The Divine Hunter

As the night turned dark, the villagers started blowing their candlelights out. The men went to sleep with their wives beside them, while the children stared into the night sky and counted the sheep. Thompson, the night patrol, went around the village with nothing but a torch and his rusty sword. His job was to chase away any beasts or bandits, and to signal everyone if danger was coming.

The only places that were still bright were the chief’s home and the ramshackle inn in the village center — Ol’ Captain’s Inn.

Occasionally, single young men with time to spare would frequent the inn to spend the night away from home. Once they had a few drinks, they’d get high and call the inn’s boss — One-Eyed Jack — for a game of Gwent. One-Eyed Jack was a bearded man who loved to brag about his younger days that were spent on the seas of Skellige Isles.

Ol’ Captain’s Inn was illuminated warmly by the crackling fireplace and the luminescent candles that hung along the walls. It was a quiet place, one where a few customers were enjoying their drinks after a day of hard work.

Roy was standing before the Gwent game board, and his eyes gleamed as he looked at the delicate, beautiful cards. Gods, these are actual Gwent cards!

Gwent was first created by a dwarf as a way to stave off boredom, but it quickly grew in popularity thanks to its simple rules and interesting and ever-changing gameplay. Nobles and civilians alike loved to play a few matches in their spare time.

The characters in the cards were based on the legendary characters in the world, such as King Emhyr of Nilfgaard, King Foltest of Temeria, King Demavend of Aedirn — who was wearing a crown — and the beautiful Queen Meve of Lyria and Rivia.

Every Gwent card was a dwarf’s labor of love. Their flawless craftsmanship, gorgeous artwork, and perfect design were divine and impossible to forge. Some of the unique cards were created by a dwarf grandmaster, making them masterpieces.

A normal card would usually go for a couple of crowns at most, and most shops would sell a few of them. Some of the rarer ones could cost as much as a house in Vengerberg, the capital of Aedirn, but the collectors who would sell those were scarce.

After watching a few matches, Roy saw Nilfgaardian decks, Northern Kingdom decks, and even Skellige Isles decks, but there were no monster cards or Scoia’tael decks. Monster cards were rare, while Scoia’tael decks, well…

Scoia’tael was an alliance who helped Nilfgaard ambush the humans in the Northern Kingdoms in the war. The Northern War hadn’t begun yet in the year 1260, which meant nobody knew of Scoia’tael, and that meant no decks. Scoia’tael decks would only emerge after the Northern War, where a dwarf grandmaster would create the expansion pack.

“Hey, Roy, why aren’t you at home? It’s past your bedtime. You shouldn’t be in an inn.” When One-Eyed Jack tried to pat Roy’s head with his furry hand, Roy evaded it easily.

Roy gave him a sheepish grin. He was only thirteen, so acting cute wasn’t something to be ashamed about. As long as it gets me what I need. “I’m waiting for Brandon, Jack. He said he’d treat me to some fruit wine tonight,” Roy lied. He was waiting because he had a deal to keep. He’d teach Brandon a simple magic trick he’d learned online in his past life.

The Gwent match came as a surprise though. Roy thought he could make some money out of it, for the players in Witcher 3 would invariably get addicted to Gwent.

An ugly smile carved itself on One-Eyed Jack’s weathered, wrinkly face. “That fatso? He’d steal his old man’s money just to have some booze here. His wine is diluted with water though. If I didn’t do that, ol’ Fletcher would have found out about it and whooped his ass. Don’t pick up that habit.” At the same time, his eyes shone, and One-Eyed Jack quickly placed a white Gwent card on the board.

That play turned his opponent’s face as white as the card One-Eyed Jack placed.

“Take this, Otter! Biting Frost! All your Close Combat cards’ strength is now 1! Thirty-five to twenty! Game, set, and match!”

Jack pooled the crowns to himself, the coins clattering against the table as they moved.

Otter the farmer’s face fell. “Dammit. My luck’s worse than the fish in Kovir. That’s it. I’m out for the night.” He darted out of the inn.

Then Roy quickly took his place and stared at One-Eyed Jack.

“Sit somewhere else, boy. My old friend’s coming, and tonight I’m going to win all his crowns. I ain’t taking no for an answer.”

“Jack, since we both have nothing to do, why don’t I play with you as your warmup?”

Jack shook his head. “Do you even have Gwent cards?” There’s no way a kid would have the money for Gwent.

“Aw, come on. Everyone knows Captain Jack’s a collector. You have tons of cards in your collection. There must be more than one copy of some. Can’t you just make a deck for me?” Roy clasped his hands and gazed at Jack with sparkling eyes.

Jack sighed. “You used to be so sweet and sheepish. What happened to you? Did someone drill obstinance into your head? You sure won’t back down.” Jack raised his hand to smack Roy, but then he remembered something, and he stopped.

“Fine, I owe you this. I can lend you my cards, but there’s no point playing Gwent without any bets. If you lose, you’ll have to clean up my inn once. Deal?”

“What if I win?”

“You get one crown.”

“But you got two crowns per win,” Roy blurted. Jack was about to fly into a rage, but Roy covered his mouth before he could say anything else.

A short while later, Roy had a Northern Realms deck made out of thirty-five cards. Thirty-one of them were unit cards that had a strength of six or less, and four were weather cards. There wasn’t even one unique hero card. Not one.

Gwent cards were smooth and soft to the touch. It felt even better than a teenage girl’s perfect skin, and for an instant, Roy was reluctant to let them go.

On the other hand, Roy had no idea about One-Eyed Jack’s deck.

The game started shortly after. Sometime later, Brandon scurried to the table to watch the match, and a dark-skinned man measuring over six feet four came along.

PR/N: Six feet four is around 1.93 meters.

They did nothing but watch silently. Roy started the game slow, playing his cards hesitantly. On the other hand, Jack was nonchalant. He crossed his arms whenever it was Roy’s turn, and he played lightning fast when it was his. Roy, inevitably, lost the first two rounds.

However, as the matches went on, Roy ended up turning the tables, winning match after match. Jack stared at the board, unblinking. He found it harder to make his moves, and his face fell after every loss.

“You cheated, you little bastard!” Jack roared as he shot up. It was half an hour later. His face was red from the tension, and he looked like an angered lion. Before he could do anything, an impossible muscly hand pushed him down to his seat.

“I’ve been watching the whole time, captain. Roy didn’t cheat. I guarantee it.” Seeger had a sure look on his face, though a smile spread across his lips silently. He loved it when Jack lost, for Seeger never won a Gwent match against him.

Roy gave the red-haired man a look of gratitude.

The man was Seeger, a Kaer villager and blacksmith who worked as a repairman for the villagers’ farming tools. Roy heard that Seeger used to be in Jack’s crew, and they had run a trade ship on the Skellige Isles. After Jack’s retirement, Seeger came with him to Aedirn to settle down. Seeger wasn’t born and raised in Aedirn; he was a Skellige Isles local, and the man was an honest one.

“You should thank the horse that crashed into you, Roy.” Seeger smacked Roy’s head. “You used to act like a girl, but now, now you’re starting to look like a man.”

***

After that little episode, the Gwent match went on for half an hour, totaling to eight matches in the end. One-Eyed Jack lost five of them, and a whopping five crowns sat quietly on Roy’s side of the table. He’d have to work with Fletcher for more than a month to earn what he’d made during that one night.

“Unbelievable. Are you really siding with this brat, o great Melitele? My deck is two times better than his, but I lost five matches? This can’t be real. Even if he’s skilled, he can’t beat me that easily.”

Still frustrated over his loss, Jack glowered at Roy. Roy worried silently after being glared at. Did I go too far?

He did cheat, but nobody saw it. Roy kept two weather cards in his inventory space when nobody was looking, and throughout the matches, he’d swapped his cards to freeze Jack’s units. That lowered their strength, which Jack worked so hard to pile up. Gods, that was fun.

“Because I am lucky.” Roy tried to sound as calm as possible. “Nobody is luckier than me when it comes to Gwent. The great Melitele has granted me her blessing.”

“Dammit!” Jack slammed the wall, and it shook from the impact. “If it weren’t for that damned thief, Sasha, you wouldn’t have won. She stole my Mysterious Elf!”

Sasha? Roy paused for a moment at the mention of that name. He thought he’d met Sasha in the game, but he couldn’t remember who she was.

Brandon, the little fat kid, thought about it and shouted, “Isn’t Sasha the rider who knocked into Roy?”

The mention of the accident made Jack give up dwelling on his loss. “Forget it. If it weren’t for me chasing after her, she wouldn’t have panicked and crashed into Roy. I’ll let this matter slide today.”

Roy connected the dots and realized why Jack said he owed him, and why he was willing to lend a Gwent deck. So it’s because he has a rare card, and a thief came to steal it. That’s why Roy got knocked out and merged with me.

“Come here at the same time tomorrow night, Roy. We’ll have a few matches. You won’t be lucky forever. I’ll find out how you cheat one way or another.”

Roy took the offer without hesitation. He made five crowns in half an hour, so there was no reason not to let his greatest source of income go. Captain Jack’s as addicted to Gwent as those dwarves who got bankrupt because of it.

Brandon, wanting to have a piece of the show, tugged on Roy’s sleeve. “Roy, Roy, teach me that magic trick!” He whipped out a handful of aromatic, sweet, yellowish snacks from his pocket and popped them into Roy’s mouth.

“Those are cracklings. They’re delicious, aren’t they? Fletcher cooks up cracklings every time he slaughters a pig. You teach me some tricks, and I’ll bring you snacks every day.”

Roy looked at the naive, childish, chubby boy, and smiled. He flattened out a single strand of hair that poked out from Brandon’s head. “Let’s make it quick. We’ll have to go to bed soon.”