Chapter 133 – Six Chips
Chasing Gahi down was hard when Demitri was so slow. But, thankfully, Gahi was not going at his full speed. He drifted in circles, going around and down into the roads, and then back up again when he was feeling restless.
"He's just gonna do that all day, isn't he?" Owen asked. He'd caught up with them, asking Zena and the others to stay behind for now; it would be fine if just Team Alloy had been together.
"Or whenever he gets tired," Demitri said, panting. "Oh, wait, we have days again, don't we?" He glanced back at the Tree, where evening sunlight made the prismatic leaves shimmer a brilliant orange.
"You know, since we're on the road, and he's just… going to be flying around, I think I want to check on Hakk," Owen said. "Aside from Anam, he was the only one of us not really at dinner…"
"Well, there's also the Legends," Demitri said. "A-and… that includes Rhys."
The quiet that followed, filled only by the steps or sliding from their walk, subdued Owen once again.
"Yeah. Rhys… He was—he wasn't really in the Voidlands before, though. It's not like he suffered when he… I mean, I don't think he did." Owen didn't want to ask Diyem for the answer. The very thought… Diyem killed Rhys. Killed him, and not even in a way they could see him again.
No, maybe he was still there, in Dialga. They just had to reawaken that part, right? Owen played that memory in his head again, when Dialga had nearly gone berserk. But he'd averted that because a familiar-feeling voice helped him. That voice was Rhys, wasn't it?
But he didn't want to give his team any false hope.
"He can't just be gone," Demitri said in a whisper. "We can still talk to him, can't we? He's… just somewhere in Dialga. So, he's… It'll be fine."
Mispy wasn't one to speak much, but Owen could see in her eyes that she thought otherwise. He didn't want to acknowledge it, though. He couldn't. Not now.
"Hey, what about Hakk?" Owen asked. "We're near his place. Maybe we should see how he's doing, y'know?"
"Hakk…" Demitri nodded. "He wasn't even at dinner. I'm worried about him."
"He won't do anything stupid, right?" Gahi murmured, landing next to them. Owen deflated with relief. So, he at least got curious about their conversation and stopped moping in the skies… "Should've kept an eye on'm."
"We can't watch him every second of the day," Owen said, "but… you have a point."
The Charmeleon started down the road, trying to ignore any buildings that weren't Hakk's. His Perceive was starting to come back to him, and with it were glimpses of Pokémon in their private homes as he passed by. If knowledge of his abilities became widespread, he'd probably be banned from every urban area in the Voidlands. He decided to keep quiet about the extent of that power.
They soon made it to Hakk's home, and Owen did focus on his Perceive then to make sure Hakk was inside before entering. The walls were half-finished, but the door had been repaired. It was unlocked. Hakk was sitting in the basement, looking calm and unharmed, so that was the second good sign. Everything was still too dull for Owen to figure out more details than that, though.
"He's down there; he's fine," Owen said. "He's not moving a lot, though. Might be, you know… reminiscing. I don't think we should crowd him."
"I still want to see him," Demitri said.
Owen nodded. "I'd… like to come, too, if that's alright. But, Mispy, Gahi, are you fine with staying out here?"
Mispy shrugged. Gahi looked restless.
"What do I do 'til then?" the slim Flygon asked.
After a pause, Owen hummed. "Why don't you two see if there's something to do around town?" he offered. "This is kind of a time to rest until tomorrow when we set off for the Legends."
"Feh." Gahi snapped his tail on the ground, scales against the stone road. "Wait t'morrow, wait t'morrow. Always t'morrow. I wanna go now already. Ain't Step still out there somewhere?"
"Latias is out there doing the scouting already," Owen said. "She's probably better at it than… Well, I mean…" Now that he thought about it, Gahi could probably cover more ground. But he was also not that smart if he ran into trouble; he'd sooner try to take on whatever Titan Step ran into than fly back to get the others.
"Mispy, Gahi, if you two fused, do you think you'd be able to scout quickly?" Owen offered. "Maybe that's something you two can do."
"Me, with Mispy?" Gahi said, glancing at Demitri, who looked unsure. "Ehh. Sure. Hopefully y'don't slow me down too much," Gahi stated to the Meganium.
Mispy sighed, looking reluctant as well.
"What's wrong?" Owen asked.
"She's just gonna make me hold back," Gahi complained. "Can't I go on my own?"
"He's an idiot," Mispy stated flatly.
"Gahi, you can't go alone," Owen warned. "It's still dangerous out there. And Mispy, Gahi can handle himself a little, too. You're fast, but those Shadow attacks are no joke. You'll want Mispy's durability."
"And sense," Mispy added knowingly.
"What, you think I won't have the sense ter run back?!" Gahi challenged.
Silence.
"…Feh! Underestimatin' me again!" Gahi snapped his tail on the ground.
"It's just to be careful," Owen said. "You're reckless. Promise you'll stay safe, Gahi?"
Gahi still scowled, but his stare softened a little when Owen pleaded. His shoulders and wings sagged and he gestured for Mispy to follow him down the road.
"We think Step headed east," Owen informed Gahi, pointing. "Can you fly that way?"
"East, eh? Alright. Quarters my ground ter cover. Not bad." The rest of his murmuring faded out as he got limber for another flight exercise. As Mispy tried to catch up after a quick love bite on Demitri's shoulder, Demitri and Owen headed down into the basement.
There, the icy Sandslash was sitting in the middle of the room, head staring at the wall. Demitri tensed at the eyes kept in jars of preserves, never decaying, never changing. Xypher's legacy was in this room, hidden away and undiscovered by the general public. In fact, only Owen really knew about it, and he'd only told Team Alloy and those closest.
The secret didn't really matter anymore, did it?
Wordlessly, Hakk turned his head to spare a glance, but then he stared at the shelf again, soulless.
"Hello, um, Hakk," Demitri said gently. "…Staying here for the night? I don't think your home is fully rebuilt yet…"
"Gonna sell it," Hakk whispered.
"Oh. I guess I understand that…" Demitri approached; when Hakk didn't object, he sat down and toyed with the axes on his tail. "Want to… move on?"
"Just thinking of what to do with this," Hakk said, his voice only audible because everything else was so quiet. "Bury it. Leave it. Seal the room… tch… Only I understood why."
"His, um… collection," Demitri clarified. "I guess it's a hobby. Xypher still seemed like a very nice person."
"These were once his friends, right?" Owen asked, his voice a little louder than both.
Hakk flinched a little. "He didn't kill them."
"I guessed he didn't," Owen said. "But people that he liked, he kept their eyes if they died. Right? And that happened a lot."
The Charmeleon's gaze trailed to one of the more recent additions on the far shelf. Big, striking, reptilian, blue eyes that seemed to stare right back at him.
"And I guess sometimes he collects them just because," Owen added.
Hakk followed Owen's attention to the same jar and grimaced. "It's how he remembered," Hakk said. "He wasn't that expressive, but I knew when he was happy. It's in the eyes, the way they widen or narrow. Seem a little brighter, sometimes. And I think that's how he saw it in others…" Aimless, Hakk ran his claws on the ground. "He wanted to remember how they smiled. So, in his twisted little way, he tried to cope with losing someone by… keeping that part of them."
In its own misguided, distorted way, Owen could understand that. Xypher had a strange way of thinking, but it was toward a very relatable goal, in the end…
"He was D-class, but he really wanted to remember everything," Owen concluded.
"Yeah."
"And… you're going to be moving out?" Demitri asked.
Silence. Hakk seemed to curl inward a little.
"Sold it already? Pretty fast," Owen remarked.
"Well. I put it on sale, I guess. Or, I said I would. I dunno."
More silence. Owen and Demitri glanced at one another, but it seemed neither knew what to say.
"Maybe I shouldn't," Hakk murmured again. "Maybe one day Xypher will be back. And these eyes can help him remember, I guess. I'll just… keep it safe. Not like it's illegal. Just scavenging. I think."
"Well, I won't tell," Demitri said.
When Demitri looked at Owen, Owen straightened nervously. "Uh—yeah. This, uh, I get it. I guess I have kind of a say, since one of those jars has my old eyes…"
"Mmyeah, that's still kind of weird," Demitri admitted.
"Of course it's weird," Hakk muttered. "Xypher's weird. Always was. I bet he was weird even before getting halfway Voided. That's just how he was, and how I… how I knew him. He was just weird. A weird, big bird who just wanted someone to be with. Who…" He curled again, like he was falling back to his instincts to get into a tiny, spiky ball for safety.
"It's okay," Demitri said first. Tentatively, he reached for Hakk's shoulder, and the Sandslash didn't resist this time. In fact, he leaned a little into him. The ice made the Haxorus cringe, but he powered through. "You're still here. Xypher wouldn't want you to be too sad about him. You'll have to remember his smile, right?"
Owen wasn't sure why, but for some reason, that was what finally broke the Sandslash. It started with a little shudder, and then a quiet sob, but finally, Hakk no longer cared about his pride. He rubbed his eyes, sniffled into his paws, and leaned against Demitri without restraint. Forcing himself past the cold, Demitri wrapped his arms around Hakk and rocked with him. Owen, not wanting to interfere, just smiled at his partner.
Ten long, eternal minutes passed in that silence, and Owen didn't mind. Hakk needed this. And even though his sobs had calmed down enough by the first minute, he needed more time to decompress and calm down afterward.
And for a while, that was all they really did. Occasionally, Hakk sniffled a little, and seemed to resent, or present resentment, toward them hanging around. But never did he ask them to leave, and as the minutes passed, he relaxed more. He leaned against Demitri more. There were a few moments where he cried again, but Demitri only rubbed his shoulders, ignored the frost, and kept nearby.
Owen couldn't ignore the thought: perhaps this was why Demitri had become Mesprit. Some of the Legends' mortal halves didn't make a lot of sense to him. But this one… made a lot of sense.
Finally, Hakk pulled away from a thoroughly frosted Demitri. He was calmer. The sorrow never left him, and every gesture was somber, but he was stable. Inspecting the rest of Xypher's abode one more time, he finally spoke.
"How come you came here?"
"Just to check on you," Owen said. "We needed some air, and we were in the area."
Hakk nodded knowingly. "Did you guys have a fight at dinner, or something?"
"Well… sort of." Owen shifted awkwardly, toying with the flame on his tail. "We didn't really fight each other as much as… took some pretty bad news."
"Bad news," Hakk echoed. He didn't sound indifferent—more like he didn't know what that meant.
"It's sort of a long story," Demitri explained.
"What isn't with you guys?" Hakk snorted weakly, starting for the stairs up; the pair followed. "Do I need to know?"
"Maybe only the basics," Owen admitted. "But our goal hasn't changed. We're still going to be doing what we can to stop Alexander, and all the fragments of Dark Matter, too."
Hakk nodded. "Fine," he said. "Tell me the basics. I want in."
Owen saw a brief flash of determination in Hakk's eyes. There it was. The smile Xypher saw on that scowling face… Now, Owen understood.
Gahi stood awkwardly in front of Mispy. "So, what," the Flygon said, flapping his wings once like he wanted to take off. "We going?"
Mispy frowned expectantly. She nodded. But she could already tell that there was still something bothering him, so she waited patiently. Her vines curled and her body sank a little lower; it was her gesture of sitting down.
"…What?" Gahi challenged, but Mispy only stared. "Oh, so you think I'm just bottling it all up inside, this whole thing? Is that it?"
Gahi shifted around, flicking his tail as he paced.
"First I find out that Owen and I used ter be t'gether fer stuff, an' then what, I took his will away? Who tells someone somethin' like that?! I ain't ready fer that! An' I don't believe it, either!"
His wings were undulating cosmic colors from his Psychic influence. They slowly settled back down, but he was still agitated. Mispy slid after him as he continued to pace, heading aimlessly for the town exit. They were going to be scouting anyway, so as long as they did some walking out of town, she wouldn't protest.
"Maybe Owen was jus' fed some lies er somethin', an'… I dunno, maybe he…"
Mispy only frowned when Gahi looked back, and his shoulders sagged in defeat.
"Yeah, guess he doesn' got a reason ter lie… but if that's the case, what? I'm doomed ter… ter go back ter Azelf? I ain't gonna do that…"
Mispy could agree there. If Uxie had stolen Owen's memories—his memories—then Owen had been a true monster, or Uxie wasn't someone she would ever want to become again. There was also the possibility that both hypotheticals were true.
"We're gonna find 'm, and then we're gonna show'm a piece o' our minds," Gahi stated firmly. "Gotta find other ways ter beat Alexander, 'n… I dunno. Ignore that we have a second half forever."
That was unrealistic, and the shakiness in Gahi's voice confirmed it to her. He was lying to himself. Mispy gave him a sad smile.
Gahi's wings drooped. "Wonder how Owen feels about it… 'bout me, 'bout… y'know…"
Mispy thought back as Gahi did. He'd been close with Zena, even if he was trying to come to grips with himself. And according to Xerneas, Zena was whole, thank goodness. Amid all of this, she was something grounded and easy to understand… relatively speaking. Though, in Mispy's opinion, Zena was a little too assertive for Owen. Maybe he had a type.
"We're gonna be alright, yeah?" Gahi asked. It was the first time Gahi asked a question that she suspected made him feel vulnerable. Yet, it was something Mispy didn't know the answer to.
She opened her mouth, but no words came. She first worried if she couldn't speak to him, like anyone else, but no… She just didn't know.
"It's alright," Gahi dismissed, looking guilty. "Sorry. Whatever. I'm gettin' all bothered, 'n…"
"It's okay," Mispy finally said, which startled Gahi into silence.
It was empty. But if there was one thing she knew about Gahi, it was that he didn't need logic or evidence or things that actually made sense to be assured. He just needed firm words and a smile. Confidence. Gahi always had that, so seeing him doubt like this frightened her. She had to lift him up.
"What, just by challengin' them?" Gahi said. "Challengin' the Trio of Mind?"
"Of course," Mispy replied, smiling. "And w…" Her words failed her, but Gahi's pleading eyes tugged the last ones out, "We'll win, too."
"Win? Against them?" Gahi thought about it. "Heh, well. I've got an Orb. And we were made ter fight Legends. Maybe it'll work out. Er maybe… I dunno, maybe they won't be so bad. Sounds like something Owen would say, eh?"
Mispy smiled, trying to assure him.
"Heh. Yeah…" He sighed. "Alright. Whatever. Let's get scouting, eh?"
And with a sigh, he hopped back, and Mispy wrapped her vines around him. Perhaps now he'd be in better spirits to focus on searching for Step.
She only hoped his stupidity wouldn't stick after they split.
The cell door opened and Owen jumped to attention, once again completely ignorant to how much time had passed. He tuned his Perceive through the wall and sensed a tall figure holding several things in his hands. Lanky. Qitlan again.
The second door opened and then shut behind the Inteleon, who gave a polite bow. "Any progress on your Gone Pebble?"
"Almost," Owen replied. "I think I'm getting it. What's that?"
"Straight to the point, hm? I thought you'd be excited for some activity. Well." With a shrug, he set down a small bag, but Owen already knew what was inside. It jingled like rocks. Six small, ceramic tokens and a deck of cards.
"I assume you are familiar with poker," Qitlan said. "I doubt the rules have changed very much."
"I think I know it if you let me look at the deck," Owen replied.
"Oh? Well, of course. I'll let you look at it." Qitlan said, but did nothing to hand it over to Owen. The Charmeleon, meanwhile, stared at Qitlan, and then at the deck of cards in his hands.
A silence, filled only by his flame, permeated the room, and then Owen said, "Alright. I looked at it."
"Then you would be willing to play a game with me?" he offered, setting the six tokens down next.
"Sure." Owen furrowed his brow suspiciously. Qitlan would play a game with him, despite how obviously he'd just read the entire deck?
"Good. But first, I would like to put some modifications to the rules. It won't affect how the game is played, but it will affect your reward."
"Okay." Owen said neutrally, attentive but trying to mask his emotions.
Qitlan set down the six chips individually, placing them in a line between them, and pointed at each from left to right. "Can you see the writing on each chip?"
Owen read through it. Each one had different words on them, written in black marker. Six months of safety; freedom*; a break for Star; Remi's location; alone time with Mhynt; your own servant.
"What does each one mean?" Owen asked, unable to completely hide the tightness in his throat.
"Six months of safety. That means that Alexander will not lay a finger, directly or through orders, on any of your friends, so long as they do not attack first.
"Freedom—do note the asterisk—will allow you to explore Cipher City and most areas of the castle at your leisure. You will be given a room and some traveling privileges, but you will of course not be allowed to leave the city, and you will be watched.
"A break for Star… I'm sure you know that she has been put through a thorough interrogation process to get into her mind. She's quite stubborn. But we will eliminate our interrogation of her for a month, should this chip end with you.
"Remi's location is quite self-explanatory. We know where she is. We will tell you. Not even Mhynt knows this answer.
"Ah, and speaking of which, time alone with Mhynt… For an hour, you will be allowed to speak to her, alone, with zero surveillance. The timer will start when the door closes, but you will have all the time you like to inspect it for bugs.
"And, lastly, your own servant. Alexander has any number of Pokémon who work under him. You may choose any one, even myself, to serve you however you see fit. And, of course, they must listen.
"Do these all make sense?"
"How do I know that you'll follow through with any of these?" Owen asked flatly. "If I win all of these, won't Alexander just overrule it?"
"Oh, Owen, why would I work against him?" Qitlan smiled wryly. "Surely you noticed by now that the tokens are in his handwriting."
"…He has handwriting?"
Qitlan's eye twitched. "You have no choice. There is no point in this game if the prizes are not real. Are you willing to play?"
Owen sighed, reaching for the chips. "Fine, I'll play."
"Ah, ah. Two more rules."
Owen stopped and waited, though he did not pull his arm away. He had to admit, the sheer possibility of these prizes being real was… exciting. It certainly broke through the monotony of the cell walls.
"We will choose our chips one by one. Since I am proposing this game at all, I will get first pick. Then, we must bet any one chip of our choosing that we own, and the game of poker will go as normal. We can call, raise, and so on, as the normal rules follow."
"Okay…" Owen nodded. "And what's the second rule?"
"The rule only applies to you," Qitlan said, "and it is that, after chips are selected and the game begins, if you lose a chip—that is, it goes into my possession—that prize is erased from play. You may still earn the chip back, but the prize is gone entirely. You may, of course, end the game early with your winnings, and any preserved chips in your possession will be redeemed. But any you lose are simply gone.
"And, of course," Qitlan clarified, "if I lose a chip to you, the prize is not gone. You will win it properly, so long as I do not take it back."
Owen rolled those in his head a few times, mapping it out. He had to pick the chips he wanted the most, and then win any that Qitlan took first. Then, he could quit before he performed any odd games with him, or he could just use one of the disposable prizes to wager against the winning one. He'd know exactly what Qitlan was drawing, so it was just a matter of luck. And luck was in his favor, too, because he'd also be able to read what was in the deck, which—
"And what counts as cheating?" Owen suddenly asked.
Qitlan's smile was still polite and thin, but it seemed firmer. "So long as you draw from the top of the deck, and do not shuffle dishonestly, everything is fair game."
Then he was allowed to read the cards. It didn't seem like there was any funny business with this game. The cards didn't feel rigged.
"Alright," Owen said. "Let's play."
"Very good." Qitlan hummed, hovering a finger over the tokens one by one. "We will have, oh… twenty seconds to choose a token, before you get to choose for me, or vice versa. Is that fair?"
"Sure." He had to agree, but he knew Qitlan had already planned out his priority list long ago. He had seconds to do the same.
"Hmm, hmm…" Qitlan made a show of it, looking so conflicted on which one to pick, despite the bored look in his eyes as he anguished. His finger finally landed on 'six months of safety.' Owen's jaw tightened, but he said nothing as the token slid toward Qitlan's side.
Qitlan probably knew that was the one he wanted most. That had been his entire point for surrendering himself. That also meant he would probably wager that token last.
That was fine. He still had odds in his favor. Even if he had an absolutely terrible setup, he could still win in the end with perhaps three or four chips sustained.
He could risk a few.
With five seconds to spare, Owen placed a claw on 'alone time with Mhynt' and pulled it toward himself.
"Ooh," Qitlan cooed with what almost looked like genuine amusement. Then, returning to a neutral gaze, he placed a finger on 'Remi's location' and pulled it in.
Owen only had three left. A break for Star, a servant from Alexander, and freedom. All three were good choices in their own way, and ultimately it was his final choice, too. Star… probably didn't deserve whatever was happening to her. And she probably would be holding information they really wanted. He couldn't really risk that, right? Even after all she did, she wasn't… wouldn't deserve that. And if he could help her even a little bit…
But what would freedom grant him? Could he sneak around? How thoroughly would they watch him? Questions he had no time to ask, curse that limit he'd agreed to. Owen didn't really know what a servant would do for him; it seemed cruel.
"Five seconds," Qitlan warned.
Owen followed his feelings and his strategy, pulling Star's chip in.
"Interesting," Qitlan said. "After all she'd done to you?"
Owen didn't reply.
Qitlan gave a little head-tilt like a shrug and pulled in 'servant,' with a little chuckle. "Well, I'm certainly not going to risk working under you, now am I?"
And so, the final chip was freedom, thrust upon him by default. Owen had freedom, a break for Star, and time with Mhynt; Qitlan had six months of safety, a personal servant, and Remi's location.
"Shuffle," Qitlan said, sliding the deck forward stiffly.
Owen looked at the cards thoroughly without touching them, and then sighed. He used one hand and split the deck into four piles, one card at a time, following something systematic. Then, he combined two piles randomly, and then the other, and then put the whole deck back together and slid the stack to Qitlan.
"Cut the deck," Owen stated.
"In the name of fairness," Qitlan replied. "You can't trust yourself to shuffle neutrally with that sense of yours, can you?" He cut it, placing some of the deck beneath the rest. "Very good. I'm confident that this is a fairly shuffled deck. And, of course, I will deal; five to me, five to you, and then I shall draw first, and you right after. Now." Qitlan shuffled out just as he said. "Choose your first token to bet."
Owen, predictably, slid 'freedom' in first.
"Serving under someone or another all your life, I suppose it makes sense you wouldn't mind risking your autonomy first," Qitlan said with a shrug. "Very well. But I do value this servant token too much. I was silly not to pick it first."
Liar.
"Let's go with this one." He slid the 'Remi's location' token first, and Owen's pupils narrowed in on it.
He could afford to lose this one. But he would much rather win it immediately.
Owen read his cards, picking them up if only to be polite. A pair of sevens and junk. Bad hand. But the fourth card from the top of the deck was also a seven. He could get three of a kind, easily, as long as Qitlan drew at least one card.
"Any bets?" Qitlan asked.
"No," Owen replied.
"Same as well. Hmm, hmm." Qitlan set two cards down and drew two more.
Perfect. And just above the seven was a five, which he also had one of. He could get a full house. Owen discarded two and drew two, giving himself three sevens and two fives.
"Any further bets?" Qitlan asked.
He knew he'd won. There would be no point in betting more. Qitlan had three eights, but it wouldn't be enough.
"No," Owen replied.
"Reveal."
Just as Owen predicted, a full house against a triple. He acquired Remi's location.
"Impressive," Qitlan said with a wry smile. "How very lucky of you."
Qitlan placed the next token down. This time, it was the six months of safety. That surprised him. If he won that, he could end the game early, no need to risk truly bad hands. Owen slid the 'freedom' card forward again, but then hesitated.
Was Qitlan getting a read for his priorities this way? Yes, of course he was. Maybe he could switch it up. He slid 'Remi's location' forward instead, and Qitlan's wry smile got a little wider, like he was holding back an entertained laugh.
Qitlan drew his five, and then Owen was given his. Junk. But it wasn't all bad. Qitlan only had a pair, and he—
Qitlan placed his cards down, face-up, for Owen to plainly see.
"Uh, what?" Owen asked.
"Oh, I'm just doing that for convenience," Qitlan said. "You can already see it, after all. The subtle indentations of each pressed card, giving away its value. Perhaps only one, two millimeters deep. It's a very special kind of deck, you see. It's hard to print them the normal way, and Alexander likes the feel of cards with texture instead of flat pictures. Quite convenient that you can sense them that way, too, hm?
"Still, they're awkward because of that. A little bumpy. It's so much more comfortable to place the cards down solitaire style, no?"
Owen was too focused on that, but then he glanced at the deck again, and then at the cards in his hands. He wasn't obligated to show them. That wasn't part of the rules.
Right. Qitlan had a pair. He could see that plainly. His Perceive also revealed the deck of cards had what Qitlan needed for three of a kind, and Owen knew he would discard three to keep his pair. Qitlan would get a triple. However, that would put Owen in place for turning that junk into a higher three of a kind. There were two tens tantalizingly close, right after the three Qitlan would draw, and he only had to discard four of his own cards to get to them.
"Any bets?" Qitlan asked. "Ah, no. Actually, I do have a bet, hm, hm." He slid his final token forward.
Owen smirked and reached for 'a break for Star' without thinking, but before he could do anything, Qitlan interjected with an idle sigh.
"I wonder how many cards I should draw."
Owen froze. "What?" he asked.
Qitlan gestured vaguely to the five cards he owned. "Do I gamble with that king, go for two pairs? What are the odds that there will be three of a kind? I should probably have a higher card for safety…"
Owen held his breath, but then focused on steadying it. If Qitlan only drew two, Owen would only get one of those tens. A pair of tens. But Qitlan, would he get anything from that? Yes! A pair of—if he kept the highest card, that would become two kings. Which would trump him. But what if it was a bluff?
"I'd like a bet or not," Qitlan hummed, annoyed.
He couldn't risk it if Qitlan was going to toy with him like this.
"Fold," Owen said.
"Ohh, what's so frightening about a pair?" Qitlan teased, pulling the token for Remi's location away. He rubbed his finger on the top, and the lettering disappeared. A plain token remained.
Everything felt cold.
"Well, let's continue," Qitlan said, and he slid the blank token forward as his next bet. Owen slid Star's break forward instead.
Cards. Good cards. Qitlan had bad cards. Deck had no hope. "Any bets?" Qitlan asked, and Owen shook his head and didn't even bother to draw.
"Well, I suppose I won't bother, either," Qitlan replied, and they revealed. "I fold. An easy win for you."
He took the token back, and Owen tried to will the lettering back onto it. But it only stared back at him, blank.
There was a sickening, cold feeling when Owen slid the corpse of Remi's token back into the playing field, like he was using her empty body as currency. He shoved the feeling away, and realized that Qitlan was placing the servant token up next.
"Hm? Oh, I was varying it up, like you were," Qitlan said. "Well. Let's get to drawing, shall we?"
After another routine shuffle, the cards were set out, and Qitlan had a wonderful set. But Owen had what seemed like junk… until he realized he was only one card away from a flush. Four hearts. And the card he needed had good odds depending on how Qitlan decided to vary it up. He could do this, but he had to look uncertain.
"Any bets?" Qitlan asked.
"I do," Owen said. Qitlan had two tokens and he had four. Two that he could dispose. He could afford a little risk.
"Well, I suppose I have to fold," Qitlan replied with a hum, grudgingly sliding the token forward. "For the record, you cannot order me to give you the last token. These rules were set up by Alexander, and trump me. They aren't in effect until the game is over, anyway."
Owen hadn't considered that at all. That was clever. Maybe he could use that in the future if these prizes were actually real.
They were probably not real. He didn't just lose Remi. It had all been a ruse. Of the fake prizes, Owen now held five tokens. Four of them still had writing on them—A break for Star, freedom, time with Mhynt, and a servant. Qitlan only had six months of safety. The grand prize.
"Just one little token," Qitlan said with a sigh, but the gears were turning in Owen's head. A servant, time alone with Mhynt, and freedom. Would he… be able to speak freely with Mhynt? Figure out what she wanted, why she was here?
Could that be the key to fixing all of this?
Owen moved Remi's blank token forward, and Qitlan moved the six months of safety forward. Cards. Bad. Qitlan would win. Why bother?
"Fold," Owen said without looking at any of his tokens.
"You're no fun." Qitlan pouted, taking the blank token away. "Why not try some mind games?"
Owen moved Star's break forward, and Qitlan placed Remi's token forward. Shuffle. Draw. Even hands. They both had two pairs this time, but Owen's were higher. What could Qitlan do then? Maybe if he—
"Any bets?" Qitlan said.
"No," Owen vocalized. The top card was useless to Qitlan, and he could get something decent afterward if he discarded his whole hand except one of the aces.
"All right."
Qitlan grabbed one card, then two—Owen's flame sparked—and then a third, and a horrible icy feeling ran across Owen's scales again. He wasn't supposed to do that. He wasn't supposed to do that. No no no. That took away the card he needed. No no no. What would he draw next?
Could he win?
He could bet.
He could bluff. He could bluff and Qitlan would fold because he wouldn't want to lose. Right?
He had four prizes. Qitlan had two. He could risk one. Freedom? But without freedom, how would he speak with Mhynt? Servant? But then how would he be able to get closer and truly learn what was happening?
He already lost Remi.
There had to be another way.
He couldn't bet.
He drew his cards. Loss.
"I'll bet," Qitlan said, sliding his final token forward. There was an expectant glint in his eyes as he stared at Owen. The Inteleon's face was neutral, but there was a smirk. He knew there was a smirk in his mind.
He knew.
He knew. How? How did he know?
Was he just guessing?
"Fold," Owen croaked.
"So close," Qitlan said with another sigh. "Really, I'm surprised."
Owen stared at the three chips he had. Freedom. Servant. Mhynt. Three chips. He lost Remi. He lost Star. His friends still needed help. Freedom. Servant, Mhynt. He had to get it all back to save the rest.
Qitlan slid a chip forward, and Owen realized it was not a blank token. It was six months of safety.
They made eye contact as Qitlan shuffled the cards.
"Is something wrong?" Qitlan asked. "You need to place a bet."
Owen had a flash of thought, a vision in his mind. Qitlan was going to place the chips, one by one, and force him to play. Perhaps even force him to bet everything now that they were even. One loss and he would lose everything. He didn't know what the deck would resolve to anymore. He didn't know what strange things Qitlan would do to draw.
The Charmeleon's eyes dulled. He slowly reached for one of the tokens, his freedom, and then hesitated. It moved to Mhynt, and then hesitated again.
With an empty tone, he said, "I want to end the game."
Silence. Even his flame was muted. Owen tried to tune it out, but he couldn't ignore that satisfied smile Qitlan now wore.
"You're certain?" Qitlan asked, giving no extra information.
Owen nodded, unable to look up.
"I see. Well. Those are your winnings, then." He pointed forward. "A servant of your choice, the freedom to explore, and some alone time with Mhynt. I will have those prepared in the coming days." He chuckled quietly, gathering up the cards, but leaving the chips with Owen. He made sure to wipe the token of six months' safety clean.
"How interesting, though," Qitlan remarked as the cell door opened. "Under that pressure, you sacrificed everyone, and wound up with all the tokens that helped you."
The door shut. The blank tokens leered at him.
Qitlan's steps echoed a little as the other door in the dividing room opened, and then closed again. There was a faint murmuring as he spoke to the guard that was stationed at the entrance to Owen's cell.
The little Charmeleon curled his legs to his knees, pressed his back to the wall, and wept.