The Price of Cheating

Pain, fear and confusion are not how anyone wants to start their day and Art was no exception. A bell tolled in the distance and pale, early morning sunlight streamed into his bedroom. The rich, velvet curtains hadn't been drawn. At least I'm in my room. The soft chuntering of old machinery underplayed bird cry; the Capital was perched on an ancient engine that powered the lights and pumped the water. It collected and dispersed the fresh water, however it could also dispose of the waste - foul water and people alike. Flushed down into the darkness that lurked below. Given the pounding in Art's head, he would happily take that release.
         He sat up and scanned his surroundings for clues. Where had he been? It was Prince Kristoph's party two days ago, he was sure of that. Yesterday's frivolity had been hosted by that grinning merchant fool Blaine. And why did he feel so bad? It wasn't just the hangover. He felt like he was in trouble.
         Next to his bedside there was a belt of money - a wide and usually heavy thing he took to fancy parties. He had spent months filling it. It was very flat. Not even a few stray coins inflated it. It was as dead and useless as the animal that had died to make it. Heck. There were betting slips all around it. Not good. Anger replaced some of his fear. Where was his blasted servant?
         'Mani! Coffee! Food! And medicine! What happened last night?'
         An intolerably long time later, Mani pottered into the room. Art was ready for his servant's disappointment. However it still irritated him. Didn't Mani realise the efforts Art had to go through at these damn parties? The copious drinking. The simpering entourage he had to suffer, laughing at his jokes as he hated them for it. Following him around and making it all but impossible for him to speak with his equals. Or betters. For in this land of Princes, Art's royal blood sadly ran shallow.
         'Your usual, Sir,' said Mani, pulling the trolley in behind him.
         'Try to sound a bit less bored about it.'
         'Forgive me, Sir. You know full well it is the highlight of my day.' Sarcasm dripped from him. However, Art believed his old servant was enjoying it.
         'Seeing me in blinding agony, or seeing that I've lost all my damn money?'
         'Why, just the agony,' drawled his servant. 'I'm more concerned about the money. My fortunes are to an extent tied to yours, Master Artimus'
         Art scowled up at the man from his bed. Mani was an ugly thing; round of face, shoulder and belly. Art, on the other hand, was quite beautiful. The two of them made quite a pair in public - which was why Art kept the little gremlin inside as much as possible.
         'I'm out there risking it all for greater fortune, and you just see less tip money.'
         'I could dance the jig and you wouldn't tip me, Master Artimus.' Again, that smug drawl. Mani was really loving this.
         'You couldn't dance a bloody jig for all the money I own, you clumsy oaf,' snapped Art.
         'And what an enticing sum that would be,' replied Mani, throwing a disparaging glance at the empty belt.
         'Look, just stop going on about it. Can't you see I'm suffering.'
         'I promise not to mention it... On an unrelated note, the next instalment for your boat trip next month is due. How would you choose to settle it?' Mani stressed the word choose. 'Coin or...'
          'Credit...'
          'I'll make the arrangements, Master Artimus.'
          '.... What? Why on earth are you looking at me like that?'
         'You really did cause quite the stir last night.'
         'These parties always get a bit out of hand,' said Art, forcing down a pang of fear and sitting up to focus on his breakfast. 'What did you hear this time?'
         'Oh, the usual. A drunken pass at one of your more wealthy siblings - a female at least this time. Some spilled drinks and fierce words with your usual crowd, nothing physical. But there was something a little bit more alarming...'
         Art frowned up, eggs halfway towards his mouth. 'Go on...'
         'Master Artimus, do you have your dice with you still?'
         Art glanced over at his belt. 'I've always got some with me. Why?'
         'Not some dice. Your special dice.'
         'Christi. Well you know I'd never bring loaded dice to a party. Nobody would be that stupid!'
         'I'm sure nobody would. If I didn't see so myself, I would also vouch that nobody lost half their fortune by sundown. I'm sure usually nobody would be back early, staggering around the house and shouting threats of retribution. Are you sure you didn't swap them before you went back out?'
         'Yes. Look at my damn purse. Of course I didn't swap them! I've got no damn money! I'm not stupid enough to bring them into that sort of a party. But if I did, I'm certainly not stupid enough to lose at the same time!'
         From lower down in the house there was a heavy knocking. It drew Art's attention. His fear started to resurface. There were few crimes worse than cheating at dice, and few worse parties to do it in.
         'Let me go and take care of this before they break the sodding door,' muttered Art, trying to sound more confident that he felt. 'They can't be that upset. They've got my damn money.'
         A few short moments later he was staring down into a face he recognised far too well. An upstart, common blood captain of the guard by the name of Davin or Darrin or something like that.
         'Good Darr.. Em.. Captain. What a pleasure! What can I do for you?'
         'You can come with me,' replied the man, a hideous smile on his face. 'You've finally blown it. Caught cheating by the High Prince himself. Your time here is at an end. You're going to get flushed.'