At the very least

By I.P., team pet

At the very least, everyone knows her name and title. Shes Mirella Eaves, the daughter of Lady Luck herself. She knows all the tricks, takes all challenges, and she never loses. I personally don't believe that's true, but who am I to contradict a legend? Other than that, though, shes a mystery. Nobody knows where she lives, who her family is, even if Mirella is her real name. That is why, when I sent her the invitation, I knew for certain that she would come. Said invitation was not exactly a friendly challenge, nor was it a threat. Simply this: arrive at this place at this time, and we shall play. Naturally, she came. The place I named was a mansion that stood quite a few miles away from the nearest city. It was a beautiful place, built in the nineteenth century, designed by none other than Flavius Monticello himself. When my father bought it, he left it exactly as it was, with one notable exception: an extensive and high-tech security system. Having ominous black cameras attached to grey marble pillars seems rather anachronistic, in my opinion, but my dad was never one for aesthetics. Nonetheless, I took advantage of the system to let me know exactly when Mirella arrived, and to guide her through the mansion. Sure, a better host would have physically gone to walk her through. I, however, was going for a more mysterious approach. When she arrived in the game room, I was waiting for her, sitting at a card table with my back to the door. I had prepared two cups of earl grey tea; not because I expected either of us to drink it, but more for the scent, which filled the room nicely. Good evening, Miss Eaves, I said, raising a hand in acknowledgement rather than turning around. "How are you?" Her response was quick and careless. Great, thanks, how bout you -- She quickly cut off, probably remembering that this wasnt a friendly visit. But as long as were talking about you, who in the world are you, anyway? Please, have a seat. I gestured toward the chair across from me. Its kind of hard to introduce oneself without making eye contact with the person Im talking to. Mirella stepped to the chair. I have to admit I was rather surprised at how colorful her appearance was. The girl had a reputation as a classic, gothic gambler, the kind who wears black lace with spades, hearts, and diamonds embroidered on the edges. The security cameras, showing things in a detailed but monochrome picture, had not changed this assumption; I suppose this is partially my fault for not looking closer. The fact was, her frilly dress was colored several shades of yellow. Her hair, presumably a natural blond, was dyed pink. She looked nothing like the gothic princess I had expected. Well? Her voice snapped me out of my surprise. Its rude to challenge somebody without giving your name. Who are you?

Oh, yes. My name. I smiled at her, a cheery smile that showed no signs of being fake, a smile I had practiced oh so many times. I am Dominic Michael Dehaven, but you may know me as D. She gasped. Ive heard of you! And I, as you probably know by now, of you. So, were even. As to the game I have prepared-- We are not even! This time she slapped her hand on the table, nearly upsetting the cups of tea. I raised my eyebrows in an expression that was supposed to be bemused, but judging by her reaction, probably came off as plain pathetic. You -- you -- well, first off, youre not even a gambler. There was no shame in admitting that. I shrugged and pulled out a deck of cards from chest pocket. No, I do not usually play card games. Chess is more of my game, really. But for someone with your reputation, I decided to make an exception. Now, the game itself-- And secondly, she interrupted me again, jabbing an accusing finger in my direction, Ive heard that you cheat.