Source & Soul: A Deckbuilding LitRPG

Chapter 49

Burning Bridges

“Ah, it’s Hintal’s little pet again,” Throice said when I approached his family shop, squinting through some head-mounted device that magnified his eyes.

I didn’t rip the thing off his head and beat him with it, which I was proud of, but I couldn’t make my voice any less rough. “I’m nobody’s pet.”

He shrugged and looked back to the work he had on the bench in front of himself. He was the only one manning the booth at the moment. “Then you must be a long-lost relative or bastard brother, the way he keeps you close.”

“Something like that,” I said impatiently. “Are you open for business or just playing with yourself back there?”

“I don’t have any potions,” Throice said, fiddling with his tools. “I didn’t this morning and they haven’t magically appeared in the meantime.”

“I figured,” I said. Might as well put my suspicion to rest while I’m at it. I fixed him with my best glare. “You gonna look me in the face and tell me under the Twins’ eyes that the Prince’s little friends didn’t slip you a few crowns to not have any potions when I came asking?”

He flipped the magnifying glass aside to meet my gaze. “Sure, I’ll tell you that.” He was entirely unbothered by my intensity, putting his lens back in place and going back to his work. He picked up a brass awl and tiny hammer to tap on a metal something-or-other on the workbench. “I ask you, though: if someone did buy us off, what benefit would there be in me saying so? You have to know that my parents want to create a ninth noble House; why would I do anything but what the Crown Prince wants?”

“Because he’s a piece of shit,” I said.

The corner of his mouth quirked ever so slightly. “All the more reason not to cross him.”

I pointed an accusing finger. “So they did tell you not to sell me any potions.”

He stopped his work and pasted on a bland smile. “I didn’t say that, and I don’t think you’ll find anyone in spitting distance of the Coliseum who will.”

His meaningful look was enough to confirm it. I knew the slimy bugger had been behind it all. How could all the healing potion cards suddenly vanish from the biggest card market in Treledyne? He’d had his lackeys spy on my practice to suss out the one kind of card I needed and then made sure I couldn’t get it. I might want our father dead, but more and more I wanted to see Gerad humiliated, too.

There had to be other options. I’d even thought about trying to elevate my existing potion, but when I’d checked in the Artificer’s Hall before my first match, Brask was gone. One of the other Smiths nearby had said the burly man had gone home to care for his wife, who’d apparently burned herself rather badly somehow and needed tending. When I’d asked the other man about getting my Healing Potion up to Rare, he’d just shaken his head and said that Brask was the man for Relics. Several others had echoed him, and just like that, another possible avenue closed.

“I’m not here for potions anyway,” I told Throice. “I’m going to take that card out of play; it’s not doing me any good.” I paused and eyed him sourly. “Or are there no cards anyone can sell me?”

“I’m happy to let you have a look at our other wares,” he said glibly, taking off the headgear and putting his work aside. “Doing the highborn a favor is one thing, but nobody can ask an Artificer to turn away a customer entirely.”

It galled me to have him more or less admit to my face that he was giving Gerad his way, but nobody knew better than me that beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Let me see that Vampiric Blade again.”

He raised an eyebrow and quirked a knowing smile as he fetched the card from behind the counter. “There’s a certain symmetry in using this against the undead girl. She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

“Are we talking about the card or the girl?” I asked, leaning over to drink in the sight of the Epic. It was even better than I remembered.

“Take your pick,” Throice chuckled. “They both bite hard and shouldn’t be toyed with.”

I chewed my lip and imagined the long, slender blade in my fist, bringing cards back into my Mind Home with every swing. Its only downside was how expensive it was to summon. I tended to use every single source as soon as it became available, and if I kept playing that way, I wouldn’t be able to bring this into play until so late in the game that it might not do me as much good as I hoped. “What happens if I summon this while I’ve got my Hammer in play?” I asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “Nothing bad. You can have a weapon in each hand without a problem. You can only attack with one, of course, but having two lets you keep one ready against anything that hits you on the opponent’s turn.”

I frowned. “I can’t hit with both at once?” I’d never even considered such a thing, but now that I’d had the thought, it was exactly what I wanted to do.

“The quirks of using items that do Fated damage,” he said, shrugging. “If you had Flurry as a personal Soul ability you could, but otherwise the second weapon simply won’t swing. I hear that in war some folks carry both a Relic weapon card and a regular blade to get around this. The Relic weapon will always do its damage, but a sword of good old steel can swing whenever and however you please.”

I nodded, brain spinning. “Do you sell regular weapons?”

He snorted. “Sure, but they’re forbidden in competition. Seems a shame to get this far and then get disqualified.”

A new thought occurred to me. “If I’ve got a weapon in each hand, what do I do with my other cards?” I had visions of sticking them in a pocket and then juggling them back into hand when it was time to summon something else. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Have you never had a tutor?” Throice said incredulously. “You’re in the top 8, how have you never asked these questions?”

“I haven’t had much spare coin to throw around,” I growled. His magnifying-glass headset was starting to look like a good bashing tool again.

He shook his head. “Poor branch of the family, eh? Well, I’m no one to talk. We didn’t exactly start off with much when I was younger.”

He seemed to have convinced himself that I was some poor relative of Basil’s. The part of me that knew I could never allow him to be a true friend wanted me to speak up and correct him; the part of me that wanted to seal the deal on a new card told me to shut up. “So what do I do with my cards if my hands are full?”

“Let them go,” he said simply. “The cards will hover in your view and stay available unless you completely lose concentration. You don’t even have to touch them to summon something new, you can just think it. Most trainers don’t let their students do it until quite a bit later down the line – they want them to know exactly what they’ve got in hand and stay focused – and quite honestly, most summoners prefer to keep their cards in hand just for a sense of security. But every now and then you’ll see someone who dual wields or is missing a hand or something, and they’ll put their cards on the float.”

There was still so much to learn. Maybe once the King was dead I could convince Ticosi to let me study more, or even travel around to compete. Not likely. You’re going to be his heavy hand in the Lows, and he won’t want you getting any better than he has to.

“So, are we doing this?” Throice said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s see what you’ve got in trade.”

I wanted the card. What’s more, I needed it if I was to have any hope of besting that gorgeous, frightening vampire. “Oh, we’re doing this.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my trade fodder.

Throice frowned. “All right. What else?”

Digging into my other pocket, I opened up my stolen purse and emptied it onto the counter. “I’ve got… a crown, five clips, and eight bits.” The enchanted copper bit I’d gotten from Lustra was hanging around my neck on the braided cord I’d made for it, but I wasn’t about to part with that, not when I had to face her again. It’d be a short duel if I fell under her glamour again.

Throice gave me a concerned look. “This isn’t enough.”

I spread out the cards, somehow hoping that making them cover more space would make them seem bigger or more valuable somehow. “Well, but see, it’s three Rares to an Epic, right?”

“Depending on the cards,” he said dubiously. “And these –”

“And two Uncommons to a Rare,” I hurried on. “So really, if I throw the money into the mix, I’m being more than fair.”

“Look, Hull,” he said patiently. “I’m not going to lie, I’d like to see you win. Everybody loves an underdog.”

Not everybody, I thought, remembering the vendor that had chased me away screaming that morning. And the Prince. And his buddies. And the elf ambassador Fferun, who’d looked at me like I was shit on his shoe.

“But trades have to make sense,” he said. “This Fire Spell –” he picked up the Uncontrolled Revels, “you have to know it’s a bara card.”

“Bara?” I said blankly.

“A joke card,” he explained.

“Why can’t people just say that?”

“Anyway, it trades more like a Common. I wouldn’t want this one even if it were Rare. And this,” he continued, picking up the Pyroclast Casing, “is great, but we don’t have much truck with Earth Spells in our shop. It’s just trade fodder for us, and not that we never do that, mind you, but it’s not exactly enticing. The Ruby Choker actually came from our shop, and I’d be glad to see it come back, but this Lesser Healing Potion? It’s not great for an Uncommon.” He picked it up and peered more closely. “And it has a misprint in the text.” He pointed it out to me. “It should be a Minor Healing Potion.”

He tapped the text. “That’d make more sense, given its relative weakness. This card’s a mess.”

I scowled at him. “I got that card right here less than two days ago.”

He frowned at the card. “That can’t be right.”

“You were standing over there when it happened!”

Now he was the one hurrying onward. “Regardless, you put it all together and it’s a bad trade. Sorry. My mother would take off my thumbs if I let an Epic go for this motley bunch.”

“Would she, though?” I asked, thinking fast. “Your mom and pops are all about getting in good with the nobility, right?”

“Yes…” he said, hesitating.

“This is your chance,” I whispered, gesturing to myself. “I’m your guy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re telling me you’re nobility?”

“Bastard son of house Hintal,” I said, keeping my voice low and making a show of looking around. “It’s not public knowledge yet, so keep it under your hat, okay? Father gave me two cards to get me started, and now that I’m in the top 8 he’s going to recognize me.” I felt an unfamiliar twinge of conscience and hastily told my own mind to go stuff itself in a trash bin. After all, what I was saying was more or less true; I was just swapping out the King for Basil’s father, which Throice already seemed inclined to believe anyway. “He’ll make the announcement after the closing ceremonies today.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Having two top competitors would be a serious win for Hintal.”

“And you could be the one that helps one of them get into the top 5,” I said conspiratorially. “I’m going to be in a position to press your family’s case directly to the King… but only if I win this match.”

He tapped on the counter and looked thoughtful. “I’ve heard of worse bets.”

“Take the cards,” I urged him. “Hell, take the money and buy yourself something nice. You give me that Blade and I’ll make it worth your while in the long run.”

He gave me a level look. “I’ll need assurances.”

I had no idea what he meant, but I could see that I had the hook set, so I smiled genially. “Whatever you say.”

He hurried to the back of the stall, grabbed paper, a quill, and an ink pot, and came back. He scratched furiously at the paper for a long moment and then handed it over to me.

I, Hull of House Hintal, do hereby give my word as a high noble of Treledyne to pay the cost of a Rare card in either coin or trade within a fortnight of the close of the Rising Stars Tournament. I further swear to speak in favor of the creation of a ninth House for the Artificers in all circumstances and to vote in favor of any motion to that end should I ascend to the High Council at any point from now until the end of my life.

I felt my stomach sink as I read it. Basil would get wind of this, and he and his family would be the ones to pay the price in both coin and embarrassment when I ducked out of paying the debt, as I would almost certainly have to – there was no way Ticosi would allow me to hand over cards or money that he saw as belonging to him. Once he sees this, he’ll know for sure that I’ve turned my back on him.

Clenching my jaw, I took the quill and scribbled my name beneath the note. Throice nodded briskly and scattered a bit of sand across the page to soak up the excess ink. “Good to have another arrow in our quiver. This competition has been good for us. The King will be declaring our barony before five years has passed, mark my words.” He shook the paper at me. “I’ll hold you to this, you know.”

“I expect no less,” I said as neutrally as I could. I slid my pile of cards and coin toward him, and he handed me the Vampiric Blade. I wasted no time putting it in my Mind Home. The gibbering panic I’d been feeling that the vampire was going to mop the floor with me faded to a slightly more reasonable level of fear. I need to trim some of the fat from my deck. Get back to basics. Focus on the combo.

As I walked away though, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just traded away something far more important than a few cards.