II - Sigh of Smoke

Chapter 49 - Divided We Are

-Dareon Hallow-

It was very clear, by this point in the game, that Dareon was losing quite humiliatingly. Raphael had decided to merely spectate, but Piper, who sat next to him, wore a smirk that was starting to gnaw at Dareon's pride. Even though the man vowed to not use magic, Dareon could not think of a way that this man could possibly be beating him without a little trick up his sleeve—unless this so-called trick was just pure talent and luck, then Dareon had no excuse nor any reason to argue.

What was even more frightening, was Lucan's ability to remain stone-faced without giving away a single hint as to his status in the game. His natural skill to bluff was impeccably terrifying.

"Shall we go to war then, men?" Lucan asked flatly, waving two of his cards in the air, not letting the other two players peek at his numbers. His black eyes held no twinkle, but there was an odd mystery to their depth that had the other players on the tips of their toes.

Dareon swallowed nervously. They had gathered several decks of cards from the guards—per request because they were practically in prison with a curfew, and wished to entertain themselves—and had started up a game of War of Fools. It was a game of multiple players, as long as the card amount was sufficient, where each player had a deck of troops. Draw two cards, and the total number on the card faces was the power of your two troops in one round. Players could surrender during a round if they were confident of their own loss, to spare themselves the humiliation. Surrendering also allowed you to keep one of your troops—preferable the higher number. Consequently, the winner took the troops that had lost, proceeding to shuffle the new numbers into their deck. Of course, there were more rules, but Dareon was busy deciding on whether or not to surrender.

Simply, the winner was the player who had obliterated his or her enemies.

Dareon watched as Piper stared at Lucan intently, as if trying to read the man. Yet, even though Piper was certainly faring better than Dareon, they both could silently agree that Lucan's expression gave nothing away. What was noticeable however, was that Lucan wasn't even breaking a sweat. Not a bead. Sighing, Piper put one card down on the floor before them—the battlefield—and the other at the bottom of his deck.

"I surrender," he uttered regretfully.

Dareon considered he was being wise. "Me too," and he put down his two of diamonds, while saving his seven of hearts.

There was a second of pause before Lucan's lips turned up slightly. Then, almost painfully slow, he revealed his hand.

He held an ace of clubs, and a three of spades.

"Fuck it all, you damned, cheatin' bastard!" Piper nearly tore at his hair, while Raphael chuckled to himself, hiding it behind a cough. Dareon's head fell into his hands. He would have most certainly won that round if he had played.

"Good round, gentlemen," Lucan humoured, but his slight smirk was unmistakably taunting. "Another?"

Dareon looked at his deck, which was pathetically no thicker than the width of his thumb. Piper's was as tall as the length of his own pipe. Lucan's? Lucan had a deck that stood a few inches above the man's elbow, even as he was sitting down.

"No, no," Dareon waved his hand in the air as he sat up, "I surrender for real now. Don't need to be dwindled away into nothing."

As he stood up, he nearly stumbled forward as the door to their room was thrown open with a crash. He was so startled by the noise, that he actually yelped. Turning, recovering from his near embarrassing fall, he spotted four figures in the doorway. The one that stood at the front he recognized immediately, for her wild green eyes and her midnight hair seemed to crackle with rage. Atlanta was spotted directly behind her, blue eyes to the ground, with Menaleen at her back, supporting a small boy with her shaking arms.