Fic: Games Without Frontiers
Aug. 23rd, 2006 12:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalA little fanfic for Cheeko/MAS's contest that she's running for her webcomic One Question http://www.drunkduck.com/One_Question/
Note: One Question and related characters and situations is copyright “Cheeko/MAS” and used here without permission.
Orson sat hunched in a chair too small for his bulky frame, elbows resting on the rickety table as he stared over his cards at the inhuman woman who sat across from him. “It’s your move,” he grumbled. He could hear birds singing outside, but he didn’t bother to look out the barred window of the cell. They were free, but they were merely animals. He was most certainly not an animal, no matter that he was trapped in the same cage he had thrown this woman into two years ago.
“Do you have any threes?” the woman, Narini, asked. She was as slight as he was large, her skin gray, her hair stark white, bright blue eyes framed by orange triangular patches above and below, her ears pointed like a mythical elf’s. But Narini was no myth. She was quite real, as real as a Felcitus or some other half-human creature, and she was the only company he’d had for nearly a month now.
“Yes,” he answered reluctantly, and handed her a card.
She smiled, slapped the remainder of her hand down and declared, “I win again.”
“Bah!” Orson muttered. “This is a children’s pastime. Why can’t we play a card game that has some strategy involved?”
“I like it,” Narini said. “It’s simple and it clears the mind.”
“What’s wrong with poker?”
She began to gather up the cards that lay across the table. “Well, poker with only two players is rather pointless. Besides, its main strategy revolves around deceit, convincing your opponent that your hand is either stronger or weaker than it truly is. Go Fish is dependent on both sides being honest with each other or the whole thing falls apart. Now, whatever your other faults may be, you are a remarkably honest man, General.”
“Thank you,” Orson replied.
He watched as she finished gathering up the cards. With practiced, nimble fingers she shuffled the deck and and fanned it out across her open hands. “Another game?” she asked.
“No.”
She put the cards away into the pouch at her belt. “Ah, it’s to be another exciting round of Stare at the Walls again, is it?”
“Play your solitaire again, if you’re bored.”
She shuddered briefly, the most emotion beyond wry amusement that she’d ever bothered to show. “Thank you, no. I’ve played through every variation I can think of that uses only one deck and invented a few more besides. I should write them down in a book should I ever get out of here.”
“I’m sure it will sell well.” Orson stood up and sat on his bunk, intent on closing his eyes and imagining himself far, far away from his cell and the irritating woman he shared it with. “At least it would be a more honest occupation than your previous one.”
She quirked an eyebrow up at him. “What do you imagine I was doing then?”
“I didn’t imagine anything. You were playing the charlatan, taking honest folk’s money in exchange for worthless fairy tales. That’s why I had you arrested in the first place.”
“Oh? Oh! You mean my fortune-telling. That’s why you arrested me!. Rude of you. I never asked for money when I interpreted the cards.”
“You never refused it when offered, either.”
Narini shrugged and smiled. “I have to eat, General.”
“There are more honest ways than bringing false hopes to others. You were a disruptive influence on the community!”
She cocked her head. “You really believe that I lied to those whose fortunes I read?”
“I know you did. I’ve seen ‘entertainers’ like you work the crowds at the faires. It’s all vague statements and sweeping generalizations. Lay out the same hand to two different people and one could soon be drowning in gold while other is about to have his farm burned to the ground.”
“Unfair, General. My gift is quite real, and not a charlatan’s trick. I’ve always seen Truth in my cards, and spoken it to whomever I drew the hand for.”
Orson smiled thinly. “If that’s true, why didn’t you foresee yourself in this cell?”
Narini’s answering smile was razor sharp. “I did, I just couldn’t figure out how to avoid it. Mind, I’ll admit things have turned out better than I expected.”
He looked around at the gray stone walls. “This is better than you expected?”
“I’m fed twice a day, they change the honey bucket every morning and sweep out the rushes once a month. Now I’ve even got a cell mate, whom I’m happy to find isn’t going to violate and kill me as I first expected.”
Orson stiffened. “What?”
“Well, you are a soldier, and rapine and pillaging are traditional pastimes for your sort, aren’t they?”
He shot up from his bunk, looming over her. “You will take that back!”
“Pardon?”
“You will take that slander back! Or I swear I will...”
“...Hit me, like you did before?” Her cool, detached expression did not change.
Godsdemnit, she was baiting him. Orson took a deep, calming breath and unclenched his fists. “If you do not apologize for your statement, I will take your cards away.”
“Ah, that is a threat I shall take seriously.” She smiled up at him. “I apologize then. I’m surprised I struck a nerve so sharply. From what I know of soldiers I didn’t think my accusation was that baseless.”
“It isn’t,” he growled. Orson began to pace the length of the small cell, hands twisting, trying to shape the words in his head into something a civilian would understand. “But the fact that it happens makes it no less of a cancer upon the name of good soldiers. I have hung over fifty conscripts and officers for the crime in my years of service. I would hang a hundred times that many if it meant I could wipe the crime out.”
“Hence the warm greeting the guards gave you when they threw you into this cell,” Narini noted. “You aren’t a man who cares much for popularity, I think.”
“Bah! I wished to be obeyed. Discipline in the service comes from the top down. The moment a common soldier or lesser officer begins to see his commander as a comrade, not the one who gives him orders, the whole system falls apart!”
The gray skinned woman looked curious now. “Why is that so important?”
“Discipline is what makes a group of men into an army. Without it, they’re just a band of murderers and thieves who share a common uniform.” He bounced off one wall and then the other as he paced, thoughts flowing out of him. “That is what an army needs to be, an instrument to do the necessary evils to protect its nation and no more. To be commanded by officers smart enough to see the job is done and then say ‘Stop! That is enough!’ and have the will to see their orders obeyed.”
Narini’s jaw dropped open and her expression became bright. “My dear General, I believe you’re an idealist.”
“Bah!” He stopped pacing, staring at her. “Ideals are for fools and priests. I deal with the real world.”
“As do I,” she said. “Which doesn’t stop me from trying to shape it into something better.”
“Bah!”
The End
Note: One Question and related characters and situations is copyright “Cheeko/MAS” and used here without permission.
Orson sat hunched in a chair too small for his bulky frame, elbows resting on the rickety table as he stared over his cards at the inhuman woman who sat across from him. “It’s your move,” he grumbled. He could hear birds singing outside, but he didn’t bother to look out the barred window of the cell. They were free, but they were merely animals. He was most certainly not an animal, no matter that he was trapped in the same cage he had thrown this woman into two years ago.
“Do you have any threes?” the woman, Narini, asked. She was as slight as he was large, her skin gray, her hair stark white, bright blue eyes framed by orange triangular patches above and below, her ears pointed like a mythical elf’s. But Narini was no myth. She was quite real, as real as a Felcitus or some other half-human creature, and she was the only company he’d had for nearly a month now.
“Yes,” he answered reluctantly, and handed her a card.
She smiled, slapped the remainder of her hand down and declared, “I win again.”
“Bah!” Orson muttered. “This is a children’s pastime. Why can’t we play a card game that has some strategy involved?”
“I like it,” Narini said. “It’s simple and it clears the mind.”
“What’s wrong with poker?”
She began to gather up the cards that lay across the table. “Well, poker with only two players is rather pointless. Besides, its main strategy revolves around deceit, convincing your opponent that your hand is either stronger or weaker than it truly is. Go Fish is dependent on both sides being honest with each other or the whole thing falls apart. Now, whatever your other faults may be, you are a remarkably honest man, General.”
“Thank you,” Orson replied.
He watched as she finished gathering up the cards. With practiced, nimble fingers she shuffled the deck and and fanned it out across her open hands. “Another game?” she asked.
“No.”
She put the cards away into the pouch at her belt. “Ah, it’s to be another exciting round of Stare at the Walls again, is it?”
“Play your solitaire again, if you’re bored.”
She shuddered briefly, the most emotion beyond wry amusement that she’d ever bothered to show. “Thank you, no. I’ve played through every variation I can think of that uses only one deck and invented a few more besides. I should write them down in a book should I ever get out of here.”
“I’m sure it will sell well.” Orson stood up and sat on his bunk, intent on closing his eyes and imagining himself far, far away from his cell and the irritating woman he shared it with. “At least it would be a more honest occupation than your previous one.”
She quirked an eyebrow up at him. “What do you imagine I was doing then?”
“I didn’t imagine anything. You were playing the charlatan, taking honest folk’s money in exchange for worthless fairy tales. That’s why I had you arrested in the first place.”
“Oh? Oh! You mean my fortune-telling. That’s why you arrested me!. Rude of you. I never asked for money when I interpreted the cards.”
“You never refused it when offered, either.”
Narini shrugged and smiled. “I have to eat, General.”
“There are more honest ways than bringing false hopes to others. You were a disruptive influence on the community!”
She cocked her head. “You really believe that I lied to those whose fortunes I read?”
“I know you did. I’ve seen ‘entertainers’ like you work the crowds at the faires. It’s all vague statements and sweeping generalizations. Lay out the same hand to two different people and one could soon be drowning in gold while other is about to have his farm burned to the ground.”
“Unfair, General. My gift is quite real, and not a charlatan’s trick. I’ve always seen Truth in my cards, and spoken it to whomever I drew the hand for.”
Orson smiled thinly. “If that’s true, why didn’t you foresee yourself in this cell?”
Narini’s answering smile was razor sharp. “I did, I just couldn’t figure out how to avoid it. Mind, I’ll admit things have turned out better than I expected.”
He looked around at the gray stone walls. “This is better than you expected?”
“I’m fed twice a day, they change the honey bucket every morning and sweep out the rushes once a month. Now I’ve even got a cell mate, whom I’m happy to find isn’t going to violate and kill me as I first expected.”
Orson stiffened. “What?”
“Well, you are a soldier, and rapine and pillaging are traditional pastimes for your sort, aren’t they?”
He shot up from his bunk, looming over her. “You will take that back!”
“Pardon?”
“You will take that slander back! Or I swear I will...”
“...Hit me, like you did before?” Her cool, detached expression did not change.
Godsdemnit, she was baiting him. Orson took a deep, calming breath and unclenched his fists. “If you do not apologize for your statement, I will take your cards away.”
“Ah, that is a threat I shall take seriously.” She smiled up at him. “I apologize then. I’m surprised I struck a nerve so sharply. From what I know of soldiers I didn’t think my accusation was that baseless.”
“It isn’t,” he growled. Orson began to pace the length of the small cell, hands twisting, trying to shape the words in his head into something a civilian would understand. “But the fact that it happens makes it no less of a cancer upon the name of good soldiers. I have hung over fifty conscripts and officers for the crime in my years of service. I would hang a hundred times that many if it meant I could wipe the crime out.”
“Hence the warm greeting the guards gave you when they threw you into this cell,” Narini noted. “You aren’t a man who cares much for popularity, I think.”
“Bah! I wished to be obeyed. Discipline in the service comes from the top down. The moment a common soldier or lesser officer begins to see his commander as a comrade, not the one who gives him orders, the whole system falls apart!”
The gray skinned woman looked curious now. “Why is that so important?”
“Discipline is what makes a group of men into an army. Without it, they’re just a band of murderers and thieves who share a common uniform.” He bounced off one wall and then the other as he paced, thoughts flowing out of him. “That is what an army needs to be, an instrument to do the necessary evils to protect its nation and no more. To be commanded by officers smart enough to see the job is done and then say ‘Stop! That is enough!’ and have the will to see their orders obeyed.”
Narini’s jaw dropped open and her expression became bright. “My dear General, I believe you’re an idealist.”
“Bah!” He stopped pacing, staring at her. “Ideals are for fools and priests. I deal with the real world.”
“As do I,” she said. “Which doesn’t stop me from trying to shape it into something better.”
“Bah!”
The End
