There were moments in Tay’s life where he wished he could speed up and just pass them by. For years, he’d languished in the cramped and decrepit halls of Pyrewood Orphanage. There, the days had dragged on and on, and only when Claudus had taught him to play with stones and sticks or when he’d sneaked out for just glimpses of the village, had they become anything better than a means of wasting himself away.

And then, there were moments when everything happened too quickly. Why was it, when important things occurred in Tay’s life, they all seemed to happen at once—sometimes within the span of a mere day. It made the important moments feel so much shorter than they actually were.

He’d stolen Rantho’s Runicka cards on the very same day he’d been rescued by Mond. He’d learned how to play Runicka when he should’ve been sleeping, and then subsequently lost his mother’s amulet—only to learn that it was a key to finding out who she really was.

When Tay defeated Mond, his life raced along. He lost track of how many times Sally tried jumping on him. He was too busy trying to keep his head on straight from all the back-patting and congratulations the other runekeepers gave him. Some, he knew by association through Atro. Others were strangers, but they were still—absurdly—happy for him nevertheless.

They practically whisked him over to the glass counter, where Em was waiting for him with a smile. And she was waiting with something else too.

She presented back to him his Bronze Ranking Card, holding it out with the stamp side facing up. Tay gazed at it for a couple seconds as the crowd gave him some space again.

There, in the upper left corner of the card, the stamp of a fox’s head was printed into the circle. He took it into his own hands, and began to trace his thumb around the imprint in the bronze, feeling how the metal folded down and gave shape to the fox stamp.

“Why a fox?” Tay asked.

Em furrowed her brow. “Well, our shop is called Keepers of the Vulpine.”

“Really?” Tay asked. “I didn’t know that. There’s no sign or anything.”

“Oh, right. Yes, we’re having the sign put up. Today, actually. The owner’s been slacking on that front, though you didn’t hear that from me.”

Tay remembered how he’d actually swung the door into the back of the carpenter. So, that’s part of what the man had been doing out there then. But wait, the owner?

“So, you’re not the owner then?” Tay asked.

Em put a hand to her chest and then gave a little laugh. “Me? Oh, no. I could never afford to run a shop like this. No, our owner doesn’t come buy often, but she makes sure we’re kept well-stocked on cards, and also to keep our coffers all topped up. Speaking of…”

Em gestured to Tay’s left, and Tay looked to find the tallest woman he’d ever seen maneuvering her way out of the crowd. She had only the smoothest, mossy greenest cloth Tay had ever seen in his life, and the only dirt he could see on her was some soot on the lapels of her coat, where she had presumably wiped off a pipe or something similar.

Crowning her head was a wide-brimmed hat with a light violet ribbon around it. Her hair was a light brown, the color of a log in the springtime, and her eyes were like green leaves on the tree before it had fallen. She bore wrinkles in her face that made Tay wonder if her hair wasn’t dyed such a light color, and her jawline was fairly well-defined, as if she was making it protrude out more than necessary.

But all of that didn’t matter. Tay quickly forgot almost every detail about the woman, because held between the fingers on the woman’s right hand were three sparkling silver coins. One faced back, revealing the depiction of a lightning bolt striking a chair made out of stone—the symbol of Stormwall’s royal house. The other two showed a dour-looking man, with a crown atop his head.

Three Aens.

Just the sight of them almost made him want to start drooling. Funny, because he wasn’t even hungry. He didn’t even have to worry about his next meal constantly anymore. And yet, seeing these silver—silver—coins right in front of him made him instantly think about the feast he could buy.

“It’s not often I get to meet the winners of my shop here,” the woman said, flipping the coins between her boney fingers. She reached up with her other hand and tipped her hat to him. “Name’s Amellia.”

Tay met her gaze again. “Mine’s Tay.”

“Oh, I know who you are.”

“You do?”

Tay glanced over at Em, who was currently handing back the last of the Ranking Cards. There was still one left on the glass counter. It had to belong to Mond. He still had yet to get up from the table.

“Well, barely, admittedly,” Amellia said. “Em told me just a couple minutes ago.” Amellia laughed. “But she said you’ve become quite the regular here at the Vulpine.” Tay only now noticed that around her shoulders, she had a fox pelt. That couldn’t have been a coincidence. “Whenever I get the chance, I just love making the acquaintance of rising runekeepers. You know, back in the day, I was quite the runekeeper myself. I even dueled old Mondy over there more than a handful of times.

“So, I know firsthand that if you beat him, you must be something special. And, no doubt, you’ve earned these.”

Amellia flourished the three Aens in her hands, and Tay held out his hands. Then, she broke out laughing, and closed her hand around the coins.

For a minute, Tay thought he’d been duped. Maybe Runicka wasn’t really a decent way to earn coin after all? And everything he’d done up to this point had been for nothing.

“Oh, kid, don’t tell me Em forgot to tell you that while the prize is three Aens, we only give it out in store credit?”

And then Tay did recall Em telling him that. He’d completely forgotten. “Then, why’d you bring out the coins?”

To that, Amellia smiled. “Everything’s better with a bit of show. And now, you’ve seen how much you earned here. I’d never want a runekeeper to misunderstand how big of an accomplishment besting your peers is. But, I can see that I might’ve upset you.

“Tell you what—we have the store credit rule to encourage you to give us your business. Your shoes look nice, but I can tell by the stitching of your pants that this coin might be better served at a seamstress, or at least a tailor. You can always convert half your store credit into solid coin, if that’s more pressing for you?”

Half of his earnings—in order words, one Aen and twenty-five Gylls. Which was still far, far more than what he could earn working at Mond’s shop. Still more than he’d ever expected to snatch when he’d first arrived in Stormwall.

More than he could possibly know what to do with.

“Could I take the credit for now, and then maybe get coin for whatever I have left over?” Tay asked.

Amellia smiled to that and said, “Of course, I’ll let Em know on my way out. I do have to be off though. There are many tournaments all across the city, in the light and the dark, and I want to be at as many of them as possible. But it was quite nice meeting you, Tay. And I don’t hope I’m overstating myself when I say that I hope we meet again.”

Tay bowed his head slightly, and then said, “Likewise.”

As Amellia passed him by and said her goodbyes to Em, Tay caught the scent of her perfume. It smelled just like the pines of Pyrewood did during the snowless, but still cold, mornings of Winter.

She’d mentioned the light and the dark though? Did that mean she traveled between topside and bottomside in Stormwall? She certainly didn’t have the outfit belonging to anyone that would live down here in Duskborough, unless she came from the Drip, of course. But she didn’t seem like she did. She was too—for the lack of a better word—authentic.

“Tay!” For the hundredth time now, Sally jumped up on his leg and tried climbing up to his chest. “Tay, you won! You won!”

Tay laughed, and set her back down on the ground again before she toppled him over. He was tall, but he wasn’t that tall.

“I did,” he said. “I did.” And he looked over, across the diminishing crowd, to Mond. The big man was still staring down at the table. He hadn’t even picked up his deck yet.

Tay had won, but it didn’t wholly feel like it.

“They had a couple Order cards over here that I thought looked pretty,” Sally was saying, beginning to bounce up and down the counter again. “Oh, and there was this card here. Tay, are you listening to me? Tay! Tay!”

Sally all but yanked him over to the counter, where she showed him a large rhinoceros-like creature that stood on two legs and wielded a heavy club.

(20) Primordial Bash-horn Unstable When this revenant obliterates a foe revenant, you may search your deck and add to your hand a revenant with Power equal to or less than the Power of the obliterated revenant. Barrier 6 >>>

What’s more was the small wooden tag right below it, reflecting how much the Keepers of the Vulpine wanted to sell it for—ten Gylls. Tay couldn’t rightly believe it. Just yesterday ten Gylls would’ve sounded far, far more than he would’ve ever been willing to pay for a card. It was his weekly pay that he earned at Mond’s shop.

But now, with his three Aens in store credit, it hardly seemed like anything. He could afford this card, for Sally, who’d supported him in winning against Mond even when Tay hadn’t been able to believe in himself.

“Found something to satiate the beast?” Em asked, having come over and keeping a wary eye on Sally as she bounced up and down.

“Yes,” Tay said. It seemed so unreal that he could say this next part too, but he went through with it. “I’ll take the Primordial Bash-horn. And what else did you want, Sally?”

Sally beamed up at him. For the next thirty minutes, they followed Sally up and down the glass counter, and Tay found some strange satisfaction in being able to indulge each and every single one of her desires about cards. It was nice to be able to spend coin. And, truth be told, this was the first time he’d ever spent a significant amount of coin on anyone other than himself. Just seeing the smile grow and grow over Sally’s face as Em piled up cards for purchasing on top of the counter made it totally worth it.

When they reached a total value of one Aen, Tay said that would be enough.

“Aw, but Tay,” Sally said. If there was anything more to that argument, Tay never heard it. Sally seemed to be banking on the drawn-out nature of her voice winning him over to her side.

“I can buy more for you after I win the next tournament, Sally,” Tay said. “But I’m going to have to buy something for myself if I’m going to have even more of a chance at winning next time.”

Sally sulked, but not for long, because Em slid the cards across the counter until they glowed snowy white against her face, causing her white eyes to practically radiate and shine on their own. “By the Fourteen, thank you, Tay. Thank you.”

“Just be sure to hide those from your sister,” Tay said.

“I can only promise,” Sally said, staring down, wide-eyed, into her new cards.

Tay then set about tracking down cards that could improve his deck. At one point, he found a card that could help clear the board at a tantalizing cost of only 10 Life, but it was an Order 2 card, and there was no Chaos counterpart. That was the problem in shopping for upgrades to a Chaos deck based around a control playstyle—it seemed control was mostly for Order.

All the Chaos cards he came across were either focused around swinging in with high Power revenants, or swarming the board and augmenting everything with the Flying aura to get over anything your opponents might have to block with. There was nothing that meshed all too well with low Power revenants that weakened foe revenants.

“Those Warlock cards are about the only archetype that does control Chaos well,” Atro said, when Tay pressed him about it. “Technically, I don’t think the Runic Council meant for Rival Warlock to even be a part of the archetype, but sometimes they can’t plan that far ahead, and Rival Warlock was the first one to be introduced into the meta.”

“What about the card we saw the other day?” Tay asked.

Atro raised his brow, but Tay continued. “Remember? That Bruiser card that Em showed us. Grim something?”

Atro’s face light up and he scratched at the blond stubble on his chin. “You mean Grimbeard Bruiser?”

“Yeah!” And Tay found the card, artwork depicting a squat and shadow-wreathed figure in a void-wrapped cloak. Em had it out on display in a corner of the glass counter, where everyone who walked through the shop was sure to see its pristine rarity.

(15) Grimbeard Bruiser Unstable Uproar: up to 2 target foe revenants can’t attack until the end of their controller’s next turn. Decay < 1

“Oh, don’t buy that version, Tay,” Atro said. “That’s the original printing. It’ll cost you a fortune. Better to go with the reprint version. If we could just find that…”

“No,” Tay said. The wooden tag had it marked down as one whole Aen. That was five times as much as the most expensive card he’d bought for Sally. It was three weeks worth of pay.

But Tay had never been able to spend this much coin on himself before. And for something he really wanted for himself too.

“No, this one is perfect,” Tay said.

“Oh, that’s a quick way to run yourself dry of coin, my friend. But I do suppose you’ve earned it today, at the very least.”

“Right you are,” Tay said. And he called Em over. “Em, I’m going to use my store credit to get this original printing.” And while she was reaching into the glass counter to gingerly pull it out for him, he added, “And while you’re at it, you better throw in another Bronze Ranking Card too.”

Em hesitated for a moment while Atro stammered. Sally must’ve overheard too, because the next second she was asking if she could get a Bronze Ranking Card too.

“Tay, that’s not fair!” Sally said. “You’d get one for him? What about me?”

Tay chuckled and said, “I just bought you all those cards in your hands.”

Sally looked down and blushed. Then she stowed the cards behind her back and said, “Still! Shouldn’t you get me one too then?”

Tay looked toward Em, who shrugged. “Only got ten Gylls left.”

Sally slumped and Tay put his hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, Sally, looks like it’ll have to be next time I win a tournament. You’ll be there for that one, right?”

Sally beamed at him again. “Right,” she said.

“Tay,” Atro said, once he’d found his voice again. “You don’t have to—”

Tay picked up the Bronze card from the counter and before Atro could finish his sentence, he presented it to him. “Yes, I do,” Tay said. “I wouldn’t have won this tournament without all your teaching and help, Atro.”

Atro took the card, and then gave him a wide smile. “I know I lost, but your victory does feel like it’s as much mine as it is yours.”

“That’s because it is,” Tay said.

But it was someone else’s victory too. And even if they weren’t going to celebrate it, Tay could spend the last of his coin starting to do right by them.

He asked Em to cash him out for the remainder of his credit—a total of five Gyll. That was still a lot, even if it wasn’t nearly the unbelievable sum of 3 Aens that it had been.

Atro finished admiring his new Ranking Card, and said, “You know, next time we should probably coordinate which tournaments we’re competing in, just so we don’t end up going toe-to-toe again.”

“That’d probably be wise,” Tay said. And then, “Do you mind watching Sally for another minute? There’s something I got to take care of.”

And once Atro agreed, Tay made his way back across the shop, over to where Mond still sat at the table, staring down at his not-yet-gathered deck. Tay walked up next to him, and then placed the five bronze Gylls down in front of the big man. Mond did not look up.

“Here,” Tay said. “I want this to be the start of me paying you back.”

Now Mond looked up, his mouth agape. “For what?” Mond asked.

Tay stood back. “For—for all that you’ve already paid for when it comes to me. My Ranking Card, my deck, my housing. Your arm, even.”

Mond looked down at the five Gylls. Tay wished he had saved a little more for Mond than that, but it was only supposed to be a start. Honestly, the only way he could’ve paid Mond back would’ve been to give the man the whole three Aens he’d won.

Of course, he suspected Mond wouldn’t have cared to have three Aens in store credit.

Mond placed his good hand over the coins, and then slid them back across the table to Tay. Then, he smiled. “I don’t want your money, Tay.”

Tay took a seat, and then pushed the coins back over to Mond. “You’ve already spent so much on me, Mond. It doesn’t feel right for me to have it. Especially not after all that I’ve cost you. And now, with me going against you with Sally—you must be pretty mad.”

“I’m not.” Mond traced one of his large fingers over the rim of one of the Gylls. “I’m not mad that you want to help Sally get what she wants. The Fourteen know that I only want to do that too. They also know I wish that was something other than becoming a Runicka champion. But I’m not mad.”

Tay exhaled. He felt like he could actually relax again. “You seemed so angry before,” Tay said.

“I was frustrated,” Mond said. He moved the coins back to the middle of the table.

“At Sally?” Tay asked. Then, “Or me?”

“At myself,” Mond said. Then he started gathering up his cards again, and sliding them back into his worn-out deckbox. “I just want to be able to protect her, Tay. I want to protect you too, now. But with where you’re going, and with how old it seems I’ve gotten, I don’t think I’m quite the runekeeper I once was.

“The meta’s evolved. Rantho was right about that.” Mond stowed his deckbox back on his belt and leaned back in his chair. “The Fourteen know I hate to admit it, but the brat was right. I’ve been out of the game too long, and I can’t protect you wherever you’re going. And since I can’t stop Sally from following in your footsteps—” Then he stopped he nodded his head, smirking. “My footsteps, really—then I don’t know what to do.”

Tay didn’t quite know what to say. Even after all that, Mond still just wanted to protect him. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve a friend—a mentor—quite like Mond, but he would do his best to protect Sally in the days ahead, whenever Mond couldn’t.

“I—I’ve never really had a family before,” Tay said. “So, I’m fairly new to how all this is supposed to work. But I do know one thing you can do—it’s the thing that I never got back at the orphanage I grew up in.”

Even as he said it, he could see Mond mulling over this new information about Tay’s past.

“You can believe in us, Mond,” Tay said. “You can believe in us enough to know that we can protect ourselves.”

Mond leaned forward, and then gave his signature grin, all while sliding the five Gylls back over to Tay. “I know that now, kid. That’s why with these Gyll, we’re going to go out and have a feast tonight.”

Tay grinned back. “And hope Cari doesn’t ask anything about it?”

Mond roared with laughter. “Exactly.”