I stood on the deck, several paces away from the rebel officer. A crowd had gathered here. The skies were overcast. The world silent beyond the crashing of waves against the hull.

A village elder shuffled up to me with a large briefcase. "In accordance with the tradition of duelists, you may choose your weapon." He clicked it open and presented to me my options.

I looked. Inside, placed in very defined, cut-out spots, were three things. A rolling pin, a dildo, and a playing card. Great. It was gonna be that kind of duel.

My hand reached for the dildo first.

My enemy, the bearded rebel officer, turned pink in the face and started to disrobe.

I took the playing card instead.

He didn't put his shirt back on. Somehow, the sight of a playing card made his pecs and abs flex with even greater power.

That fool.

Sure, he might've been decent at a game of cards, maybe even great at them. But I had a secret weapon: Cassandra. No matter what kind of card game we would play, I was certain to win.

The old man snapped shut the case and hurried away, right as a couple of young rebel soldiers hurried over with a short table and two chairs. They set them between us, right on the rusted metal top decks, and I took my seat.

The shirtless officer sat across from me. "I did not take you for a disciple of the cards," he said.

The fuck does that even mean? "I didn't take you for anything."

His smug grin didn't waver, but I saw in his eyes that he tried to process the thought--and failed.

The two young soldiers returned, each carrying three decks of cards. I was presented with the trio, and I had to make a choice. Green, red, or blue. I chose the one color that was objectively better than the other three. Red. I chose red.

The crowd gasped.

The officer shook his head, almost with pity. "Oh, Redrim. And here I thought you knew what you were doing." Without looking, he took the blue deck.

To be honest, I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

The officer stared me down with a polite, neutral smile, and without even looking, he dealt himself seven cards and was already sorting them around.

I went to my deck. I slid out seven cards--nope, one too many--put that one back, then counted again--nope, I was right the first time--and once I had seven, I spread them in front of me.

And what I saw made me burst into laughter.

"Oh, heavens," said the officer. He adjusted his glasses. "I now see you have realized your folly. Do you wish to fold?"

Cassandra crackled to life. "Confirmed. This card game exists within my database. Shall I explain the rules, Imsi?"

"That won't be necessary," I said aloud.

The officer raised his eyebrow. Seeing my ready expression, he played the first card: [The Flab Grabber]. It was a one-power human mage that incremented its own power when another mage card was put into play.

Not a bad opener, but now it was my turn.

I slapped down [Ronald Rango], a two-powered tavern keeper. That's it. No other bonuses. Just a picture of a tavern keeper with long sideburns.

The officer smirked. "Not bad. But seems..." He slammed down the next card. "--that Ronald has met his match!" He lifted his hand to reveal [The Hobo King]. A legendary card inlet with golden designs that framed a single, sad figure--the mythical Hobo King.

My eyes widened at the card. It was... beautiful. Mythical. Powerful. It was another mage-class card, but it came with the special ability [Loiter], which for the cost of a single energy, the hobo king could fetch any card in his entire deck.

Bullshit! It was overpowered.

But his turn was spent before he could use it.

I slipped a new card into my hand, and--what luck! "I play Stray Dogs!"

He winced.

My [Stray Dogs] scared away his hobo king, and now he couldn't use the ability. I chuckled darkly. This fool didn't know who he was messing with.

We continued to field our cards back and forth, as this was still the opening rounds, and by the end of it, we both had a strong field of mighty warriors.

He had stacked nothing but mages, and they continued to buff one another until they had become 10-power bosses. It was a respectable army. I, on the other hand, had a collection of Bureaucrat cards, which required a special resource called [-red tape-]. By themselves, they did nothing, but once I played the next card—[Govern: Oppress]--the officer gripped his heart in shock.

"Im-impossible! Your bureaucrats are using faults within the game ruleset to systematically oppress my mages! Grrah!"

I held up another card to mask half my confident grin, then I flipped it over to show him. The art was a stack of papers on a desk, but the card frame was gold. [Repealed Worker's Rights].

The officer shook back. His chair clacked against the ship deck. He stared in horror as his mages were now vulnerable to the worst kinds of workplace offenses--manager abuse.

And what do you know--I presented the card—[Manager Abuse]. It was just a picture of a guy in a suit uppercutting another guy in a suit.

The officer jerked his head back and shouted as if he himself took the blow. "No. No! Gyah! You're punching my mages. It-it can't be!"

"Turn over," I growled. "Show me what you got."

The officer had reformed back into his calm, collected self as if none of that drama had actually just happened, and he sat back down in front of me. Politely, he peeled another card from his deck, smirked confidently, and used it to hide half his face.

His eyes were closed as he spoke. "Oh, Redrim. You've fought well. I will give you this respect, but--" His eyes opened. Demon eyes. The eyes not of a man, but of a card conquerer. "--I'm not just some guy." He boiled over to a roar. "I am Gregory von Messer, the Card King!"

"What?" I jolted back, and my chair toppled across the deck.

He laughed darkly. "I'm sorry, friend, for deceiving you. But unfortunately, you have lost this one." He revealed the card. [Mage Dragon]. It was both a dragon and a mage--at the same time. It boosted his mages, then he gripped his next card and thrust it across the table. It was--NO—[Super Magma Ultimate Fire Blast]! An ultimate-level spell that required no less than 10 mages on the field, and he had--onetwothreefour--FUCK, he had enough!

The spell erupted in a firestorm.

I tried to hold strong against the strength of it, the burning, boiling, melting heat of the flames as it rushed past me, crashing into my bureaucrat troops, throwing paperwork and desks all over the fucking place before setting the entire office on fire.

I tried to counter—[Fire drills]! Minimize fire damage.

The card burned away. The fire was too hot. Was I... was I gonna lose?

I could hear him laughing behind the roar of the spell. He stood there on the other side of that table, arms crossed, shirtless, muscles bulging, standing proud as the false victor.

I grunted past the howling flames, struggling to right myself up, to face forward against an unstoppable force. "I never told you," I growled. I pushed my face forward, and with a powerful stomp, I stepped closer.

He stumbled back. "Im-impossible!"

"I'm no noob." I grinned madly and drew my next card. "I'm more than two hundred years old. I was there when the game was created! I was there when its rules were written!"

The crowd gasped.

I took my card and hurled the card across the table like a ninja star and it--thunk--stabbed right into his forehead. He plucked it out and flipped it over.

[Tax Day]. Every human on the field must be taxed according to its power minus any skills in bureaumancy. If it cannot afford taxes, claim it for prison labor at one-forth its current power.

The card slipped through his fingers, fell slowly through the air, and landed gracefully on the table. The Card King's knees slammed on the deck. He lowered his head and raised his wrists to me.

And I burst into mad, villainous laughter.

The crowd erupted in cheers and praise and confused murmurs.

"Wait!" said a voice. It was Doc Jackelope.

The crowd fell silent.

The waves crashed.

The skies opened, and pillars of light slipped across the decks.

Doc Jackelope studied the battlefield. He read each card carefully, then looked at me. "I'm sorry to say, Redrim, but you didn't win."

Simultaneously, the officer and I said, "What?"

Doc pulled out a book. A real fat thing, like an encyclopedia. He flipped forward, back, forward again, and stopped on a page, then back again, and he started to read.

"Amendment 1591-F. The card Tax Day is no longer ignored by creatures with bureaumancy skills." He slammed the book shut. "It appears you have inadvertently taxed your own workers into prison labor. Because of this, even with the quarter-power level, your total score is still less than his, due to the Dragon Mage."

"Goddamnit. They changed the fuckin' rules!"

The officer stood and dusted himself off. "Worry not, Redrim. I will not so quickly honor a technical victory such as this, however." He nodded to the other leaders and elders for affirmation. It seemed they were on the same page. "We must come an understanding."

I crossed my arms. "Go on."

"This is your ship," he said. "There is nothing we can do about this. But we are the Anti-Marianna Faction. If you wish to partake in our mission, please do so, but you will still need to answer to the leadership council." He reached out his hand. "How does Rebel Admiral sound?"

I stared at his hand.

He continued. "The leadership council will set the mission. You will be the one to carry it out."

I took a few deep breaths, swallowed my pride, and shook his hand.