[21] Math

As I approached the table, the game in progress was Blackjack, a classic of strategy and chance. I watched intently as one of the players, his desperation palpable, pushed all his remaining gold into the pot. Luck wasn't on his side, and he lost it all. Unable to pay his debts, two burly men grabbed him roughly and dragged him towards a backroom. His protests were soon silenced by the ominous sound of screams, yet the other players and patrons of the tavern seemed unfazed, accustomed to such harsh realities.

Taking the empty seat, I pulled out ten gold coins, placing my bet on the table. The dealer, a man with a sly grin and shifty eyes, dealt the cards with practiced ease. I employed the card counting technique, keeping a mental tally of the cards played, predicting the odds.

The first round went in my favor. "Beginner's luck," one of the players muttered, eyeing me suspiciously. I kept my expression neutral, bet the same amount again, and won the second round. By the third win, whispers and murmurs circulated among the surrounding crowd.

As I continued my winning streak, the small crowd around our table grew, drawn by the unusual spectacle of a newcomer besting seasoned players. My pile of gold steadily increased, and by the seventh consecutive win, the entire tavern seemed to take notice, a mix of amusement, disbelief, and budding resentment filling the air.

One of the players, a grizzled man with a scar across his cheek, leaned back in his chair, eyeing me with a mix of respect and suspicion. "Well, I'll be damned. You've got some luck there, mate. Or is it more than just luck?"

I smiled wryly, collecting my winnings. "Just playing the game, same as everyone else here."

Elara, standing at a distance, watched with a guarded expression, her eyes scanning the room for potential trouble.

The dealer shuffled the cards again, his movements slightly more deliberate now. "Next round. Place your bets," he announced, though his usual nonchalance had faded slightly.

The atmosphere at the table had shifted; the casual banter replaced by a tense undercurrent. I placed another bet, aware of the many eyes fixed on me. The game proceeded, and once again, I emerged victorious, my strategy paying off.

A man at the back of the crowd, a bulky figure with an ornate hat, spoke up, his voice carrying over the murmurs. "Seems we've got a card shark among us, boys. Better watch your gold."

The comment was met with a mix of laughter and wary glances. I could feel the mood in the tavern becoming more charged, the line between excitement and danger growing thinner with each hand I played.

The atmosphere at the gambling table had reached a boiling point. As the dealer dealt the next hand, I noticed a subtle sleight of hand, an attempt to stack the deck in his favor. My patience snapping, I reacted instinctively. In one swift motion, I drew my sword and slammed it down on the table, the blade's edge stopping mere inches from the dealer's fingers.

"The fk do you think you're doing?" I demanded, my voice cutting through the din of the tavern.

The dealer's eyes widened, and his face paled, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "Easy there, mate! No need for swords."

The crowd, already on edge from my winning streak, erupted in anger as they realized the game was rigged. "He's been cheating us!" someone shouted, their voice laced with fury.

The bouncers, massive brutes who'd been lingering in the background, started to push their way through the crowd toward me. But the disgruntled gamblers, incensed by the revelation of the dealer's deceit, weren't about to let the situation be defused so easily.

Catching Elara's eye, I gave her a quick nod. She understood immediately. With a fluid movement, she grabbed a wooden mug from a nearby table and hurled it at one of the approaching bouncers. The mug hit its mark, and the bouncer stumbled, a growl of surprise and anger escaping his lips.

Like a spark to tinder, Elara's action ignited the volatile atmosphere in the tavern. A drunken brawl erupted, the tight space of The Drunken Kraken becoming a whirlwind of fists, flying mugs, and shattered glass.

Elara and I used the chaos to our advantage. I sheathed my sword and weaved through the crowd, dodging punches and pushing past the brawlers. Elara was right beside me, her agility and combat skills coming in handy as she deftly avoided the melee.

"Over here!" she yelled over the din, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards a less crowded part of the tavern.

We made our way towards the back, near the door that led to the kitchens. The sounds of the brawl echoed behind us, a cacophony of shouts, crashes, and the occasional breaking of furniture.

As we reached the door, Elara kicked it open, and we spilled into the relative calm of the kitchen. A few surprised cooks and servers stared at us, but they were too preoccupied with their own tasks to pay us much mind.

"Through here," Elara said, pointing towards a back exit. We hurried through the kitchen, dodging around cooks and steaming pots, and burst out into the cool night air of an alleyway behind the tavern.

Panting, we leaned against the wall, catching our breath. "That was close," I gasped, feeling the adrenaline still coursing through my veins.

Elara nodded, a wry smile on her face. "Too close. But we made it out with our winnings and our skins intact. Let's gtfo of here."

"I couldn't agree more." I chuckled wryly. 

Q: Are you good at Blackjack?