Dirty Rotten Magic

The common room of the inn sprawled over several levels, each humming with quiet activity as evening settled in. At the bottom, a shiny wooden bar—polished smooth by countless elbows and stories—stood prominently near the entrance, flanked by two small sets of stairs that led to elevated alcoves where sturdy wooden tables hosted clusters of villagers enjoying their evening meals. The gentle clatter of cutlery, soft murmurs of conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air with a warm, homely cadence.

When I entered, the room hushed for a moment as all eyes lifted to take in my tall, unmistakable frame. I moved toward the bar, feeling the weight of curious stares, and gradually, the quiet buzz of conversation resumed—though the attention never fully left me. I mused that this was a price I would have to pay from now on.

Behind the bar stood a large, muscular man with a trimmed beard and a balding head, his small beady eyes fixed on me as if appraising a rare artifact. He clutched two earthenware bottles that he was about to set down with deliberate care. Behind him, extended shelves boasted small kegs that whispered promises of rich, frothy beer. Nearby, a waitress, fresh from delivering an order, glided past with a graceful nod. Her eyes met mine for a fleeting moment as she balanced a tray of steaming drinks, the faint scent of spiced ale mingling with the rustic aroma of woodsmoke.

I paused before the exquisitely varnished wooden bar—a single, massive plank etched with swirling, intricate patterns that caught the flickering light. The barman wiped the surface with a damp cloth, then looked up and said in a deep, welcoming tone, "Good day to you, sir. What can I do for you today?"

"I would like a room for the night, please, and some food would be great," I replied, my voice steady despite the lingering buzz of attention.

"We have a room available," he said, his tone rising into a cheerful pitch. "It will be one copper for the room and an evening meal from the pot."

Curious, I glanced at the colossal iron stewing pot nestled in the hearth, its surface glinting with heat and mystery, a ladle resting beside it as a waitress—clad in a cloth to protect her tender hands—dished out steaming servings into rustic wooden bowls. "What's in the pot tonight?" I asked.

"You're in luck; it's meat stew," the barman replied with a bright, practiced smile, his words as much a sales pitch as a simple answer.

"What kind of meat?" I pressed, intrigued.

"Oh, the usual fare. This and that—whatever the hunters have managed to lay their hands on," he explained.

"Here is a copper for the room and for the mystery meat stew. Can I eat first and then go up to the room when I'm ready?" I inquired, handing over the coin.

"Of course, sir," he replied warmly.

Just then, a sudden thought struck me, and I leaned forward. "Do people play games of chance here?" I asked the innkeeper.

"Yes, we have a few magical tables for games of chance and skill," he replied, gesturing toward a staircase leading to the second floor. "They're up on the second floor to the right. But be careful, sir—money is involved, and it can sting quite badly when you lose."

I nodded, recalling how oftentimes I had faced angry outbursts when someone lost to me—though I never held a grudge, their fury was as predictable as it was explosive. I wandered through the common room, attracting more inquisitive glances with my height and somewhat eclectic clothing. Climbing the stairs, I found myself ducking to avoid the low-hanging ceiling beams until I reached a room filled with circular wooden tables, their surfaces etched with strange, flowing symbols that shimmered briefly as if alive. Dim oil lights in glass lanterns cast smoky, dancing flames and trailing black lines of soot over the room, which was half-filled with clusters of villagers intently focused on their games.

On the tables, tokens and copper coins glinted in the flickering light as I observed the proceedings for about thirty minutes, all the while savoring the hearty mystery meat stew that a delightful, smiling waitress had served me. Her radiant cheer, in stark contrast to the worn simplicity of the inn, made me wonder if my unusual height was considered an attractive trait in this world. But soon my mind returned to the games of chance.

The games themselves were a mystery to me. I recognized only the universal language of victory and defeat in the expressions of those gathered. Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I moved to one of the larger round tables and set up my modest game—a simple card trick. I placed three cards on the table, their faces obscured by the magic that pulsed in the carved wood; the symbols on the table flickered for a moment before dimming, confirming that this was indeed enchanted magic.

"OK," I thought, reminding myself to remain cool and not appear as a clueless tourist. I dropped all my copper coins onto the table, then began to shuffle the cards with practiced ease, maintaining a pleasant smile as I made eye contact with onlookers. My first customer was a striking woman clad in leather armor, wearing a green tunic and a dark skirt. A short sword hung at her side, and I noticed that she moved with the graceful alertness of a trained archer, a bow slung at her back. Standing by the table, she watched intently as I manipulated the cards.

"Do you want to be the first to play a game of chance?" I offered, gesturing for her to sit opposite me.

"Do you want to explain the rules of the game first?" she inquired, settling down with the poise of an athlete—her expression hard as nails yet her form elegantly lithe, as if honed by acrobatics.

"It's all straightforward," I explained, revealing the queen of hearts along with two number cards. "All you have to do is watch the face card while I shuffle them. Then, select the card that is the queen of hearts. If you're right, you win."

"Fine, but how is money involved in the game?" she asked with a hint of playful challenge.

"You put a stake down at the start. If you win, you get your stake back plus the same amount from me. But if you lose, then I keep your stake," I said.

"Sounds easy. Let's have a go," she replied, and as I shuffled the cards in a manner that was nearly impossible to follow yet deceptively simple, she chose correctly—winning back my copper coin stake. Her smile was warm and knowing, and she remained at the table as the evening unfolded.

I began with the dark-haired bow-woman and continued to play, carefully executing my shuffles so that they were just over the edge of impossible for the untrained eye. Though I lost occasionally—about once in every three games—and sometimes went through a rough patch, I always read my opponents' body language with precision. One by one, more men joined in, and soon a small, boisterous crowd gathered around me, cheering and jeering in a lively mix.

Then, as the night deepened, my target appeared—a man who had watched from the sidelines for a good half-hour. Approaching the table with an air of arrogant confidence, his elegant attire and assured swagger set him apart from the common villagers. As he neared, the room fell into a hushed anticipation. "Are you willing to play for higher stakes?" he challenged.

After a moment of tense silence, I replied, "If that's what you want, it's fine with me." He proposed a daring bet of two hundred copper coins—a sum that nearly matched my winnings for the night. I feigned uncertainty with a forced smile before finally agreeing. We both placed our piles of copper on the table, and I shuffled the cards with a sickly smile as he, brimming with overconfidence, selected his card. My heart pounded as I turned his selection over—revealing, impossibly, the queen of hearts. His face transformed into pure satisfaction.

But then, the magic of the table stirred unexpectedly. Symbols carved into the wood flared to life—a swirling burst of misty white light burst forth and struck his hands, freezing him in place. I heard the rapid footsteps of the barman racing up the stairs. In an instant, the barman and several patrons wielding sturdy clubs advanced, seizing the immobilized man by his arm.

"Caught using magic in a game of chance and skill in my establishment!" bellowed the barman, slapping his thick club against his palm for emphasis. "We run an honest gaming room here!"

Heads nodded in stern agreement, and a few villagers even spat at the bound man. I sat back in stunned silence, watching the spectacle unfold as someone rifled through the man's purse, tallying out four hundred more copper coins to be added to my growing pile. I quickly entered the sum into my magical book—eight hundred copper coins now in my name. Unsure of their true worth, I closed the book, hoping that this new wealth would help me navigate this strange world.

The well-dressed, cheating man was then frog-marched out of the inn by the village guards, muttered curses following him as they promised never to let him return. Gradually, the raucous excitement subsided and the games room returned to a subdued calm, with players resuming their activities in quieter tones.

Across the room, I spotted the beautiful woman from the general store—now adorned in a dark green velvet dress that accentuated her graceful figure. Her hair was styled in a meticulously braided cascade that spoke of careful effort, and her radiant smile was unmistakable. I waved at her from my table, and her face lit up with a smile that made the dim room suddenly brighter.

Yes, she is definitely here for me, I thought.

I stood and walked over with a confident smile. "You look so lovely in that dress. The color really suits you."

She blushed and smoothed the sides of her dress, which clung elegantly to her figure. "Why, thank you, kind sir. I never got your name before—what is it?"

"Chrix, and yours?" I replied, guiding her gently down the stairs to a free table.

"Of course, it's not my full name, but most people just call me Heshe. You're not from around here, are you?"

Damn it, I thought. One of the worst things about being new in a place is appearing so out of place. With my towering height and mismatched clothes, I certainly stood out. Yet, Heshe's large, curious eyes betrayed genuine interest rather than scorn. Sensing an opportunity, I decided to engage her in a long, pleasant conversation to glean more about this bizarre world. I signaled for a server and asked if she'd like something to eat and drink. She nodded, and the evening continued as I focused all my attention on her. She spoke at length about herself and the world around her, and I listened, captivated, grateful for the warmth of her company.

At the end of the evening, I escorted her home. We exchanged heartfelt goodbyes at the front door of the shop, with a promise to see each other tomorrow before I planned to leave for the closest town.