Building a Deck of Cardholders

Well. Here we are, my friends. At the end of the biggest plot I've done, and will likely ever do! Cardholders was an amazing ride, and even if I didn't get to do every bit of setup I wanted or casual srsposting (irony), I'm immensely satisfied with how all the events played out by the end of it all. What I think I'll do for this blog is start with the origins of the plot, then talk about each character, and finish with some cutting room floor that never made it to the forum. So, let's begin!

White

 -?????-

If you asked Jester Chao where he went when he was teleporting, he would simply laugh at you. How would you describe a place that was everywhere, yet nowhere? It did what it needed to do. That was enough. Asking more just went against the proverbs of stage magic!

Yet, when he stepped through, he was aware that others sometimes did as well. Who? How? He didn't care. What they did didn't bother him. 

Though it was a different story when they collided with him during a step across space. The interference causes the two of them to fall out. Jester Chao lands and bounces, looking around. He'd never been, but somehow, he instinctively knows. Porphyion. The planet the Kobbers had once been on.

Sitting there, next to him, and rubbing her head, is a woman. A strange woman with red and blue hair, and a bizarre hood atop a yellow shirt. "Owww. Watch where you're-"

She looks at Jester Chao. She stops. Jester Chao looks at her.

"Wanna hear a joke?"

She just continues to stare at him. Jester Chao pauses for a second. "Well. What do you call a-"

"Columbina!" she says with a smile on her face. For the first time in a long time, he's taken back. The strange woman stands up, bounds over, and shakes his hand. "Ahhhh, to meet you! The centerpiece of a wonderful play!" 

Jester Chao floats up, looking at the woman. The reference to the harlequinade was an odd one, but he could play along. "And would that make you Harlequin?"

"No, non, nyet!" The woman twirls and curtsies. "You may call me Pierette! For that is my name! Or so I believe. It is the name I've had for as long as I remember!"

"And how long is that?"

"Two years!"

Ignoring her odd comments, Jester Chao floats over to perch on her head. He does a twirl of his own. "What does your hood hide?'

"My secrets and tricks!"

"What is your mystery?"

"A strange one!"

"Which card did you draw?"

"All of them!"

Seemingly satisfied with the incomprehensible answers to the incomprehensible questions he asked, Jester Chao backflips off her head and lands in his hand. "A wonderful day! Would you like to be an apprentice?"

"Alas, dear Columbina, I am merely Pierette. If I were to be Harlequin, it would be a different matter!"

"Understandable! Truly, have a nice day. I look forward to our next meeting."

"As do I, my fair!"

With that, a storm of confetti surrounds Jester Chao. He is gone in an instant, leaving Pierette alone with her thoughts. And his. For by the time Jester Chao arrives where he is going, he has no memory of this bizarre encounter.

Pierrette sighs as she tucks away the card in her hands, the one now containing Jester Chao's memories of this chance meeting. "Ahhh, Columbina! Truly, do I wish we could have traveled together!

But alas, now is not the time. We shall meet again, for jesters should always meet."

She bows, before simply stepping out of sight behind a tree. If someone were to be watching her, and checked behind said tree, they would see no one and nothing. For this strange clown had also departed Porphyion.

After all, everything was bound to happen in Agama.

Pierrette

Joker

Shades of Rough

-???-

 It had taken her a long time to make it here. To the place only spoken of in legend. Piecing together the information, she had learned that this being was the archenemy of the legendary spirit himself. Sealed away in a past encounter, and bound to this location.

But here, underneath the legendary location itself, on the edge of Scotland, it had lain in wait. The being was patient. And its patience was rewarded, when the one who had sealed it was banished by another. With his power cut off, the explorer could reach the being once she had figured out where and what it was, along with the other person who had joined her.

And for that reason, she stands in front of it. Or in front of the three devices that bind it, at least.

"And all I have to do is break these?"

Indeed. Simply snap all three over your knee, and everything will be as it should be. The voice echoes throughout the cave, without being spoken from a true source.

"...Alright."

The man next to her looks around nervously. "I really don't think I should be here. At least not without a couple employees-"

"Save it! Remember the humiliation? Remember the mockery on live TV?" Now properly riled up, the woman grabs one of the three devices and snaps it over her knee with a practiced motion. There's a rumble in the underground cave.

She tosses the second to the man, who nervously places one end under his foot and pulls the other end up, wincing when he hears it break - and wincing again as a second, louder rumble arrives. The woman looks at the last device.

"This is it... the last barrier between me and a second chance. One that isn't going to be ruined by some infernal morons!" With a yell, she brings down the last device, and watches it shatter. There's a loud chuckle, and a third rumble.

Thank you very much for your help. You will be rewarded in due time.

"What- what do you MEAN due time!? I thought you meant NOW!"

All things in time. There are actions I must undertake first. Such as ensuring there is no chance Colonel Bogey will trouble me again.

There's one more laugh, and then the presence that filled the cave vanishes, as far as they can tell. The man looks down at the broken wood, broken iron, and broken putter that had sealed the strange golf-related spirit away, and then back to his companion.

"I just think this might have been a bad idea. I'm still as mad about the Kuwahawi Open as you are, but..."

"Tch, of course it was a bad idea! But do you have any better ones? Other than wallowing around in failure forever? Don't think so!"

Bambietta Basterbine sprints up the ancient stone steps, followed by the Pointy-Haired Boss, as the two of them emerge into the sunlight on the Royal and Ancient Golf Course of St. Andrews. There's no change. No trace of the spirit that had been sealed beneath the course by Colonel Bogey.

That, on some level, was the most worrying thing of all.

Reunion

 -SPACE STATION 14-

Space is vast. An empty void with the occasional planet dotting its abyss, and even with the advances in technology establishing colonies around various planetless stars, it was still wide and open. This was the reason for the Galactic Federation Station Initiative, space stations set in the larger gaps. Relay points that anyone could aim at and take a break at.

Even though some people referred to them derisively as interplanetary truck stops, they were still appreciated by most of the spaceworthy people of the Federation. And that's why Samus Aran lands on Space Station 14 with a relieved sigh. She'd been in the Federation for a few months, only to learn that the plans for an experimental new line of exploration robots had been stolen. And the theft was suspected to be connected to the recent sightings of Sylux.

She'd also heard about Blood Falcon being released from a Federation prison. That just didn't make sense... there was likely something more. And if there was something more, there was one place to go.

But, it was a while yet to reach Earth, that planet that seemed to be a focal point for the strangeness of the galaxy. And so Samus was walking around, relaxing, and otherwise taking a break. Looking around at everyone there. Until her eyes set on one person who shouldn't be there - shouldn't be anywhere, for that matter.

The hair was different. The expression, different. Harder. But there was enough there that Samus could tell who it was. She turns in surprise, and tempers her shock, able to speak with only some confusion coming through.

"Ian? Ian Malkovich?" 

The man looks up in surprise, which only grows when he sees who's talking to him.

"Samus! Of all the places! I can't - how long has it been?" 

Samus just crosses her arms. "First, you need to explain how you're even alive." Ian had been lost in a ship incident, years and years ago... Samus could still remember the last time she saw him.

Cheerful and ready to go. And then, the accident. Sure, the body had never been found, lost to the void of space, but... it seemed odd. Especially the unexpected meeting.

"Ahahaha... no friendliness for an old friend? Your mentor's brother?"

"Answers. Then friendliness. I've been through enough traps in the past."

"Alright, alright. So. You thought I was dead after the ship's damage, right?"

"Correct. We tried to get you out of there, but by the time we got to that section, the whole thing was empty. No air, no integrity... how'd you survive?"

"Barely." Ian says, with a sheepish look on his face. "Grabbed a life support capsule when I realized it was about to blow. Locked myself in, and drifted for a while. Eventually got picked up by a Federation unit. 

They said this was a unique opportunity. They wanted me to work undercover. Being killed in action made me a great off-the-record infiltrator, and meant I didn't have any connections or paper trail. Eventually they let me go, and... well, here I am nowadays."

"...Heh. Some of the things this damn government has pulled." Samus shakes her head. "Guessing you didn't have much of a choice in the matter?"

"Well, I could have taken my little pod and tried to find my way back to civilization."

"Didn't think so." Now that she's starting to understand Ian's mysterious return, Samus begins to let her guard down. Slowly, the conversation turns to catching up on what happened between now and then. On future plans and past adventures. Ian even mentions that he's heading for Earth as well, on track for these plans stolen from the Federation, and an agreement to help out is reached. But, jokingly, not too much - they can't risk splitting the reward money!

Regardless, Samus's break is soon over. Far more cheery than she was when she arrived, she departs for her ship. Soon, an orange streak blazes out from the space station, followed soon by one of blue...

Gambling It All

-THE MOON QUARTER-

"Heh heh." 

The gambling wanderer, Baccarat, looks up at the new building. In development for a while, it was now open. Flashing neon and shining signs made it clear what it was - a casino. A way to seperate people from their money while making them think they'd earn it all back.

Of course, what fun was that without the chance of winning? And an experienced card sharp was exactly the type of man to turn it around on them. It'd just be a matter of playing it cool and not taking too much. The way the casinos did. It wasn't like the money was the draw for him, anyway.

It was the idea of beating them at their own game.

With a grin on his face, and walking in, Baccarat seeks out one of his favorite games... blackjack.

About an hour later, and he's traveled between a couple different games. Blackjack, poker, and now, of course, baccarat. Never winning too much, but always coming out just a bit ahead. Making sure to take some losses, even a couple impressive ones - the groans of the crowd when he'd folded a full house to someone else's bluff were music to his ears.

Of course, he knew he could have called that bluff. But sometimes, it wasn't about bluffing the players. 

It was about bluffing the man upstairs.

And indeed, as Baccarat suspected, the man in question - owner of the casino, and newly successful Agaman nightlife member - was watching. Not all the time. He had plenty of other guests to keep an eye on. It didn't matter how much the casino was fleecing, after all. It was his house. But should someone try to turn that on him... well. He'd have them out.

Which is why he kept returning to the scruffy, rumpled man who kept playing card games. There wasn't anything in particular, really. He won and lost about normally for someone with good luck. He'd fallen for some cheap tricks. He'd made some good bets. To even the trained eyes of his men, this was just another customer.

But to the owner, he was something more. It wasn't logic. It was simple intuition. The way the greats of gambling could sense each other. 

"Tell me. That man down there. Who's he with?"

"Huh?"

"He's good. Too good. He's done this before. Enough that he can't be caught. 

Pull me everything you got on him."

It took some asking around. Questioning the dealers. Avoiding his gazes as he moved to a different type of poker. That was what made the owner sure - the man avoided anything truly dependent on luck, that he couldn't influence at all.

Once they had the info, it's brought to the owner. He looks it over. A man named Baccarat - obviously an alias. First time here, but he'd been seen around the city. Occasionally with the Kobbers.

The Kobbers. That was enough to make the owner grit his teeth and look behind him. At the wall, with the photo of better days. When it was all four of them... before the other three had gone off on their own, whether for bribes or curiosity or revenge. Leaving him alone. If not for the Kobbers, they'd be here together. Talking and laughing and scheming and getting ready for a night on the town...

Well. That was why the man in purple had given him this shot, hadn't he? Just enough of a push to ensure this place could stay off the ground. And that he'd be able to use it against them. A weapon to wield against the Kobbers... and then, just maybe, he'd be able to bring the gang back together.

Couldn't get too sentimental, though. No matter how much the man in purple had claimed to be searching for dreams, those were a waste of time until they were in your reach.

As Baccarat leaves, he looks up to the ceiling. The mirror... or, in this case, the one-way mirror. He tips his hat and flips a single casino chip in the air. Impressed by his instincts, the owner tips his hat back, then looks at his men.

"If he comes back, watch him, always. If he slips up, toss him out. But if he doesn't, let him play."

"Boss? Why let him, if you think he's gaming the system?"

"Because I'm interested. And because... this could be what leads me to the Kobbers.

Hearts. Diamonds. Clubs.

This is for you."

Spades Slick

Blue Queen of Chips

Blue

 -A GALACTIC FEDERATION PRISON-

 

"Tch."

It had been a few years - four, now - since Blood Falcon had been arrested for his interference on the Battle of Norion. And while Weavel and the Federation Colonel had been killed, and Captain Arjard remanded to OSI custody, Blood Falcon had been locked up by the Galactic Federation. They had done him the courtesy of a trial, at least... guilty was assured, though.

And now he was here. A small prison, on a small moon, orbiting a lifeless planet that had been destroyed by the Space Pirates in their warfaring days. The irony was not lost on him. 

And so, time passed. He grew to knew others locked here, those who were imprisoned for direct interference with the Galactic Federation. Some even members of the conspiracy that had run within the Federation. Those members had the brightest eyes. They would often talk of the others who had not been caught - in quiet whispers, of course - and look forward to the day the conspiracy reclaimed its own.

But no one was coming for Blood Falcon. Black Shadow was dead, and Dark Million destroyed.

Which is why Blood Falcon had no idea how to react when the door opened, and a man in a Federation uniform stepped in. 

"Ah, Blood Falcon. It's been four years, now? I see you've been keeping yourself busy."

"Who in the hell are you?"

"Hmm. True, I stayed under the armor consistently."

The man brings a voice scrambler to his mouth.

"Does this sound more familiar?"

And it does. The voice comes back. One Blood Falcon had remembered hearing, when he'd gone through the files on Neo Dark Million.

"Sylux! What are-"

"Don't. Don't use that name here." 

Even outside of his armor, Sylux's speed with a weapon was enough to take anyone by surprise, as he points a gun at Blood Falcon.

"I've worked very hard to maintain access under this identity. I don't need you spoiling it. Not when I'm about to do you a favor."

"What kind of favor, huh?"

"Pretty simple, really. I'm springing you. Getting you free."

"And what's the catch?"

"Swift on the uptake, aren't you? We're going to meet a friend of mine after this. If he likes you, you'll help us. That's the favor."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I find a backwater planet with a hundred people on it, drop you there, and you can be a farmer or a miner or something. It's up to you. The alternative is that you stay in here and rot. 

So, what do you say?"

"...Tch. Not much of a choice."

Standing up, Blood Falcon follows behind Sylux.

"So, how'd you break in? I'd love to know for the future."

"The Federation's strongest prison? Wouldn't have a chance."

"Then how-"

"I didn't need to."

As Sylux and Blood Falcon pass a prison guard, the guard stops and salutes Sylux, who salutes back. This happens a couple more times, until they reach a door with a pair of armed guards next to it.

"Sir! Please present your identification, and allow for a retinal scan."

"Certainly."

Sylux produces a card that Blood Falcon can't see, and then stands in front of a scanner. It makes a green light and beeps, and the guards nod.

"You are cleared to exit the cells, sir. Your accompaniment will need a frisk."

"Thank you, gentlemen."

Blood Falcon stands angrily as the guards pat him down, only the knowledge of freedom allowing him to hold his temper in. Soon, though, they let him through, and Sylux leads him out of the prison, and to an unassuming spaceship.

"Heh. Down on your luck?"

"The Delano 7 was destroyed by the Kobbers. I've been working on a replacement, but for now... this will do."

The two of them climb into Sylux's ship, and the latter suits up, into the infamous blue armor known throughout the galaxy at this point.

"Thereee we go. I missed wearing this... practically feel naked without it.

Now. We've got an appointment to keep."

-LAS VEGAS-

 

The Mojave Desert was still a vast landscape. Without the Kobbers patrolling it, most of Nevada was empty, the perfect place to hide something. 

Still, Sylux had to admit, next to Kobber territory was a strange place to meet. Regardless, the man in purple had requested it, and Ebisuwaru was now meeting with Blood Falcon. They had hit it off, Ebisuwaru pleased to know Blood Falcon's dreams of revenge and recognition and identity were as strong as they are, and he had been gifted a high-level card.

As the light from the card fades, Blood Falcon stretches, truly feeling his freedom.

Blood Falcon

Black 7 of Engines

 

"Ha ha ha! I feel like I could take on the world! Now, I just need to rebuild the Blood Hawk..."

"If your card is any indication, I think you'll find that immensely easy. Though I must request you two be on your way now." Ebisuwaru says.

"Heh. Eager to get rid of us. Guess there's some big secret?"

 

"There is." says Sylux.

 

"Oh, and you know?"

 

"Enough to know we shouldn't interfere. We'll learn everything in due time."

 

"Thank you, Sylux." Ebisuwaru says fondly. "I knew you were the right call for an Ace."

 

Sylux

Blue Ace of Stars

 

 Sylux turns to depart, Blood Falcon going with him, sticking with Sylux at least long enough to rebuild his beloved machine. As for Ebisuwaru, he climbs into a car for a peaceful, if hot, drive through the sands.

 

Soon, he arrives at his destination. The headquarters of Heideigger's militia. Where ex-members of the Kazanari Foundation worked side by side with those once of the Tojo Clan. Where employees of NBN collaborated with Society die-hards. Where the Institute and the Brotherhood of Steel - or what was left - came together to create the force that would crush the Kobbers. Or at least that was the goal.

 

Their ultimate advantage in that goal loomed above them. Almost complete. Enough that Heidegger had considered it time to call all four Kings together.

 

"Sheesh, showy, isn't it?" Millaarc Cranstoun asks, holding an umbrella to block the sun's deadly rays. "Still, if it does half of what it did then, I don't think they'd have the slightest chance."

 

"Fascinating." The Curator gazes upon Heidegger's work. "When I first saw it, I doubted you could ever make it fly again. I truly underestimated you, and I apologize."

"Wahahahaha!" Gareth Heidegger laughs, the man practically drunk on his success. "I can't blame you one bit! You took a look at that scrapheap, you'd write it off! Took me the entire damn crew to get it up and running!"

 

"Still." Millaarc looks again. "Maybe we should rename it?"

 

"Hmmm." Dr. Ito ponders. "On the one hand, it would make it truly ours. On the other, I do like the concept of how they would react to the name. It would be amazing to see!" 

 

"Heh, I don't care either way." Heidegger shrugs. "Names ain't much to me. It's the work that counts!"

 

"Then it's decided." Ebisuwaru says, as he looks at the nameplate of the spaceship. Laying here in ruins for years, until the Cardholders had laid claim to it. And now... and now, it could fly again. And those who had abandoned it would truly regret doing so.

 

"We'll keep the name. I'm very interested to see how the Kobbers react when the skies fall dark, and they see the name ZFS King of Beasts."

Dining In

 -AGAMA, CIELITO LINDO-

"Hmmm."

Emilia Lanterby looks up at the small restaurant in front of her. It was apparently a very local joint. Run by one person, and cooked by one person. She'd asked around about why it was so understaffed, and all she'd gotten was that only the owner was set for the nature of the restaurant. And that she'd better like syrup if she went there.

Well, she couldn't know her way around cuisine if she didn't get to the bottom of this. And so, Lanterby enters the door, and looks around. There's a woman behind the counter, who looks up in surprise.

"A customer! Hello. I'm Maple Sugar, and I'll be taking your order today.

Hmmm?"

Lanterby's staring is obvious, but... how could she not stare? The blobs of syrup in Maple's hair just... hang there, never actually becoming detached or falling. And for that matter, the hair... Lanterby can't tell where the hair begins or ends, and why it flows so seamlessly into the syrup.

But she has a job to do. Snapping herself back to reality, Lanterby sits at a small table. 

"I'll take the waffles with syrup, the maple milkshake, and the maple bacon poutine... I've gotta ask. Does all your food involve syrup?"

"The majority does, ma'am! That's my signature style. I'm surprised you came here without knowing that. Most people know what I can do and how I cook."

"Coulda fooled me. Most of them just told me to check it out for myself."

"Oh! They probably wanted you to be surprised by the live demonstration!"

"The what now?"

Lanterby looks on in confusion as Maple heads into the back and begins to work in the kitchen. While the food critic waits, and looks around at the small place - there was only room for a few people to sit, but this was an out of the way section of Cielito Lindo, making it very unlikely that anyone would stumble across it for tourism without knowing about it already. And a local area like Cielito Lindo would have people who understood waiting. 

Reading her menu a few other times, and mulling over the previous restaurant she'd eaten at - they hadn't even bothered to pay up when she asked for it, who did they think they were? - Lanterby is able to kill time well enough, until the proprietress emerges from the back, carrying a full tray. She sets it down, and as she unloads the dishes, Lanterby looks at them. The poutine looks reasonable, and the maple shake looks the right color... but her waffles are perfectly syrupless.

"There is a problem with my order." Lanterby says flatly. Maple, however, shakes her head.

"No, no, this is the unique part." Maple holds her hand over the waffles, letting her fingers hang down. All of a sudden, syrup begins to drip from Maple's fingers, the chef moving her hand to properly cover the waffle. It doesn't take more than twenty seconds for Lanterby to have a properly syrupy waffle, but she's still staring in confusion as Maple leaves to take up her post again.

Well. She's eaten weirder for the sake of her reviews. And Cielito Lindo probably wouldn't talk highly of it if the syrup being generated by a person was a problem. But... there were still a lot of questions Lanterby had.

For her part, Maple just works at her counter, taking another order that comes in, while occasionally checking to see if Lanterby is done. Once her plates are clear, Maple comes over to collect them. "How was everything?"

"I'll be frank." Lanterby drums her fingers on the table. "I'm Emilia Lanterby. Professional food critic. Maybe you've heard of me, maybe you haven't. Doesn't matter.

This wasn't bad. Acceptable. Heck, I'd even go so far as to call it good. 

But before I can publish any review, I need to ask you. What was with your hand?"

Maple, who'd tensed up during Lanterby's introduction, quickly unwinds at the positive reception. She's happy to explain. "I'm a syrupmancer, and I can create syrup."

"...That's it?"

"That's it."

"So you just use it for cooking?"

"I mean... why wouldn't I? It makes it easy. And I've always liked cooking, so I thought it'd be a good way to use my abilities. So I opened my own restaurant that I could use my abilities for."

"Hmm." Lanterby looks at Maple. Surprisingly open! Not exactly what Lanterby would have expected. Then again, it made sense. If magic and magitech were this commonplace, surely they'd just be normalized parts of society. 

Well. It would definitely be a hard sell when she made her future book, and perhaps future offers. Either way, though, this was definitely a place to keep in mind. Lanterby pulls out the money - an exact change, plus a generous tip thanks to actually passing her standards, and slams it down on the table.

"I'll be here again." is all she says as her parting words. And that was a commitment Emilia Lanterby intends to keep.

Meet the New Boss

  -ISLA ALFOMBRA-

At the seat of government of Isla Alfombra, the current president, Reynaldo Guadarrama, looks out the window and sighs. He wasn't one for getting sentimental, but the week of his brother's birthday always snuck up on him. Ten years on, and he still wasn't half the leader Ignazio had been.

Of course, if you'd asked most any citizen of Isla Alfombra, they would have told you Reynaldo was a wonderful leader. He'd won his re-election through skills and promises, not through trickery and fakery. Yet the doubts still plagued Reynaldo, the man even leaving Ignazio's portrait up in his office so that he could talk out his doubts.

"Ahhh... another complaint from our friendly Minister of Economics. Nothing I do will ever make him happy, will it? But that's part of the problem with promoting by skill. You would have known how to keep him in line, wouldn't you..."

Reynaldo sighs as he rolls his wheelchair back to his desk. If only he had known what sending Ignazio into space would have lead to. The Robot that had accompanied Ignazio had offered to help, but Reynaldo turned it down - he needed to become a leader in his own right to succeed him, rather than rely on the ghost of his brother. Still, sometimes he couldn't help but wonder if that was the right decision. There was so much, even on a small island in the north Caribbean. The military, the economy, the social services...

The presidente's musings are cut off by the sounds of gunshots. He starts to roll his chair, remembering the emergency procedure - but as he makes for the exit, the door swings open. They'd waited to open any fire until someone was right outside his office. A familiar face... with an unfamiliar one next to it.

"...General Castillo. Is this what I think it is?"

"Why, yes it is, Reynaldo."

General Castillo was one of the new men who had risen up the ranks after Ignazio's death. Reynaldo had never felt confident in his reading of people, so he'd ignored his gut yelling at him about Castillo and how untrustworthy he seemed. Now... well, small comforts. At least he knew to trust himself next time.

"A coup. And after I did so well in the last election."

"Oh, it's not about your popularity. I admire you, Reynaldo. You are truly a man of the people! But a man of the people is not what Isla Alfombra needs in the modern world. It needs a strong man."

"And you're strong enough."

"Not until now, no. I would have never risked this before! I knew I was not the man to lead, no matter my dreams... until I met a new friend of mine."

"Let me guess, the man standing next to you?"

The unfamiliar man laughs. "HAhahahaha! Is it true that someone in this region of the world really does not recognize me?"

"No," General Castillo shakes his head. "we simply have a mutual friend. This is the famed explorer, Matthieu Rivaleux."

"Greatest when it comes to the mysteries of the Americas!"

"...Tell me." Reynaldo cautiously asks. "What do you get out of helping Castillo?"

"HA! Wouldn't you like to know, so you can scoop me on it! No, no, no. This is between myself and the General." Rivaleux replies, laughing. General Castillo steps between the two, and three soldiers move into the room. Oddly, they all seem dazed... but they're still active, and they still have guns.

"Reynaldo, my friend. I certainly do not want to hurt you. I've avoided hurting as many of your guards as I could. The people love you, and I want to help the people. I'm not expecting you to endorse me yet, but please do come quietly."

Reynaldo looks around. Between Castillo, his soldiers, and Rivaleux, he knows when he's beaten for now. He puts his hands up, and Castillo brightens up.

"Excellent! Thank you very much. Soldiers! Make sure to treat Reynaldo with the best of care. Don't harm a hair on his head, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir!"

The soldiers escort Reynaldo out, while Castillo and Rivaleux remain. For a moment, Castillo just looks around the office. The chair, the desk, the papers.... everything, except the portrait of Ignazio, which he just ignores. Eventually, Rivaleux coughs.

"So, our end of the bargain..."

"Yes, yes, of course!" 

Grabbing a paper, Castillo begins to fill out his first official edict. He stamps it.

"As promised. You, and any associates you may have, now have exclusive rights to all archaeological investigations and studies on Isla Alfombra."

"Wonderful, wonderful! Helping you was absolutely worth it."

Rivaleux smiles. The man in purple had come through again! All it took was a man with a dream, and the secrets of Isla Alfombra were his to plunder. He knew enough to know that the island hid at least some of the clues to his true goal. Yet, Reynaldo's government had turned down his applications.

So, it was a simple matter of changing the island's government.

"I'll be off for now, General."

"General...? No, no." Castillo grins. "You mean my new title.

El Presidente!"

El Presidente (General Castillo)

Blue 8 of Edicts

Matthieu Rivaleux

Green Jack of Ruins

The Legacies Left Behind

 -AGAMA-

-THE EASTERN JUNGLE-

"Weehhhhhh..." comes the annoyed noise from one Mononobe no Futo. The devoted follower of Miko Toyosatomimi, Futo had vowed long, long ago that no matter where the Prince went, she would follow. It was just that sometimes, it wasn't the most pleasant place to go.

Slicing another vine out of their way with a machete, Miko Toyosatomimi forces her way through the jungle. She wasn't really sure of the exact location of where she was going. It had been far too long since she'd actually been in Agama. She had completely forgotten it,one of the incidental details of her past life as Prince Shotoku that had drifted out of her mind upon her return.

And yet, seeing a report by Kennedy Wilson had provoked long buried memories. Now, all she could do was confront them in person, and hope that the one responsible wasn't too angry with her for how long she had forgot. Futo, on the other hand, just seemed excited... when not exhausted by jungle wading, that is.

"I know your horse is the coolest horse ever, but is she really worth it?"

"It's my responsibility. If she's running wild, then I need to calm her down. And considering the power of that kick, it's a genuine threat if I don't."

Before the two of them can take more time to think, there's a loud cracking noise. A tree flies overhead, crashing somewhere in the forest. Miko simply nods sagely. "I think we're in the right area."

"Then let's get ready for it, Prince!" Futo states, before leaping out in front of Miko to find a small clearing. It's not natural - that much is obvious from the stumps and the footprints on the ground. And within that clearing, turning around to face the two who enter the copse...

Saki Kurokoma, the legendary pegasus, stands there. She kicks at one of the stumps, delivering enough force to knock it into the sky as Futo confronts her.

"So, a challenger, huh? I've been waitin'! Nobody's come by yet. I was gettin' tired!"

"Ha-cha! Allow me to prove myself, Prince!"

"There's no need for that."

Walking forward, Miko looks at Saki. "It's been a long time... and I see you changed drastically while sealed. I didn't even realize you COULD become a youkai."

Saki stares at Miko and tilts her head. "Who are you?"

"...Ah, right. I'm too used to this body."

In order to prove her identity, Miko draws her personal sword, and turns it so that she's holding it hilt up. The design of the hilt is distinctive, and Saki stares at it for a minute. Then back up to Miko's face.

"...Shotoku!?"

"That's right! The reincarnation of the legendary Prince Shotoku stands before you! Bow before her!" Futo yells, dramatically gesturing to Miko.

"Wait, what." Saki shakes her head and looks at Miko. "How the heck are YOU Shotoku? He looked a lot different! Like, he was a dude!"

"Yes, well..." Miko nods. "I changed my body when I returned several years ago. To be frank, I like this one much better." 

"...Prove it. Come over here and tell me something only Shotoku would know."

"Very well."

Miko walks over and carefully approaches Saki, who keeps an eye on her as Miko reaches her. Miko whispers something into Saki's ear, and she turns red, recoiling. "H-h-h-h-how do you-!?"

"I told you. Because I'm Shotoku."

At that, Saki stares at Miko for a second, before leaping on her.

"It really is yoooou! It's been too loooong! I've missed you, Prince- wait, should that be Princess?"

Struggling under the hug, Miko flails a bit. "Y-yes, no, Prince is fine!" 

Meanwhile, Futo glares at Saki. How dare she? How dare she just... show up and try to love the Prince THAT MUCH? In that moment, Futo resolves - she will have to outdo herself. She will need to do her best to prove that the Prince should respect her and tell Futo she's the best!

"Right! Prince!" Saki says, saluting. "Where are we going?"

"Well, I'll admit." Miko laughs a bit. "I didn't expect to resolve this so... easily. I was expecting a fight, maybe that you wouldn't believe me."

"Naaaah, you've proven it! Good enough for me, Prince!"

"For that reason, I'm staying in Agama this year. You and me and Futo - we have plenty of catching up to do, no?"

"Sounds like a plan, Prince!" "Of course, Prince!" 

And with that, the three of them start to head back towards Agama... Futo giving sharp looks to Saki the whole time.

Green

 -OLYMPIA, LORENZO WELLS MEMORIAL HOSPITAL-

-SIX MONTHS AGO-

"And in today's news, a miracle occurs in Olympia's hospitals once again! Doctor Kakashi Ito is seen here, having performed two heart transplants in one day. The difficulty of both procedures was considered to be extreme, and nobody would have blamed Dr. Ito if neither patient pulled through. Yet they're both responding positivity, and Olympia's local miracle doctor has pulled off yet another feat!

Now, in another story, despite the lack of gang wars in the Undercity, local residents should be aware that the rash of missing persons cases from two months ago has not yet been solved. Mayor Plague has vowed to do his best to find and help the-"

The nurse turns off the TV and jumps at the sight of the man walking around the corner. "A-ah, Dr. Ito! I wasn't tuning out!"

Dr. Ito raises a hand in a stilling gesture. "No, no, it's alright. I know, I know. Incredibly busy day, what with the media and all. I completely understand. Especially since Mayor Plague has requested a meeting."

"W-what? Why?!" 

"Well... it's incredibly awkward for the hospital. You'll understand if I don't share."

"Of course!" The nurse nods. As the hospital's head surgeon, the doctor had to think of everyone and everything in the hospital. Still, she couldn't help but ask around.

The rumors were everywhere. Rumors that the hospital was getting shut down for tax schemes. Rumors that there was a connection to the Curse. Rumors even that the Kobbers had filed a complaint! But the nurse still had no idea what the truth was...

Down in the morgue, Dr. Ito knocks a few times. The door opens to reveal a morgue doctor, with the nametag Dr. Mortensen. "Oooh, dear, what could bring you down here so early?" she asks of Dr. Ito.

"Yes, well... it's a bit awkward. It's the mayor."

"Which one, Deathborn or Plague?"

"Mayor Plague. It seems like he's found out about our connection to the missing persons cases."

"What?" Mortensen holds her head in her hand, grumbling. "Our supplies! You're not telling me we're just going to toss them out like that, are you?"

"I simply mean that as much as I would love to continue using their parts - oh, those green eyes were wonderful! - I think we need to be more... precautionary."

"Hmmm... fair, fair. But don't come crying to me when you can't get another heart in time for the next "miracle transplant"!" 

"I won't, I promise. Still, though." Walking over, the head doctor looks at one of the bodies. Finding this would answer many of Plague's questions... which is why he couldn't afford to let Plague ever find it.

"I do believe it's time I call that man back."

"You sure? We saw what the Kobbers got up to... well, just play it safe! And don't trust him. I don't, so you shouldn't!"

-AGAMA-

-MARCH 2022-

"I must say, I'm surprised my longshot paid off. But here you are!" Ebisuwaru says, leaning forward on his damaged desk.

"Yes, well. Your talk of dreams interests me. I've always been very sure of my dreams." Dr. Ito replies, a scalpel in his hand.

"Oh? Then tell me, your current side business - is it merely a means to an end?"

"Practice, my dear man! I have to keep my hands busy and my bank happy, after all. Eventually, I'll have all I need. Perhaps the Kobbers will be able to help, as well!" Looking at the desk and the scars on it, the doctor can see a pattern. It's so close in the making... just a couple more lines. 

"Very interesting. Aiming right to the top. I knew I chose well, Dr. Ito."

"...Must I remind you again? Not here. That name is a public name." And with his mind made up, the doctor begins to drag his scalpel along the desk. Not much. Just two simple lines. Enough to complete the pattern that he could see there.

"Right, of course. The work name. I apologize, Curator."

Another man with grand dreams. And one who could help the Cardholders in even more ways. Who better than to be the fourth king?

The Curator (Dr. Kakashi Ito)

Green King of Organs

Black

-KUWAHAWI ARCHEPELAGO-

EIGHT MONTHS AGO

"And in other news, the trial for the executives of the now-defunct Granshin Defense Corporation has concluded today. The head executives were convicted on a variety of counts, ranging from illegal weapons trafficking to usage of banned weaponry.

However, the chief of operations still has not been found, having disappeared before the trial started..."

The TV flickers off. The man turning it off smirks. He'd disappeared, alright. But plenty of people knew where he was. The ones who nobody noticed, the low-level grunts that actually did all the work. The rest of the executives knew nothing and accomplished less, and ironically, that made them all the easier to throw under the bus.

How could they explain that the chief was the one who actually knew everything and they hadn't created any of his structure, when they had enough complicity and blind eyes to prosper and benefit? Of course, the company wasn't supposed to be falling apart like this. A single person's attack of conscience should have been easy to brush off. But by the time the chief had learned it, it had been too late to act. Famous crusader Miles Edgeworth had taken the case, and he was happy to draw publicity and attention... enough to keep his star witnesses under protection.

From there, it had fallen apart. On top of the world, and now here, in his summer cabin on Kuwahawi. Back to nothing, materially. But only materially.

He had his brain, and he had his connections. The groups broken by the Kobbers... on the side, he'd made contact with members who hadn't been happy about the resolutions. The Red Ribbon Army, the Shrapnel, Azure Sea, ones who had gone underground. He could rebuild.

He would rebuild. 

There was one more contact, too. One that he'd made years ago, when they were both starting out. So long it was nearly faded entirely. But it was probably the most important, if even a few of the rumors he'd heard had been true.

And so, a phone is picked up, and a call is made. And when the offer is received... the man realizes his plans are going to be much different than he thought they would have been before this. 

And if anything, much, much better.

-AGAMA-

-FEBRUARY 2022-

"And I understand the men you contacted are staying in Las Vegas's area for now?" asks Ebisuwaru of the man in his office. They'd met several times before, but for updates like this, Ebisuwaru always liked to meet face to face.

"Most of 'em. Shock troops won't do us much good against the Kobbers. We've seen what they do to armies - it'll take a lot more than that to win us a war!" 

"I have no intention of an outright war against the Kobbers. I understand how those go."

"Haaaaahahahahaha! Said by every statesman in history. Well, I'll just make sure you're ready to win when they do get into a war with us." The big man in the chair leans back, loosening his jacket at the sweltering heat of the jungle city. 

"Ah, your dreams... truly, never have I met a man with a dream of war like yours." Ebisuwaru chuckles to himself. He might disagree with the other man's perspective, but his dreams had been interesting enough to bring him right to the top of the hierarchy that was the Cardholders.

"Besides. Give us long enough to fully rebuild what we found, and there ain't a war in the world we won't win! I'd stake my reputation on it."

"You don't have much of one now, do you?"

"Haaaahahaha! You say that like it matters. What people say about you doesn't matter. All that matters is if they try to bring force against you. And when they do..."

The big man places his hand on the desk, over where Millaarc had left several cuts in it previously.

"Just have the bigger stick, and you'll always be right!"

He squeezes hard and crushes a chunk of the desk. Ebisuwaru simply watches with interest. A truly passionate dream.

Would it be enough?

Gareth Heidegger

Black King of Cogs

Dining Out (Collaboration with Hooded Pitohui)

 It’s not every day that a campfire crackles on the side of a city street, but, then, it’s not every day that a small crowd converges on a collection of tables, bringing homemade dishes, samples of meals prepared by locals with a passion for cooking.

Looking upon the little scene, one easily mistaken by an uninformed onlooker for a small outdoor neighborhood potluck, with people shuffling about, chatting with strangers and asking questions about spices and unfamiliar dishes, and fanning the flames of her little fire, with an assortment of utensils spread out before her on a cloth rag, is none other than Kino.

Hermes, having some familiar faces to go and see, had elected to go off on his own for the day, and she had been left to explore a little on her own, content to see what the day would bring rather than to go into it with any particular plans. For much of the morning, she had wandered around with no aim in particular, but, as she went about, snippets of the conversations of passersby had caught her attention. 

The Lanterby woman people had been talking about this morning, who was at the center of the little informal event before Kino now, what kind of a person was she? She was a food critic, and a respected one, at that. That much, Kino had known for some time. Mariella had mentioned something a bit ago about a well-known, respected food critic planning to pay Agama a visit, a woman named Emilia Lanterby. By coincidence, Kino had found the woman, and, if the handful of eager faces in the crowd were any indication, those in the know certainly did respect her opinions - or, at least, they craved them.

But, who was she, really? Besides a respected critic, who was this woman? It’s the question that runs through the back of the traveler’s mind as she finishes frying up some noodles, withdrawing her pan from its seat just above the flames and assessing the components of the meal she had spent the past forty minutes or so preparing. Really, there was only one way she could answer that question, and that required meeting the woman.

A pot, a pan, and a plate, those and some utensils are what she works with, but it can’t be said she fails to make full use of the tools available to her! A bed of rice goes from pot to plate first, Kino taking a few grains in hand and rolling them between her fingers to ensure they’ve been boiled for just the right amount of time. Finding them softened enough to eat, she adds the noodles, maybe a little browner - or, well, blacker, even - on the underside than they could be, but still fine, in her eyes, and a little bit of fried garlic, peeled and torn by hand, on top of the rice. With most of the ingredients brought together, she gives the meal a little taste test. A good base, but still in need of most of its flavor, she concludes, reaching for the greatest tool in her arsenal, that being a small collection of pouches packed with spices. Crushed red pepper, ground black pepper, a little bit of paprika, she pours it liberally onto the dish, covering it, mixing it, tasting it, and repeating until she’s satisfied her creation has enough flavor. 

It’s not long after that, after putting her fire out and packing up her makeshift kitchen, that Kino finds herself setting her dish down on a table, mixed in among a few others. Mingling in the crowds, answering questions and making conversation with some of the others who had come to meet Lanterby or to see if she would taste their creations, she finds herself, for the moment, in her element, talking about food at times but finding plenty of other topics to cover. All the while, she glances at her dish, watching and waiting, looking to see if Emilia Lanterby happens to come around to sample the meal she had made.

It doesn’t take all that long, really. The food critic hadn’t quite expected to get as much focus as she had, but when her impromptu visit turned into a small assembly of a bunch of foodies and restaurantiers, she had chosen to roll with it. And that’s why, after a bit of waiting, someone unassuming approaches Kino.

“Hmmm.” The woman says, looking over the food. She looks at it, turning her head a couple times, really thinking about it. She steps back. “...Is this yours?”

“It is,” comes a simple, matter-of-fact reply from Kino. “It’s a traveler’s breakfast,” she elaborates, unprompted, figuring she ought to explain a little about her dish, if she was being asked about it. “It’s easy to prepare, and doesn’t take much to make. Store-bought noodles and rice keep well, and they’re cheap. If you can make your spices last, it improves it, but you can use anything around you for flavor when you need to. The only ingredient that’s hard to keep enough of on-hand is the oil, but you can use it sparingly.”

“Hmmm.” With that, the woman sits down. She grabs a fork and takes a large bite out of the dish. She chews for a minute, swallows, and stares at Kino.

Then she holds out her hand. “Fifteen dollars.”

“Hmm?” It takes the traveler a moment to even register what she’s heard, Kino trying to puzzle out the meaning of the woman’s statement. “I’m sorry. What are you saying?” The woman had clearly said “fifteen dollars,” but what had she meant by that?

“I’m telling you how much you owe me. For subjecting me to eating that.” Emilia Lanterby - for that is who it is - looks very grumpy as she jabs her hand at Kino. “I’m not made of time, and my tastebuds aren’t invincible. And you made me eat that… hmmm. I’m not even sure what to call it.

Regardless. You owe me.”

That meal wasn’t… that bad, was it? It wasn’t her best, but it was far from her worst attempt, at least… Finding herself facing a woman demanding compensation, though, Kino doesn’t dwell on the question of her meal’s quality for long. Reduced to rubbing the back of her hand and looking away, she responds by digging into her pockets and pulling out a mixture of coins that, when converted, come out to a grand total of… $1.57. Nevertheless, she extends her hand to Lanterby, offering up what she has. “This is everything I have with me. I can come back with more, but it’s going to be a mix of more foreign currencies.” Still keeping her gaze averted, if only out of a sense of bashfulness stemming from the woman’s reaction, she does tack on a question, not sure where to begin, but interested in knowing where she had gone wrong all the same. “Did it have enough pepper? Was the taste the problem?”

“That’ll have to do for now.” Lanterby swipes the money out of Kino’s hands, pocketing it. “...You really don’t know?

Your noodles were burnt. Your spices were overwhelming. I couldn’t taste anything BUT char and pepper. You need to learn restraint and to cut back when you’re adding spices, or failing that, remember when you’re cooking for someone who doesn’t have your particular spice-loving tastes. 

Admittedly, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were other issues that I just couldn’t taste under that either.”

“Right, I understand.” Finally raising her eyes to look at Lanterby again, since she was apparently content with the compensation, Kino nods as she listens to Lanterby’s critiques. Her points weren’t anything that usually mattered when the traveler was making a meal for herself, but they were fair nevertheless. Though, how exactly she could go about having a meal with any taste at all while cutting back on the spices, that, she’d have to figure out… 

“You’ve made food a passion and a job, haven’t you?” While some awkwardness remains, Kino still speaking cautiously, unsure if she had entirely satisfied Lanterby, the traveler does relax a little. “Have you always been around rich meals? Did you grow up dining on a wide variety of meals?”

Lanterby looks slightly confused by the sudden questions. “What, never read a review of mine? Or at least more than one? Why are you even here, then? Yes, it’s a passion. Of course it is. Not caring about food is incredibly foolish. It’s the cornerstone of your whole life! You need to take pride in it!

But, fine, answers. Sicily. I’ve mentioned it in more than enough of my reviews. Growing up there gave me far more of an appreciation for cuisine than some people I could name.”

As strange as it might seem, Lanterby’s responses, curt as they may come across, make it easier for Kino to relax, any concerns about Lanterby’s demand for compensation fading from her mind altogether as she focuses on getting a sense of the woman standing before her. Lanterby’s comment about taking pride in food because it’s a cornerstone of a person’s life even earns a slight smile from the woman. She was refreshingly direct when it came to revealing what made her tick, what she prioritized, wasn’t she?

“I usually eat whatever locals recommend to me, or make my own meals. It’s rare for me to read a professional review.” A woman so direct deserved a direct and honest response, didn’t she? “The meals people make, when they’re passed down through families, they capture something about what those people think were important. A simple meal made with staple crops might come from a frugal family. Were they not spending on food because they didn’t have enough for richer dishes, or because they wanted to put their money towards something more important to them? I wouldn’t be able to tell you that if I ate the meals they made. I don’t know what to look for in a meal to know that.”

“You can tell those things, can’t you? I couldn’t miss the chance to meet someone who dedicates their time to understanding the meals people make. I’m not a chef,” just to be certain she hadn’t missed anything, the traveler rummages through her pockets one more time, “but I still wanted to hear what you had to say.” Lanterby wanted to know why Kino had come here, and she got her answer, a simple exchange, in the traveler’s eyes. “I’m sure you know what food is worth trying here already, but, if you stay in Agama, you should try the iyya.” 

“Mmmmm.” It’s hard to tell what Lanterby’s reaction to Kino’s comments are. She’s keeping most of her thoughts to herself, though she’s not trying to rebut or push back at Kino’s descriptions, simply acknowledging she heard them. The mention of the iyya, though, gets her to nod. “I’ve been hearing that all day. I’ll need to go over there later.

Anyway. I have more food to try. I trust you’ll be fine on your own?”

“I’ll be fine,” Kino affirms, regarding Lanterby not exactly warmly, but certainly cordially as she collects the plate on which she had set her dish. It was a shame she couldn’t talk to the woman a bit longer, but, well, perhaps she’d have another chance to see the food critic at some point. 

There’s nothing more to say, Kino quietly departing as Lanterby goes on to try more dishes and talk to more people, but that doesn’t bother the traveler. After all, she has shopping to do, to replace the food she used making a meal for Lanterby. Luckily, Lanterby hadn’t wanted all of her funds, after all…

Red

 -TOKYO, JAPAN-

DECEMBER 2019

"Authorities still have no lead on the murder of three players at a mahjong table, as reported last week. If anyone has information on the situation, they are encouraged to call..."

-BERLIN, GERMANY-

 JULY 2020

"And in other news, the infamous disco disappearance appears to be going cold. A man left a nightclub, saying he would meet someone. He was never seen again. More on the case at..."

-NEW YORK, NEW YORK-

FEBRUARY 2021

"So why are you out here?" The woman asked of her odd companion. She'd met the other woman by pure chance, really. Wandering the streets of the city at night, out here in the far reaches of the Bronx, was always a bit nervewracking. As soon as she saw someone else who looked safe, she kept trying to catch up to the woman in her robe, but the latter simply ignored her. 

Despite that, she kept trying to stick to her anyway. She'd heard rumors that there had been a mugger in the area. She couldn't very well stop walking this route, thanks to her circumstances. So any time she saw someone, she just tried to check up.

The robe woman's silence was offputting, but still not enough to discourage her follower. Even when she ducked into an alleyway, the following woman decided to simply wait outside. 

From inside the alleyway, a muttered threat. A yell. A scream. Pleading, cut off pretty quickly. And when the woman looked inside, she saw the robed woman, standing over the mugger, now lying dead on the pavement. 

The robed woman looked at the other. "...You saw. 

Too bad." 

And before she knew what was going on, the robed woman lunged at her, and all awareness faded forever in a bright red spray.

-AGAMA-

JANUARY 2022

The New Year's celebrations of Agama looked quite different from those you might see in New York or Las Vegas. The shapes and sparkles that danced in the air, kept aloft by both magic and technology, were based on Agama's own culture and history. Brume light spectaculars, fancy fireworks that did more than just burst, the market's rainbow glow... all of that was represented in Agama.

Looking out the window, Ebisuwaru turns back to the woman sitting at his desk. This was no true business meeting - or at least not for recruitment. This was merely catching up at the turn of the year with one of the most important parts of his plans. 

"Fascinating, isn't it? What a true example of people's dreams."

"Tch." Leaning back, the woman scoffs as she admires her sharp, claw-like fingernails. "It's a good pretense. But that's all fluff."

"Come now, don't say that! The dreams of Agama shine tonight."

"The ones they're telling the world, that is. The ones they've got buried... well, most of those are a lot less pleasant."

"Like yours, I take it?" Ebisuwaru asks, a slight smirk on his face. The woman simply nods.

"I know what I've done. As long as it keeps me ahead of everyone else, all's fair." 

"A truly fascinating dream... utterly shameless about sacrificing others. Incredibly powerful, in its own way.

Yes, I knew you were right for your card when I first saw you."

"Heh. Just remember, if you try to stab me in the back..."

With a swipe, cutting at Ebisuwaru's desk and leaving a series of marks in it, the woman reconfirms that she could rake through anyone. And had. Whenever she thought it was necessary.

"My claws are sharper."

Millaarc Cranstoun

Red King of Bats