Steam carrying the fragrance of thyme, lavender, and violet brushed against Klein’s face.
The warm bathhouse instantly dispelled the chill that had been clinging to him.
Nestled among the mountains, Macragge suffered bitterly cold nights, so the people of Macragge made the bathhouse the center of their evening lives.
As such, a bathhouse was not merely a bathhouse, it was a place for pleasure, socializing, and gambling.
The moment Klein stepped onto the bathhouse’s damp corridor, he caught glimpses of its lewd and indecent scenes.
A gorgeous singer clad in nearly transparent gauze stood atop the central dais, bathed beneath flowing water, twisting her serpent-supple waist as she sang a captivating melody.
In the baths, bare-bodied maidens laughed and played, displaying their still-youthful figures as if they were goods on offer.
If it were only maidens, that might be one thing…
but Klein caught sight of certain figures dressed identically to the girls yet unmistakably not female, soaking in the baths and wearing coquettish expressions.
Around the bath’s edge, men clearly of the wealthy class couldn’t help but let out cheer after cheer.
Some patrons too impatient to wait leapt fully clothed into the bath, and amid the maidens’ startled cries, scooped them up and carried them off to the private alcoves nearby.
“I thought our dear Archon Konor had already banned public prostitution,” Klein remarked, watching the scene.
At this, Cicero widened his eyes with theatrical exaggeration and said to Klein, “My dear friend, how can you so slander these pure and romantic young ladies?”
“Where is there any prostitution?
They are simply men and women who, purely by coincidence, fell in love at first sight tonight, and as for the money given to the ladies, oh, that is of course merely the parting fee when the love fades come morning.”
“I wonder what Archon Konor would think, hearing such a romantic tale.”
“Then we’ll just have to let Lord Konor suffer a little grievance, ultimately, his esteemed decree is simply unreasonable.
Poor girls need work, weary men need tenderness.
Such needs will always exist…
You should know, even many senators feast and revel in here.
Even if Lord Konor himself came, there wouldn’t be much he could do.”
Cicero said with a gleeful laugh,
“Could he really lock everyone away in his dreary, tedious jail cells?
Poor, laughable Konor.”
Konor Guilliman might indeed be unable to manage that.
But Konor Guilliman’s son truly had the ability.
In all honesty, these extravagantly decadent wastrels of Macragge ought to kowtow to the Konor they so despised.
That Primarch Roboute Guilliman’s innate mode of thought was cold and mechanical.
In his eyes, there was only right and wrong, strength and weakness, black and white, no gray areas permitted.
He studied military affairs the way other children read fairy tales, and the terrifying destructive potential he exuded even made his foster mother, Tarasha Euten, feel fear.
Had Konor not taught him so well, had he not corrected that cold, mechanical thinking in Roboute Guilliman, then when Guilliman faced these nobles in the future, nine times out of ten he would have chosen the most efficient method: killing them all.
Inwardly mocking them to himself, Klein followed Cicero up to the second-floor gambling area.
“Cicero!
Klein, my friend!” A crisp whistle rang out, and beside one of the gambling tables, a heavyset man in the same red leather shoes as Cicero waved at the two of them.
Klein remembered.
That was the slave trader Tule, who used to gamble and carouse with Klein and Cicero in the marketplace.
He beckoned Klein and Cicero to sit beside him, then had a server bring each of them a glass of wine.
“Klein, you haven’t come to our revelries for days now.
I was starting to think you’d grown tired of us.” Tule laughed heartily, raising his glass to Klein in salute.
“It was just that tiresome niece of mine, always holding me back.
I only just managed to slip away.” Klein raised his own glass to return Tule’s gesture.
“Then you’d better gamble fiercely today, win back everything you missed these past few days.” The smile tugged more noticeably at the corner of Tule’s mouth.
Klein smiled faintly, looked at the gambling table before him, and said, “Naturally.
As I just told Cicero, I came here today precisely to collect money from you gentlemen.”
“I truly like that line of yours.
So, blackjack today?”
Saying this, Tule signaled a server to bring over a deck of playing cards, giving Klein no chance to refuse.
Only after placing the cards on the table did he ask, “Same as usual, one chip per denarius?”
“You were just saying that I should play back everything I’ve missed these past days.” Klein put on a slightly bored expression and said, “How about one chip per hundred denarii?”
The air congealed for an instant, and then…
Applause broke out.
“Ha!
You devil, I’m starting to like you.” Tule let out an exclamation, clapping his hands together.
Cicero, sitting beside them, twitched slightly at the eyelid.
“I didn’t bring that much money.”
“What a coincidence, I didn’t either.” Klein spread his hands.
“But…
can’t we borrow?”
Borrow…
Cicero drew a soft breath.
He was startled by Klein’s boldness, his body involuntarily leaning slightly forward, one hand bracing against the table as he asked, “Are you truly set on playing like this?”
“Don’t you want to experience the thrill of it?” Klein tapped his knuckles on the gambling table and looked at Cicero in return.
Cicero was silent for a moment, then gestured with a wave to a nearby server.
The server quickly returned with two loan contracts from the Temple of Simonetta.
“These are loan contracts for three thousand denarii.” The server laid the contracts on the table and spoke.
Klein and Cicero both signed the contracts at once, promptly converting them into thirty chips.
Tule, for his part, directly exchanged cash for thirty chips.
“The three of us will take turns as the banker, one round each, starting with Cicero.” Tule picked up the cards from the table and handed them to Cicero.
Klein watched this scene and, at the same time, began extracting the rules of blackjack from the scholar’s memories.
It was an ancient card game, one that had existed even before Klein’s era of transmigration.
The rules on Macragge differed slightly, but the fundamentals were the same.
One deck of playing cards, with the jokers removed, fifty-two cards in total.
Cards 2 through 10 are counted at face value, while J, Q, and K are each worth 10 points.
An Ace can be used freely as either 1 or 11, depending on the situation.
The player’s goal is to make the sum of their cards as close to 21 as possible, without exceeding 21.
Each player starts with two cards.
Players may freely choose to hit or stand, while the dealer must hit on 16 or below and must stand on 17 or above.
At the end, whoever’s card total is closer to 21 wins.
If the totals are equal, it is a push.
If both sides have exactly 21, under normal circumstances it is a push.
However, there exists a hand known as “blackjack”: a two-card 21 consisting of an Ace plus a J, Q, or K.
This hand beats all other 21-point hands and pays out at higher odds.
Beyond that, there is one more special rule: splitting.
You may split your two cards into two separate hands and resolve each independently, but this rule can only be used when you draw two cards of identical rank.
“Place your bets, gentlemen,” Cicero said to the two before him.
In blackjack, the players bet first, and the dealer settles wins and losses according to those bets. Find the original chapter at novelping.com.
Tule grinned and placed ten chips on the table, representing one thousand denarii.
Klein, on the other hand…
slapped all thirty of his chips onto the table in one go.
“All in!” Klein extended a single finger, waving it gently in the air, and said to Cicero, “That is a form of wisdom.”
Cicero’s throat moved almost imperceptibly.
Deep in his gut, a surge of nervousness rose unbidden.
His fingers trembled ever so slightly.
The feeling came on so abruptly that his heart lurched into overdrive, leaving Cicero momentarily light-headed.
If Klein won, those three thousand denarii Cicero had just borrowed would all go to him…
Was that why he was nervous?
No, there was no need to be nervous over something like that.
It was impossible for Klein to win.
He must not let himself be intimidated by the confidence born of Klein’s sheer foolishness.
Cicero suppressed his anxiety somewhat, let out a cold scoff, and his fingers began shuffling the cards with blinding speed.
The cards split into two packets between Cicero’s fingers, fanning open like a dove’s tail before cascading back into a single stack in his palm.
He repeated the motion several times over.
This game had been a trap laid for Klein from the very beginning.
The deck had been arranged in a fixed order before it ever reached the table.
Using a perfect shuffle, Cicero could set the deck to any sequence he desired…
In other words, with Tule or himself acting as the dealer, Klein could not possibly win.
Two cards each were dealt before Klein, Tule, and Cicero.
Cicero first revealed one of his two cards.
It was a 9.
By the rules, the dealer’s hand consisted of one upcard and one hole card, whereas the players’ cards were both dealt face up.
Cicero knew his other card was a 10, giving him a total of 19.
Tule revealed his cards: a J and a 9, also adding up to 19.
According to the plan, Tule would stand.
Klein’s hand was a 10 and a Q, totaling 20.
If he dared to hit, Cicero would deal him a 2, bringing his total to 22, and he would bust immediately.
If he stood, Cicero would reach 21 and secure victory.
Cicero smiled as he looked at Klein…
Klein smiled back at Cicero, then flipped his first card.
It was a Q, exactly as Cicero had expected.
Then Klein gently flipped over his second card…
“Huh?” A dazed, bewildered “huh” escaped Cicero’s lips.
(Translated by yourtl.app)
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TL NOTES — WARHAMMER LORE GUIDE
Some references in this chapter draw on Warhammer lore that may be unfamiliar to some readers.
The notes below provide the context needed to understand them without leaving the page.
CHARACTERS (CANONICAL)
Tarasha Euten — Roboute Guilliman’s foster mother, an elderly Macraggian noblewoman who raised him as her own son after his pod landed on the planet.
Canonical character from Dan Abnett’s Know No Fear (Horus Heresy series).