III. Rumors in the Wind (Chapter One)
“...'scuse me.”
You and Burt rush through the dusty streets of Amalhasu, looking for the same alley where Zul’grasi previously held his pop-up shop.
“Excuse me,”
Burt says, more as an impatient warning than a polite apology. But the other whiskers don't seem to hear him anyway, making it difficult to navigate.
“How can the streets be so busy this early in the morning?”
You and Burt meander through the puzzling city streets and alleys, searching until, finally, you stumble upon Zul’grasi. Burt, hardly containing his excitement, sprints toward the merchant, frightening him and causing him to draw his blade.
“Not another step, foreigner!”
Zul’grasi says, through gritted teeth. His blade slowly rotates as if he imagines cutting Burt to pieces.
Burt backs up and digs into his pack.
“We found the Highland coffee, sir!” He rummages for a few moments until he reveals the coffee beans. Zul’grasi raises an eyebrow and looks around the alley, perhaps worried that someone is watching. “Now, can I please have the Atlas back?” Burt asks as he holds out the beans in his palm.
“Hmm.” Zul’grasi puts his hand to his lower chin and thinks. “You can have the map…” Burt jumps toward the atlas, ready to snag it from its display. Zul’grasi quickly throws his sword in front of Burt, stopping him. “...if you pay for it.”
“That’s not fair! You told us we could have it if we got you these stupid beans!” Burt yells with a clenched fist.
You stand tall beside Burt, ready to rumble with this merchant if necessary.
Zul’grasi puts his finger to his mouth, motioning for you to be quiet.
“Seriously? Beans! Beans! Coffee Beans!” Burt continues to yell. Other whiskers are beginning to notice the confrontation and casually watch to see if a fight is going to break out.
“Lower your voice,” Zul’grasi mutters. “I will hold the map for you. No one else will be able to buy it other than you. I sell artifacts; I don’t give anything away. You must buy it for 14 gold." Zul’grasi somehow looks both you and Burt in the eye.
“We don’t have… argh.” Burt's frustration is palpable.
You nudge Burt and convince him that if he wins the tournament, he will have plenty of gold to buy the atlas back. Now he has more of a reason to win.
Burt looks back to the merchant, saying, “Fine, I will be back after the tournament, and you better still have it.” He points a finger at Zul’grasi.
You and Burt walk away through the busy streets. With the tournament starting a shade past midday, you have plenty of time to waste in Amalhasu. Already feeling defeated, you and Burt walk back to Quatal’s home.
You knock on Quatal’s door a couple of times, but there's no answer.
“Of course! He’s the one who led us to Zul’gumbi and then on this wild goose chase for beans!” Burt shouts in disappointment. “This whole experience is ruined.”
You quickly remind Burt that Quatal offered you both a place to stay before you had journeyed through the Crimson Sands.
“He’s probably laughing at us right now!” Burt says.
“Who’s laughing at you?” A voice says from behind. It’s Quatal. “Let me open this up, and we can get inside.” He motions for Burt to step aside so he can unlock his door. “It’s much safer to lock your home here,” he whispers as he uses a spell to unlock the wooden door.
You all step into the comfortable abode, away from the sun, the busy streets, and the noise. You throw your bag to the ground and immediately lay on the pillows placed along the ground.
“Rough journey?” Quatal asks.
“What do you think?” Burt says, rolling his eyes. “That desert is a mind killer.”
“It’s a dangerous place,” Quatal says as he prepares some tea and snacks for his guests. “Did you get the atlas back?”
“No! Zul’grimace said we had to pay him 14 gold for it! However, he said as long as we gave him the beans, he would hold it for us until we win the tournament,” Burt says, running out of breath. Burt’s exhaustion from the desert is catching up with him.
Quatal hands you and Burt a cup of tea and a plate of cookies. You thank him while Burt looks at it suspiciously. You stare at Burt to get him to eat and drink so he will calm down.
“You can buy it back if you win?” Quatal says, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Burt says.
“You sound confident, Burt,” Quatal says with a smile.
You roll your eyes. Burt is the most confident person you’ve ever met, sometimes egregiously so.
“Burt, Adventurer, I’ve enjoyed your company. However, I want you to know that I’m going to win that tournament. I won’t hold back. It’s nothing against you, Burt. I’m just competitive,” Quatal says as he takes a sip of his tea.
“Bring it on,” Burt says.
In an attempt to savor the hospitality, you ask Quatal when he started playing Last Fish. Burt is busy pulling his deck out and shuffling through some of the cards at the table.
“I started when I was 12 years old. I still remember the first match I played. I got beat so badly that I never wanted to play again. I lost most of the money I had that day,” Quatal says, looking down at his empty tea cup. “When did you start, Burt?”
“About the same age. I won my first match though, and from then on, it was all I thought about,” Burt says without looking up.
“I remember my first win too. It was the first time I'd had a real meal in years. The winnings helped me put some clothes on my back.” Quatal smiles slightly, as if he remembers a dream he had.
“What do you mean?” Burt asks, sitting up to be a part of the conversation.
“I’m an orphan. I didn’t grow up with anything but the streets. I had no other choice but to win.” Quatal’s eyes gloss over as you walk over to show support.
“I didn’t know my parents either,” Burt whispers. “I spent most of my life stealing and playing cards to keep a roof over my head. I know what it’s like, Quatal. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Look where we are now!” Quatal raises his arms, gesturing about his home. “So, when it comes to winning later today, it won't be a matter of how much gold or what artifact I win. It’s a reminder of what keeps me from going back to the life I once had.”
“Quatal,” Burt says, looking up at him.
“Yes?” Quatal calmly meets his gaze.
“Thank you,” Burt says as he walks over to the pillows. “I’m going to rest for a moment before the tournament.”
“Me too,” Quatal says.
You shout at Burt, shaking him to wake up.
“You cheat…I win…wha… what?” Burt mutters while slowly opening his eyes.
You motion to him that it’s time to go to the Shuffle and that Quatal has already left.
“That little scumbag was going to let me sleep through the tournament!” Burt pops up from the pillows. “Come on, let’s get going.”
You and Burt rush outside to an even busier street than before. It's clear that the Shuffle draws an audience of epic proportions. Groups of whiskers are already chanting for their favorite players while others are placing bets on who will win the tournament. Still a block away from the arena, lines of spectators wait to gain entrance to the arena. From the look of it, it is a round sandstone structure that doesn't seem to be all that large from the outside. You and Burt finally meet an officiator who leads you in through the backdoor where the contestants enter. Finally, walking over the threshold, you realize that the arena is built into the ground. The circular building has layered seating all around the top for the spectators, with two lower tiers for the players. Everyone would be able to watch. The crowd continues to roar as the contestants fill the arena.
“This is what I’m talking about!” Burt jumps up and down in excitement while clapping his hands.
You feel sick to your stomach. The Shuffle is a bigger event than you had anticipated. There are tables set up all around the perimeter of the lower arena, with players from all corners of The Great Pond awaiting their call. You scan the surly faces, but you don't see Quatal. On the floor, in the very center of the arena, a bracket was drawn for everyone to see. Burt’s name is at the top right hand side with his first competitor, Briman. At the top left side of the bracket, Quatal is to have his first match with Alexander.
You give Burt’s shoulders a fierce rub to loosen him up, but he doesn't need it; he is itching to get playing. After wondering for a moment, you realize it is you that needs a rubdown. Burt walks to his table marked with his name tag, "Bert."
“Bert?” Burt shouts. “I bet Allard purposely did that. Ugh!” Burt angrily takes a seat. He pulls out a marker and scribbles "Big Moves" in front of his misspelled name and laughs maniacally.
You look around the arena and find Quatal’s table, but he’s nowhere to be found.
DONG! A giant bell rings so loud it hurts your ears. At the precipice of the arena, a female whisker walks forth and the crowd goes silent.
“Whiskers of The Great Pond, welcome to The Shuffle!”