The Magicians' Realm Chapter 23: Marks at the Revue, a yu-gi-oh fanfic

Chapter 23, everybody, featuring everyone's favorite feline felons! And may I just say, I love El Nino—December 14th here in the States, and I had shorts on today. :D

Fromtheashtrees, thanks for the review! Haha, yes, he wasn't expecting it, and now he's stuck with a tie that will forever be a conversation piece. :D House swimming? Is that indoor swimming? *pictures literally swimming through a house* Don't worry, I'm sticking with the creative stuff rather than killing myself on quadratics (right now I'm more focused on my comprehensive examination while keeping up with my art and writing—such fun!). Thank you! I shall look into it as soon as I have another free weekend (and after I familiarize myself with Don't Starve's new DLC). Have fun with your games! ^^/

Angiembabe, thanks for the review! Yes, it is truly a Ghastly tie. :D I do have a sketch like that started, so I'll bump it up the queue—although if you've ever watched The Nightmare Before Christmas, you have an idea of what it looks like. :) Just a tad. :D

References:

Original characters + setting © Kineil D. Wicks (myself, not the girl in the story)

"Well look there! Our newest nominee!"

"Mitzi, save me," Yami begged, dropping to his knees in front of her and trying very, very hard to ignore Zib's cat-call up on the stage. He had been hearing variations of it all week, and it was beyond him how word had spread so quickly.

And apparently, going to the Lackadaisy Revue was not going to be the respite he had hoped for.

"Thank you, Zib, for the official nomination," Mitzi May called. "Now get back to warming up—you're out of tune."

Zib made a face and went back to blowing on his clarinet.

"Stand up, dear," Mitzi said to Yami. "Or at least sit on a barstool—you're making a scene there on the floor."

Yami obliged, sitting in the barstool next to hers—he had to sit facing out, one of the few drawbacks of his long limbs.

"It is true?" Viktor asked, not looking up from cleaning his glass, and not particularly sounding like he cared. "You are running?"

"All lies and calumny," Yami vehemently denied. "It was a prank Kineil pulled. I'm not running."

"Oh good," Mitzi said. "Atlas told me not to tell you anything if you asked where he was."

"Where is he, since you brought him up?"

"Tending to our not-quite-legal stash in the limestone warrens."

One of the more interesting aspects of the foothills of the Giant Mountains were the mazes of caverns running beneath them. One large one in particular had obviously been occupied before, and was used on occasion for large parties.

The smaller warrens were ignored by the Administrators—which meant that everyone who needed storage space and didn't want to pay for it or announce their goods stored them in the warrens. It was a tad risky, yes, but it was good storage space.

And Atlas May had hit upon quite a racket—not only by storing the booze he obtained on the river (through multiple duplicitous acts) in his own personal cavern, but by exploring the caves as well. He made sure they were sound, cleaned them up, sealed them up with a nice door, and then sold the pre-tended storage space to Delvaire residents. For an extra few dollars a month, he had one of his crew wander through the warren, checking the air and making sure no one disturbed the caves.

Yami supposed he'd be more fussed, if he didn't own such a cavern himself—he wasn't sure what he was going to use it for yet, but he liked the idea of owning one.

"Did anything good come in?" Yami asked.

Mitzi gave him a little pout. "Now Yami, you know the Gypsians save the good stuff for you."

Sometimes, it was good to have a wide range of friends.

"Now Mitzi," he said, matching her tone. "You know I tell them to pass the good stuff on to you. I'd rather drink it here, anyways—better atmosphere."

"Aren't you darling," Mitzi said, before looking over to Atlas heading their way—she seemed to possess an uncanny sense, to always know when he was coming.

"You're fine, dear," she called, when she noted Atlas freeze.

"Yami," Atlas purred upon arrival, attempting to recover his normal suave demeanor. "I was just wandering a bit on the path of life…."

"Mitzi already told me," Yami said.

"Dear, we talked about this," Atlas said to her.

"He's not running," Mitzi told him, patting his arm. "Miss Wicks wanted to make a point."

Atlas swore.

"Okay," Yami noised.

"No, no," Atlas muttered, waving him off. "It's just—we've already started the pool." He indicated the blackboard on the other side of the revue, out of immediate sight of the entrance—good for when the Administrators stuck their noses in. "I already put thirty marks on you."

Marks were slightly different than normal monies in that they were "Commoner" change instead of Magician-enchanted paper bills. They weren't coins that could be melted down for their base metals, either—they were a representation of an hour of work provided by a person. If a mark was handed over, it generally indicated that the person would do an odd job for the receiver for an hour. For Atlas to bet thirty—

"I'm not going to win," Yami told him. "I'd bet differently if I were you."

"I can't," Atlas mock-wailed. "I made it in front of the entire revue—I started the bets with that. I can't change it now."

"Sorry."

"You," Atlas stressed, pointing. "Had better win that election. I've never worked an honest day in my life, and I don't intend to start now."

"I'm sure you've worked one honest day."

Atlas gave it some thought. "Yes, one—I dug a ditch. I hated it. I swore I'd never do another—I'd have other people do it for me."

"And now you do," Mitzi said, signaling Viktor. Viktor obliged with a glass of gin.

"I did not bet on you," Viktor informed Yami.

"Oh good," Yami observed.

"Don't take it personally," Mitzi said, handing the gin to Atlas. "He doesn't bet on anything."

"Not true," Viktor said, as Atlas knocked the gin back. "Other day, I bid on…eh, large bird-thing."

"The racing guineas?" Yami asked. After horses, the larger birds were the most bet-upon animals around—except for cockfighting, which Atlas also had as a racket for. Yami hated that one.

"Yah—was at track other day, it look fast, I bet, I win."

And thus, Viktor Vasko summarized his day.

"You'll be fine," Mitzi said, tapping Yami's arm. "Besides, everyone knows they stuff the ballots anyway."

Atlas moaned.

"You'll be fine too, dear," she assured. "Just ask Rocky or Mordecai to do it for you—those boys would bend over backwards if you asked them."

"Rocky especially," Atlas said, considering. "I swear, that kid is double-jointed."

Viktor served Yami his customary light liqueur—some booze every day may be beneficial to a person's health, but he wasn't sure he wanted to be as healthy as some of the other patrons of Lackadaisy. Besides, he didn't much like the taste of alcohol.

He held up his glass, really only ordered because Mitzi insisted, and proposed a toast. "To me losing."

"To you winning," Atlas insisted, accepting his freshly-refilled glass.

"To you not having to work thirty hours," Yami amended.

"I'll drink to that."