The manager verified the transfer and gestured to an empty seat. “Senator, you have a new player.”
Valerius looked up from his cards. “Mr. Korven. I heard you were making waves at Tarsus’s reception. Please, join us.”
I took the seat and waited while the dealer explained Cascade’s rules. Simple enough. Probability cascades through three betting rounds. Players could fold, match, or raise. Winner took the pot and the right to set stakes for the next hand.
The trick was losing correctly.
First hand dealt. I studied my cards, then the probability matrix displayed on the table’s holo-screen. Strong opening. Cascade potential of sixty-three percent. I could win this hand if I played it right.
I folded.
Valerius raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Second hand. Even stronger opening. Seventy-one percent cascade potential. The Fanaith to my left was bluffing. I could read it in the way his sleek gray skin paled at the throat. He had nothing.
I matched his bet, then folded when the Orlian raised.
Third hand. Valerius won with a cascade that paid out thirty thousand credits. He swept his chips toward his stack and smiled. “You’re either very cautious, Mr. Korven, or very unlucky.”
“Cautious,” I said. “I’m still learning the game.”
“An honest admission. Most Vinduthi I’ve encountered prefer to project confidence, even when learning.”
“Confidence without competence is just noise.” I waited for the next deal. “I’d rather understand the pattern before committing resources.”
“Wise philosophy.” He arranged his new cards, considering them. “Though in my experience, understanding patterns can take time you don’t have.”
Probing for weakness, testing boundaries, establishing dominance. Every word measured. Every response calculated.
I played the next three hands badly. Not obviously throwing them, but making mistakes a wealthy amateur would make. Betting high on weak cascades. Folding on hands I could have pushed. Letting the other players read me as someone with more money than skill.
By the eighth hand, I’d lost eighty thousand credits.
Valerius took the hand with a moderate cascade. He collected his chips and studied me across the table. “You’re bleeding credits, Mr. Korven. Perhaps Cascade isn’t your game.”
“Perhaps not.” I signaled the dealer for another hand. “But I’m enjoying the company.”
“Flattery is its own currency. Though less reliable than credits.”
“I wasn’t flattering. I was observing.” I arranged my new cards. Another strong hand. I bet minimum stake. “You play with precision. Every bet has purpose. Every fold is strategic. That’s rare in games like this.”
The Lyrikan across from me made a derisive sound. “Everyone at this table plays with precision.”
“Not like the senator.” I studied Valerius. “He’s not playing the cards. He’s playing the players.”
“You’re more observant than your betting suggests.”
“My betting reflects my inexperience. My observation reflects my profession.” I folded again, losing another five thousand. “I collect art because I understand patterns. Sentient behavior. Cultural significance. The way value shifts based on perception rather than objective worth.”
“Interesting perspective.” Valerius won another hand. “And do you find Valdorian culture interesting, Mr. Korven?”
“I find Valdorian collectors interesting.” I leaned back in my chair. “Particularly ones who understand that value isn’t fixed. That reputation matters as much as possession.”
The Orlian folded out of the game. Too many losses. The Fanaith followed three hands later.
Now it was just me, Valerius, and the Lyrikan. Personal game. Higher stakes.
“Tell me,” Valerius said as he arranged his cards. “What brings a Vinduthi collector to Valyria? We have excellent art markets, but nothing you couldn’t find elsewhere.”
