Archive of Our Own

In one word, the great city of Rexxentrum, on this particular day, at this particular time, was bright. All along the roof edges of the towering structures, metal gutters were aglow. They were utterly empty of rain, and had a drop dared to fall, the burning metal would have evaporated it in but an instant. The sunlight reflected off of all available surfaces, and seemed to make every window gleam.

Every window but one.

In a little cottage, unassumingly placed on the outskirts of the Shimmer Ward—a particularly aptly named place at this point in time—there was a window that seemed to eschew the light. It looked odd, unnatural, the way it seemed to stay dim amid the swelter.

Were one to get close enough, however, they would be able to see the outline of a man behind the strange effect. Dark of skin, light of hair, and sharp-featured, the man was holding a book in his right hand, the shoulder below it being perched on a small coffee table. A teacup of fine Zemnian make seemed to hover in front of him. Occasionally, an unseen force moved it gently to his lips. after which it returned to its former position.

Outside, a bird chirped.

The man let out a chuckle at an apparently amusing section of his tome, after which his face returned, almost unnervingly quickly, to an utterly stony and neutral position. His right hand adjusted the book slightly. His left had recently begun a rhythmic drumming on the table. Restless. Anticipatory.

His unruly eyes kept shooting looks towards the Sigil Room, entirely—he felt—without any conscious input. The treacherous brain that lurked beneath his skull seemed to play all kinds of sounds for his amusement and annoyance. The arcane burst of a succesful teleportation, steps of practical books against stone, soft swearing in Zemnian as some body part of another hits a doorframe. Such a tease.

When a real one came, he almost didn't believe it among the string of phantoms. He waited until he was at the end of the current paragraph, then looked up towards the room, where a welcome sight greeted him: Caleb Widogast, esteemed transmutation professor and perhaps more esteemed still partner. He wore a simple, yet stylish longcoat, a leather harness for his spellbook, and an unmistakably windswept hairdo, speckled with sand and salt.

"I find it is usually me who keeps you waiting," Essek said.

"I'm sorry," Caleb responded. "I got a little swept up."

Essek chuckled. "I can see that," he chuckled. With a casual wave of the hand, a magical force appeared and began to clean the sand off of Caleb. "How are the Brenattos?"

"Good. They are good. Luc is very… Lively."

"Ah yes, the little one, was it he who kept you longer than scheduled?"

Caleb shook his head. "Oh, not quite, actually." He sat down across from Essek at the table, eyes suddenly alight. "I have something to show you."

Essek quirked an eyebrow. What a great many things that might be, and yet, no guesses came to mind.

A flourish from Caleb's arm opened a Wristpocket, from which he withdrew something large enough for a full hand, and firm in consistency. Further study revealed it was a box, cerulean and made from a soft sort of wood, with a lid that gave it the effect of a small chest.

He studied it, running a curious finger along the edge of the thing. His gaze lifted to meet Caleb's expectant face. "What is it?" he asked.

"Something fun."

Essek's mind pondered the word 'fun', considered Nicodranas, realized a horrifying possibility. "Is it from Jester?"

Caleb laughed. "No, no, not quite her sort of fun."

Relief washed over him. Now feeling daring enough, he opened the box and looked inside, where he saw a sizable stack of playing cards.

Caleb gestured to it with his hand, inviting the Drow to take them out.

He complied, flicking forth a Mage Hand, and ordered it to pull out the deck and place it in front of him. Curious, he pulled the top card. What greeted him was the image of a large fish, lurking under a pair of boats, looking like it was about to attack. A little thinking noise escaped him, and he turned the card around with two fingers, showing it to Caleb. "An unconventional tarot reading," he said. "Could you elaborate on the meaning?"

"They're not tarot cards," Caleb explained with a laugh. "It's Forgetful Fish!"

His voice was so bright and excited that Essek was almost fooled into believing that what he had said made any sort of sense.

"It's a card game," Caleb continued, undeterred. "About magic, and fish, and outsmarting one another."

"I do like several of those things," Essek admitted.

A card game? He did know of Caleb's past in scamming the gullible, but he did not consider the man much of a gambler.

"Do you want to play? I'll explain it to you."

Essek said nothing, but gestured to the table in the spirit of invitation.

Caleb took the fish card from his hand, placing it back on top of the deck, and then began to shuffle it. It was a careful and methodical motion, betraying nothing of the beaming enthusiasm his face showed so plainly. Once he seemed satisfied with the degree of randomization, he placed it back in middle of the table, but not before dealing out seven cards to each of them.

"This will just be a trial game," he explained. "To get you up to speed."

Essek looked at the cards before him, then back to Caleb. When he saw him pick up his own seven and look at them, he mirrored the motion. Before him was a suite of quite artful pieces. Evocative names, much like the spells in a wizard's spellbook, and art that wouldn't have looked out of place in a fairy tale.

"I'll go first," Caleb said and put down a card with an illustrated island. "Your go."

Essek eyed him quizically. He saw three separate, similar island cards in his own hand. "I can do the same, yes?"

"Yes, but you draw first."

He did so, and then proceeded to lay down his own island card. It was quite a pretty sight, depicting a small little landscape of cliffs, standing against a dark and stormy ocean. "Can I play the other cards as well?" he asked.

"Yes, but they have prices attached. You pay for them with the islands."

Essek looked at his cards and noted that, indeed, several of them had little island symbols on the top right. "I see. The islands are discarded afterwards?"

"No, no, you simply turn them to the side for the turn," Caleb replied. "Wie so." He moved his own island as described.

"I see. So when it comes to my turn again, I turn them upright?"

"Genau."

Essek nodded, somewhat understanding.

When it came back to Caleb's turn, he drew from the deck and played another island card.

"We share the same draw pile?"

"Yes, that's the genius of it," Caleb said, enthusiastic. "We share the discard pile as well."

Essek didn't know about genius, but he couldn't help but crack a smile at his opponent's childlike giddiness. As it was his turn now, he also played his second island, figuring only one could be played in a round. He had one of the fish cards he saw earlier, with a price consisting of two water droplet symbols. Hesitantly, he turned his two island cards to the side as Caleb had shown, and then put the fish card—a Dandan, fearsomely named—on the table. "Wie so?"

Caleb nodded. "However-" he began, turning his own islands to the side. "I have a response." He put a card on the table which showed a man's cranium as a kind of three-dimensional puzzle, with puzzle pieces falling out, one by one. Memory Lapse, it read at the top. "Now your fish goes on top of the draw pile."

"You can do this on my turn?" Essek said, affronted.

Caleb pointed at a section of text below the card's illustration. It marked the card as instant.

"I see. It is like a Counterspell then?"

"It is."

Essek resisted the urge to stare daggers at the man. Feigning indifference, he passed the turn.

Caleb moved his hand to the draw pile.

"And now you draw my fish," Essek realized out loud.

"Yes."

"Because we share a draw pile."

"Yes."

"And because your counterspell placed it there."

"Genau."

"'And that is the genius of it'," Essek quoted.

A lot of things were becoming clear to him in this moment. What had kept Caleb in Nicodranas for so many hours, what had him so giddy upon his return, and what exactly it was he had been snared into.

Caleb smiled brightly.

Essek smiled as well. It was no matter. His vengeance would be swift and painful, and his opponent would simply regret ever making the mistake of being born.

On his turn, Caleb did, in fact, play Essek's own fish card against him, much to his chagrin. Over the next few rounds of the game, Essek focused on drawing more cards, trying to understand the meaning of each, while Caleb focused on hitting him with the fish every turn.

Essek had, at this point, gathered that exactly five succesful attacks from the fish meant a lost game. He had taken four.

He felt a swell in his chest as he drew for what could be his final turn. The card his hand had some manner of disturbing creature on its outside. It wouldn't have looked out of place in Cognouza, he thought. The description of the thing promised to take a creature and place it back on top of the draw pile. It was an instant spell too, so he would make sure to play it on Caleb's turn, taking back the fish that was rightfully his. He felt ecstatic, but kept his expression stony. Now Mr. Widogast would have a taste of his own medicine.

The time came for Caleb's final attack.

Essek turned two islands sideways with a flourish of his Mage Hand, then triumphantly place down his spell.

Caleb nodded appreciatively, then swiftly responded with another Memory Lapse.

Essek looked at the card for a long time. Pondered the implications.

"'Forgetful Fish'," he muttered.

"What?" Caleb said, evidently having not heard.

"Forgetful Fish," Essek repeated, louder. "Memory Lapse. Forgetful. I understand the joke, it's funny," he said, deadpan.

"Ah, uh, yes. Any response?"

"No," Essek admitted. "I imagine I lose, then."

Caleb had evidently noticed the shift in attitude, despite Essek's attempt at discretion, and he had softened his body language in response. His hands seemed to acquiesce, and he cast a bashful look to the side as he admitted his victory. "That was a practice game. You have to learn the rules, after all. Now that you're familiar, though, we can play for real. Another round?" he offered at the end.

Usually, that question caught Essek in a far better mood. "Yes," he said, "I do think I have a better grasp of it now."

He was right, it turned out. The round they played after that was far more even, and saw more of the Dandans hit the table. Essek beamed as he pulled off the same move Caleb had in the first round, using a Memory Lapse card to steal an important spell for himself, only for Caleb to ruin the play entirely with a card that put the top of the deck into the discard pile. There were, evidently, many ways to control the top of the deck, and the key to the game was figuring out how to draw the cards you wanted, and prevent your opponent from doing the same.

The mood did manage to lighten, despite a few cutthroat plays. It ended up being Caleb's game again, but it was far more touch-and-go, and Essek's demeanor improved in direct correlation with his belief that he could win.

His initial skepticism had quickly melted as he realized the way that the game's disparate pieces formed an interlocking system. Every aspect informed every other aspect. It was beautiful and intricate like the finest of arcane glyphs. He simply had to ask:

"Who introduced you to this? It's quite a remarkable game."

"Yussa, actually. I was discussing that spell of ours with him, ways to improve and iterate on it. Eventually we tired of the work, and he offered a bit of fun to wash it down with. And a cup of tea—We should have a cup of tea!"

Essek had met the wizard in Nicodranas a few times, despite his distaste for sunny places. It did not surprise him that the Elf had yet another secret obsession. He really did seem the type. "Did he invent it?"

"Not to my knowledge," Caleb said with a shrug. "He only told me it's quite popular among the wizards who live on the coast."

"I can imagine why."

"This," Caleb pointed, "Was an extra deck of his. He was kind enough to offer it to me."

Essek balked at that. "Kind? That man owes you a lifetime of favors," he insisted.

"Perhaps," Caleb admitted, already heading towards the kitchen. "Tea?"

"Please."

Essek let out a long breath and leaned back in his chair, contemplating the scattered cards before him. The soundscape that had been littered by rules explanations, grandiose statements and swearing in Zemnian and Undercommon was now replaced with the usual quiet of the cottage home. The occasional tweet of a bird. The subtle clanging as his partner got the cups and kettle ready. A flick of arcane sound followed by the crackling of a small fire.

He listened quietly as the water began to boil, distantly rumbling. It was soothing, the kind of thing you could fall asleep to. If you could, indeed, fall asleep.

Shortly thereafter, Caleb returned with a warm kettle, and began to pour two cups.

As the water trickled, there was a knock at the door.

"Could you get it, dear?"

Essek sighed, put on a glamour with the wave of his hand, and headed towards the door.

He was about to summon a Mage Hand to open it, but changed his mind and did it manually instead. Behind the door he found a sharp, angular face bearing several frightful scars and a blank expression.

"Essek," she curtly acknowledged.

"Archmage," he responded. A flick of the finger dispelled the glamour, which was clearly unneeded. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"No need to be formal," she said tonelessly, stepping into the room. "Where is Caleb?"

Essek gestured to the table. "Is it urgent business?" he inquired.

To his left, another figure entered, tall and broad and voice like the rumble of thunder. "Trust me, if it was, you would know."

The two acknowledged each other wordlessly.

The visitors headed towards the table where Caleb was sat, already in the process of shuffling the deck of cards once more. He smiled at them as he began to deal out two hands on the table.

"Ah, good to see you both," he said. "Would you like tea?"

"Not at the moment. Can I use your library?"

"Always," he said. "Is it the-"

"Yes."

He nodded sagely.

Essek found himself utterly bored by politics, despite having once participated in that particular sin. But he knew that the other wizards present could not help themselves, and that it was often Assembly business that brought them together. At least outwardly.

"Thank you," Astrid muttered, and began to walk past him towards the library. Her gait was straight and direct, but visibly softened at the sound of one the cats—the real ones—purring as she passed by. She stopped and gave the creature a gentle, if stilted, caress.

Eadwulf planted himself at the table. "What's this, now?" he said, looking pointedly at the cards.

"It's a game. From the Menagerie Coast," Caleb beamed. "It's quite exciting."

Essek sat down across from him once more, and picked up his hand of cards. A decent selection, split evenly among the resource cards and the real game pieces, spells and fish.

"What's the wager?"Eadwulf asked.

"No wager," Caleb replied. "It's a battle of wits."

Eadwulf scoffed. "No point, then."

"I disagree."

Essek did as well. What greater wager could there be than intellectual superiority?

As the loser, he went first. An appreciable advantage, even if a shameful way to acquire it. He played an island and passed. Caleb did the same. Eadwulf watched them as they played, face stony and unreadable.

Essek played the first Dandan of the game. During the next turn's attack, Caleb tried to put it on the top of the deck with the same card he himself had used in the first round. Essek, however, had anticipated this, and kept his resources open for a counterspell. He felt immense satisfaction as Caleb took the first hit.

He did note, however, how much the atmosphere in the room had changed with the arrival of their guests. There was a gnawing in the back of his skull telling him he ought to be more entertaining, more open, a better host.

As he passed the turn, his eye shot to Eadwulf's seat. The large man was studying the game before him. He didn't seem to care much about Essek's demeanor one way or another, though it was often hard to know what the man was thinking. But he was watching intently, that much was clear.

Essek sighed.

As if to consciously exacerbate his feelings, that was the point at which Astrid returned to the room. She was carrying book, evidently the one she had been asking Caleb about. It was rather nondescript, so much so that Essek did not recognize it by sight. His curiosity was piqued, but there was a game to be played, so he set it aside.

Several Dandans hit the board over the next couple of turns, and managed to get their hits in as well. They exchanged spells to destroy or delay the opponent's fish, but it wasn't long before both of them had taken four hits, and just one succesful attack by either player would finish the game.

But there were no fish left on the table.

Essek shot a glance at the discard pile. He noticed that he had in his hand an Accumulated Knowledge card. It's effect was simple, deceptively so, merely drawing a card from the deck. However, for each copy of the card that had already been played, it drew an additional one. Attempting to be subtle, he cast an errant glance to the discard pile, where he found two copies of the same card. The third copy in his hand, he realized, would utterly turn the game in his favor if he could play it unmolested. At this point in the game, with both of them low on cards, three additional ones to his hand could render his lead insurmountable. He'd get the next attack for sure.

He just needed some kind of protection in case Caleb was holding up a counterspell, which he likely was. But he had one thing he might be able to trip the man up with. He realized that, were he to cast the draw spell, he would only have one island available afterwards. However, one of his islands had a special effect: It could be sacrificed to generate the resources of two islands at once. And Essek was sitting with a counter of his own, that cost exactly those two islands. If Caleb failed to notice that, he might play right into Essek's hands.

He felt rather mischievous, and it was hard not to crack a smile. He had practice though.

He made the play.

Caleb responded with a counter, as expected. The one that returned the card to the hand, instead of the top of the deck.

Essek could have beamed. From here, he could simply-

"Bren, you fool," Astrid muttered.

The three men at the table all looked up at her.

Without looking up from her book, she continued. "He is tricking you. He will simply simply counter it."

Caleb huffed, seeming amused. "How so?

"Look at the resource card he left open." She tilted her head in Essek's direction. "If he is willing to give it up, he will have the mana for Memory Lapse, or any other such trickery."

Essek felt frustration rise in him. Surely, this was not in the spirit of the game. It was a duel, a battle of wits, and here she was, tipping the scales.

Caleb turned his gaze to Essek's board, visibly realizing that Astrid had been entirely correct. He made eye contact with Essek, smiled, then shrugged with his eyebrows.

"Well, I already made my play. It would be dishonest to take it back."

Essek did, in fact, do as Astrid predicted. He felt that the wind had been taken out of his sails somewhat by the reveal, but was still satisfied with a play well made.

Eadwulf hit the table.

A jolt shot through Essek in response.

"That was good!" Eadwulf boomed, pointing at him.

"It was a clever play," Caleb admitted.

"Thank you," Essek replied, with only a slight wince. "I do believe I'm getting the hang of this."

"I would hope so," Caleb said. "Because I am not done quite yet." With that, he played a Dandan.

Essek had been so preoccupied with his own play, that he hadn't fully considered the risk of expending all of his resources at once. He did have counters available, but he didn't have islands available for any of them. Would Caleb really best him, right as he turned the tides?

"Your go," Caleb told him.

Essek's mind raced as he scanned his hand of cards. With everything he had just acquired, there had to be something that could prevent this fate. He realized to his dismay that, even with his draws, he didn't have a single card that would remove or destroy the fish. More draw spells, more counters, but seemingly nothing that would work on a card that had already been played. Except-

In the far left corner of his hand, now covered by the cards he had since drawn, he remembered a card called Ray of Command. He read it over, once more, and could hardly believe it. It was a card that, if played succesfully, stole an opponent's creature for a single turn, and could force it to attack its original owner.

With both of them being just one hit away from losing, the card couldn't be more perfect. But Caleb wasn't fully out of resources. In his hand were three more cards. How many counterspells might be among them? Would Essek be sealing his own fate with this play?

He had to try.

"I will play this," he said, throwing the card down dramatically.

Caleb looked at the card, seemingly recognizing it by sight alone, and smiled. "No response," he said.

Essek nodded cautiously, then slowly turned the fish—now on his side of the board—sideways to attack, the same way islands were spent.

"Congratulations." Caleb fanned out his remaining hand of cards on the table. It was three islands. Zero counterspells.

It was hard to believe. Essek had won. On only his third try at the game, he had bested Caleb, who evidently knew quite a bit more than him. Pride surged through him, as he revealed his own hand, quite a bit more potent after his draw spell. It was a sure victory.

He allowed himself to lean back in his chair a bit, and took a sip of his tea.

"That was pathetic," Astrid said, sitting down in the empty chair nearest Caleb. She had closed the book and put it away. "Clearly you cannot be trusted with your own cards."

"I didn't know you played," Caleb told her, an amused smile across his face.

"I don't," she curtly replied. "I don't have the time for it."

Essek stifled a chuckle at her insistence. Astrid always made an effort to be stony and closed-off, but he found that her actions too often betrayed her.

Caleb had begun shuffling for the next game, as the now-crowded table watched with rapt attention. He put a bit of flourish into his motions, presenting the whole affair like a stage magician would. It was really quite adorable.

New hands were dealt. Caleb, the loser this time around, elected to take the first move.

He reached for a card in his hand, but Astrid slapped his fingers away.

"Nein, du musst-" She intently pointed to another card in his hand.

Caleb shrugged, and placed that card on the table instead. It was an island that entered already spent, meaning his first turn was going to be a passive one.

To Essek's left, Eadwulf spoke up. "Well this doesn't seem fair," came his rumbling baritone.

Mirroring Astrid, he moved closer to Essek, dividing the table starkly into two.

Essek tensed up at the sudden closeness, casting a glance diagonally upwards towards his new neighbor. Eadwulf chuckled.

The two 'teams'—as they seemed to have suddenly become—faced one another, ready for an intense bout of cards.

"We've won a game each," Caleb said. "Want to make this one um die Wurst?"

Essek frowned. "About the… sausage? Sorry, I'm still not quite proficient."

Caleb chuckled. "Es geht um die Wurst. It's an idiom. Winner takes all."

"Ah," Essek nodded. "Yes, let us play for the sausage, then."

He had to admit, he felt a little ambivalent about his chances at that particular sausage. He had just taken their last match, true, but now Caleb, already the favored party, had the support of an evidently seasoned player of the fish game. He himself did have the support of a competent mage, yes, but also someone more concerned with fun and gambling than winning, as well as someone who had never played before. It would be a challenge, to be certain.

Just as that thought subsided, he felt resolve grip him tight. He had been in this spot before. Granted, not about card games, but he knew what he had to do. Every little thing stacked against him was only more motivation to perform as well as he possibly could. It was crucial that he prove his competency in this moment.

He placed his first island resolutely on the table. In his hand, he found two Dandans, as well as some potent draw spells.

Eadwulf bent his head to the side, nearly resting on Essek's shoulder, and studied the cards, nodding and humming along. After a few moments, he seemed satisfied. "We will beat them," he said, matter-of-factly.

Astrid scoffed. She pointed at a card in Caleb's hand and whispered something in his ear.

He leaned into her, furrowed his brow, nodded slowly.

She looked bored and apathetic, as though explaining the most obvious things in the world to him.

Essek's felt his demeanor slip into a darker shade as he observed them, but quickly, he forced himself to shake it off, returning to a neutral state. A guarded expression was key to success in games of skill, he reminded himself. And the game was, of course, the only concern.

A few uneventful turns later, Caleb placed down another island with a special ability.

"When I play this," he explained, "I look at the top three cards of our deck, and arrange them as I please."

He picked the top cards up, studying them, along with his teammate. Satisfied, he swapped two of them around in his hand, then put them back on top of the deck.

Now came his masterstroke.

"And now I will play this," he said, placing down a card with the name Predict. "If I can predict what the top card of the deck is, I get to draw two cards. If I get it wrong, I draw only one."

Eadwulf threw his hands up in frustration. "But now he knows already!" he protested.

Essek shied slightly away from the man's extravagant motion. "Indeed," he softly concurred.

"I will predict that it is an Accumulated Knowledge card," Caleb said.

That was the card Essek had won the last round with, the one that grew in power as copies of it were played.

"I apologize," Essek said, feigning remorse. "But I believe I have to render you wrong."

He spent an island and put a Brainstorm card on the table. It was a card he'd been quite excited to use as soon as he understood it. When played, it allowed him to draw three cards from the deck, on the condition that he afterwards returned two from his hand to the top. However, he got to choose what got put back, and in what order.

"Nein," Caleb said with a shake of the head. Memory Lapse hit the table.

Astrid smiled sardonically.

Essek, however, had been prepared for that. "Ja," he repliedl as he played a Memory Lapse of his own.

Caleb sighed in sweet defeat.

Astrid glared daggers at Essek.

And then the card effects played out, in reverse order. First, Essek's Memory Lapse put Caleb's copy on top of the deck, and then his Brainstorm put it into his hand. He drew the Memory Lapse, the Accumulated Knowledge, and a third called called Mystic Retrieval, allowing the user to take a card that had already been played and put it into their hand. Potent cards all, and ones Caleb definitely would have liked to have himself. He also noted with some amusement that, after Caleb's little peek at the top, he knew all of them.

As the final part of Essek's Brainstorm came up in the order, he elected to return two islands to the top. He had plenty, he felt, and one could only play one island per turn anyway.

Finally, the Predict went into effect. Caleb, who had predicted Accumulated Knowledge, peeled the first island off the top with a sigh, then drew the other one.

"Well played," Caleb forced out.

Essek gave a small, very polite, nod of the head.

At this point, Essek had no open islands left, not even any of the tricky ones like last game. Caleb seized the opportunity to play the first Dandan of this, their final bout.

Essek had netted himself quite a few resources in the last exchange, but he did note with some dissatisfaction that none of his cards actually allowed him to remove one of the fish from the board. He would have to find something in the deck.

His own turn came around. He had enough islands on the table to play both of his own Dandans. That seemed like a strong play, one could block the attack of Caleb's fish, and then another could begin attacking him. It would break their parity quite fast.

Eadwulf looked at him knowingly, then pointed at the fish in his hands. "Yes, I like this," he said. He leaned back in his own chair, but rested his left arm on the back of Essek's.

With half a mind to use Mage Hand to push it off, Essek decided to put his discomfort aside and continue the game. Four islands to the side, and two Dandans hit the table.

"Impressive, very nice," Caleb said.

There was a shine in his eyes that Essek did not trust whatsoever.

That was a correct instinct, it turned out on Caleb's next turn. He spent a single island, and put down a card called Vision Charm on the table.

Essek began reading the card, which had no small amount of text.

"Much like Transmutation, this card forces all of our islands to change. I will make them… forests, let's say."

"And that means-"

Caleb pointed meaningfully to one of Essek's Dandans.

He had not previously paid much attention to the ability text of Dandan, although it did have one. As he read, he realized the issue. The fish had an ability nestled in its text, that would force it to sacrifice itself if no islands were present on the board. And now that Caleb's spell had turned all islands into forests for the turn-

"All the Dandans die," Essek finished his thought audibly.

"Genau."

"Nicht slecht," Astrid admitted.

The players each collected their fish from the board and placed them in the discard pile.

"And now-" he continued, putting down another card.

Diminishing Returns was the name of it, and the art was quite compelling. It featured a woman, likely a mage of some description, pouring some sort of glowing liquid into a cup that was overflowing. Her eyes were aglow, and her face betrayed a sense of worry.

The image gave Essek a distinct, yet hard to explain feeling of melancholy.

"You gained quite an advantage earlier," Caleb explained. "This card levels the playing field. We both put all of our cards back in the deck, and draw seven new ones."

"We're starting over?" Eadwulf exclaimed.

"All cards in play remain," Astrid exclaimed, her voice carrying that signature sense of superiority. "But yes. The state of the game was not favorable to us, so we are changing it."

Eadwulf scoffed. "Sore losers, both of you."

Essem merely sighed, and complied with the cards effect, discarding all of the valuable resources he had managed to accrue. It was a sour feeling.

Before they drew their new cards, the spell stipulated that ten cards were to be removed entirely from the game, instead of merely discarded.

"It is so the game cannot go on forever," Caleb explained.

That made some sense, Essek supposed. The cards were removed one by one, and four Dandans were among them, as well as an Accumulated Knowledge card. For the fish, the removal of these copies made every one still in the deck more valuable. For the knowledge spell, it was the opposite, all its cousins weakened by its absence. It was quite an interesting dichotomy.

His new hand was worse than his previous one, but that much was to be expected. Eadwulf audibly sighed when he saw the cards, and Essek resisted the urge to curse him out.

The game slowed down a bit without the fish on the board, as the players began competing for quality draws once more. Essek managed to thwart yet another Predict card from Caleb with a Mental Note spell, that discarded the top cards from the deck, before Caleb's prediction came into effect.

They both had quite a few islands by this point, and there was a distinct feeling that they were both saving their potent counterspells for whenever the first of them decided to play a Dandan. A kind of mutually assured destruction. Neither of them could allow the other to have the only fish.

It was a standoff.

Each of the four wizards cast squinting glances at one another as the turns ticked on carefully.

It was Caleb who broke the peace, attempting to play the fish.

Essek was quick to respond with Memory Lapse.

Caleb, Memory Lapse.

Essek huffed. He was plenty prepared for that response. He cast a third Memory Lapse in response.

Despair gripped him and Eadwulf alike as Caleb turned another two islands to the side, and finished the exchange with a fourth, final Memory Lapse.

They groaned in unison.

Again, the effects played out in reverse order. The spells countered were put on top, and finally, the Dandan hit the board unmolested.

Essek couldn't allow it. He played a Crystal Spray. Unlike Caleb's Vision Charm, that made all islands cease to be islands, this card forced the fish itself to forget that the islands were there, and thus, sacrifice itself.

Again, the board was clear. Six cards had been played, and absolutely nothing of note had been accomplished.

Astrid stood up abruptly. She began pacing towards the window and back, curled her fingers together and looked pleadingly into the ceiling. "Everyone in this room is among the greatest wizards alive!" she exclaimed. "We can perform wonders with a flick of our fingers!" She snapped for effect. "Is this really the best use of our time!? Going in circles, engaging in this silliness, accomplishing nothing!?"

The men at the table stared at her. Essek hadn't seen her this emotional since their last actual battle.

"I mean, really. I am an archmage, you are all masters of your fields! And here we are, playing children's card games!"

Eadwulf spoke up. "If the game upsets you, we can stop."

The room was like a forest whose biggest tree had been felled. Steady voices like chops of an axe, then a crash as the heavy trunk hit the forest floor. A flutter of wings and scurry of feet as the animals fled. And then silence.

Astrid took in heavy breaths, before locking eyes with Eadwulf. "No. Not until we win," she said.

One of the cats jumped up on her when she sat back down. They were gentle creatures, and quick to attempt to comfort when they sensed one was upset. Better yet, they had no way of discerning whether you were upset about a mere card game, so they had no way of judging, either.

She began to absentmindedly stroke the beast as she assessed the game state once more.

Play carefully resumed. Similarly to before, the two exchanged a few draw spells, but none of their heavy hitters or counterspells, anticipating when the next Dandan would arrive.

Essek had none in his hand, and after quite a number of rounds he figured that, if Caleb had one, surely he would have played it by now.

The both of them exchanged effects letting them look at the top of the deck, digging one, two, three cards into it. Another Brainstorm hit thee table. They were both looking for fish, Essek figured. It was, after all, the only way of actully finishing this… extended game.

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore. Though they were both roughly equal on resources after their series of mind games, he put the second Diminishing Returns on the table.

Caleb and Astrid shared heated debate in whispers.

Eadwulf leaned in to whisper to Essek, in turn. "What do you think they're talking about?"

"Whether they're going to try to stop me," Essek stated in a deadpan.

Caleb nodded. Whispered.

Astrid shook her head. Whispered.

And eventually-

"No response." Caleb's voice sounded downbeat and tired. No wonder.

"Very good," Essek replied.

Dutifully, the players collected all the cards not currently in play and shuffled them all together. Then, the removal started.

"Eins, zwei, drei, vier-" Caleb counted.

As he counted, Essek stared intently at the growing pile. A realization dawned on him, cruel and unwanted, that he had seen five Dandans already, and Caleb wasn't done.

And then the sixth.

Essek spoke up, voice strained. "Caleb, could you find the other removed cards?"

Caleb wordlessly obeyed, handing the first pile over.

Essek counted. Inside his head, of course. Finally, the question that was beginning to feel quite necessary. "How many Dandans are in the deck? Total, I mean."

"Ten," Caleb stated. "How many did you count?"

"Ten," Essek replied. He laid the removed cards out in front of him, for all to see.

Eadwulf bent over the table, nearly covering the whole thing in shadow, and looked at the two piles. "Is there no way to win, then? For either of them?"

"Well, technically—" Astrid began.

All eyes shot to her.

"If you attempt to draw from an empty deck, you lose."

Essek sighed. "So now that all the fish are gone, the only way for anyone to win is for us to run out of cards entirely?"

"Yes," she blankly stated.

Everyone at the table looked at the still quite large pile of cards on the table. It took only seconds for the reality of their shared situation to set in among the group.

Caleb leaned back in his chair, slumping his entire body over.

Essek took a weary sip of his tea.

Eadwulf growled in annoyance.

Astrid remained still.

With every viable way of closing out the game gone, it seemed they would remain there playing for perhaps hours more. Drawing more cards, battling for scant resources, trying to force a slow loss by attrition. Casting more Diminishing Returns, shuffling more, removing more cards.

Then, Caleb's voice, as sweet as honey and as freeing as a dark night after a sunny day asked "Want to call it a draw?"

Essek quickly nodded. "I think that would be best. I suppose no one will get the sausage today."

"We still could," Caleb said, probably more suggestively than he intended.

Essek tilted his head, in a manner Caleb had, in the past, compared to a dog.

"I still have those high quality sausages in the pantry. I could fry a few of those, for all of us" He looked at the other two with them.

Astrid flicked her gaze upwards, considering. "I am very busy," she said.

"Never too busy for a good meal, I hope." Caleb's voice was teasing, almost a whisper.

It was possible, in that moment, that one could have fried the sausages on Essek's forehead.

"I am an archmage of the Cerberus Assembly," she said, as though it were argument enough.

"And a person," Caleb retorted. "People get hungry."

Eadwulf spoke up, gently nudging her. "It doesn't sound so bad. You have not eaten enough today."

She sighed. "I suppose the world won't end if I take the evening off. Unless the world does end, of course, and the Assembly is unable to prevent it without me."

"Let's assume that doesn't happen," Caleb said, sly smile plastered on his lips.

He gingerly picked up the cards from the table and placed them back in the ornate box that was their home. The box was then placed on a nearby bookshelf, where a little corner had been spared the swarm of literature by a well-placed shelf divider.

Caleb and his school friends then moved into the kitchen and he began making dinner.

The dimming spell Essek placed on the window earlier had become superfluous sometime between then and now, as the sun had since descended below the buildings of Rexxentrum. Had they really been playing for that long?

He finished his tea, long since gone cold, as he gazed into the box on the shelf, absorbing him in blue like the ocean at rest.

In a way, Astrid had been right. Every wizard in the living room that day was capable of marvelous things, with nothing but their daily selection of spells. They were powerful beings. It would seem to many that the proper thing for them to do would be to go only where they were needed and do only the greatest works possible, maximising the utility of their lives. What a waste of time it was, to be playing stupid games.

But what a waste of life it would be to refuse them altogether.