It was a simple game. The rules were easy to understand. The objective was clear. A game of deception that was childlike in its design. He understood all of that so Cyrus was at a loss for words at how for the tenth time in a row he had lost. He stared at his dice, four-sixes is what he had. He called there being five among the fifteen dice gathered. However when it was Kardwin’s turn he called him a liar only to be proven correct, Cyrus was the only one with four-sixes.

  The old man slid a worn finger over and dragged the last of Cyrus’s gold coins away. The boy turned to Lyrik for comfort but the Stygian sat in the corner dejected at the complete loss he had experienced as well. In truth Cyrus felt somewhat better about himself because of how badly Lyrik had been beaten. It was a slow decline at first but soon after the Stygian lord’s losses compounded until all the money he had won with Cyrus’s coins had turned into another ten thousand debt added to his ever growing losses. The both of them had been thoroughly handled by Kardwin who looked delighted in the games that they had played.

  “As I said, the youth are despised for a reason my lords.” There was an air of superiority in his words, “The old ways remain for the very same reason the mountains do and the sun rises, these are the ways things have always been and will always be.”

  “Oh yeah?” Cyrus lashed back, “I’m sure that’s easy to say when you’re cheating.”

  Kardwin stopped his tapping. His expression soured with a slow contort as his uncomfortable smile morphed into a stone-faced glare. His eyes seemed to come alive as though for the first time looking directly at Cyrus. He did not turn his head, but his eyes did. He held the boy's gaze for what felt like days, closer to years. Neither of them spoke, in fact no sound was made as Kardwin looked at Cyrus. Every fiber in the boy's body told him to look away, to force himself to look away. However he could not, Kardwin held his gaze and refused to let go, debating to himself while he did. Cyrus could feel something terrible on its way, something he had no desire to see.

  “Forgive him, Kardwin, he is a child.” Lyrik rubbed his head in defeat. “He does not mean it.”

  Cyrus quickly nodded before looking away. “I am sorry, Kardwin. That was unkind of me.” He bowed low in apology.

  “Quite right it was wrong of you,” he declared. “Once again you see the shortcomings of the youth, so brazen to accuse out of malleable emotions.”

  Cyrus gritted his teeth as Kardwin continued to taunt him. His own shortcomings were easy to see, it was why he so desperately sought to learn under Antares. He recalled the foolish attempt to fight the boys in the slums or his failed attempt to reach Castle Xerxes on his own. The lack of power he possessed was obvious and he direly wanted to change that. It was why he so hounded Xenon to start his trial. Yet here he stood, failing his trial and lost what money was given to him. It seemed everything he attempted would end in failure.

  He squeezed the edges of the table in frustration and turned his attention back to the laughing Kardwin. “Why are you so jealous of the youth?”

  Kardwin stopped his tirade and turned to the boy, “Me? Jealous of the likes of you? Those who live in constant mistake? Do not make me laugh, young lord.”

  Cyrus stood up, unwilling to accept any more insults. He was the king’s ward. That meant something. “Yes I make mistakes, but I learn from them I grow.”

  It was a strong belief he had begun to hold on to, despite all his shortcomings he had grown. He read his father his last rites, he delivered his letter. All it took was once, he needed only to succeed at one task to prove to himself that whatever it was he faced he would overcome. This trial felt hopeless, it reminded him of when he was lost in Akkad unable to find the way. He would look for it now, just as he did then. The youth were not lost, they would always find their way. He was proof of that.

  “You think because you’re good at this game it makes you better than everyone else?” Cyrus barked.

  “Why would it not be the case? Life itself is but a game of deception. One you clearly fail to grasp.” Kardwin yawned out of boredom.

  “Is that so?” Cyrus glared, a bubbling fire burning within. “One more game.”

  “You have no gold coins to offer.”

  The boy shook his head, “I’ll bet something more." His eyes darted around trying to think of something worthwhile to offer before his eyes lit up. "I bet my youth.”

  “Absolutely not,” Lyrik intervened.

  He had allowed the boy to take it too far. The fault was his own, he permitted his growing losses to distract him from watching over him. The boy losing all of his gold was not an issue he would have easily procured more for him, but to move the wager to heights greater than what they usually played was reckless. Especially against Kardwin, it was clear that the thing was toying with him now and only sought to goad him into making a foolish bet. Which Cyrus had just seemed to do.

  “It is my wager, stay out of it.” Cyrus glared at Lyrik.

  “The boy is right,” Kardwin smiled. “I accept that wager, and to match it I will clear both of your debts for a combined twenty-five thousand gold coins.”

  “What?” Lyrik was shocked by the matched amount. “All of my debts?”

  “Thus is how valuable the boy's youth is, a thousand years would add very nicely to my collection, so I am willing to part with the chance of giving you a fresh slate.” Kardwin leaned side to side as he recalled a lovely tune. “But do not fear, when the boy loses. I may be convinced to give him back if Lord Xenon finally agrees to play me in a game!”

  It all became clear to Lyrik, it had always been about Xenon. Kardwin had been trying for years, since his loss to the Stygian lord. In truth, to this day Lyrik still could not believe that the Lord of Eirdu managed to best the ancient thing in a game. Kardwin had not been the same since, as though a new singular desire had taken root. A growing obsession to correct a wrong that had been raked across his flesh. And yet Xenon declined every attempt at a rematch. But with Cyrus in his grasp, Kardwin could finally have what he had been craving for. One more wager with the Lord of Eirdu as he had done with many before.

  “So Lord Cyrus, are you prepared?”

  Cyrus nodded with confidence hoping it would mask the uncertainty that passed throughout his entire body. It was still the same game he had been playing for however long, but the sensation of it was strikingly different. There was a greater sense of urgency on his part, the more he looked at the black dice in the container the more he fantasized what numbers they would give him. However, was it truly important? Regardless of the set of numbers he had, ones he thought were in his favor or ones he thought he could bluff his way to victory. Each time Kardwin saw through his indecisiveness and guessed accurately as though able to read his mind. Cyrus thought of a myriad of strategies to employ but the penalty for failure was too great of a distraction to keep him focused.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He picked up the container, his hands shaking. “I am.”

  What would happen next would determine his fate. There was a growing sense of foreboding as Cyrus felt as though he had stepped into a duel he was woefully unprepared for. But what choice did he have? No one would come to his rescue, Antares was not here nor was Ciri or anyone that he knew. He alone had to stand forth and press on, like he always had done. Indecisiveness had dictated his every action thus far, but slowly he was starting to shake free of the bonds that held him in place. As Kardwin slammed his container on the table so too did Cyrus. The sound shook the room. No. He was sure it shook the whole of Zogos. From the air, to the wood, to the flames that gave light, everything waited in anticipation.

  “The reckless faith you have placed on youth has brought you to this terrible end.” Kardwin stroked the red wood, “I simply cannot understand why you would still hold on to something so foolish.” His smile wavered almost into a form of pity but snapped back into place.

  Cyrus steadied his breathing, he was unsure what he was hoping for. What combination of numbers would give him the best outcome of a victory? What would finally give him the edge over Kardwin that would shut his decrypt mouth once and for all. The boy's mind spiraled through all sets of numbers. He lifted the cup to look at what fate had given him. And as he saw the set of dice, Cyrus came to a realization that he could have only found in this challenge he found himself in. It did not matter.

  None of it mattered, the sequence of numbers were unimportant, the thought of failing to deliver his fathers letter was unimportant, failing the trial was unimportant. None of it was, because he would still have fought. Just as he had done countless times before, Cyrus would not stop here. There was still much for him to accomplish, much for him to overcome. This was not the end of his tale regardless of what the man across from him said. Yes, youth was reckless, oftentimes to a great fault. He would not shy away from what he felt allowed him to grow. He would embrace all that came with it, so much so that he would stake his life on it right here.

  For only the second time since his father’s passing, Cyrus felt the burning sensation of his Will throughout his body. It filled him with a new conviction that was growing beyond what he could contain. He looked into Kardwin’s eyes.

  “Because it is all I have,” Cyrus Xerxes announced. “I’m not strong, I’m not fast. I’m not that smart or quite good at anything. So my youth is all I have right now, one day I will improve, even if it's just a little bit. And since I’ve seen myself do it once before, I know I can do it again.”

  “You only need one opportunity is it?” Kardwin laughed an emotionless laugh.

  “Just one,” the eyes of the king’s ward burned a royal fire. The sunset eyes of a budding royal bloomed into form. “Five-sixes.” Cyrus called out.

  Lyrik had been oddly surprised with the boys confidence, in the brief time he had met him. There was enough for him to understand who he was. However, as he addressed Kardwin, it was the first time he had an inclination as to why Antares had made the boy his ward. To stand strong in the face of a force greater than yourself was no easy feat even for those considered well experienced. Yet to call for five-sixes to commence the duel was a level of confidence Lyrik attributed to youth. Aligning himself with Kardwin as a reckless move. All the same, the Lord of War watched on quietly.

  Kardwin stood motionless as the boy announced his numbers. Cyrus looked on as the old man studied every inch of his face searching for something, the smallest hint. Yet the boy held his gaze unflinching, daring him to step onto the battlefield with him. There would be no need for cautious tiptoeing. They would throw all of that needless weight to the side and decide things in one single motion. Cyrus had shifted all expectations to Kardwin’s side. The old man toiled around in his thoughts, debating ceaselessly back and forth to himself. Studying every possible outcome. He crossed his hands in amusement.

  “I like you Lord Cyrus,” he nodded along in agreement. “You are entertaining, for a young fool that is. So I will leave you with this one lesson,” Kardwin tapped his container three times. “Just because you are willing to put your life on the line does not guarantee your victory. In fact quite the opposite. Never let your adversary know how desperate you are, lest they use it against you. Seven-sixes.”

  The robustness of his words sent shockwaves through the boy. The assuredness in which he spoke was with the same sensation as being told the sun would rise the following day. There was no room for argument, no room for doubt. What he had said was the truth, and it was not to be debated. Cyrus felt an ominous foreboding building within him if he were to decline. He wavered once again if only for a moment. But it was enough to wrap him in the embrace of uncertainty. He looked back at Kardwin whose face gave nothing away, it was no man he was looking at. It was something more, something far older than anything he could comprehend. The wisdom of this thing that transcended thousands upon thousands of years against the reckless youth that Cyrus possessed. Only one of these things would survive the encounter, how naive and prideful of him to believe that he would be the one to come out victorious. He turned his gaze to his lap, head lowered in defeat.

  “There is no shame in bei-”

  “Liar.”

  The words effortlessly escaped his mouth. It was not until he gasped for air had Cyrus realized he had been holding his breath through the entire ordeal. His hands shook terribly and he felt sweat build around his forehead. Yet none of that paled to the hollow smile Kardwin offered him. It made him nauseous how happy he was.

  “You really are a reckless boy,” Kardwin raised his dice revealing that all five of his dices were sixes.”

  With a shaking hand, Cyrus revealed his dice. “Although I don’t like it, my father used to say I reminded him of my mother,” a soft grin crossed his face.

  Not a single one of the boys dice was a six, simply put, Cyrus had won. The old man was caught out by his bluff. That assured look and vibrant belief that victory was his, the burning fire in his eyes. The confidence in his words and his smile. It was all a lie. The boy had nothing and with it he gambled everything on it. Kardwin–custodian of Zogos–for only the fourth time in his entire existence, had been deceived. The room groaned underneath the revelation as the very building itself could not accept the outcome of the game The sound of splintered wood reverberated through the air as a thousand voices conversed among themselves in nothing but a whisper. Lyrik joined Kardwin in muted surprise. Cyrus was not in any real danger that he could not rescue him from, but for the boy to still put his life on the line on a simple bluff like that was far too reckless even for him. The Lord of War thought of Antares and chuckled to himself.

  “That is… my defeat.” Kardwin found the words strange to say, it had been quite some time since this taste returned to his tongue. He laughed with a warmer smile, “Well done Lord Cyrus, truly sublime!”

  Cyrus felt Kardwin return to the friendlier old man he had first met, easing his worries. He was still quite unsure about him, he was sure that the old man would have taken great offense to his lie. However instead the congratulations given his way were a welcomed feeling. Since the boy had felt as though he survived his first true battle, his body ached all over. He leaned back on his chair ready to sleep.

  “As promised both your debts have been forgiven,” Kardwin snapped both his fingers and rubbed his hands together. “As for you Lord Cyrus, here you go.” From within his robe he pulled forth a hefty pouch of gold coins. “An extra prize for being such an entertaining guest. I look forward to the next time you return.”

  Cyrus eagerly took the bag of gold from him with a cheerful nod and appreciation. He hooked it to his belt as though it were a prized trophy. He watched as Lyrik tried to coax a bag of coin from Kardwin who vehemently shut him down before he ushered them out of the room. It was not long before they were on their way out of Zogos. Kardwin waved them goodbye as they disappeared back into the city. For all that had happened Cyrus was glad to have met the strange man and the strange games he played. He had tested his luck against something great and the desire to do it again soon left his body, his fathers warning echoing through his head. Finally he understood why he frowned at gambling, and Cyrus completely agreed with him.