The smart thing to do would be leave now that I’m ahead. I mean, a large gold doesn’t seem much to these people, but it’s more than six times the yearly wage of the basic commoner. It’s enough to buy the house and be set for a while.

  Yet it’d be silly to leave so soon after I’ve arrived. After only a half hour of play. So, I stay.

  The baron’s daughter strikes in the next hand, luring the old man and the youth into overbidding and taking a large gold from each of them, plus some more from the others, putting her at nearly seven large and making her the biggest winner so far. She also wins the next hand, but only takes half a large total.

  I couldn’t see through her for her first win, but got lucky because I knew I had a worse hand than the Marquis. However, seeing her win something gives me a read on her, enough that I see her next hand being a bluff. I could have taken it, but I didn’t want her to know my advantage over such a small pot.

  Then the count strikes, taking a moderate pot. I unfortunately don’t have the hand to challenge her, but I choose to stay in for a few passes of betting anyways, losing an extra medium and a half to not let her know I know how to read her.

  Then Monroe intervenes, raising heavily the next hand, and no one dares oppose her. I certainly don’t have the hand for it. She takes a moderate pot that puts her higher than the last hand she won. The game’s flow changes after this, and she introduces topics of polite conversation.

  The topics vary, such as my experience living so close to Caethlon, to which I say polite nothings; the count’s tin mine hitting a new vein; rumours about Malsas, which is still under quarantine; the Marquis building up his household guard near the Kaldima border and if he thinks he’ll be called to the campaign; asking about an acquaintance of the baron’s daughter; and mentioning the youth’s knight mentor and asking what he’s doing. Nothing consequential, at least at a glance. Though I get the sense that Monroe is actually very interested in some of them, though hides which ones well.

  About ten hands pass like this without anyone making any major gains, and everyone taking our host’s lead and relaxing while imbibing the ample refreshments. Monroe wins a little bit more, and the Marquis and youth lose a little bit. Finally, the youth, desperate after being reduced to his last large gold, makes a foolish bid on a middling hand. The count, having a better hand, sees it and pounces.

  The younger woman sees what’s happening immediately and folds instantly, as does Monroe. I see what’s happening too, but decide to stay in a bit longer, paying another medium to build up the illusion of vulnerability to the count before folding. The Marquis stays in too long, but eventually folds, so the count raises to the remainder of what the youth has left.

  The youth foolishly pursues and loses everything. Pity – I hardly got anything from him.

  “Ah, no worries,” the count says with a vicious grin, making it obvious which of wolf or sheep she thinks herself, “you don’t have to leave. It’d be a pity to walk away before it’s even dark. Here, let me lend two large… let’s say standard rates?” Her voice is smooth and oh so reasonable as she slides the coins across the table. The youth winces, knowing what’s in store, but feeling himself too embarrassed to refuse.

  Ah… good. I’ll be able to get some more from him after all. Besides, while he’s here, they won’t go after me.

  Things continue as before, but tenser. The youth takes a more conservative approach, folding early, except when he has a good hand. Which, of course, means everybody can tell when he gets a good hand and folds out early, and so his loaned stack gradually diminishes.

  Conversely, the baron’s daughter begins taking bigger risks, but does so better than the youth did, winning a few pots with only mid hands. She is dominant over the next ten rounds, taking moderate pots from everyone but Monroe. Even the Count loses a fair amount of coin to her, and the Marquis is practically bleeding gold.

  I also lose some more, and win only light pots, putting me at only a handful of medium gold better than when we started. Of course, part of that is from losing more coins than needed on purpose whenever the Count has a good hand. Another part of course being efforts to convince her that she can read me by trying to badly bluff. I’m convinced I have her mentally where I want her, but now I’m just waiting for my hand and hoping I’ll still have enough to use it when I finally get it.

  A few hands later, I get something good, but the count doesn’t, and so folds out early after I deliberately give her a clue by increasing my heartrate and breathing and allowing the faintest quiver of a grin on my face – timed perfectly so that only she sees it. The others besides Monroe keep in it, and I end up taking nearly two large, putting me at about five total.

  It would be fine to leave at this point, though not great socially. Still… I want to beat the Count. The smug look of disdain when she saw me arrive in a hired carriage, and just the thrill of the hunt.

  Unfortunately for the youth, this victory of mine takes away the last of his borrowed coin. But worry not, the oh so smooth Count is here to soothe his worries with another loan… though he of course understands the need to increase the interest for the whole loan to double standard, doesn’t he? He is reasonable after all, and it’d be a shame to leave so early. The shadows have only just begun to lengthen. He simply must stay until nightfall after all.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  So, he takes the loan, and the next hand she strikes… unfortunately for her though, I get my hand.

  Everyone at the table, except maybe Monroe, gets good hands, but I get nearly the best there is. So, I control my body to produce the signs of only a moderately good hand – which mostly amounts to contradictory indicators. Excitement muddled with fear. Scent is the hardest to control, so I let that be excitement, with breathing being worry, my face oscillating, and my heartrate being mostly calm with sudden spikes. Of course, nothing is overt, being elevated in intensity by only about twenty percent at most. Still, it should seem like I’m shouting to the enhanced senses here.

  The youth starts the bidding out strong, raising two medium. Everyone can tell he has a good hand, but they have better and so eagerly jump in, while I only match or raise the minimum each pass so they'll discount me. Even with my minimal participation though, the pot quickly reaches two large gold from everyone but Monroe, who folded on the first pass.

  Unfortunately for the youth, he is already playing on credit so he is unable to go ‘all in’, and people are still raising on their turns. In order for him to keep in the hand and not lose by default, he’ll need another loan.

  “Why, I’d be happy to help you, dear,” the count grins, oh so sweetly. “After all, it’d be a pity to lose so much on a technicality. I can spare another two large, though I’m afraid I’ll have to move the rate for the whole loan up to triple standard. You understand, don’t you, sweety?”

  Klank! The table jolts as I slap a pair of large gold on the table in front of the youth. “Standard,” I say, not looking at him or her as he hesitantly takes them, then immediately splits them with Monroe and matches the previous bet.

  The standard interest is compound and set so that a loan will be paid in five years with standard payments, which will result in the loan giver doubling their money. Both standard interest and standard payments have legal ramifications, and making standard payments provides some protection to the loan taker, but still favours the lender. Tripple standard in contrast is simple usury.

  The Count scowls at me for taking her prey. “It’s not polite to intervene in these things,” she says, smiling to show her teeth threateningly.

  I glance at her, then away, openly disregarding her. “It’s not polite to be so obvious about these things either.” I counter.

  She scowls, but doesn’t pursue.

  It’s my turn to bet, so I openly glance around and shrug, suddenly putting in six medium all at once.

  Everyone freezes at my sudden move. They all believed I only had a moderately good hand, not something to risk six medium on, much less the coin I already put in. So naturally, they think I’m bluffing to drive home my point against the count. A foolish show of bravado… or so they hope.

  It’s the baron’s daughter’s turn next. I see her struggling between an instinct towards conservative play, and a hunger to take such a big pot with a hand she knows is good. Ultimately, the latter wins out and she matches, then raises two medium. The Marquis, having taken a beating but still having the coin for more, shrugs and does the same.

  The count, sensing something is wrong, merely matches, as does the youth, so I raise another two. The baron’s daughter finally only matches, but doesn’t fold, while the Marquis matches and raises again.

  No one else is willing to raise, but they also refuse to fold outright. While the Marquis seems intent on forcing me to bid my whole pile of coin – something I happily do.

  They all seem physically struck when it’s time to reveal and I show the winning hand. They were all certain that I didn’t have anything and that someone else would take it, even if they personally didn’t.

  Monroe looks at me straight on, then to each of the others in turn. She lets out a soft chuckle, shrugs and cracks her neck, then begins her hunt in earnest.

  The others are shaken by my bold move, and so spend the next several hands trying to reassess everything… well, me in particular. With so much attention to me, they don’t pay enough attention to her until they’ve already put in a sizable pot, then suddenly fold when she starts raising.

  Of course, she doesn’t do this every hand, but gives me the opportunity to join in the feasting. I decide to display indicators completely at random on every hand, rapidly alternating my breathing and heartrate, and even managing to control my scent a little, all while keeping my face completely neutral. Rather effective for getting them to fold when I want them to.

  The Count slams her fist into the table, causing all the coins to clink together as she stands. “Well, I’ve had enough of this, and I think the rest of you should too.” Her face reddened, she takes a glass of wine from a servant and down it in one gulp to make some point. I don’t know what point, but it’s obvious that she meant there to be one.

  I glance around the table and count the coins. Monroe has about twenty-two large, and I have seventeen large gold in front of me, plus the youth’s debt, making me grin happily. In contrast, the youth is down to his last two mediums, and the other three have less than four large between them.

  “Oh?” I ask, tilting my head mockingly. “What a pity. I’d be more than happy to give you a loan. After all, the night is so young. It’d be a shame to leave before the morning light, and I’d be monstrous not to give you a chance to win your coin back… at triple standard. You understand, of course. After all, you are a reasonable soul.”

  She makes to say something to me, but just seethes for a moment and turns to leave.

  “Wait!” I say, slapping down a handful of coins in front of the youth – the four large that he owes her, plus a few medium to cover the first three months of interest demanded by law. “Pay what you owe her. Better to consolidate your debt, no? I’ll give you the standard rate.”

  He stares at the coin, deciding between me getting more and him paying less. Ultimately though, he knows that not consolidating his debt under the lower rate would be too costly and snatches the gold off the table, quickly out stretching his hand and dropping the coins into the Count’s upturned palm.

  She scowls at me again, then quickly leaves, taking the Marquis and the baron’s daughter with her. Monroe looks at me with a flat lipped expression, then chases after them, leaving me alone with the youth who now owes me more coin than a commoner could pay in their life… more than some nobles could pay too.

  I move to leave too, but pause as I see the youth’s expression, or rather lack thereof. He’s just staring blank faced at the wall, his hands shaking… I guess mine are too, though for opposite reasons. Both of our futures are opening up before us, but where mine is an open sky, his is a plummeting abyss.

  Sighing, I grab the back of his chair and turn it to face me, startling him. I try to loom, but only come to his neck even as he’s sitting down. Still, he flinches as if I’m towering.

  “Well, I guess we should talk then,” I say, crossing my arms sternly and making his face go pale.