d spoken.

“You’re too kind,” Junner said with a wink. He raised his hand, grabbing the attention of a server. “Two Zeppelin Zips.” The young server promptly handed them the cards.

Tristan looked at the Sunbath in his hand. He felt oddly childish right now. He set it down on the table.

“Oh darling, look,” Amanthi said, waving over at another group of people. “It’s Fenn and the others.” She paused, then turned to Eila and Tristan. “Oh, forgive me. Is it all right if we invite our friends over to sit?”

“No, please,” Eila said, gesturing towards the open seats.

A group of three came over, a man and two women. They looked to be of similar age to Junner and Amanthi, equally well-dressed and exuding confidence. Two of the women wore similar scarves to Amanthi, though theirs was red and had a logo of a salamander. Or was it a newt? Tristan couldn’t tell.

Both women had a two-bar silver pin worn as a pendant. The man wore no logo, but he did have a three-bar gold pin worn as a ring on his left index finger.

A quick round of introductions was made. The man was named Renald, and the two women were Mira and Bannie. Renald was short—though still taller than Tristan—and squat, with a thick black beard and kind eyes. His voice was shockingly loud but not in an obnoxious way.

Mira looked like Renald’s sister, short but skinny, both of them sharing the same prominent nose. She looked to be drunk already and was waving her hand in the air for a server. Bannie, sitting beside her, was plump and giggly and seemed incapable of speaking without waving her hands.

“A round of drinks for my new friends,” Mira declared to the server who came. She squinted over at Tristan and Eila. “What’re you two having?”

“I’m having a zip,” Eila began, “and Tristan’s having a Sun—”

“Two zips, actually,” Tristan interrupted. Eila gave him a funny look, and he just shrugged.

“So what’s your story?” Bannie said, leaning forward on the table. “Are you two dating? A little couple’s trip to the Continent?”

“Bannie,” Amanthi said sharply. “Don’t pry.”

“It’s all right,” Eila said, smiling. “Tristan and I are just friends. We met on Sol and are headed to Advance to continue progressing through the ranks.”

“You two cardbearers?” Junner asked, studying them over the lip of his drink. “I don’t see your pins.”

“I’m a forger, Tristan’s a cardbearer. He hasn’t been registered on the Continent yet, while I need to get my new pin,” Eila explained.

Tristan nodded along, though had no idea what these pins were. There was no such thing in the game.

The server came by, and Tristan sadly got his Zeppelin Zip. He converted it and took a sip, trying his best to hide his grimace.

“What rank are you now, Eila?” Renald asked.

“I’m an Adept,” Eila said, looking shy all of a sudden.

Amanthi gasped and squeezed Eila on the shoulder. She flashed her three-bar earring. “Me too.”

“Me three,” Renald said, showing his ring.

Ah. Now I get it. The bars represented rank. If three-bars means Adept, then two-bars means Apprentice. Gold for forgers, silver for cardbearers. He took a sip of his disgusting drink. Now that he thought about it, he did recall seeing these pins on Sol, though they weren’t too prevalent. It seemed to be more of a Continent thing; Duran hadn’t worn one, nor did any of the other members of the Straight Path Guild.

“What rank are you, Tristan?” Junner asked politely. He appreciated the man for including him in the conversation; up until this point, he’d just been sitting quietly and letting Eila handle it.

“Adept,” Tristan answered.

Junner’s eyebrows raised. “Interesting. Two Adepts coming out of Sol? That’s rare these days.”

“Now there’s a story I must hear,” Mira said. She tipped her drink all the way back, finished it, and waved for another server.

“Are you interested in Dueling?” Junner asked him. “We’re going to go down to the arena after this.”

Tristan shrugged. There was a warm glow in his stomach, making the room a little fuzzy at the edges. “Why not?”

He finished off his drink and called for another.

—🃁—

One Sunbath and three Zeppelin Zips later, Tristan and Eila went down to the sixth floor with the new group.

Tristan was drunk. He knew when he stood up from the table, and he really knew when he accidentally teleported himself back to the lobby instead of the sixth floor. When he got to the correct place, the others were there waiting for him, ribbing him good-naturedly.

Thankfully, he wasn’t the only drunk one. Mira was half-asleep on her feet; Bannie had taken her heels off and was singing some random song. Eila was excitedly explaining the latest developments in furnace manufacturing to Amanthi, while Junner and Renald were looking at a [Binder]. The only one who didn’t seem drunk was Eila, which was shocking since she had seemingly drunk the most.

As one, they stumbled over to the arena. Eila detached herself from her conversation and sidled to the back of the group to where Tristan was. He smiled at her.

“Are you all right?” she asked him, her gray eyes worried.

“Good!” Tristan exclaimed. “Great. I feel fantastic.” He frowned at her. “How are you not drunk? You had like, 40 of those terrible zips.”

She looked around at the group and leaned in. “I quickly snuck down to the arena and used [Healing Hands] when I said I was going to the bathroom,” she whispered furtively. “It’s only a Novice card, so honestly I’m still a little tipsy, but I’m not drunk anymore. When you get a chance, use your [Healing Concoction] and sober up.”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“Why?” Tristan asked, baffled.

“We need to get information from these guys,” Eila hissed. “We can’t do that if you’re stumbling about, teleporting to the wrong floor. Besides,” she added in a lower volume, “I don’t really trust them.”

“Why?” Tristan asked again, even more baffled. “Why not?”

“Just something about them,” she said. She glared at Tristan, who was seeing double. “Use [Healing Concoction] when you can, all right?”

“Fine,” he lied. “Will do.” He had no intention of doing such a thing. He felt good. Really good.

She glared at him for a moment longer before sighing and stalking off to join the rest of the group.

Finally, after an eternity, they entered the arena. The doors were spread open, and Tristan stumbled through and shivered. The lockdown effect was absent here; he hadn’t realized how consistent he’d felt it, like a little buzz in the back of his mind, until it was gone.

He’d stepped out onto an elevated walkway that encircled a large room. Down a set of staircases on either side of the room were eight cordoned off squares. There were bleachers set up on the wall along the squares for people to sit and watch. As always, there was a long window above the bleachers that showed the night sky outside.

Two of the eight squares were occupied right now. One of them were Duels, cards flashing by in the transparent, shimmering Duelcircle that had formed. The second one appeared to be a forging Duel, or Clash, as they were apparently called. Someone had told him at dinner. Renald? Bannie? He couldn’t remember. There were different ways to win in a Clash, though most of them tended to be the first one to successfully complete an agreed-upon [Blueprint].

“Come on,” Junner said, clapping his hand on Tristan’s shoulder. He nodded to the staircase where the others were already descending. “You’re getting left behind.”

“You’re a good man, Junner,” Tristan muttered, following his lead. The older man chuckled.

The stairway down to the floor was almost as difficult as fighting the Devourer. Tristan contemplated just [Shadow Stepping] down, but he thought better of it.

Finally, he descended onto the floor. Junner led him over to an empty square where the others were gathered. Tristan made eye contact with Eila, who appeared to be getting coaxed into a Clash with Amanthi.

“Sorry,” Eila was saying, a shy smile on her face. “I don’t really feel up for forging right now.” She swayed a bit on her feet. “Think I had one too many drinks.”

“Not a problem, darling,” Amanthi said smoothly.

“How about you, Tristan?” Junner said, clapping him on the shoulder again. “Up for a friendly match?”

In the corner of his eye, he saw Eila subtly shake her head.

“Sure!” Tristan said. He heard Eila quietly groan.

“That’s a lad.” Junner rubbed his hands, seeming to think. “Hmm. But Dueling without stakes is rather Novice, don’t you think.” He phrased it as a question but said it like a statement.

“Couldn’t agree more, Junner,” Tristan said, nodding. He regretted it as it made the world spin. “Let’s put some skin on it.”

“Some… skin on it?”

“Some stakes. Guess you guys don’t have that saying here, huh?”

Junner exchanged a baffled look with Renald, who shrugged. Tristan felt Eila’s eyes burn a hole in the side of his head.

“Come, Eila,” Amanthi said, laying a delicate arm around her shoulders. “Let’s leave the boys to their deck measuring contest. I hear Kessel Movani is performing tonight at the lounge.”

“No, I think I’ll stay here,” Eila said, a little more firm than polite. “I should make sure Tristan is all right.”

“I’m fine,” Tristan said, waving her away. “Go enjoy Kennel Morabi.”

“Kessel Movani,” Bannie corrected, her voice a little more acidic than giggly now.

“Yeah, whatever. Junner! Let’s Duel.”

Eila pasted a frozen smile on her face and walked over to Tristan, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away a bit.

“Let’s go,” she hissed, flashing a quick smile to the others who’d gathered together and were murmuring to each other. “I’m not leaving you alone with them.”

“I’m fine, Eila.” He most certainly was not fine, but he wanted to see how this played out. “I’ll use my heal, don’t worry. Go with them, get some more information. I’ll see what I can do down here.”

She frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Crystal.”

“Fine,” she said. “But if you’re going to Duel him, make sure you double-check the conditions on the [Duel Card]. You hear me?”

Tristan saluted. “Loud and clear, ma’am.” She gave him another worried glance. With a squeeze of the arm, she left, and the women went back up the stairs and exited.

“That’s some girl you got there, Tristan,” Junner said, his eyes trailing Eila.

“She’s not my girl. Are we going to talk or Duel?”

Junner’s smile was no longer so friendly. “A man of business. I appreciate that. Let’s set the stakes. Friendly, of course. First to three hits? No Perks, no equipment.” He paused, then added casually, “No Summons or Support, either. Strictly Attacks. How does that sound?”

You don’t want me accidentally sobering up, do you? Tristan nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“Great. Now, to spice it up…” He turned to Renald, who was observing the conversation with a small smile on his lips. He was smoking on some stick that released violet fumes into the air. “What do you think, Ren?”

“Definitely a one and done.”

“I agree.” Junner turned back to Tristan, who swayed on his feet. “How about the winner gets to look at the other person’s [Binder] and pick a card of their choosing?”

There was a trick here, Tristan knew. But at the moment, all he really cared about was wiping Junner’s smug smirk off his face. That little quip he made about Eila had really pissed him off. Also, he was drunk enough to admit that he felt a little insecure around the older, taller, more handsome man.

Tristan smiled. It was admittedly not very friendly. “Sounds good to me.”

Junner’s face twitched. Tristan continued smiling as they made their way over to the square.

Beside them, the occupied Duelcircle faded, revealing two older men. One was in his early sixties at least, while the other was in his forties. They both wore impressively-tailored suits with a cravat embroidered with the symbol of some weasel-looking animal holding a cane.

“I daresay, Rivingtol!” exclaimed the older man to Tristan’s left. He had a large, curled mustache and resembled an old hound with his drooping jowls. He was breathing heavily. “What a riveting match. You’ve improved greatly.”

“I still have much to learn, Sir Barrihald,” said the younger man to Junner’s right, stepping forward to shake the other man’s hand. He had a portly stomach and a wide, friendly grin.

“Nonsense, nonsense. Oh, what’s this?” said this Sir Barrihald person. He turned to Tristan and Junner, who were glaring at each other. “You two young men plan on Dueling? Mind if me and my dear friend here observe while we catch our breath?” He nodded to the still occupied Duelcircle.

“No,” Junner snapped, not taking his eyes off Tristan. “Leave us be.”

“Well, I never,” Sir Barrihald exclaimed. Rivingtol frowned.

“Sorry about my opponent here,” Tristan said to the old man. “He’s afraid he’s about to lose. Please, feel free to watch.”

Junner growled.

“Junner,” Renald said warningly from the sidelines. After a moment, Junner pasted another fake smile on his face. Sir Barrihald and Rivingtol settled in on a bleacher, murmuring to each other.

“I’ll set the rules,” Junner said. The [Duel Card] formed in his hand and he threw it rather aggressively at the center of the circle.

Duel: Initiated by Junner Holm.

Rules: First to three hits. Damage disabled. Perks disabled. Equipment disabled. Summons and Support cards disabled. Countdown from five.

Additional Rules: The winner looks through the loser’s Binder and selects one card of their choosing.

“Looks good to me,” Tristan said,summoning his [Duel Card].

“Then, let’s Duel,” Junner said.

They walked back to the opposite ends. Sir Barrihald yelled a cheer.

Tristan took a deep breath, the world swaying around him, and threw his card.

The Cards activated. The Duelcircle expanded outward and locked into place at the boundaries of the square.

5.

Tristan summoned his deck as Junner summoned his. The older man had some expensive looking sleeves, a glitzy sky-blue.

4.

Junner grinned darkly at him from across the way. Tristan thought, That’s your real smile.

3.

Tristan closed his eyes.

2.

He breathed out.

1.

DUEL!

Tristan snapped his eyes open and chain-cast three cards in succession, quicker than he’d ever done it. His hands directly slid the cards off the deck instead of pulling them into his hands first, one gliding after the other.

[Nightmare Cleave], [Dark Kunai], and [Bleeding Hamstring] launched towards the stunned Junner.

He managed to dodge cleave’s explosive tear through the Duelcircle, but got tagged by kunai on the arm and [Bleeding Hamstring] on the torso.

The man’s body blinked red twice. Before he could react, Tristan quick-cast one more [Dark Kunai]. The Attack flew and struck Junner right on the mouth, just as the man was drawing his first card.

The Duel has been concluded. The winner: Tristan Ford.

Silence filled the room.