Furious Scribe
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31. Basil - What is Within
🕑 Added 2024-08-28 02:09:34 +0000 UTC
Chapter 31
What is Within
A knock sounded on my door.
I was sitting cross-legged, looking up at the small tree that lived in the middle of my War Camp room. This was how I spent near every morning, noting the subtle changes the plant was undergoing: its branches gradually lengthening, leaves expanding in size, and over the last week, the budding of beautiful white flowers. They had started out as little more than green nubs, but the tips of the petals eventually pushed through, swelling the bulb before finally blooming, each day cautiously opening more to the world.
Seeing the tree’s daily changes was much more rewarding than I had expected, and interestingly, didn’t follow the inevitable march of Order. Instead, the plant grew in fits and starts, sometimes doing seemingly nothing from one day to the next, and at other times developing so much it made me question whether or not I had actually spent time with it the day prior. The longer the process went on, the more I wondered if watching a son or daughter mature would present a similar experience.
The knock came again, a hollow rap on the metal door. “Enter,” I called. I liked to trace all the lines of the tree with my eyes during these cultivation sessions, viewing it from four different angles just as the flowers had four petals. But today, due to the interruption, I cut things short by simply flicking my gaze over its eighteen blossoms.
Esmi entered on soft-soled feet, which immediately brightened my mood. She was only a few steps into the room before I was up on tingling legs, wrapping her in a tight hug.
“Good morning,” I said into her curled hair. She smelled of citrus, and sweat, and everything I wished to have close.
“The same to you,” she replied, her body heat warming as we stayed embraced. Then she gently pulled back, looking at me with her gold-flecked eyes. “Today is the day.”
“So it is,” I replied, and then a “hmm” escaped me.
Esmi tilted her head to the side, though nowhere near as much as an elf would. “What is it?” she asked.
I took a moment, trying to determine how best to put what I was feeling into words. “I’ve been thinking so much about my duel with Gale, worrying over it, obsessing, really. Just last night I was up well past dark, mentally going through my deck choices again and again while lying in bed. I finally had to light a candle and work through a few openings before I could quiet my mind enough to rest.” Normally, I would have been worried about waking E’lal with such nocturnal behavior, but he had spent the night with the other elves again. “I expected today to be even worse, the height of my anxiety, especially when someone chanced to mention it.”
Esmi winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you if you were trying to put the match out of thought.”
“Not at all.” Leaning close, I pecked her on the cheek to prove I was still in good cheer. “That’s just the thing. I don’t feel nearly as on edge as I expected. There is an undercurrent within me, yes.” My hand moved to my stomach, as if I could touch the muted jitteriness roiling around there, “but I’ve been much worse prior to this,” I admitted with a laugh. “Mostly, I feel… prepared.” The word was not what I thought I would say, but hearing it aloud, I knew it to be true. I was eager to see this duel done, to end the waiting, and deal with the consequences.
Esmi nodded with an air of someone who understood. “I used to be terrified of dueling.”
“You?” I said, barely holding back my disbelief. “Surely not.”
“Well, perhaps not terrified,” she said with that little smile of hers I found to be thoroughly fetching. “But I’d get so nervous and excited at the same time, I’d feel like I was going to be ill, and a few times I was.” She put her warm hand on my belly, the heat easing the tension I had there. “But the more I dueled, the less I felt the nerves and the more all that remained was the thrill. One of my teachers in Charbond, Kardis, said this was the body’s way of burning away unnecessary emotions. Perhaps you’ve done the same without realizing?”
“Perhaps…” I said and then smiled. “Or perhaps I’ll sick up once I’m standing across from Gale. If it worked for the mighty Esmi Fireheart, surely it is good enough for me.”
She gave me a joking, put upon look, and then took me by the hand. “Come along. I have plans for us this morning.”
I followed after, but with reserved enthusiasm. “So you know, I don’t think I’m going to break my fast today if you were planning to have us eat. Not unless we really do want me to taste the meal twice, as Hull would say.”
She looked over her shoulder at me with a self-satisfied grin. “I figured as much.”
Outside it was early morning, the sun’s rays from the east only just making it over the fortification’s walls. Yet, the two of us were hardly the only ones up and about, workers heading to and fro, always looking that there was too much to do in too little time. I also saw two Deepkin stomping their way to the Mess Hall – from what I had observed, the dwarves liked to make their meals last as long as possible, always asking the cooks to give them extra helpings or second rounds without offering to pay additional merits. Their plan was one of attrition, and by the time dinner rolled around, some of the staff did end up caving to their oft repeated demands.
A rumbling hiss announced the presence of Balax, one of Esmi’s new favorite Souls; it seemed that while I had been sightseeing, she had been summoning. Turning toward the sound, I was once again reminded of just how big Balax was. The creature’s shoulders came up to my chest, and where fur would be on a regular large cat, scales abounded, a mixture of reds, oranges, grays, and blacks – the colors of flame and ash. Such animals were called orixes, and while they were normally solitary beasts, as a card, this one was already fiercely loyal to Esmi.
It was not the dragon that Esmi had first claimed she wanted as a Mount, nor a hatchling she could raise from infancy, but the two seemed perfectly happy with the arrangement. Balax rubbed his great head against her chest, purring louder as she scratched behind his ears. Yet, all the while he watched me behind slitted eyes.
Keeping the beast close, Esmi retrieved a long saddle that was propped against the outer wall of my domicile and heaved it up onto the animal’s back. Balax let out a suffering sigh as she connected the straps, but he did not resist her efforts.
“Where did you procure that?” I asked. Esmi normally rode the beast bare-back, saying his scales were more supple than stiff, like a snake’s. This saddle, however, appeared as if it was made for two.
She threw me a smile. “From the fortification’s stable. The hands there were happy to part with it for the day at the cost of merit.”
“So much?” I said, eyebrows raising. Only last year, I had spent months scraping together the coin or cards needed to trade for a single Uncommon.
“Well worth the cost. This,” she said, pulling a strap tight, “is important.”
I couldn’t let her pay and do all the labor; I was being a terrible gentleman. “Do you require any help?”
“Already finished,” she happily declared. Esmi then made the short trip to the other side of my door, scooping up a wicker basket that had been sitting there I hadn’t even noticed.
“You really did make plans,” I observed, wondering what was in the basket. She had acted like we wouldn’t be eating, but what else would such a container hold?
“Of course I did,” she said, vaulting up onto the creature's back and offering me a hand to follow.
“He is not very fond of me yet,” I said, hesitating. The orix’s attention was fully on me now, eyelids blinking inward from the sides like a lizard’s.
“And he will continue to behave so until you spend more time together.” Esmi extended her hand farther, holding onto the horn of the saddle so she could lean without falling.
I didn’t want to keep her in such an awkward position, and even though I thought Balax might try to bite my leg off, I accepted Esmi’s hand and her help up. The orix did not snap at me on the way or shift to make me miss my mark, though he did let out a growl of displeasure. The slope of the saddle put me snuggly behind Esmi, which I certainly didn’t mind, and when Balax surged forward, I was forced to put my arms around her, which, but for the jostling, was very pleasant.
“Easy, easy,” Esmi whispered to her mount, and once we were out the front gate of the fortification, the creature did slow.
Even at this reduced pace, Balax’s shoulder blades slid up and down. That, combined with his curved spine, made his movement feel like a rolling gait beneath me. It took some getting used to, and was certainly different from the bouncing trot that came when riding a horse, but after not long, I found my body moving along with his.
The fortification was already set on the edge of woodland, and with Balax carrying us, we reached the treeline in short order. The sharp scent of pine and the crunch of needles and twigs beneath the orix’s large paws filled my senses. Insects buzzed, and birds stopped their songs, likely wary of the enormous cat that had entered their sanctuary. It was a place that teemed with the living, and because of that, my usual attention to Life source was pulled too many directions at once. If I had tried to cultivate here like I did with the tree or in camp, I was sure I would get utterly overwhelmed, but that only made me want to keep training so I eventually could.
As we continued on, the temperature dropped noticeably, the branches and leaves of the full-grown trees providing a thicker canopy against the sun than the more sparsely placed sentinels at the forest entrance.
I snuggled into Esmi and her delightful heat. “Do you have a particular place in mind?”
“Of course I do,” she replied, and I could hear the joy in her voice.
Balax leapt over a small stream with such grace you would think he wasn’t carrying anyone at all. Past that, and around a large bent tree, we came upon a field of purple wildflowers.
I didn’t even need to ask if this was our destination and slid off the orix as soon as Esmi bade it slow. I then took the basket from her, which was surprisingly weighty, and helped her down; she didn’t require the aid but was kind enough to let me feel useful.
She began unpacking the basket, handing me a quilted blanket of pastel blue and cream squares that I spread out near the base of the tree but far enough away to avoid its more knobbly roots. Esmi then pulled out serving ware of all things, placing saucers and cups on the blanket. That was until Balax let out a piteous – and in my estimation, overly dramatic – whine.
“Oh, you poor thing,” she said, rushing over to the beast and quickly unfastening the saddle. Once free, Balax nuzzled her, eyed me, and then was gone, departing with such stealth I wasn’t entirely sure which direction he had traveled.
“You wouldn’t think something so large could be so quiet,” I commented.
“He’s a wonder, isn’t he?” Esmi said, beaming after him.
I much preferred her Albino Kobold if we were going to rate her Souls, but I supposed we couldn’t ride that one nearly as comfortably, so replied, “Most certainly,” as genuinely as I could.
“Help me with the rest,” Esmi said, handing me a squat glass container.
Within was some form of green powder I was unfamiliar with. “And what is this?”
“A type of tea. I bought some from the traveling monks.” She handed me a porcelain pot that sloshed, and a quick inspection revealed that it was already filled with water.
“Should I gather some sticks for a fire?” I wasn’t particularly woodsy, but with Esmi’s Fire source, starting a small blaze to heat the kettle should be a simple affair.
Esmi had already unpacked a small spoon with a long stem, a tiny whisk, and two napkins from the basket, both embroidered on the edges in orange thread. “No need,” she said, reaching out for the pot.
No sooner had I handed it to her than her fingers began to glow, quickly becoming a bright, cherry red, so hot that a haze surrounded them. “Put a full spoonful into each cup, if you would.”
“Of course,” I said, glad for a role to fill while she was occupied. I put a healthy measure of the green powder into the cup nearest her, and a bit less in my own since I was unsure if it would be to my taste. No sooner was I closing the lid on the container and blowing the last flecks of the tea from the spoon, then the water began to boil, steam issuing from the spout.
“Well, aren't you handy?” I commented, as she carefully poured the water into each of our cups.
“Rewarded with a pun?” she said as she worked. “It was all worth it then.”
“You’ve become sharper of tongue as of late,” I told her with a smile. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“I have, haven’t I?” she said with a giggle. “Ever since we chatted that night on the bench, I’ve been trying to give my desires equal weight to those I speak to. I even told Anya I was a Rapturist.”
“You did?” I said, surprised. “How did she take it?”
“Well enough,” Esmi said with a shrug. “But as she and I talked, I realized that it didn’t matter, not truly. She is a kind and sweet girl, and I want all the good in the world for her, but her view of me, whatever it is, is not me. Only I can craft that.” She smiled and then leaned in, kissing me. When she broke contact it was only by an inch, so I could feel her next words on my lips, “And perhaps those who are the world to me.”
It was such an intimate and sensual moment, it almost made me nervous. “We should probably drink the tea before it gets cold.”
“Yes,” she said with a laugh. “I suppose we should.”
Using the tiny whisk, she mixed the contents of my cup and then her own, and she finished things off with a spoonful of cream from another, tightly lidded metal container. The powder had dissolved in the heated water, and the cream swirled along the top as I took a tentative drink. The taste was full-bodied and pleasant, almost as if…
“It feels like I’m taking a sip of the forest.”
She grinned at me over her cup. “I’m glad it’s to your liking.”
After a few more enjoyable swallows, I put my cup down. “You know,” I admitted, “I think I could actually eat something if you happen to have it…”
Esmi laughed, reaching into the basket and bringing out two rolls that had been shaped into crescents. My mouth watered at the sight of them, but Esmi wasn’t finished yet: she also had a cube of butter with a small knife and some boysenberry jam. The butter was more than enough for me, the bread itself sweet and so soft after Esmi warmed it in her hands.
I had halfway through the roll before I noticed that in prepping her own, butter was sliding down her wrist. Her hands must have still been too hot after heating my bread.
“You have some butter on you,” I said, reaching out with one of the napkins she had supplied, but Esmi caught my wrist before it reached her.
“You could clean it, another way….” her eyes searched mine as she said it, and it was a heartbeat before I realized her meaning. When it did, my entire body flushed, filled with the Life I had spent weeks now noticing around me. The bit of golden yellow dripped down her arm, and before I could think too long on it, I was kissing it away. My kisses progressed to her wrist, and when I reached her palm, she took my face in her warm hands, our lips meeting, pressing close, our hands pulling our bodies closer.
After quite some time, we finally separated, breathing hard. We could only go so far before our marriage, and while I felt fit to bursting, I wouldn’t have changed a single thing about this outing so far. I was lying on the blanket now, Esmi’s head resting on my chest, and Balax – who had returned I don’t know when – was stretched out in a long curve, his body a similar shape as the roll.
For a spell, I just listened to the breeze and the birds who had cautiously begun to sing again. I felt Esmi breathing against me, and the low purr of Balax behind our heads. It was like that Meditation card said: listening was truly a gift.
Finally, I said, “If I win the duel tonight, will you spend the evening with me, holding me like this?”
“Needing motivation?” she murmured, sleepily, sultrily.
My grip tightened on the folds of her dress. “I need you. As simple as that.”
Esmi pushed up from my chest, and I relinquished my hold. “Basil of Hintal,” she said, looking down at me. Her waterfull of hair framed her face, the ends tickling my forehead and cheeks. “If you win the duel, I will hold you like this every night.”
Seeing her staring at me like that and saying those words, I couldn’t help but pull her close to kiss again. It was as impassioned as the time before, but much shorter because this time I pulled away.
“I have a gift for you.”
She had looked briefly sad about my departure, but this news clearly piqued her interest. “You do?”
“Close your eyes. No peeking,” I warned as I sat up. She joined me, resting on her knees and doing as I said. Still, I inspected her closely, from one side, then the other, until Balax rumbled.
“Yes, yes, I’m getting to it.” Convinced that she couldn’t see anything, I opened my wrist holder and pulled out a card I had just received yesterday, from a young, barefooted runner.
“Open your hands, please, but not your eyes.”
Esmi did so, and I placed the card in her waiting palms.
She frowned, closing her fingers around it. “Something for my deck?”
“In a way. You can look now.”
She did so, and I shifted so I could view it with her, even though I already knew it by memory.
“It’s from the tree I use to cultivate,” I explained as she continued to look over the card. I glanced up to see her face; she seemed happy, at least I hoped she was.
Her attention shifted to me. “How did you manage that?”
“Hull’s smith friend in the Lows, of all people, Roshum by name. I was worried he would only be able to forge it for Life, and thus be unsummonable for you, but by the grace of Fortune, it turns out the man is quite the talent.”
“He is indeed,” she said, looking back at it. This time her smile was just as in bloom as the flower, and I breathed out in relief. “It’s beautiful, Basil. Thank you.”
“I wanted something between us that would last, no matter what.”
She stiffened, and I found myself half-regretting the words. “I would prefer it if you did not talk like that.”
“I’m merely mentioning the possibility –”
She put the card down and faced me squarely. “Fate hears all. Do not say things that you do not wish for her to manifest.”
I could see that she was adamant about this, but I felt caught between two unforgiving points: my fiancee’s wishes and what I felt the need to express. “I want to be honest with you, Esmi. Always.”
“If honesty is what you desire,” she replied, “you do realize that if you lose to Gale, I’m just going to challenge him to see a union between him and me annulled, don’t you?”
That possibility had crossed my mind, and she certainly had a better chance of besting my brother than I did. “Even if you did so, that would not change the agreement inherent to my duel with him. I still would not be able to marry you,” I told her gently.
Her nostrils flared. “Only because you’d be letting pride get in your way. And if that is the case, then I will challenge you for your hand in marriage.”
What she saw as pride, I viewed as honor, but I chose not to wage that particular battle with her. “You speak of an old custom, Esmi, that hasn’t seen use since our parents were in swaddling.”
“But it is a custom,” Esmi said, crossing her arms. “You would be Order-bound to accept.”
That I did wish to argue, but I caught myself. She had been supportive and understanding when I had come to her, telling her of my duel with Gale, an important decision I had given her no opportunity to be a part of. What right did I have to take this choice away from her, too?
“As you say,” I conceded.
“Thank you,” she said, nodding fiercely.
I could feel the moment she had planned for us slipping away, and that was the last thing I wished for.
“I would like to do something,” I told her, “if you do not object.”
She had moved away, so that she was resting on Balax now, the summon looking at me balefully. “What did you have in mind?”
“I would like to have my Souls meet you. So that they can see what I and they are fighting for.”
“That sounds like a rather wonderful idea,” she said, though her expression did not entirely match her words. However, I chalked that up to our previous disagreement and not what I was suggesting now.
So, I began summoning source one after the next, along with bringing cards to hand, searching for my Rare and Epic Souls, the ones who would be able to converse with us.
“Should I summon mine, too?” she offered as I worked.
I hesitated in the act of focusing my sources. “Let us save that for the wedding.” For unions in Treledyne, especially among the nobility, it was common practice for each party to have their highest ranked Souls summoned for the ceremony, since a marriage was seen as a joining of them as well. “I always did like that tradition.”
“As do I,” she agreed with a pleasant look, dropping her hand back to her lap. I wasn’t sure if her reaction was because she truly did enjoy that particular custom or because I was talking about our wedding, but either way, I was glad to see her spirits returned.
In the end, it was seven Souls that I summoned: Atrea, the Master Assassin, one of my Master Shieldbearers, all three of the Bearkin, and also the Spiderkin.
I felt badly that I could only summon one of my Master Shieldbearers at a time due to their Bodyguard ability, but the word of the Twins was absolute – when I had tried experimentally once before, the Source was spent but then just drifted away from me, the additional Master Shieldbearer remaining as a card in my hand.
Once they had all arrived, I addressed them with the respect I felt them to be due. “Some of you have worked together before, battling at my behest, but at this time, I only wish us to converse. Please, join us.” I motioned to the space that remained on the blanket and just beyond since not all of them would fit on the edge of the quilt.
Atrea was the first to take my offer, folding her wings, and seating herself, sheathed sword angled up and away from her body. The Rares seemed to take the cue from the Epic, fanning out around her, though the Master Assassin remained standing.
I took a breath, readying myself. I had planned for this moment – not nearly as much as the composition of my deck, but my chats over the years with Atrea had given me an idea as to how I might begin. “What do you all wish for?” I asked them.
The answer I received was silence. Atrea – who might have responded first – refrained, likely because she knew that I was already aware of her wishes. I didn’t let the others’ lack of response shake me, instead waiting, trusting that an answer would come. The three Bearkin I noticed looking at each other. All were large and swarthy, but one was much older than the other two, with white in his hair, while another had black, geometric tattoos covering just his ears.
“Being out here is nice,” the oldest eventually commented, gazing up at the trees. “I would prefer it to languishing in a Mind Home. A day spent foraging would give me much pleasure, particularly if there are deer in the area.” The other two Bear-Kin rumbled their assent, and even Balax joined in – putting to rest any doubts I had about how well the orix could understand the things we said. “Are you thinking of taking up hunting?”
“No,” I answered the white-haired elf, “but I am not adverse to adding such a thing to my schedule. And while I have no skill at hunting myself, I see no reason why you could not while I waited.” I pulled a notebook and stick of charcoal from my vest pocket, glad I always traveled with them. “Allow me to make a note. What of you?” I asked, turning to the Spiderkin. If one elf had spoken, perhaps another would as well.
“I miss reading,” she lilted, “and am tired of traveling from place to place.”
“My family home has a marvelous library. I know because I spent more time there than anywhere else,” I explained. “At Rare, we could be separated for quite a stretch. I could leave you there a whole day if you like.”
She blinked her large eyes at me slowly, as if processing this information, but did not say anything else. Hoping I wasn’t being rude to her, I turned to the Master Shieldbearer.
“Do you happen to know what you and your fellow Shieldbearers desire?”
“I do,” the voice intoned, echoing in the helmet. I had wondered if he would take it off, but also had no desire to pry if he wished to stay as he was. “We all want for greatness.”
I paused in the act of writing. “You wish to be great?”
The helmeted head swung side-to-side. “We have become so, aye, Rare as we are. But in the end, all of us were greater than our charges. That is not why we sought after this life. We want our skills to lift another, to see them raised to the heights and the world as well with their acts.”
I exchanged a glance with Esmi. To have a wish like that placed upon me, even though it aligned with my hopes, was a daunting prospect. “I will endeavor to achieve such an end,” I promised, writing it down even though there was no chance I would forget. “And you?” I said, looking finally at the Assassin.
He stood still as a statue, his black clothing out of place among the bright flowers.
“You would be a fool to do as you say,” he answered in the gruff way he had. “If your most powerful cards are spread out, away from you, they will not be available when you most need them.”
Atrea’s feathers rustled, and she spoke for the first time. “Do not call the one I have pledged myself to a fool.” She did not look at the Assassin as she said this, but the blue fire of her eyes danced menacingly.
The Assassin for his part tensed, causing me to do the same. I didn’t think the two could attack each other without my leave, but I had also never done something like this before and so was unsure what rules or restraints, if any, existed.
“I currently spend the majority of my life without cards summoned,” I interjected. “If I am not in foreseeable danger, why should I not give you leave to do as you wish during that time? I will still have access to my other Souls, in addition to Spells and Relics.”
Interestingly, it was the Spiderkin who answered. “It is self-preservation. The Assassin does not want to lose you.”
The Assassin was quiet, protected well from my prying eyes with his hood and mask. That was certainly not something I had expected. Able to foresee such attempts on my life made sense, they were within his wheelhouse, but wanting to protect me? Had the Master Shieldbearers rubbed off on him like Hull did to me?
“They question what is in it for you,” Atrea added.
A look at her showed me that her attention was on the others. Perhaps her new skill of Precision let her see more than gaps in Armor.
“Some of you may not know this,” I told them, “but our Tenders teach that it is important to care for the Souls under our charge. What I am offering you is simply one of the ways that I can accomplish that goal.”
“You do this because another tells you?” the Bearkin with the ear tattoos asked.
Seeing them watching me so avidly, answering in the affirmative seemed to me as if it would undercut the momentum and trust I was trying to build. Esmi’s warm hand wrapped around my arm, giving me strength.
“Yes, and no. I believe in their teachings and want to do right by you all. That said, I gathered you now because I, like you, have a desire. I wish to marry this woman.” I turned, looking at Esmi, who returned my gaze lovingly. “I wish it with all my heart.”
The white-haired Bearkin coughed. “Humans duel for such things?”
Esmi smiled ruefully, and I was sure she was thinking like I was about our recent conversation. “Not usually,” I said. “However, in our particular case, I do need to duel my brother for her hand. A duel that will take place later today, one that I will require all of your strength for.”
“We are card Souls and act as you command,” the Master Assassin said. “We have spoken of this. You summon; we obey.”
I looked at the Assassin and then the other Souls, steeling myself. “That is not enough for me. I want you to wish for the outcome as well.”
“It will make no difference,” the Assassin huffed in protest.
“Perhaps,” I conceded, “but I see no harm in trying. I know my brother, and while he loves his pet hawk, I do not think his Souls are as invested in his success.” I held up the notebook. “If I promise to do these things you’ve asked of me, will you lend me every ounce of your support? I do not know if you can feel the love I bear for this woman in the Mind Home, but if you can sense even a tenth of it, you know how very dear this request is to me.”
The Souls looked at each other, and it was Atrea who stood. She unsheathed her sword and lifted it high, point toward the cresting sun. “I am with you, Basil, as you well know. Our pact has not changed.”
This set off a cascade of reactions, the Bearkin transforming to their animal selves and letting out mighty roars, the Shieldbearer slamming his shields together, the Spiderkin chittering, head thrown back, and even the Master Assassin seemed to have consented, head bowed with a dagger tip resting on his chin, as if taking a moment to gather himself before embarking on a job.
I looked at Esmi, the radiant beauty of her catching me off guard as it sometimes did. “Your Souls appear to be ready,” she told me.
I kissed her once again, quickest of all but no less meaningful. “Then so am I.”
Comments
Myrdin
I forgot about equality. It is really op. Would work fantastically in Hull’s deck, especially after the Void ends and all his souls are discarded
iridium248
I think the Shieldbearer is a higher priority - But he'll have enough Shards for all, he can do the Master Assassin, Equality AND the Shieldbearer.
Sharrif
I will do the manly thing and cry.
Myrdin
I like how Basil treats his souls. The next he should elevate to epic should be Master Assassin. I don’t think that way would work for Hull though, as demons are different and would lose respect for him if he tried it. He still should talk more to them to learn more about the demon realm. I wonder if Gale is going to throw the match. He is an officer and is an epic, so his deck is definitely impressive and he has a lot more experience. At the same time, he values freedom and I don’t think that he wants that marriage a lot, especially that it means a lot to Basil. He seemed quite cool when we saw him in the past. Also, Basil is definitely going to elevate his soul a bit if he wins (still within the rare category).
Big casino
I swear to god if he loses I will be so impotently angry that I will scream my frustration into my pillow. You have been warned.
