Chapter 61: The Ritual

The space inside the "Full Pouch" tavern was not large, perhaps comparable to the White Ptarmigan.

Yet by comparison, the latter felt noticeably much more spacious.

As for the reason, it was naturally because the main hall of the Full Pouch was crowded with various card tables that took up nearly every available space.

Excited cheers and desperate wails mingled in the air, which was thick with the heavy scent of alcohol.

Xanan carefully guarded his pocket, struggling to weave his way through the gamblers in the hall.

The halfling who had been by his side had already vanished from his line of sight—

With a height that barely reached Xanan's waist, in this kind of setting, the halfling was swallowed up by the crowd almost instantly.

Xanan was not worried about the halfling's safety.

The tavern was only so big; anyone coming and going, or any commotion that occurred, could be seen clearly.

Moreover, the halfling was an adventurer just like him, with guaranteed combat capability.

To a certain extent, the racial traits of the halfling probably made him even more adept at navigating this place than Xanan himself.

"Clack!"

At a card table beside him, a card with a unique pattern depicting two winter wolves was slapped onto the surface.

Almost simultaneously, the gamblers crowded around, their eyes bloodshot as they stared intently at the table, let out noisy cries of excitement or regret.

Xanan frowned and glanced at it, quickly withdrawing his gaze.

In this world, things like playing cards existed as well.

It was just that the patterns and values on the cards were completely different from those in his previous life.

Moreover, the various rules and ways of playing varied distinctly depending on the region.

He did not understand the specifics, and if he rashly joined a table, he feared he would lose down to his last pair of trousers.

He had only followed the halfling in to take a look; the vast majority of his wealth was deposited in the bank at River Valley Town, and most of the coins he carried with him were left at the inn.

The only things he had brought into the tavern were 7 silver and 3 copper coins.

The sound of dice spinning and colliding at high speed inside a dice cup reached his ears, and he looked toward the source.

He saw a dealer in a bartender's uniform violently shaking the dice cup in his hand.

He took a step forward.

Compared to cards with their multitude of plays and complex rules, dice games were much simpler.

Although there were still many extended rules, and the physical laws of the two worlds were surely different, the most basic mathematical theorems remained the same.

Odd or even—a fast and simple style of play—was undoubtedly the most popular in a tavern of the Full Pouch's caliber.

Yet just as he drew close to the card table, before he even had time to squeeze past the crowd in front of him,

in his field of vision, Alton—who had disappeared ever since entering the tavern—was actually already sitting right beside the table.

Beside his hand lay a massive pile of coins.

Just as Xanan was marveling at the other's speed and about to say hello,

he watched as the halfling, amidst the gaze of the surrounding gamblers, pushed all the coins aggressively forward.

"All in!"

Ah?!

...

...

"Drip, drop."

Clear, cold raindrops fell like threads, and puddles of various sizes had already formed on the uneven road surface.

Xanan stood before the tavern entrance, raising his head to look up at the dark clouds in the sky that were violently colliding and merging without the slightest sign of weakening or fading.

"It's going to pour," the halfling Alton said with a smile, tossing the lucky coin in his hand.

Xanan did not reply, only looking at him with a peculiar expression.

In his mind, he replayed the scene he had witnessed two hours ago.

Bizarre, utterly bizarre.

The halfling at the card table remained as optimistic, cheerful, and smiling as the impression he had left in Xanan's mind.

Yet his actions were fiercer than those of the most manic gambler.

Every single hand was all-in.

And the result surprisingly matched his identity as a devout follower of the Goddess of Luck.

Either he won, or it was a draw; he didn't lose a single hand.

In the end, not only Xanan, but even the surrounding gamblers who had previously been entirely unacquainted with the halfling were left gaping in utter astonishment.

Xanan had originally wanted to join in as well, but no matter how he looked at it, something felt off.

So he had leaned in and murmured a couple of words of caution.

Upon receiving Alton's shake of the head in response, he decisively dismissed the thought and simply watched from the side.

For the two hours since entering the tavern, Xanan had watched with his own eyes as the pile of coins beside the halfling grew higher and higher.

Even the expression of the dealer at the table had gradually changed.

He had even faintly caught the sound of arguments and commotion drifting from a back room behind the tavern.

If not for the two sharp swords strapped to the halfling's back, someone probably would have come over to negotiate long ago.

Xanan had even mentally prepared contingency plans.

Until half a minute ago.

Alton had once again pushed the mountain-like pile of coins beside his hand onto the table.

Xanan had expected the other to guess the outcome as if possessed by clairvoyance and win everything once again.

However, for the very first time, the halfling lost.

And because it was an all-in bet, everything he had won previously, along with his own initial stake, was completely wiped out in this single round.

Of all his worldly possessions, only the lucky coin he was currently tossing in his hand remained.

Yet seeing this, there was not the slightest trace of disappointment on Alton's face.

He remained cheerful and carefree, as if what he had just lost was merely a pile of ubiquitous roadside stones.

He remembered that just as the two of them were leaving, a middle-aged man who seemed to be a tavern manager had even proactively come over to strike up a conversation, inviting the halfling inside for a private chat, only to be lightly and politely declined.

Xanan looked at Alton, who was currently squatting by the roadside with a delighted expression, curiously studying a puddle on the ground.

His right hand gently pressed against his waist pocket, feeling the hard texture of the 7 silver and 3 copper coins inside.

Suddenly, his mouth felt dry.

Licking his lips, he spoke up:

"Just now... were you doing that on purpose?"

"Which part?"

"The very last round."

"Yes, and no." The halfling's fingertip gently poked the surface of the water, sending another ripple across the puddle already crowded with rings from the fine drizzle.

"What do you mean?"

"Luck is conserved."

Alton suddenly stood up, extending his left hand out from beneath the eaves.

The fine rain fell, splashing droplets.

A crystal-clear droplet landed on the halfling's fingertip, only to be split in two by gravity and slide down either side.

"Just like everyone knows, the Smiling Lady, who symbolizes 'good fortune,' has a younger sister whose domain is the exact opposite."

"Luck and misfortune are inherently the same thing."

He pinched the brass-colored coin with his wet fingers.

And tossed it into the air once more.

"You cannot win forever, nor will you lose every single round."

The rain fell densely, speckling the surface of the spinning coin.

The tiny, splashing raindrops refracted the dim, gloomy light of the air.

Faintly, Xanan seemed to see that

the face of the long-haired woman engraved on the front of the coin became clear for a single, fleeting instant under the reflection of the dim light.

A sudden flash of understanding struck him.

To Alton, his behavior inside the tavern might simply have been an arbitrary whim born of amusement.

Yet on the other hand, the halfling's series of actions had also invisibly aligned with the dogma of Tymora, the Goddess of Luck.

It was not a gambling game.

It was a ritual.