Source & Soul: A Deckbuilding LitRPG

“You bought a new suit,” Esmi said, favoring me with a warm smile.

I blushed as I looked up at her. She was standing in one of the five chariots lined up for today’s procession. The vehicle was richly inlaid in gold, large gems encrusting the carriage, axle cap, and even the yoke, which was hitched to two beautiful white stallions.

“I did,” I admitted, pleased she had noticed so quickly. During the soiree at the Tournament I had worn a hand-me-down from my brothers, but one advantage of being stymied in how to proceed with my deck was that I could use some of my newfound coin on personal effects. I had initially balked at the price of purchasing a tailored piece, especially one as expensive as a three-piece suit. But wearing it now and feeling how much better it fit me than any other article of clothing I possessed, it was almost like I had elevated my soul again.

“The gray and blue suits you,” she said, resplendent in her own gown of crushed sapphires. She had told me that she’d be wearing such for the occasion, which was why I had chosen the blue trimming to match.

I stepped closer to the tall wheel, which came up as high as my neck. “You should see the paisley pattern in the inner lining. I like it so much, I’m nearly tempted to wear it inside out.”

Esmi giggled. “When you told me that you might dispense with your Order cultivation, I hadn’t realized how thoroughly untamed you would become.”

I laughed at her good natured ribbing, always finding myself happier when we were together. Before I could offer a worthy riposte, a rush of air whooshed around us and a deep caw came from above, lifting both our heads. There, circling in the sky, was the Grand Marshal himself, resplendent in armor just as decorated as the chariots, golden wings sprouting from either side of his helm, mirroring those of the giant griffon he rode. Halifax let out another cry that spoke to the beast’s mixed lion and eagle parentage, almost a roar if not for the high note at the end.

“Rather puts these chariots to shame, wouldn’t you say?” I had used my Carrion Condors to carry me once, but that was a pale comparison to the image that the Grand Marshal struck atop his Mythic Summons, not to mention the considerable benefits the Mount ability granted him. He angled farther north to where crowds of people waited for the parade to begin, and after he had gone no more than two blocks, I heard cheering erupt among those gathered.

“If kobolds can be said to have any faults,” Esmi said, and my attention returned to her, “it’s that none are very good for riding.”

“What sort of mount would you want? Assuming you could have any card?”

“Twins’ truth, if I had my pick, it wouldn’t be from a card.”

That surprised me. “But a card offers much greater control and flexibility. If Halifax was still alive, Grand Marshal Jorin would have a devil of a time bringing him into council meetings and such.”

“But could you imagine having a baby griffon?” she asked me, eyes taking on a loving yet zealous quality she normally reserved for kobolds and me when I did something she was particularly fond of. “Or a pegasus or dragon?”

“Baby dragons are a misnomer.”

It was a girl who made the comment, one I recognized the sound of but couldn’t manage to place. I turned to find none other than Afi standing in the small side street in the noble district where we all waited. Groomers and servants were running about, double-checking the horses affixed to each chariot, the chariot’s themselves, and anything else they judged that might possibly cause problems. There were also a few officials in brown robes bustled around with them, making sure everything, including us, were doing as we should. I was honestly surprised that none had hurried me toward my own chariot yet, third down the line.

Afi – a slim, straight-backed girl our age, with her dark hair in a tight bun – nearly faded into the other workers, wearing simple pants and a coat made of cured leather, holding a leather duffel of a similar stain at her side. I also had luggage for the trip, since we would be living at War Camp for the foreseeable future, but the staff here had already taken it from me, assuring me that it would arrive at the appropriate destination. Afi, apparently, wasn’t so trusting.

“What fun!” Esmi said, clapping her hands together. “And here I was worried that I’d be all alone in the girl’s dormitory.”

“Who are you replacing?” I asked, my heart dipping into my gut. There was no other reason for Afi to be here except to join us, especially not while carrying luggage. My concern, however, stemmed from the fact that Hull had yet to arrive for the Champion’s Parade and still had never visited me. If he had let an opportunity like this pass him by, I’d have to hunt him –

“Losum,” Afi answered. “I don’t know the details,” she added, when both Esmi and I opened our mouths again to query her further.

I glanced to the side, seeing where the Grand Marshal still circled in the distance. “Losum’s father must have been much more furious at him than expected.” It was common knowledge among the nobility that Losum hadn’t been permitted outside his family’s grounds after being part of the attack against the king. However, among that gossip, I hadn’t heard any conjecture that he wouldn’t be allowed to attend War Camp. “A great deal so to lose the opportunity to place his son into a favored position.”

“So it seems,” Esmi agreed. “But he has a much older half-sister, I believe. Perhaps the transgression was enough for the Grand Marshal to decide who his successor should be.”

Losum had always been unkind toward me, his jabs and taunts as predictable as the seasons, and yet I found myself pitying him. Yes, he had chosen to bed the vampire, but he had not chosen to strike the king. Did his crime match the punishment? Whether it did or not, the event gave insight into the type of reasoning the Grand Marshal might use on us during our time at War Camp, which was useful to know at least.

Afi hadn’t departed yet, answering some questions of Esmi’s about where she slept best and what time she rose. While Afi may not know more about Losum’s situation, there were other things I was quite curious to ask her. So, when there was a lull in the discussion, I put one forward.

“Are you here at the behest of House Erlun?”

Her brown eyes seemed to understand what I was getting at. She had been there, of course, when Warrick had burst in during our dinner with the king, making a fool of himself. And it wouldn’t have been hard for her to know that Warrick and I had broken ties right outside that very same restaurant, in an affair much more indecorous than me wearing a suit jacket inside out. I hadn’t spoken to my erstwhile friend since, a silence I had found quite hard to maintain. Yet here, standing in front of me, was a chance to know more that didn’t breach the boundaries I had set for myself.

Knowing all this – or so I suspected – still, Afi replied with only a single word. “Yes.”

I could respect her desire to remain true to the House that had educated her and provided her such an opportunity. That didn’t mean her reticence wasn’t also a great disappointment to me, and even somewhat annoying, but I did my best not to let that show. Perhaps I could get more from her once we had been compatriots at War Camp for a time. I had never even seen her deck before, just her soul ability, either of which could serve as sufficient conversational openers when the time was right.

“What was that about there not being baby dragons?” Esmi said, circling us back to where we had begun.

“Dragons are the very pinnacle of elevation,” Afi said, her way of speaking striking me as meticulous and over-enunciated, like she was quoting from a book. “Saying ‘baby dragons’ is akin to saying a ‘grown calf’ or an ‘adult pup.’ The meanings of the paired terms are in direct conflict with one another.”

I was not well versed in rarity lore, which she seemed to be invoking, and while I found her statement curious, I wished she had been willing to say as much about the topic of Warrick and his family.

“Competitors, please,” a harried looking official in brown robes said, approaching us at a walk so quick he was nearly jogging. “We are already behind time and need to begin. Go to your assigned places with all due haste.”

Afi departed without a goodbye, making her way to the last chariot in the line. The fourth still sat unoccupied, which sent my eyes roaming up and down the gathered people. At this rate, I wouldn’t care if Hull appeared wearing a sack as long as he showed up, but I didn’t see him anywhere.

“Can’t we wait a touch longer?” I asked. I didn’t know if missing the parade would be cause for dismissal, but after how the Grand Marshal had treated his son, I wouldn’t put it past the man.

“We already have, Master Basil. We already have.” The man wiped a flood of sweat from his brow. “Another moment longer, and we risk keeping the paladins and foreign representatives at the training site waiting longer than is hospitable, and if such a thing was to happen, we would be the ones blamed. You wouldn’t wish such a fate upon us, would you?”

When the man put it that way, I couldn’t argue, but I was surprised when Esmi pulled me up into the chariot carriage with her.

“If we are already dispensing with some of what had been planned, might my fiance ride alongside me?”

The official looked like he had just suffered a sudden ache of the mind. He frowned, lifted a finger, but no argument against the idea was forthcoming.

“Absolutely not,” an imperious voice declared.

The speaker was of course Prince Gerad, who was in the chariot behind Esmi’s. Each vehicle was separated by a length of two chariots, a distance that was great enough that I had felt comfortable ignoring him until now.

He stood even straighter than Afi had, wearing pressed clothes of a crisp ivory, a rich cloak of ermine thrown over one shoulder. He even wore a circlet of gold around his head, as if to remind everyone that it was only a matter of time before a full crown would rest there.

“And why not?” Esmi replied back, and I heard the official beside us eep at her clear lack of respect. While Esmi had trouble standing up to her parents, it seemed she had no such inhibitions when it came to someone she had defeated under the Dueling Dome, even if that person was a prince.

“To do so would disrupt the order of the event,” Gerad explained. He had raised his voice loud enough to be heard, but not a decibel above that. The way he stood there like a statue, you’d have believed that he had arrived with the chariots at sunrise. “The onlookers would question who held which place among us, beginning to distrust what they had heard or even seen with their own eyes. Such questioning would distract from the unity the parade is meant to bring, undermining the cultivation of Order on a city-wide scale. This,” he said, gripping the front crossbar of his chariot in a ring-covered hand. “I cannot allow.”

I looked at Esmi to see how she might respond and so caught sight of the Grand Marshal bearing down on us from overhead.

“MOVE!” he shouted from griffon back.

It seemed that the officials weren’t the only ones who cared about us staying on schedule. I pecked Esmi quickly on the cheek and then hurried off to my own chariot, glad that a suit fitted to my proportions was equally adept at accommodating some light running – one of the many habits I had picked up during the Tournament.

And so, without any further delay, we departed.

* * *

The heart of the parade was all I could have hoped for and more. People were everywhere along the thoroughfare, crowding the streets, hanging from lampposts, and out of windows of nearby buildings. There was a smattering of music and dancing, and a great deal of drink and food, some coming piping hot out of houses that lined the way or purchased from carts that were bunched together every few blocks. Children ran beside the chariots holding colorful streamers aloft that spun out behind them and some of the merriest of parade-goers took it upon themselves to bring us competitors choice pieces of food or small horns of drink that were being sold. I didn’t want grease to get on my suit, but I thanked all who offered, eating a few cookies and a piece of sugar coated fruit, and even downing a few shots of spicy ale, but after that, I begged off any further indulgences, not wanting to show up for my first day of training drunk.

Despite the noise and frivolity, the horses pulling our chariots knew their business, the side blinders they wore keeping them from getting distracted from the task at hand. They were likely war horses and thus accustomed to such chaotic surroundings, and they were so well trained in fact, I barely needed to use the reins to keep them following after Gerad.

Even though it was Afi behind me instead of Hull, the joy of those gathered was infectious, and I felt like pinching myself in disbelief that I had actually accomplished something so grand. Losum’s father made no speech about who we were or where we were headed like the king had done during the closing ceremony of the Tournament, but there was no need. The people cheered for us because they knew we were to be their protectors, using the power we had within to make their lives, and Treledyne, better.

This was the type of difference that I had dreamed of making, the scope so much larger than the isolated guarding my father had devoted his life to. And now that my goals had expanded to the possibility of kingship, the path I was on would see me exposed to the skills I’d need to govern. How was a kingdom run? Defended? I had received cursory lessons about such things in my youth, but a place like War Camp would give me access to experts in the field.

This was an opportunity like no other, and I would seize it for all it was worth.

The crowds finally thinned when we left not only the walls of Treledyne behind but also the people who lined the outgoing road, farmers and sheep hands and horse breeders who had come in from the nearby fields and countryside. It wasn’t until we were climbing up a hill to the north of the city that I saw a fifth chariot, far behind, exiting the Dawn Gate, the rider none other than my hard-to-find and, apparently, terribly unpunctual, friend.

“Took you long enough,” I said, unable to hold my smile back.

Cresting the hill, to the right I spotted a huge wooden fortification. It was nowhere near the size of the city we had just left, but still I was certain, bigger than many of the townships within the human realms. From it, I watched a number of soldiers bustling in and out, as well as manning its walls. They were armed with pikes and crossbows, many facing further to the north, as if they expected to be attacked any moment.

However, the Grand Marshal, who had coasted on the air currents above us as we had traveled, alighted on a section of flat land to the west. Here there was no building, just some pre-dug trenches and a handful of other figures. Esmi and the prince angled their chariots in that direction, and I followed the same, the large wheels of the vehicle able to handle the grassy gnoll we traversed.

As we neared, I saw that those beside the Grand Marshal were the very people who the official had referenced: four paladins in thick armor, the tallest of which must have been the High Paladin Edaine, the platemail she wore covered in large, glowing white runes. Beside them were an equal number of shorter, lumpier people – deepkin. The elves, in contrast, were nowhere to be seen; perhaps they ascribed to a similar set of time keeping as Hull did.

And then, as if he had been waiting for my arrival to appear, my brother Gale dropped out of the sky, taking up position next to the Grand Marshal.

Gale, who had become Epic to my Rare; Gale, who, according to my parents, was now Esmi’s true fiance; Gale, who I had managed to avoid these past four weeks, both in person and often even in my thoughts – a feat I was rather proud of.

Fate, it seemed, had other plans for the two of us.

Steeling myself, I gripped my reins tighter and angled my chariot straight toward him.