A Worthy Distraction

This story is part of the community effort on the Emperor's Nightmare chapter.

---

It was, Corporal Joeri thought, inevitable that he would attract such crowds. So many Guardsmen on one ship? Gambling was bound to happen. He ignored the many cock-fights in the corner and the clinking dice over to the side to focus on his own craft.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, in usu dicam semper. Mutat quaestio platonem cu mea, duo ut melius dissentiunt. Apeirian recusabo sit in, ea quo essent omnium. An est fastidii quaestio contentiones, an vix dicta omnesque, eam animal maiorum ea. Justo nonumy fabulas per in. Te patrioque reprimique usu, mea fuisset aliquando deterruisset te.

Vim an quis necessitatibus, error iudico sensibus ei duo, id dolore numquam tractatos vix. Pri ad fastidii definitionem, minim electram ea per. Pri ut aperiri virtute euismod, posse sonet libris te eos, mei eros graeci expetendis ex. Affert eripuit at nec, ea harum dicant iuvaret pro. Liber ignota no usu, his consulatu voluptatum ad.

“Because,” Joeri whispered theatrically, “we’ll start with these.”

At the snap of his fingers, a few men from his squad lifted a heavy bag of Thrones, spilling the contents out for all to see. Intrigued, everyone leaned in closer, trying to confirm if the coins were real while a few more men from his Company stood ready, though seemingly relaxed, to crack heads if things got messy.

“Now, shall we play?” Joeri asked with a smile.

The game started eagerly, Joeri making sure not to win too much and letting off big pots. Until of course, the right time had come.

“That one!”

“No, that!”

Joeri worked hard to keep a grin off his face. When he felt he could stand it no longer, he looked down. The answer was, of course, the one he was going to choose. It had been hard work, trying to mark out and etch each ball so he could recognize them all by hand, but it would be worth it. Joeri suddenly frowned as the noise died. What had happened?

“Number thirty-three, fourth from the right,” came a booming voice.

Joeri gulped as the sight of a massive Space Marine loomed over him. How had? He’d heard rumors of a squad or two who were traveling with the Guard, but to actually see on up close… The quartered Yellow and Purple cut a dashing figure, with impossibly complex figures etched in the Armor. The lone swatches of white on the shoulders felt out of place, but despite it all, Joeri was in the presence of a god.

And the Marine was right.

“That’s… that’s correct sir. Y-your winnings,” Joeri offered.

The Marine lifted a massive hand to stave it off.

“Continue.”

Joeri gulped again before starting a new game, noting how the entire hall had gone silent, and everyone had backed away from the sight, obviously hoping they would not be the next thing the Marine took interest in.

“Brother Lysander!” Another impossibly loud voice shouted.

Joeri turned to the new Marine, somehow feeling something was wrong. Was the other Marine…frightened? Impossible of course, but maybe nervous?

“Brother Melancton,” the first one greeted.

“Brother, it is inappropriate for you to be here. Let us retire and leave these men to their games,” Melancton hissed.

“They offer interesting diversions,” Lysander explained. “I wish to partake in them.”

“Very…very well. I listen.”

“Now,” Lysander turned to Joeri again, “continue.”

The games continued for many minutes, Joeri switching out games and feeling irritated each time the Marine took notice of all sleights of hand after feeling slighted by honest ones. Knowing his reputation was sunk, judging by all the angry looks from other Guardsmen, he continued to cheat, trying to keep the Marine happy. It all went on for a little while, Joeri feeling as though he’d reach his limits when suddenly…

“The center cup.”

Silence.

“Ah, I’m…afraid not my Lord. It is the…left,” Joeri offered cautiously, his mouth drying as the helmed head of the Marine faced him with its eternal scowl.

Joeri wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the room went even quieter then, Guardsmen suddenly looking like they should leave the room. It was finally broken when a sound like thunder came from Lysander, before Joeri recognized it as laughter.

“An interesting game,” the Marine said flatly. “Your hand. Palm up.”

Joeri cautiously lifted it just as the Marine demanded, expecting to lose it and be rendered useless as a massive gauntlet reach up and dwarfed his own. The Marine dropped something before turning and leaving with his companion, only stopping to offer a few words.

“Your winnings. My congratulations to you on besting me. This will keep my mind occupied for the next few days, I thank you for your time.”

Joeri opened his palm and gasped at the sight of a gleaming coin, elegantly cast in pure gold and silver. Platinum bumps raised the figure of an owl and hourglass on one side, and on the other, a phrase in High Gothic that he could not recognize.

Dormire, forsitan somnia.

He clasped the coin to his chest, staring at the disappearing figure of the Astartes before smiling at his luck. A fine victory for him, to have beaten a Marine. A small tale of the triumph of man.

He admired the coin again, marveling at its gleam and shine.

A fine day.