A Basic Story

I was on my way to the village square when I noticed a crowd gathering around a horse-drawn cart. My father had handed me a small pouch of copper coins and told me to buy a spoonful of honey from Tarus, the village's designated merchant. But instead of finding the familiar, lecherous old man atop the wagon, I saw a younger stranger with sharp cheekbones and a crooked nose.

No matter, I thought to myself. The merchant didn't matter much — they were all part of the Trade Guild and received their goods from the same source. Surely, this newcomer would have the same wares as Tarus.

I pushed my narrow frame through the crowd, finding a spot directly in front of the horses, squeezed between the chubby butcher's daughter and the reeking woodcutter's son. Looking up, I noticed the new merchant wasn't alone. Four boys, each seemingly a few years older than me, except for one that was, sat at the back of his wagon. No one else seemed to find this odd, as all eyes and ears were on the merchant.

"...but believe me, it's true! I got the news directly from the First Trader, who heard it from the king himself," the merchant was saying.

"Impossible!" replied the village elder, who stood conversing with him. "You're telling me six of the Thirteen are dead?"

The merchant nodded solemnly, and a collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

"Who?" asked the woodcutter's son beside me.

"The Blood, the Word, the Scales, the Dice, the Love, and even the Sword!"

Disbelief erupted. Villagers exchanged incredulous looks, and someone even threw a tomato at the merchant. Which would've been quite a waste I must say, if one of the four boys on the wagon hadn't caught it and hid it away.

"Why are you throwing things at me?" the merchant demanded indignantly. "I'm not the one who killed them!"

"They were killed?" someone asked.

The merchant hesitated for a moment. "Apparently, they killed each other. Idiots, I say. Blessed with the powers of the gods and cursed with the stupidity of us humans."

"By the gods!"

"How did that happen?"

The merchant shrugged. "Nobody knows. It seems things have unraveled in the capital... The Dice and the Sword never got along, and neither did the Blood and the Scales. But for the Word and the Love to be dragged into it? If you ask me, something doesn't add up. The Crown hasn't said much more about it, though."

A hush fell over the crowd. While the adults likely contemplated the implications of such a disaster, my childish mind remained firmly on my mission. I still had to fetch that spoonful of honey — if I didn't, I'd surely have a spoon hurled at my face later tonight. If unlucky, a knife.

"I need honey," I said, breaking the silence.

The merchant looked around, puzzled.

"Down here," I informed him, waving a hand. Finally, he spotted me and raised an amused eyebrow.

"You're not interested in all this, little one?" he asked.

I tilted my head. Of course it was interesting. But why should the goings-on in a distant capital concern me? I knew of the Thirteen, but to me, even the distant stars felt more tangible than those legends.

The merchant still awaited an answer. My brilliant response was to ignore his question.

"So, do you have honey or not? Tarus always had it."

He blinked, then burst into hearty laughter, leaning back far enough that I could see straight up his crooked nostrils. Recovering himself, he gestured toward one of the four boys on the back of the wagon.

"I'm sure the grown-ups here would like to talk a bit longer. But sure, go ahead, ask them. They know their way around my stuff."

I nodded gratefully. My interruption had also broken the villagers out of their stunned stupor. They began chatting, speculating, and theorizing. Some, like the butcher's daughter and the woodcutter's son, even started dreaming.

"If the Love is dead... that means I could be the next one!" the girl fantasized.

"But the Love was always famously beautiful."

"So?"

"Well, uhm..."

As the villagers delved into the day's shocking events, I climbed to the back of the wagon. One of the boys, apparently the oldest and largest, looked at me and asked, "Who are you?"

"Corin," I replied. "And you?"

"Sebastian. What do you want, Corin?"

"Honey. A spoonful. And do you have that green stuff that tastes like pepper?"

"Coriander?"

"Exactly! That too."

That was for me. I always had a love for coriander, one passionate enough to even defy my father a bit.

Sebastian nodded and called to another boy. "Crosseyes! Check if we've got honey and coriander."

Crosseyes, as I later learned, got his nickname from his perpetually crossed eyes. While he began rummaging through the wagon's crates, I waited patiently. Sebastian watched me curiously.

"Do you even have money?" he asked.

I nodded and showed him the small pouch hanging from my belt. When he still looked skeptical, I shook it, letting the coins jingle. He grinned, satisfied.

"It'll take a while! The old man's got no sense of order again!" Crosseye called.

Sebastian smiled apologetically. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," I said, shaking my head. I had no desire to hurry back home. In fact, as I chatted with someone other than my father for the first time in ages, I realized how little I wanted to go back.

"Want to play a round of Draw Thirteen to pass the time?" Sebastian asked suddenly.

"I've never played it," I admitted.

"What?" Sebastian exclaimed, incredulous. "Never?"

"Never."

"As in, not even once?"

"Not once."

"That's... wow."

Sebastian reached behind him and pulled out a massive deck of cards. "Well then, let me teach you. Every kid has to play Draw Thirteen at least once. How else are you supposed to dream?"

I shrugged. Dreaming hasn't gotten me very far in life. "How does it work?"

Sebastian explained. The deck contained the Thirteen and their 156 Sprouts. The two players took turns drawing cards, aiming to collect as many of the Thirteen as possible. If you collected at least seven Sprouts of a particular Thirteen, you could steal its main card from your opponent. There were a few other minor rules, but that was the basic idea.

Once I understood the rules, I asked, "What are we playing for?"

Sebastian smiled. "Just for fun. But be careful with the cards, yeah? They're worth a lot!"

And so, we played. I drew my first card, which showed an image of a spear.

"The Spear," Sebastian said, "a Sprout of the Sword. My turn."

He took the next card, and I couldn't help but notice how deftly he handled the deck.

"Ha!" he exclaimed, holding up his card. "The Dice!"

I might have been young, but even then, I realized Sebastian was clearly cheating. I couldn't prove it, and honestly, I didn't care. I was more interested in figuring out how he pulled it off. So, we kept playing. A few turns later, he drew the Crown, the Flame, and then Time. I still couldn't figure out his trick, despite keeping my eyes glued to his hands.

I drew the Wood and traded it, along with Smoke, Heat, Light, Coal, Ash, and Ember, for Sebastian's Flame card. The game went on until only one card remained. It was my turn, and the score stood at nine to three in Sebastian's favor — we really should have stopped long before. I didn't even wonder why Crosseyes hadn't found the honey or coriander yet; I was too focused on uncovering Sebastian's trick.

Finally, I sighed. Sebastian smirked. "Sad you lost?"

I shook my head and took the last card. It was, as expected, the Magic. But as I stared at the card, a question came to mind.

"Each of the Thirteen has thirteen Sprouts. Except the Magic. Why?"

Sebastian seemed surprised to hear such a question from someone like me. But he was just a kid himself, only slightly older than I was.

Looking back, I understand now that we were all just kids not knowing what to except in the world.

"No idea."

"Hm." I shrugged and put the cards down.

When Sebastian grinned at me, I instinctively leaned back a little. "You said we were playing for fun."

"And I had fun," he replied.

"We don't have any!" Crosseye shouted suddenly, as if he'd been waiting for this moment. "No honey and no coriander!"

Sebastian looked at me. "I'm really sorry," he said. "The old man filled in for Tarus on short notice. Things get missed sometimes."

I eyed the two of them skeptically. Then I nodded. "It's fine," I said, hopping off the wagon.

But not before I discreetly slipped something into my sleeve.

Sebastian waved goodbye as I squeezed back through the crowd. Once I left the square, I made sure no one was watching and examined the card I'd swiped. It was a four-leaf clover with a tear down the middle. The Magic.

I smirked. If he could cheat and trick, so could I.

That evening, I regretted not bringing home honey or coriander. But before I went back inside, I realized I wasn't the only one who'd taken something.

My coin pouch was gone.