Source & Soul: A Deckbuilding LitRPG

“I do believe that went as badly as it possibly could have.”

Ossun had only just closed the door to the private meeting suite behind me when those words passed my mother’s lips. The cozy retreat was furnished with an intricately carved, round wooden table and substantially built chairs to match, each with thick legs that ended in clawed feet – smaller versions of the table legs. The room was still close enough to the gala proper to hear the music and conversation, but muted, due to the curvature of the side hallway that connected the two spaces and then even more so when Ossun drew heavy curtains over the door.

A few candles in sconces were already lit, giving the suite a pleasant glow, but Ossun, ever the vigilant butler, moved efficiently from one task to the next, using a single fire Source that he had compressed down to the width of a coin to ignite more of them. The added light revealed some bookshelves in the back, which housed tomes on the history of dance and music, neither of which I was particularly drawn to. To the right of them there was a small station for concocting drinks, with bottles of amber liquid that ranged in hue from pale yellow to dark mahogany, while others were clear or had a tint of blue. Like the lighting, the station had been recently supplied, with some citrus fruit ready to be cut and various fresh herbs carefully arranged next to a mortar and pestle.

My two brothers were taking up seats at the table, but I didn’t join them, watching as my mother circled the room. She had the bridge of her nose pinched between her fingers and seemed to be talking as much to herself as to us. “And in front of the queen no less.” She sighed, releasing her nose. “I suppose the one grace of Fate was that my mother wasn’t summoned to see it.”

“I could retrieve her from the vault if you wish,” Gale offered. He popped some nuts into his mouth, managing to keep a cheeky grin on his face despite the chewing.

My mother leveled an unamused look at him. “You’ve done more than enough already. First, agreeing to this foolhardy duel and then managing to lose it. Not only did you ruin the most powerful union Treledyne would have seen in a generation, but now people are surely questioning the quality of your Epic soul. Finding you a proper match will be even more of a challenge than it was before.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage,” Gale replied. He was still smiling, but I could tell the spark of mischief had left his eyes.

“This is what happens when you try to solve matters with duels,” Randel said. He was already in his own little world, a few source out, as well as some sculpting tools summoned from cards no doubt, and a lump of clay wrapped in wax paper he must have been keeping in his pocket. He kept talking as he wet the beige block with one of his water sources to make it more pliable. “It’s a very reductionist ‘might makes right’ mentality. Practically barbaric to a modern way of thinking.”

“Some of us had little choice in the matter,” I said, finally speaking up. I had opted to rest on a high stool near the door, not feeling particularly close to my family at the moment. “When you’re backed into a corner, you do what you can to survive.” Had I really just said that? I was starting to sound like Hull.

“Truly?” Randel said. He looked up at me while he kneaded his clay, making an absolute mess on the table. The servants would probably need to work for hours to get the mud out of the carved grooves. “My money was on you two eloping, but it seems your generation has no penchant for adventure. Shame, really.”

First my parents, then Gale, and now Randel was questioning my decisions? I was glad I had chosen to sit where I was. “Esmi cares deeply for her father,” I explained, a smolder of heat beneath the words. “They have a close relationship, one built on respect.”

“I thought those only existed in the stories,” Gale said, his humor seeming to have returned.

“Stop,” my mother commanded, holding a hand up. “You three only succeed in making my headaches worse when you behave like this.” She finally seated herself and began fishing through her deck while mumbling to herself. “I cannot believe your father is gone, today of all days. What matter is it if there are more break-ins and burnings in the proper neighborhoods than usual? More cases of the flux? The future of our very house, his house, is in the balance; that should be the tipping point. If I hadn’t seen the reports, I’d swear he drummed the whole thing up on purpose.”

My brothers and I shared a look. When our mother got into a pique, it was usually wise to give her space and time. However, being the cause of that pique, I didn’t particularly mind seeing her stew. Would have preferred me sold off to Deepkin, would she? I found myself wondering why I had bothered to follow them here in the first place, but the answer wasn’t difficult to locate: out of habit, no doubt. That, and if I was being honest with myself, I wanted to hear them apologize to me, to admit that I had been in the right about Esmi. I wanted to see them excited for my wedding day to come, and to congratulate me on our achievement. Esmi and I had just won two incredibly challenging duels in front of some of the most influential people in Treledyne! Yet, with the way my family was acting, it seemed highly unlikely that my hopes for them would be met tonight. I told myself that I would give it another quarter of an hour at most, and if I hadn’t made any headway by then, I’d see myself out.

While we waited in near silence – Gale crunching, Randel smoothing, and my mother drawing one card after the next with mounting frustration – I thought on what she had just said about the incidence of crime. It was possible, likely even, that Hull’s actions in the Lows had pushed some of the less-desirables into the neighboring districts. That would mean my father and his guard were now having to deal with a criminal element that they had previously been banned from tackling, which I could see being a complicated endeavor. My time in War Camp combined with my self-imposed distancing from my parents had left me out of the loop of such news I would have normally heard at the dinner table.

“Fortune curse you for making me wait so long,” my mother exclaimed – something she would have never said in mixed company. The card she held up in her hand stayed there only briefly before being summoned by the source she had focused.

The Soul took no time to orient himself, looking perfectly at ease in his well-tailored suit, gray hair swept back and beard neatly trimmed.

“Madam,” he greeted my mother in a polished baritone, giving her a half bow. “The usual?”

My seat of choice afforded me a vantage of the entire room and all its occupants, so I caught Ossun thinning his lips. He was a man of few words, but having spent my whole life around him, I knew him to be a staunch traditionalist, believing that important jobs – which, of course, included the intimate roles of butlering and serving – should be handled by the living, not cards.

“A triple,” my mother said, gesturing the bartender away.

The Soul hesitated only a hair’s-breadth before giving a nod of assent, plucking the Order and Water source above my mother out of the air and taking them over to the drink station. He laid the orbs aside, gathering a fresh crystal glass and unstoppering two of the amber liquids.

“Some Air in mine, if you would,” Gale said. He lobbed the one source he had summoned to the Soul, the crab apple-sized globe of wind sailing across the distance in a lazy arc.

The bartender caught it neatly out of the air and placed it beside the Order. “Of course, young master.”

I swallowed uncomfortably. I had tried that particular mixture once, but the bubbles the Air created burned my throat, so I never ordered it again, not even when I had Air of my own to use for the making.

“Some shaved Order in mine,” Randel said without looking up, “in gin, muddled with mint.”

“Very good,” the bartender replied, plucking up tools and additional glassware for the new requests.

The minutes ticked by as the soul worked, first twisting the Water source to get a splash of vibrant turquoise liquid from it. Next, with a grater, he rubbed the pearlescent Order orb against the instrument, scraping off a glittering dust, followed by the pestle for the mint, the grinding of stone sometimes striking stone louder than anything we were doing. Personally, I found the waiting excruciating, likely because I could feel the vibration of people dancing through the soles of my booted feet – gala-goers out there celebrating the result of the duels, while in here the mood was anything but.

“Mother –” I started, finally losing my patience, but she held up a sharp hand. I might have ignored the command, but the bartender swept over, handing her a glass with her Order source floating in the very center of the golden liquid.

She immediately tipped it back, wasting no time now that it was in her hands. “Ah…” she said, and it was like all her muscles loosened. She took another small sip, eyes closed in delight and then finally turned to me. “Now that you’re talking to me again, Basil, what is it you wish to say?”

Despite my annoyance, I kept myself as calm as I could, knowing from experience that a measured, well reasoned approach would have the best chance of reaching her. “I had hoped today’s display would convince you of the appropriateness of our marriage. From your earlier comment, however, I take it that you do not agree?”

My mother considered me a moment before speaking. “You may not realize this, but Esmi’s Soul is already high Rare, on the edge of advancing to Epic. In fact, after her display tonight, she may be on the cusp of elevation.”

At this news, Randel paused briefly in his carving – was that a juggler he was working on? – but then went back to his work as if we were discussing nothing more than how many guests would be joining us for dinner.

This was no surprise to me, not after Gale’s confession, but I also had no wish to implicate him. So, I simply blinked and said, “I suspected as much.”

My mother gave a small nod, as if she were willing to grant me that precise amount of respect for being observant. “And you also realize that there are only four Epics in the entirety of Treledyne. The Queen, the Prince, the Grand Marshal, and,” – she gestured at Gale – “your brother.”

I didn’t bother mentioning that there had been another Epic, Ticosi, but that Hull and I had brought him down. It did, however, make me wonder if there were any others like him, who had chosen to hide the state of their soul from the assessors. If there was one, surely there must be more in a city of this size.

Those things aside, I disliked how my mother was reviewing such basic information with me; it felt like she was treating me like a child.

“Your point?” I said, feeling my calm slip.

“My point is that power seeks power. What if the Prince decided that he wished for Esmi’s hand? Your brother could stand against him – or so I thought,” she added, shooting a barb his way.

Gale didn’t take the bait, tipping an imaginary hat in her direction and taking a large swallow of the fizzy drink the bartender had just given him.

“I have bested Gerad,” I said, sitting tall.

She raised an eyebrow, skeptically. “Unaided?”

I hesitated. “Not in that particular case –”

“I thought not,” she continued. “A union of Epics will be the talk of the city for years, if not decades. They will be raised to positions of the highest importance, used by the crown for war, political influence, and the rallying of the masses. All of these things your brother has already trained for, while you are suited for precisely none of them. Do you really see yourself leading armies, manipulating your fellow nobility with a well placed word or promise, commanding the attention of thousands to sway their minds? You have lived most of your life in a library and struggle to say more than a sentence or two to your own family at mealtime, let alone strangers.”

Considering those were all things I had decided I did want to do, her saying I had no talent for them was like a slap. I could have countered that the last state of affairs she was referring to was due to Gale or her doing all the talking and leaving no room for others, just as she was doing now.

“Here you are, young master,” a rich baritone said beside me. I was surprised to see it was the bartender, and having ordered no drink, I looked at him in confusion. “A bit of leftover,” he explained, moving the cup a touch closer. It was true that the vessel was much smaller than what he had served the rest of my family, just a shot of liquid really, but I also knew the man was much too skilled to make such an error. One did not become Rare by chance, after all; this man had seen what he believed to be a need and acted to fill it.

“Thank you,” I said, deciding to take the tiny glass from him. I then went ahead and had a sip, not minding that I was keeping my mother waiting after she had done the same to me. The beverage possessed a floral flavor, with a touch of vanilla and mint underneath making it some of Randel’s drink. All in all, it was delightful, and not just because of the pleasant taste on my tongue. Swallowing it and letting it run its course through my body relaxed my shoulders, and somehow, made my priorities in this conversation easier to discern.

“You seem to have forgotten that I placed top three in the Rising Stars Tournament,” I said. “I’m also now attending War Camp, where I am succeeding, I might add, because of that achievement.”

My mother waved my accomplishments away as if they were of no consequence, and I finished the drink instead of reacting, only to find that I wished I had more.

“Tournaments and training are not war,” she said. “Your brother has not only survived dozens of skirmishes and two demon rifts now, but has been recognized for his exemplary performance in nearly all instances. If I found out you were going within a mile of a rift, I would ride my Sea Titan there with you for fear of you taking harm.”

Despite the soothing effects of the drink, I colored in embarrassment at the thought of her doing such a thing and promptly knew what I must say in response. “If you feel that way, you should know that I have also survived a non-duel battle. There was one in the Lows not long ago that I participated in, an uprising of miscreants and harm-doers who needed to be put down, and we successfully managed to do so.”

My mother’s nostrils flared as she slammed her glass onto the table – the liquid portion of the drink would have spilled over if there had been any of it left. “You did no such thing.”

“I did,” I repeated, jaw firm now. “By the Twins I swear it.” At this, Gale guffawed, giving a little clap. “To your other worry,” I said. “I have been in contact with Throice of the Artisan’s Guild, who you may have noticed is in attendance tonight with his family. I have already made an agreement with them to trade War Camp merits Esmi and I have been saving for purchase of Healing Potion cards for distribution in the Lows. I also plan to use the Metal Golems I have from them to help with new construction. I’ve told them that if these efforts are successful, that it would help convince you to back their bid as a new noble house, as I know you have run charity drives in the past with similar aims.“ My mother’s eyes watched me closely, but I couldn’t quite tell what she was thinking, so I pressed on, crossing my arms before I lost my momentum or gall. “However, if what you say about Esmi’s eventual influence is true, mayhaps a word from her to the Queen or King on the matter would carry more weight than one from you and father.”

Perhaps the last barb had been unnecessary… or perhaps it was exactly what was needed to change her perception of me. Unsurprisingly, my mother drew herself up, and I readied myself to be yelled at. However, at the height of her in-drawn breath, her features softened. “Fighting in the Lows? Dueling your own brother? Disobeying your father and me?” She sounded almost… forlorn. “This is not you, Basil, nor the life you were meant for. You fit well in libraries, in quiet places. I know you strive to be like your brothers, Gale especially, but the world already has one of him and it needs one of you.” – Are those tears in her eyes? – “As do I. You are my sweet little bookworm.”

“Mother, please,” I said, squirming. This was not the reaction I had expected from her. I wasn’t sure if it was brought on by the extreme circumstances of the evening, or her downing an entire ‘triple’ drink that quickly, or some combination of the two. As for my brothers, they weren’t outright snickering, but their looks spoke volumes, and I knew I wouldn’t hear the end of this for years to come, if ever.

Despite my plea, my mother kept right on going. “Equality is a must in a relationship. I’ve seen too many falter and fail due to an imbalance, and the two of you couldn’t be more out of balance. Gale though: he has the right temperament to handle a girl like that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, mother,” Gale said, motioning for a refill for himself from the bartender, as well as one for our mother; he was clearly loving this show. “I enjoy passion in my women, but too much can be exhausting.”

“Which only proves my point,” she said with a seriousness that practically made her seem sober. “That Haraine girl is too hot-headed, too unstable, the exact traits that the King moved our ancestors away from Charbond to escape.”

“You were the one who approved the match from the start!” I sputtered, disbelieving that my mother would try this tack of arguing.

“They approached us, and your father was the one who was keen for the match. As soon as I saw what she was really like in the tournament, I proposed the switch, if you recall. It was better for everyone involved.”

That revelation hit me square in the chest. This really was all my mother’s doing. Could that be the real reason my father wasn’t here? To show that he disagreed with the situation?

“The same holds true for that vagabond you’ve been consorting with from the Lows,” my mother continued, seemingly unaware of my thoughts. “They’re both getting you in trouble already, as you yourself have confessed, and the danger to your status and your personage will only grow worse, mark me. Cut ties with both of them, and I’ll speak with the queen and Esmi’s father. I can see this sorted before it is too late.”

Each of her words cut me despite how earnestly she looked like she wanted to help. “Mother, I will do no such thing. Hull is my friend, and I love Esmi. Yes, she can be hot-headed, I’m seeing that now,” I admitted. Esmi had said that she was going to start expressing her true self more, and while I had felt and responded to the ardor of her claiming me, I still hadn’t sorted through all the other emotions it had caused to bubble up. Not that I dared say so; I wasn’t going to give my mother any fresh wood for the kindling. “You must know she is not always like that. At most times, and especially in private, she is kind and considerate. Tonight she was just… emotional, as you are now.”

“This is your first relationship,” my mother said matter-of-factly. “How would you know the difference between who you think she is and who she really is?”

Gale chuckled, spinning the liquid that remained of his second drink. “Perused the field a bit before deciding to settle on father, did you?”

“I don’t claim to have your amount of expertise,” our mother said, taking a sip of her fresh glass, going much slower with this one than she had the first, “but yes, I experienced love and companionship before your father. Such foreknowledge has let me better appreciate what we have together. I can only hope that the same will hold true for you.”

Gale snorted, while Randel added offhandedly, “I suppose that explains why your Order is only as high as mine. Though how this Esmi has five Order when she behaves like that in public is beyond me.”

“Did you hear her at the end?” my mother asked my brothers, behaving like the sort of court gossip she usually disdained. “She practically called Basil property. ‘Mine,’ she said.” My mother shook her head, showing what she thought of that. “I’d almost rather see him with the Deepkin.”

My jaw tightened. This other, more open version of my mother was no better than the last; it still failed to see me.

“Enough!” I said, standing. “I will not sit here while you malign my fiancée, who fought for me, and I for her. Even the Queen has ratified our union-to-be and yet still you refuse to see it. If you will not listen to me nor your own rulers, then there is nothing more to be done, and through no fault of my own.”

My mother was a picture of stubborn defiance. “The Queen knows her son, not mine.”

“You know me no better,” I sighed, the flash of anger in me already dissipating. “That is the entire problem.”

She stiffened, and it was like I could see her walls go back up. “We are simply not going to agree on this, Basil.”

“So I can see,” I said. “In which case I think it’s time that I spent the remainder of my evening with those who are of a like mind.” I turned on the balls of my feet, and Ossun, bless the man, already had the curtain pulled aside, so I was able to exit smoothly, leaving my family behind.

The frivolity outside washed over me as soon as I was in the hallway – the air less stuffy, and my heart lighter with each step – and I happily went to join it.