“A wager?” Vivi asked. “That’s a bit concerning, given what your disciple pulled earlier.”
“Ah, yes, that.” Xun puffed his chest out in pride. “Every father dreams of seeing their child come into their own. I was almost starting to think she didn’t have it in her anymore.”
Vivi's tone went flat as she said, “I’m not saying I condemn her for her actions, but I really don’t think you should be glowing about it, either.”
“A sword is rigid. The one who guides it must be flexible. She found the only path to victory and had the good sense to walk it. Why wouldn’t her father and master be proud?”
Vivi refused to entertain the line of logic. He knew exactly what most people would criticize. “What’s the wager?” she asked instead.
“The winner of each game gets a question,” Xun answered. “We both have secrets, so there’s no requirement to answer, but we’ll think a little harder about whether we must turn it down.”
Vivi pursed her lips. It didn’t take a genius to know Xun was curious about something in particular, but he had also outright stated that they could refuse anything too sensitive, so she guessed it wasn’t that big of a deal.
The second thought she had, she couldn’t help but voice aloud. “A wager gives something both sides want. I’ve already told you you’re troublesome—I don’t want to dig up your secrets. I’m not interested.”
The response looked like it wounded the old man’s ego. He covered it well, but she still felt a little bad; she’d spoken automatically, and maybe too bluntly.
The thing was, when he had attacked her unprompted in their first meeting, he had attempted an apology of ‘ask me any question and I’ll answer’ too—assuming it a tantalizing offer since she must be fascinated by the mysterious high-Titled.
And now he was making the same assumption.
But I guess there are a few things I’m curious about, by now, Vivi thought.
As much to not smother the mood as for any other reason, she said, “But sure, fine: it’s a wager. Though I did say I’ve never played, so I think I’m at a disadvantage.”
“Which I accounted for,” Xun said brightly. “I called myself a wandering vagrant, not a wandering scoundrel. That’s my daughter’s wording. I’m a gentleman in the ways that matter.”
She almost rolled her eyes. “You’ll need to explain the rules.”
He did so. Vivi already possessed a vague understanding simply because it was such a prominent game back home, and the details weren’t complicated on top of that. Xun didn’t need to spend long talking.
Armed with the basics, she studied the table.
Isn’t it… too straightforward? You get another shot with every ball you sink. Games like this were designed for normal people. Her coordination was absurd.
Is there even a challenge here?
When she couldn’t find a counterargument, she voiced the idea out loud: “It seems too easy for us.”
Xun laughed. “Why do you think I picked it? I said I accounted for your ‘disadvantage.’ This way, we each get questions.” A small smirk. “And yes, if you don’t win in one round, it’d be rather embarrassing.”
Vivi felt oddly pressured at that, even though she was certain the game would be trivial, given her stats.
“And I have to admit it’s especially interesting,” Xun said. “I’ve never seen someone of… our standing… play for the first time. I wonder if your dexterity can close the gap. Muscle memory does still matter. Here, I’ll break for you.”
Without ceremony, he bent over the table, positioned his cue, and smacked the white one into the other twelve balls. The colorful orbs went bouncing around, none falling into the pockets lining the perimeter. He scooped up the other cue and offered it to her with a beaming smile.
“Good luck,” he told her.
She pursed her lips and accepted the stick, having barely heard the encouragement. I’m actually pretty fascinated myself, at this point, she thought. Her eyes roamed across the green surface, taking note of all the balls’ positioning.
Her precision was exceptional—there was no doubt about that. She could make her body do whatever she wanted. If she desired her sword to target a specific point, it slashed there every time, down to a hair’s breadth, and she obviously had no prior muscle memory for the task.
But did that capability extend to calculating trajectories for how objects would ricochet off each other? It was essentially the same thing as throwing a projectile or even shooting an arrow, which she knew dexterity improved.
As she focused her attention downward and really considered the problem, the numbers started to crunch themselves. It wasn’t so direct as her being able to see the paths highlighted like an overlay, but she could feel it. Bone-deep, she knew that if she shoved the cue forward in that direction, it would hit there, then bounce off the wall and into another ball—and she could feel where that one would go too, and the next, and the next.
The trickier part is the strategy, she realized. Finding the best options.
Her dexterity didn’t magically calculate the optimal way to clear the board; it only told her whether she could perform a shot or not. Some of them would be outrageous too, her instincts assuring her of five, six, or seven bounces to get what she needed.
Several minutes passed as she walked around, tilting her head this way and that while she analyzed dozens of routes to victory. She noticed she’d gotten absorbed and came back to the real world with a twitch. A glance sideways showed an amused Xun waiting patiently.
It’s still just a game. Don’t spend all evening on it.
She discovered shortly that her instincts were correct: her first shot sank three balls, the cue ball and others following their paths precisely as her mind’s eye had promised. She couldn’t help but get a little jolt of satisfaction from watching the sequence play out.
She circled the table, identified the next most promising path in the arrangement, and took her second shot. Three more balls disappeared into their intended destinations.
Okay, magic is always going to be the winner, but the physical stuff is pretty neat too.
Having completely forgotten about Xun at that point, she finished the game off, straightening afterward and nodding in contentment. Then she remembered she had a partner and turned to look at him.
Xun wasn’t gawking, but he was staring at the billiards table. His gaze moved to her, lingered, and then he burst out laughing.
“Guess that’s one question answered,” he said wryly. “Three turns. Three, on your first try.” He shook his head. “Alright, I lost that game, so I owe you a question.”
“It’s really just going to be whoever goes?” Vivi asked. “We’re taking turns winning, that’s it.” It wasn’t a game at all. A pretense. What else could I have expected from this man?
“What better way to get to know each other?” he asked cheekily.
She sighed.
“But if you want some real competition in the mix,” he said, “then we can still do that. Keep track of your total hits. Fewer wins, at the end.”
Vivi considered the idea. She did have a competitive streak. The game she’d sunk her life into hadn’t been a player-versus-player one, but she’d still found satisfaction in climbing the ladder.
“All right,” she said. “We could also just ignore the rules and sink all the balls each round. There’d be less resetting.”
“S-sacrilegious,” Xun said, staggering back. “It wouldn’t be the same game anymore!”
Vivi huffed, wondering if he was serious. After she studied him, it seemed like he was—he really did care about the ‘sanctity’ of it. Once again, she almost rolled her eyes.
“Okay, then.” She waved for him to go ahead and take his turn.
He began collecting the balls to reset the table. Vivi realized she should help, and did so.
“So, your question?” he asked.
“How did you and Suyin meet?” Suyin had never outright said she was adopted, but the context made it obvious.
Xun didn’t miss a beat. “It’s not the most pleasant of stories. I found her in the aftermath of a bandit attack. Caravan out on the road. She was wandering around the remains when I got there. Not sure how she was the only survivor, still wonder myself, honestly, but…” He snorted. “Never seemed right to ask.”
A little chill went through Vivi, though it shouldn’t have. In the best case, he’d have picked Suyin up from an orphanage. Vivi hadn’t expected a bright backstory, so why had she asked? Maybe she should’ve suppressed her curiosity.
“I only intended on bringing her to the nearest town,” Xun continued of his own accord, words oddly light for the topic. His easy-going behavior was clearly hard to shake. “Not the first sob story I’ve heard or been part of, just saw it as my duty—I’m not lower than the dirt, however much my daughter keeps insisting I am. I’ll return an orphaned girl to safety, no matter how big a pain in the ass it’ll be.”
Well… Vivi thought it was a bit callous in its phrasing, but she understood.
“It was a long trip, though, and she saw me going through one of my routines. She wanted to try.” He shook his head. “I kept asking why she was lying to me—she had to have practiced before. Six years old. ‘Natural’ doesn’t begin to describe it. So I took an interest.”
The man suddenly turned contemplative, which looked strange on him.
“I told you time fixes us in place after so many years,” he said. “Calcifies us. But I’m not the same man I was two decades ago, not at all. It goes without saying, but it was one of the better decisions I made, teaching her.”
He’d spoken casually throughout, but the little sentiment that had crept in was replaced by levity. “Coulda done a better job on the ‘father’ part, but she made it through in one piece.” He flourished a hand at the table, which he had finished racking a moment ago. “Now do me the honor, Lady Vianora.”
Wondering whether she should reply to the story he’d given—and how she should—she stepped up to break the center. She hit softly, like he had. She was pretty sure the rules allowed for a reset if a ball went in from the start, but that wasn’t the point.
In the end, she couldn’t decide what to say about Suyin’s past, and Xun didn’t seem to mind. He studied the resulting arrangement for a minute or two like Vivi had, then picked a spot and got to work.
Vivi had given it her best effort, but their stats made this a puzzle more than a game. And while she didn’t know how often he played, him knowing the rules meant ‘more than her.’
He sank four in his first shot and four in the next, tutting in disappointment afterward—probably because he’d failed to find the path to get all five, and thus, after making one more disappear into a pocket, he finished in three shots rather than two. Leaving them technically even in score.
“Impressive,” Vivi said.
“I’ll take that as honest praise, but it can be hard to tell with you.”
They began resetting the table. In her peripheral vision, Vivi caught people gawking at them, and she realized that it wasn’t normal to win in one turn… especially landing multiple balls every shot.
Were they revealing they were Titled, in an ironically casual display?
“And what’s your question?” Vivi asked.
“It’s about your sword,” he responded.
Vivi paused, then internally winced, because that might be one of the topics that she would have to resist. She’d really rather not make it obvious she was the Sorceress, since it seemed Xun didn’t know. Admitting she was carrying around chunks of activated voidglass would be… suspicious.
“And I suspect it’s a touchy topic,” he went on. “So my question is narrower than you’re thinking. I’m somewhat of a collector, you see.” He smiled. “I quite like swords. Please,” he said, throwing his hands up in a ‘hold on’ gesture. “Don’t be shocked. It’s true. So, I recognize most famous ones. And I know the name of one I’ve seen you juggling in your matches.”
Vivi hesitated.
…uh, maybe copying designs from Eshara’s personal stash was a bad idea?
She hadn’t even considered the possibility.
“More important than the name of the sword, though, I knew the name of the man Nocturne belonged to,” Xun said. “So can I ask why you’re holding it, and not him?”
…why does everything I do complicate things? It’s just unfair.
She thought about how to answer. She’d agreed to be honest.
“It’s a replica,” Vivi eventually said. “Not the original. But in the spirit of the question, it doesn’t belong to a man at all anymore.”
“Ah. So I feared.”
“Feared?”
What does he mean by that? Vivi thought.
He paused, then tilted his head. “We weren’t the closest of friends, and it was a long time ago, but I’m still not happy he’s dead.”
Dead? Just because his sword changed hands, he thinks…? Her line of thought trailed off. Never mind. I really don’t think like a swordmaster. Someone at Xun’s level would lose their hand before their blade.
“But does that mean he’s still kicking around?” Xun asked, unfortunately taking her confusion as reason to hope.
“I don’t know, actually. Sorry—again, I just copied the design.”
“From who?”
Vivi had the brief impulse to tell him that they were well past his ‘one question,’ but given the topic, it felt inappropriate.
The issue was, did Eshara want people knowing she carried that sword? She had given no disclaimer against sharing, so Vivi hoped it was fine.
“Its current owner, Eshara of Vanguard.”
Xun’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t seem the slightest bit shocked—just interested. “The Roving Justicar? Well, that’s even more proof, I suppose.” He sighed. “Rest in peace, you old bastard,” he muttered.
Vivi almost asked who he was talking about, and if they were friends or something else, but he’d probably been vague for a reason. Or had he? She couldn’t tell, and with the Suyin question coming first, inquiring about an old dead maybe-friend felt like the wrong move.
Perhaps he thought the same thing, because his chipper attitude returned as he finished resetting the table once more. It took a lot to faze him, clearly.
“Now then. Your go.” He pulled on his mustache. “And I’m rather curious how you know the Roving Justicar, so that’ll be my next question, I think.”