It only takes me about twenty minutes to find my destination of Castellan Manor. It's rather hard to miss, in all honesty; it's an absolutely massive building in the center of the city. Definitely a place for an aristocrat to live. The thing is less of a manor and more of a skyscraper if I'm being honest.
I usually imagine manors to reside in more secluded, out-of-the-way areas. But apparently, from what I hear, the opposite is true on this world, at least.
The wealthy aristocrats of this world display their manners on the same hustle and bustle streets that every common man and woman walks, flaunting their wealth and life of luxury to the world. I personally don't get the practice, but hey, it's their choice.
The meeting isn't scheduled for another two and a half hours, so it would appear I have some time to kill.
I begin walking down and around the busy streets of Halgreeno City to get a lay of the land and to see the sights of what this city has to offer. I love being a freelancer.
Always on the move, finding new places to explore, new sights to see, and new people to meet. This city, I've noticed, is very lively, especially for a city on the edge of a warzone.
I remember before I left the ship, Greasefire had made a comment about seeing an active warzone only a few lumens away to the east of the city. Hundreds of soldiers firing blasters at each other while buried in trenches.
Yet when you look around here, you couldn't even tell. Nobody seems bothered at all. They're just going around about, like it's just a normal day.
People walking the streets, shops opening up, people buying goods, and speed runners flying overhead as people commute across the city to their jobs.
I'm a bit shocked at how normal and calm everyone appears to be when so close to such dangers, but maybe I shouldn't be at the same time. The people of this world must have just gotten used to it after their whole ecosystem being wrapped in this fighting for over a decade at this point.
I'll just move on; thinking about all this crap is honestly boring me. I still have about two hours of time to spare; I need to find something entertaining to distract myself before then.
Well hello there, I spot a nice-looking pub just a minute down the street from me. Seems like a popular joint as well; people are filing in like crazy, and it's only the afternoon. I think I might just pop in for a little libation or two before the big meet.
I walk there and head straight inside. The place is really popping. Pretty diverse crowd, species from all walks of life, it'd seem. This pub has everything: a colorful dance floor, tons of booze, and even what looks like betting on races. In other words, paradise.
I take a seat at the bar next to a rather attractive-looking Balzek woman. Her green skin is glowing softly under all the lights of the pub as I gaze at her three small majestic-looking horns on the top of her dome, just slightly poking out of her hair.
The bartender pours me a drink of Stellaran ale. As I start drinking, the Balzek woman notices my gaze and turns towards me.
"See something you like, spacer?"
"I think I do. But how'd you know I was a spacer?"
"Not the first time I've seen a man like you wearing one of those rogue flyboy-type outfits walk in here, and I doubt it'll be the last."
"Is that right? Well, I bet you haven't seen any this handsome."
"That's a bet you'd lose, spacer boy."
I playfully act as if a dagger has been thrust into my heart.
"Your words wound me."
She and I go back and forth a bit for about twenty minutes over drinks. Making small talk with a bit of a flirty vibe going on. Her name is Freyon, by the way.
Then all of a sudden a loud yelling match is going on in one of the back rooms of the pub. Suddenly a hairy-looking Trodaktan warrior pops out, looking angry as he storms out of the bar.
After witnessing the big scene he made, I turn towards Freyon.
"What the hell could be going on back there to make a guy like that flip out?"
"Oh, that? In the back rooms they run high-stakes games of Starjack. I'm willing to bet that he lost all his money. Some other spacer popped in here about three hours ago and started cleaning up against all comers."
"High stakes, Starjack? Sounds like my kind of party; care to join me?"
"Sure, I'll watch you lose a bunch of crowns; just make sure you keep enough aside to buy me another drink afterward."
I walk towards the back rooms with her following right behind me. After the current game ends and even more angry gamblers walk away, I join in. The minimum bet is one thousand crowns, a very steep price indeed. This isn't high stakes for nothing. I plop the money down; it's a lot to gamble, but lucky for me, I've never lost a game of Starjack.
Freyon points out the spacer who's been cleaning up to me. He's sitting directly across the table from me.
The man has a very mean-looking mug. Gives off the vibes of a bounty hunter. He's wearing a similar spacer's outfit to me, except his is more black and green. He's a pale-looking human with a scar over his right eye, a shaved head, and rather dry, crinkly-looking skin. This guy fits perfectly in here, a gambling den in the backside of a pub.
Cards are dealt to me, him, and the three other gamblers at the table. This game ends up being really tense as it goes on for over twenty-five minutes. The other three have dropped out, and it's just me and him; we keep trading cards with the dealer and upping the bets. My wager went from one thousand to now all the crowns I have on my ship, making it almost a ten thousand crown bet.
The man is ugly-looking as sin, but he's got a pretty good Starjack face. I can't tell a damn thing he's thinking underneath the mean-looking face he's got.
We've got a crowd gathered here, everyone looking on in anticipation. This is the most high-stakes bout this guy has faced yet since coming here, the patrons are saying. After the final bets, it's time to reveal our hands.
The man looks at me, finally showing some emotion as a wide grin crosses his face. He slowly reveals his cards to me.
"I'll admit, kid, you played a good game. But sadly, your game just wasn't good enough. I've got Four Zarell."
The crowd gasps at his hand. That's the third-best hand a person could get in Starjack. It's almost impossible for anyone to get a hand higher; the top two are one-in-a-million hands. Before I even show my cards, he starts grabbing for the crowns laid out on the table, telling me better luck next time.
Before he can do so, however, I grab his arm, stopping him from grabbing the crowns.
"Someone's a bit overzealous now, aren't they? Isn't it proper Starjack etiquette to wait until everyone's shown their cards?"
"You cheeky punk. Fine, show your cards, whatever they are. There's no chance in hell you—"
"Orwellian Flush."
I reveal my cards; I have an Orwellian Flush, the best hand a person can possibly get in Starjack. The onlookers erupt. I wasn't joking when I said getting one is a one-in-a-million kind of deal. It's exceedingly rare to find a game that ends with such a hand.
I begin taking the crowns for myself, but the man instead grabs my arm before I can take them.
"I've been playing Starjack for almost all of my forty years alive in this universe."
"You're only forty, no offense, but Father Time has not been kind to your mug there."
"Laugh it up, brat. My name is Dallas Amarr, and I'm a dangerous man that you would be wise to not piss off. I know you cheated; not once in my life have I seen anyone win with such a hand. Getting an Orwellian Flush is impossible."
I yank my arm from his hand and stand up. We're looking at each other eye-to-eye. Both of us have our guns holstered to our sides, but the vibe in the room is getting tense for sure.
"I'm plenty of things, man, but a cheater isn't one. There may be some strategy to Starjack, but at the end of the day, it's a game of luck, and I just suppose mine was better than yours this day."
"I'm smelling some Gonther shit emanating from you, kid. I saw you walk in with that little Balzek bitch behind you. She must have been giving you signals or something."
Before I can respond, Freya approaches him and speaks up instead.
"First of all, don't call me a bitch. Second of all, you're just sounding like a sore loser to me."
Dallas looks at her, and after a tense moment, starts laughing. He looks as if he's about to back down, but instead he swerves us. He quickly pulls out his pistol, standing behind Freyon with his pistol pressed against her head.
The onlookers gasp, but I remain calm. I try giving her a reassuring look dead in her eyes that everything will be okay. I can tell by her face that she's petrified.
"You're really going to aim your pistol at an innocent woman over a game of cards? That's pretty petty if you ask me."
"Oh, trust me, boy, in my time I've threatened chicks like this for a hell of a lot less. Now... nobody needs to get hurt; all you have to do is just hand me the crowns, and I'll go on my merry way."
Dallas and I lock eyes. I wish I could say I haven't been in a situation like this before, but that would be a lie. There's always these types of psycho sore losers that'll shoot a place up if things don't go their way. The galaxy is sadly full of scum like him.
I won't pay this man after watching him threaten a woman's life. A tense few moments go by of silence and us eyeing each other down.
In almost an instant, before Dallas can even react, I unholster my pistol and shoot directly at his hand. Grazing the skin, causing him to flinch, which gives Freyon the chance to run.
She gets away from him and hides behind me. I then immediately walk forwards and smack Dallas in the side of the head with the handle of my gun, knocking him to the floor. While that went on, some of the onlookers got security, who were informed of the whole situation.
I step away from Dallas, who's rubbing his head on the floor. I then watch as the pub's security grabs him and takes him out front to throw him out.
The ordeal seems to be over now. Freyon from behind gives me a hug and whispers in my ear.
"That was the craziest thing I've seen in a while. You're really something, spacer. Thanks for saving me from that creep."
I smile after grabbing my winnings and pocketing them. I then turn to face her as she takes my hand, and we walk out of the pub.
As we walk out, I notice on the corner of the road Dallas nursing some wounds; it seems security roughed him up a bit for good measure. Honestly, I think that's well deserved. Before me and Freyon disappear into a crowd of people, I take one last look at him.
Hopefully I'll never have to see that ugly-looking mug ever again.