Wildcard's Gambit

Lucian adjusted the hood of his cloak, the weight of his recent dealings with Old Snake lingering in his mind. The man's cunning eyes and greedy smirk were etched into his memory, a reminder of the type of people Rismond bred in abundance. He had plans to head to the city center before returning to the inn, hoping to acquire some essentials to prepare for whatever tribulations lay ahead. But as he moved through the bustling streets, a disquieting pattern emerged. The warriors of the Diamond Suit seemed unusually vigilant. Their gazes swept the crowd with sharp precision, their hands never far from their cards.

Lucian's heart beat faster, a steady drum of paranoia. Were they looking for him? The thought refused to leave him alone. He ducked into the shadow of a narrow alley, letting the ambient noise of the marketplace drown out his anxiety for a moment. The path of the corpse collector's cart had intersected with this area. Could they have found traces of his escape? His fingers brushed against the Wildcard's mark hidden beneath the bandage on his hand, the faint hum of chaos a constant reminder of his precarious situation.

"You're staring too much, Lucian," Triboulet whispered in his mind, his voice smooth as silk but with the bite of a dagger. "They're just warriors. They haven't even noticed you yet. Relax."

Lucian ignored the voice, stepping back into the throng of people. He reached the clothing vendor without incident, the merchant's voice booming as he advertised shirts and trousers of modest make. Lucian chose a few pairs of sturdy shirts and pants that wouldn't draw attention. The transaction cost fifty coppers, a fair price for the goods, but it stung nonetheless. His funds were draining faster than he'd planned. He placed the items in his storage card, its faint glow as it absorbed the clothes offering a small reassurance.

He moved on to a provision stall, the scent of dried meats and fresh bread filling the air. His eyes darted around as he selected rations and water, enough to last a week. The merchant, a stocky woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, gave him a scrutinizing look as she handed over the goods. Sixty coppers lighter, Lucian activated his storage card once more, watching as the items disappeared into its secure space. It was a relief not to carry the weight, but the diminishing balance of his coins left him uneasy.

Finally, he made his way toward his last destination: a card shop.

The shop was tucked away in a quieter corner of the market, its sign faded but still legible: Mystic Decks. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ink and aged parchment. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with cards of varying sizes and designs. Some were neatly arranged in protective sleeves, their descriptions written in flowing script beneath them, while others were displayed openly, their intricate patterns gleaming faintly under the light streaming in from the windows. The variety was staggering, with weapon cards that radiated subtle menace, utility cards boasting practical charms for everyday use, and a few rare cards locked behind glass cases, their mysterious auras drawing the eye.

A clerk, an older man with a thin frame and keen eyes, greeted him with a brief nod, though his attention quickly returned to a ledger he was scribbling in.

"I'm looking for cards," Lucian said, keeping his tone casual. "What's available?"

The man reached beneath the counter and produced a catalog bound in dark leather, its corners worn from years of use. He set it on the counter with a soft thud, motioning for Lucian to open it. Lucian flipped through the pages, his eyes roving over the lists of cards organized by type. The entries were meticulously detailed, describing everything from utility cards designed for daily conveniences to weapon cards that bristled with combat potential. Each page felt like a glimpse into a world of possibilities, but the prices scribbled beside the descriptions reminded him of his limited funds.

As he glanced back at the shelves, he noted the precision in their organization. The cards were grouped by suit: Diamonds for combat, Hearts for restoration, Spades for crafting, and Clubs for physical enhancement. Each section was neatly arranged, the cards displayed with meticulous care to highlight their ranks and effects. Some of the more expensive offerings were enclosed in glass cases, their descriptions written in ornate script. Lucian's gaze swept over the collection, pausing briefly on the shimmering foils of the higher-ranked cards, but his focus returned to the catalog in his hands. The Wildcard's mark on his hand tingles faintly, a silent reminder of the power only he could produce.

As he scanned the pages, Triboulet's voice intruded, laced with its usual mischief. "You're wasting time looking at these cards when we could make far better ones ourselves. Or better yet, why not carve a card from Old Snake? That man doesn't have good intentions for you, Lucian. You've seen the way he looks at you, calculating, like he's weighing your worth. Better to deal with him now before he stabs you in the back."

Lucian gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to respond aloud. The thought was as tempting as it was abhorrent. Triboulet's words struck a nerve; there was truth in them, no matter how twisted. Old Snake wasn't a trustworthy man, but Lucian wasn't ready to cross that line, not yet. His morality, once firm, was already showing cracks under the strain of chaos brewing inside him.

"Still hesitating?" Triboulet purred, his voice sharp and mocking. "Fine, fine. But don't come crying to me when you're cornered with a mediocre weapon at hand and no way out. Old Snake could make a fine sword, Lucian. All you need to do is stop being so unbearably soft."

Lucian ignored Triboulet's taunts, forcing himself to focus on the weapon section of the catalog. His gaze landed on three options, each with its own merits.

As he examined the descriptions, Triboulet's voice intruded again. "Why even bother with these when we could carve something better with the Soul Carver? You'd have exactly what you need."

Lucian shook his head slightly, his jaw tightening. "Cards created by the Soul Carver are one-time use. They won't offer the reliability I need," he muttered under his breath.

Triboulet's tone turned sly. "Then make it an eternal card. That would solve the problem."

Lucian immediately rejected the suggestion. He had seen the warnings in the ability's description. Eternal cards came with mental drawbacks, whispers that would linger and gnaw at the edges of his sanity. He wasn't ready to test that. "No. It's not worth the risk," he said firmly, forcing his focus back to the catalog.

Steel Fang: A short sword with a polished blade and leather-wrapped hilt. Lightweight and ideal for quick strikes, it can channel a tiny portion of the user's energy to enhance cutting power briefly.

Cost: 9 silver.

Gleaming Edge: A balanced longsword with reflective steel and increased attack power when wielded with focus.

Cost: 7.5 silver.

Vanguard Blade: A durable standard-issue sword designed for prolonged battles, offering a slight stamina boost when blocking.

Cost: 7 silver.

Triboulet's voice interjected again, insistent and grating. "Steel Fang, Lucian. It's perfect for you. Imbue it with chaos, and it'll sing with every strike."

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Name: Steel Fang

Rarity: Common

Rank: 1

Suit: Diamond

Description: A short sword with a clean, polished blade and a simple leather-wrapped hilt. It is lightweight and ideal for quick, efficient strikes. The blade is designed to channel a small amount of the user's energy, adding a faint glow to its edge and slightly enhancing its cutting power during brief bursts of focus.

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Lucian's fingers hovered over the page, his thoughts churning. He knew Triboulet was right that the Steel Fang was the best option for his abilities. Its ability to channel even a small fraction of his energy would be invaluable in a fight, a subtle enhancement without demanding too much of his strength. But the memory of the chaos energy surging through him made his stomach twist. The whispers, faint yet insistent, lingered at the edges of his mind, carrying with them the rush of negative emotions: fear, anger, and despair. The sensation of losing control, of becoming something unrecognizable, still haunted him. Was he ready to face that again? Did he even have a choice?

"It's too late to turn back now," he murmured under his breath, the weight of the Wildcard's mark on his hand a silent confirmation. The mark, now bearing the number 1, signaled he had already stepped onto the path, one he could never leave. He needed a solution, a way to harness the chaos without losing himself in the process. But that was a problem for another time. For now, he had to roll with the punches.

With a resigned breath, Lucian approached the clerk, Steel Fang's card still in his hand. "Nine silver seems steep for a rank-one weapon," he said, his tone calm but firm. "Surely you can come down a little."

The clerk, an older man with shrewd eyes, raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly. "That's not just any weapon card," he said, his voice carrying the cadence of a practiced merchant. "Steel Fang can channel energy, a feature you won't find on most common swords. Nine silver is more than fair."

Lucian held his ground. "It channels only a fraction of energy. Useful, but limited. The blade itself is unremarkable without that ability. Seven silver seems more appropriate for what it offers."

The clerk's lips pressed into a thin line, and he let out a measured sigh. "Eight, then, and not a copper less. You won't find better quality for that price."

Lucian hesitated, weighing the offer. The man's words held true that the Steel Fang was a rare find in this price range. Still, parting with even eight silver was no small sacrifice. "Fine," he said at last, handing over the coins. The exchange left his purse noticeably lighter, a reminder of the sacrifices survival demanded.

As the clerk slid the card toward him, Lucian activated his storage card, watching as Steel Fang disappeared into its glowing surface. With the transaction complete, his eyes drifted across the shop. At first, he scanned the display shelves idly, but something in the Suit of Keys section caught his attention.

Nestled among the cards was one that seemed to subtly catch the dim light around it. The dark card had a matte surface with faint, shifting patterns along the edges, as if it were alive with muted energy. Its name read "Cloak of Disguise", and Lucian leaned in to read the description:

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Name: Cloak of Disguise

Rarity: Uncommon

Rank: 2

Suit: Keys

Description: When activated, this card cloaks the user in a shifting shroud that allows them to blend seamlessly with their surroundings. The effect adapts to the environment, rendering the user nearly invisible as long as they remain still or move with caution. The cloak lasts for a minute or until the user engages in any sudden movement or action.

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Cost: 20 silver

The card's implications caught Lucian's attention, stirring a sharp sense of curiosity. A tool like this could mean the difference between life and death for someone on the run. Its adaptive ability offered a level of stealth that could provide a critical edge, especially for someone being hunted. His fingers hovered over it, and a small part of him whispered to let it go, to walk away. But the weight of the mark on his hand, the constant paranoia of watchful eyes, pushed him toward a different decision.

"Interested in that one?" the clerk asked, his tone laced with curiosity. He looked up from his ledger, his sharp eyes studying Lucian carefully.

Lucian hesitated before nodding. "What's the catch? It's uncommon, but twenty silver for a rank-two card seems steep."

The clerk's lips curled into a faint smirk. "The only catch is its price, son. Cloak of Disguise is a reliable card for what it does. Blend with your surroundings, become nearly invisible if you move carefully. it's reliable enough for the price."

Lucian frowned, running his fingers over the edge of the glass case. "And it works on any terrain?"

"As long as there's something to blend into," the clerk said with a casual shrug. "You won't disappear in an open field, but in the shadows or crowded streets? It's one of the best you'll find at this tier."

Lucian felt his jaw tighten. The price was more than he could justify, but the card's potential was undeniable. He weighed his options, the knot in his chest tightening with every second. Walking away would save him twenty silver, but it could cost him far more if he were caught without the means to hide.

"Eighteen silver," Lucian said, testing the waters.

The clerk chuckled, shaking his head. "Twenty. And before you try to haggle me down again, let me remind you that there's only one of these in stock."

Lucian's stomach churned, but he forced himself to appear unfazed. "You're bleeding me dry here."

The clerk leaned back, crossing his arms. "You're paying for peace of mind. Isn't that worth twenty silver?"

Lucian's eyes flicked between the clerk and the card. Finally, he reached into his storage card and withdrew the coins, feeling the weight of every piece as he counted them out. "Fine," he said, his voice low. "But this better be worth the price."

The clerk's smirk widened as he slid the card into a protective sleeve and handed it over. "Pleasure doing business," he said smoothly. "You won't regret it."

Lucian activated his storage card, watching as Cloak of Disguise disappeared into its confines. His remaining coins had taken a significant decrease, but the card was his. Each decision felt heavier with the stakes he faced, but these were choices he had to make to survive. With the card in hand, he felt a sliver of reassurance, knowing it could give him an edge in the challenges ahead.

Lucian left the shop with a sharper focus, the weight of his choices pressing down on him. His weapons were secured, and with the concealing card now in his possession, he had a safeguard should the need arise. As he walked through the bustling streets, his thoughts shifted to the future. He needed a plan, a way to control the power clawing at the edges of his sanity. For now, though, survival came first.

When Lucian was a few blocks away from the card shop, the air felt heavier. A group of Diamond Suit warriors was interrogating a vendor nearby, their voices low but sharp. Lucian's paranoia surged. He adjusted the hood of his old cloak, concealing his face as he melted into the crowd. His mind raced as snippets of conversation reached his ears.

"...suspicious activity near the pyre site…"

"...corpse collector hasn't returned…"

"...potential criminal on the loose…"

Lucian's stomach churned. The path back to the Red Deck was uneventful but tense, his every step accompanied by the phantom weight of the warriors' gazes. When he finally reached the safety of the inn, he slipped inside unnoticed. The common room was loud with the boisterous voices of patrons, but Lucian's focus was singular. He spotted Chance speaking with a warrior from the Ironshade House, the same house of the Warriors that executed him, their conversation too distant to overhear.

Lucian moved quietly to his room, locking the door behind him. The exhaustion of the day pressed down on him as he sat on the bed, the newly purchased cards laid out before him. His fingers traced the edges of Steel Fang's card, the faint hum of its energy resonating with the chaos within him.

"Nineteen silver and Thirteen coppers left," he murmured to himself, counting his remaining funds. It wasn't much, but it would have to suffice.

The weight of his choices settled heavily on him as he lay back on the lumpy mattress. Triboulet's voice was mercifully silent, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Lucian's eyelids grew heavy, and as sleep claimed him, the mocking grin of the joker mark burned faintly on his hand, a silent reminder of the path he could never escape.