A Poisoned Wager [Victor]

[Bedlam]

Jann clapped his hands together once, twice, not bothering to hide his smile. Should he have been more upset at losing? He certainly didn't seem upset now, that was for sure. "Well," he clapped his hand on Victor's shoulder and squeezed. "Welcome to the Wager." The whole place was empty now, grown dark and dim. "You want the details, talk to Thorren, he's in charge. I'll tell you this for free," he said as he pushed out of his chair, "you have no idea what you've won." He turned to Thorren, who'd busied himself busing the bar. "There's the man you're looking for," the master of the wager met Jann's eyes shook his head, his mouth turned up in a wary amusement. His eyes touched Victor, and the master gambler snorted and shook his head. He gestured toward the door, and Jann relaxed. "I'll be gone, then." He turned and marched out the door, head held high. "You," Thorren poured something dark and thick. "It's on the house, good drink when all you wanna do is get lost in it," he smiled. "I always keep it on hand for funerals, failures and false victories."

[Victor Lark]

Nagging confusions and unfounded suspicions clouded his thoughts, but the foreigner’s drooping smile remained as he scooped his winnings into his purse and followed Jan’s direction to the bar. Thorren addressed him and his expression rose to something like friendliness, weighted by the shadow of distraction despite all efforts against it. Hanging his elbows on the edge of the bar, Victor dragged the fresh flagon close and peered into its depths.

“False victories,” he repeated cautiously, forgetting to tip his words into the question they were. Unwilling to surrender his smile to the threat in Thorren’s words, he lifted the bitter brew to his lips, drank a longer draught than he should have, and gave a hard wince as he set it down again. With a sigh, he offered his hand like the gentleman he had been raised to be. “I’m Victor. I hear you need some help around here.”

[Bedlam]

"Victor the victor," Thorren shook his head and laughed very softly and took hold of Victor's hand. His grip was very firm. "Is that what Jann told you? You are drunk, but think hard. What were his exact words." "Perhaps he said something about . . . " Thorren snapped his fingers, made a gesture inviting input, though he answered his own question. "His place in the Wager? Yes," he said, leaning back. "That sounds like Jann, the clever little cheat." There was pride in his voice, like a father who'd seen his son walk for the first time, like a bird whose chick had learned to fly. "We've got mighty nice beds here," he said, letting hands rest on the bar in leaned forward. "Good food, nice lodging, best conversation you'll find in all o' Alvadas, and the job's real good. He didn't tell you though, his position?" The tip of his mouth turned up in an unpleasant way. "Didn't want anything to do with it. Had to sell it to you." "Your victory won you a job." He raised his own glass and pushed the dark stuff to Victor. "And it won 'ya the debt of ten thousand gold mizas that brought it on in the first place. Drink, Victor. When win a game like that, it's all you can do."

[Victor Lark]

As clever as he thought he was, Victor had never been as observant as he liked. In the anticipation of winning, he had seen the cards and forgotten to listen.

Unlike Jann’s, the weight of Thorren’s words was not lost on him. He thought he might explain, for the second time that night, that his sleeping arrangements had already been made. But he could not find the words. He could not find the punch line. His bouncing fingers laced together as he leaned heavily against the bar. Somehow, Victor figured levity and denial might cure him of defeat.

He had not once thought to reveal how he planned to break his promise and betray his bet, but the drink made him feel rebellious. Pouring the last of his charming honey onto a waxing smile, Victor countered, “And if I don’t come back?”

[Bedlam]

"Ah," Thorren said and shook his finger no. "It is a tempting thing, isn't it? Run from us. Escape this place. I would not blame you, not if you did it to any other man, but you would leave me in debt!" He slammed a fist onto the counter of the bar and met Victor's eyes. He smiled wide, showed all his teeth. "it is a shameful thing, but in our business often men try to run from their debts. Perhaps you lost a hair here," he murmured, took a slow sip. "It is not a difficult thing to lose. Or you left a glass with saliva inside. Left any small part of you behind. A bit of a toenail, maybe, or one of our girls ran a hand through your hair. I know a man, he can take a piece of any person and make it seek them, turn it into a compass that a blind man can follow." His expression turned suddenly sad. "And then," he murmured, "I cannot trust them. They have run once, they will run again, yes? It is the way of things. I am forced," he held up his hands. "To take as much compensation from them as I can, in any way. It is a sad fate Victor." And there was sadness in his eyes. "I would not wish it on anyone, but I must be firm, in our business, especially. But you, you are a reasonable man, yes?" One corner of his lip turned upward. "I can trust you?"

[Victor Lark]

“No.”

But then he smiled, the kind of smile shared between fast friends for a good joke. However concerned he was about Thorren’s threats, he would not let him know as much. This petty defiance would not be the last. He threw back the last of the liquor in his glass and immediately regretted it, turning away to disguise the hard wince that followed.

He slammed it down again, leaned, breathed. It did make him feel better, now that he thought of it. He pushed from the bar and stepped away from his new employer.

“I’m going home tonight,” he asserted, or suggested. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The words refused defeat and, like their predecessor, spilled from his mouth as if for the hundredth time. He headed for the door, ready to stop if he was told, ready to morph the command into a game if he had to. Though he had no reputation for it, he would keep his word. It was more than a word, he decided; it was a gamble. He was not afraid; he honored bets. And so he would return, tomorrow and the next night, until he could convince another man of his honor.

[Bedlam]

Thread Completed!

Player Name

Experience:
4 Gambling
3 Observation

Lores:
A Bittersweet Wager
Thorren Belvare

Notes:

If I had an excuse that I thought would make up for the forever it took me to get to this, I would give it to you. It’s even shorter than I remembered.

You get a job, and a nasty debt, both of which you may pass on to the next poor bugger who walks in the wager and who you scam into taking them.