Chapter 99: The List (19)
The infirmary was supposed to be quiet.
A place of healing.
A place where the exhausted and the battered could rest without disturbance.
Which is exactly why the hushed, sharp back-and-forth between Lucien Crowley and Lady Vivien was driving the nurses up the wall.
“I’m telling you,” Vivien hissed, sitting ramrod straight beside Phillip’s bed, her hands folded primly though her eyes burned with accusation.
“You owe Phillip an apology.”
Lucien, lounging on his cot with his arm immobilized in its sling, tilted his head back against the pillow with a long-suffering sigh.
“No, I don’t. It was a duel, ‘Lady’ Vivien. A duel. The entire point is that one of us was going to get hurt. That’s not something you apologize for, it defeats the entire principle of a gentlemanly contest.”
“You dare talk of gentlemanly conduct,” she whispered furiously, “when you were the one whose improper actions forced Phillip into issuing the challenge? Had you not-”
Lucien cut in with a dry choking laugh.
“Had I not interrupted you that night, yes, I know. And I’ve already apologized for that.”
His voice softened, if only a fraction.
“But I’m not apologizing for this. Not for fighting fairly and winning fairly.”
Vivien bristled, her cheeks puffing as if she were about to let out a shriek, only to remember the pointed glares of three nurses hovering near the supply cabinets.
She bit her tongue, literally, before leaning forward and whispering with venom instead.
“You really are the most insufferable man I’ve ever met.”
“And yet here we are,” Lucien drawled, turning his good wrist in a lazy circle as though inviting her to continue.
Her eyes widened at his gestures.
“You-!”
The words died in her throat as a new presence made itself known.
“Enough.”
The voice cracked like a whip through the air.
Both Lucien and Vivien turned their heads slowly, like guilty children caught red-handed, to find an elderly nurse looming over them.
She was small, round-shouldered, and had the kind of lined face that spoke of decades of experience, both in healing wounds and in brooking absolutely no nonsense.
Without ceremony, she reached down and pinched both their ears.
“Ow!”
Lucien winced, jerking his head sideways.
“Ah- madam, that’s hardly-!”
Vivien squeaked, trying to maintain dignity while half-bent from the grip.
“Quiet,” the nurse ordered, tugging their ears with a firmness only a grandmotherly figure could wield.
“I said quiet. There are patients in this room trying to sleep, and the two of you are bickering like hens at the market.”
Both froze, caught mid-complaint.
Lucien cleared his throat.
Vivien stared down at her lap, red as a beet.
Satisfied, the nurse released their ears and produced something from the pocket of her apron.
A deck of well-worn playing cards.
She slapped it down on Lucien’s lap with a thud.
“You want to argue?”
She said, her eyes narrowing at both of them.
“Fine. Argue like civilized children. Settle it over a game. The loser will have to apologize. Or,” her gaze sharpened, “if I hear one more whisper of bickering, I’ll have the other nurses tie you both to beds and gag you. Do I make myself clear?”
Neither dared breathe too loudly.
“Good.”
With that, the elderly nurse shuffled away, muttering under her breath about “foolish youth” and “honor-duels disturbing proper healing.”
Silence fell for a beat.
Lucien and Vivien both stared at the deck of cards, lying innocently against the white blanket.
The weight of it seemed absurd.
A children’s game, offered as the solution to their furious disagreement.
Lucien reached for the deck with his good hand, lifting it slowly, turning it once between his fingers.
His lips twitched as though suppressing laughter.
“Well,” he said at last, “I suppose this is one way to avoid another duel.”
Vivien sniffed indignantly, though her eyes flickered between him and the cards.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Completely,” Lucien agreed without hesitation, already beginning to open the box of cards with one hand.
“But apparently, so are we.”
Vivien huffed, crossing her arms, though her gaze didn't leave the cards.
“If you think I’m going to lose to you at something as simple as cards, you’re delusional.”
Lucien’s smirk widened.
“Funny. Phillip said something like that too.”
Her face flushed scarlet again.
“Deal the cards, Crowley.”
Phillip, half-conscious between them, groaned faintly, mumbling something incoherent as if even in his daze he could feel the absurdity radiating from the two.
Vivien adjusted in her seat, every inch the aristocrat preparing for battle.
***
Lucien stared down at the deck in his hand.
He turned the top card over between his fingers.
It wasn’t like any card he’d ever seen back on Earth.
The illustration wasn’t some clean, minimalistic suit of spades or hearts, nor was it the bright, plasticky art of trading cards from his childhood.
Instead, each card was a little painting, monsters with snarling fangs, armored knights wreathed in flame, sorcerers whose eyes glowed with arcane power.
Beneath the artwork were numbers neatly inked in gold filigree.
Three numbers, to be precise.
Strength.
Magic.
Defense.
Lucien’s brows drew together.
He flipped another.
Then another.
The pattern was the same.
Vivien, who had been sitting stiffly beside Phillip’s bed with her arms folded, caught his expression almost immediately.
Her eyes narrowed, a hint of suspicion lighting them.
“You don’t even know how to play, do you?”
She said, her tone halfway between disbelief and exasperation.
Lucien looked up from the cards, caught in the act.
He tried for a dismissive shrug, but the sling around his shoulder made it awkward.
“Not… exactly these cards, no,” he admitted.
Vivien exhaled through her nose in the kind of long-suffering sigh that suggested she was genuinely reconsidering her life choices.
“Of course,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“I should have known. You bluster like you know everything, but when it comes down to it-”
“Hey,” Lucien cut in, raising a brow.
“I never claimed to be some kind of… card game champion.”
Her eyes snapped to his, sharp as a drawn blade.
“It’s a test of wit and nerve, and considerably more civilized than you bleeding all over the infirmary floor. Honestly…”
She straightened her posture, lifted her chin, and gestured at the deck.
“Fine. I’ll explain. Slowly. So even you can keep up.”
Lucien rolled his eyes but held his tongue.
Better to let her talk than give her more ammunition.
Vivien reached across, plucked the cards from his grip with aristocratic precision, and began laying them face-up on his blanket like a teacher demonstrating for a particularly hopeless pupil.
“Every card has three attributes,” she began, tapping one card with a neatly manicured nail.
“Strength. Magic. Defense. You see the numbers? They range anywhere from one to ten, though legendaries can go beyond. On your turn, you choose which stat will be compared.”
She placed two cards side by side, their stat lines gleaming under the infirmary lamps.
“Both players then reveal their hands, three cards each, and add up their chosen stat across all three.”
Lucien squinted at the numbers.
“So if I’ve got a monster with six Strength, another with three, and one with two, my total Strength is eleven?”
“Correct,” she said.
“And if you had, say, five, four, and three, your Strength total would be twelve, and you’d win that round?”
“Exactly.”
He nodded slowly.
“Alright. Makes sense so far.”
Vivien’s tone sharpened with pride, almost as if she were daring him to underestimate the game.
“It’s not so simple. The first player to win three rounds wins the match. However, if your hand is weak, you may discard one card and draw a replacement. But you can only do this twice in the entire game. And if you do…”
She lifted one finger, her eyes narrowing with emphasis.
“You forfeit the right to choose the stat next turn. That privilege passes to your opponent.”
Lucien tilted his head.
“So swapping is possible, but it leaves you at a disadvantage. Got it.”
Vivien continued, warming to her lecture despite herself.
“There’s also the Bluff Token. Each player has one. If you declare a stat, you may peek at your opponent’s hand before committing. Then you may either hold your choice or switch to another stat. But-” she pressed a finger to the blanket for emphasis, “-if you use your token and still lose, your opponent takes it from you. Do not squander it.”
Lucien rubbed his chin.
“So… poker with monsters and a built-in trapdoor. Interesting.”
Vivien blinked at the alien word.
“Poker?”
“Never mind,” he said quickly.
“Please, continue.”
Vivien leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“Rare legendary cards can bend the rules. They are uncommon, but should you draw one, they can halve an opponent’s score, nullify a stat entirely, or grant you a fourth card. Their powers vary by the deck, but their influence is decisive. If you have one, it can turn the tide of a losing game.”
Lucien let out a slow whistle.
“Alright. Alright. I think I get it. Call a stat, play your hand, win rounds. A bit of swapping and bluffing if necessary. Legendary cards can screw over your opponent.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“…Crass, but accurate.”
Lucien leaned back, cradling his injured shoulder and giving her a lopsided smirk.
“I’m a quick learner.”
Vivien gave him a flat look.
“We’ll see.”
He arched a brow.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” she said, deliberately crisp, “that men like you talk big, only to falter when faced with something outside your narrow expertise. You’re going to chicken out, aren’t you?”
That hit him square in the pride.
Lucien felt his teeth grind before he forced them apart.
“Chicken out? You think I’m going to back down over a card game?”
She gave him a pitying smile.
“I think you’re about to make excuses.”
Lucien exhaled slowly, then slapped the deck against his thigh with his good hand before handing it back to Vivien.
“Shuffle them.”
Vivien blinked, momentarily thrown by the sheer stubbornness in his tone.
“I said shuffle,” Lucien repeated, his smirk twitching at the corner.
“I may not know the rules perfectly, but I’ll figure it out as I go. Don’t expect me to fold just because this isn’t my usual arena.”
Her lips curved into a tiny, dangerous smile.
She took the deck back, her fingers moving with practiced elegance as she shuffled the cards with soft, snapping sounds.
“Fine. You want to play? Then play. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Lucien’s eyes gleamed, pride and defiance coiled tight in his chest.
“Lady Vivien, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
