The Governorate's Desperate Gamble: Part 3
Dance and song were fine, alcohol was good, and women were even better—but no banquet hall could do without a gambling table. And the bigger the stakes, the more thrilling the game became. In that sense, no table in the entire universe could match the one laid out by Billeneuve, the puppet Prime Minister of the Atlantos Atlantis Empire, and Baltic, the head of the Governorate.
No matter how massive the pot, when it was someone else's money on the line, you could watch the spectacle from afar like gawking at a fire across the river. The invited women, summoned to a secluded space in the vast banquet hall for this gambling session—along with a few hangers-on—finally had a chance for some real entertainment after a long time.
"Games with the Prime Minister are always a delight, always feeling fresh. Those clueless fools outside just bring work without a hint of tact... But playing like this with you, Prime Minister, makes all the worries of the world vanish clean away."
"Heh heh, Governor. Don't take the underlings' antics too much to heart. How could a sparrow comprehend a phoenix's will? Still, if you're enjoying it this much, that's fortunate. But no amount of smooth talk will let me hand you this pot."
"Oh dear... You've already seen through my ploy. Ah, with my hand this weak, I'll treat it like pocket change for the others. I'll aim for the next round."
Baltic lit up what was labeled "Atlanti tobacco"—read: opium leaf—and tossed out a casual probe, which Billeneuve good-naturedly parried. Given the setting, every word from the participants carried hidden layers, and as expected, the shrewd Billeneuve didn't fall for Baltic's shallow trick.
"Your hand's weak, you say? When the Governor leads and then claims that, it usually means 'bluff'—I think I've heard that somewhere. So, how much are you betting?"
"Well... I can't go too high this round. The minimum: 500."
For reference, the black coins on the table—the lowest denomination, marked with "100"—represented 100 planetary systems. Five black coins meant thousands of systems at a conservative estimate. Words alone couldn't convey the scale, but seeing it with their own eyes made it hard to believe just how enormous the stakes were.
"You say your hand's weak and then bet 500? How much do you plan to win that you're revving up like this already? In that case, I'll match with 500 brown coins."
"Impressive bet from a national Prime Minister. A real man goes big or goes home. So, what about the rest of you?"
"I... I can't keep up. I'll fold."
"I'll sit this one out too. Didn't bring enough coins today..."
"Come now, the game's just starting—everyone bailing like this is a problem, isn't it?"
The brown coins, one step above black and marked "100," stood for 500 planetary systems. Silver coins were 1,000, gold 5,000, and the highest-value pink coins 10,000.
With billions of planetary systems in the galaxy, as the pot grew, even those prized pink coins appeared frequently. All eyes turned to see if today's game would reach that level.
"Anyway, if the Prime Minister's betting so boldly, I must follow suit. One step up: 500 silver coins from me."
"You said your hand was weak—was that sarcasm? The Governor, a habitual liar. Not content with just raising the amount, you upgrade the coins entirely... Isn't that too much?"
"If you're scared, fold. So, are you in or out? Just say it."
"Don't blame me for raising the stakes, Governor. I'll match one step: 500 gold coins."
The other players recoiled in horror at the absurd early escalation and bowed out, but the pride-fueled duel between the two men was only beginning. Forget haggling—their egos wouldn't let them back down now.
The hangers-on were wealthy enough to handle some losses, but the invited women—who had nothing—were stunned by how the pot skyrocketed in the blink of an eye. They slaved all day just to afford a single moon, yet these men tossed around hundreds or thousands of planetary systems like it was nothing.
Baltic paused, debating whether to raise further, and Billeneuve followed suit, lighting his own Atlanti and puffing away. The room's air thickened absurdly. By the time the acrid opium haze filled the space, Baltic had decided.
"Think 500 gold's enough? Make it 1,000 pink coins!"
"Governor! Even with all the stars in our galaxy, betting like that will leave you penniless in no time! Pink from the start? You sure? I'll give you a chance to back out. Miss it, and you'll regret it big."
"Backing down in a man's fight? Unthinkable. Let's go."
"You'll soon learn that courage is recklessness. If that's how you play, I'll gladly follow."
Betting time was over—it was time to reveal. The cards came out... Baltic's hand was strong, but Billeneuve's was straight-up world-tier, crushing him easily. Who told you to challenge a royal straight flush with a mere straight flush?
"Arrrgh! This can't happen! It can't!"
Heh heh heh... Should've checked your opponent first. I may not know much, but I own the gambling table. You dove in blind, so you should've been ready to get skinned alive. Even if I rigged the first hand outright for a royal straight flush and you didn't notice—you're pure as fresh snow... Tsk tsk.
"Again! Deal again! I can't leave like this!"
"Seems the Governor's brains are melting... Quitting before you lose more might be wise. I can pretend I didn't see if you bow out now."
"First hand, and you tell me to fold? Ridiculous. All-in, tenfold!"
Unable to contain his boiling rage, Baltic shouted "tenfold." It meant multiplying the coin values by ten and restarting the pot. Billeneuve, his face betraying nothing despite the greenhorn's raw emotion, eagerly accepted the challenge.
That's why gambling's so terrifying. After a big loss, you forget what you dropped and fixate only on potential wins, spinning the wheel until you're broke. Well, for the one fleecing a prime mark like this, it was all upside.
"To be frank, my hand this round is unbeatable. With that in mind: 1,000 brown."
"In poker, such honesty is a mistake... But I'll humor you. 1,000 brown, right? I'll double it to 2,000."
"Prime Minister, aren't you getting cocky after that first-hand win?"
"See the cards and find out. In or out? Your tongue's too loose."
This somewhat smaller(?) pot went to Baltic. Fresh off the win, he forgot his massive prior loss and danced like a fool in glee—but it was all Billeneuve's ploy to keep him hooked longer.
Win too one-sidedly, and you invite suspicion and rage, slaughtering the golden goose yourself. Better to let him taste victory now and then, puffing up his lungs for a bigger harvest later.
"Tenfold pot has me shivering... Whew, bet 500x—no, 500 gold. By the way, Governor, I hear the Governorate's finances are shaky lately... Why not cut your losses here?"
"Damn it, no way! The Governorate's books are no concern of mine!"
Perfectly snared by Billeneuve's push-pull, Baltic turned full degenerate, wagering not just his own funds but siphoning Governorate money under the excuse of funding Kaldir Cocktail production.
The hangers-on dipped in occasionally or spectated safely, pocketing pocket change or taking hits—but none matched Baltic's hemorrhaging. That's why they stayed: "Haven't lost as bad as that guy yet, so I can go bigger."
Jackpot—my wallet's fattening up nicely. Baltic's the majority shareholder in my purse, but these others... not bad either. The lewd card art suits my tastes perfectly, cock throbbing and all. Billeneuve smirked inwardly while keeping an astonishingly serene face.
"Hey, you bitches! If you had any sense, you'd suck my dick and jerk me off to boost my mood! What are you sitting there for?!"
"Heh, that won't improve your card luck, Governor! Heh heh heh..."
Unlike the unflappable Billeneuve, Baltic's losses frayed his temper until he lashed out at the invited women beside him. Wet-lipped sluts sucking you off while drawing cards won't magically turn your luck—why don't they get that?
Still, my cock's aching too—I can't hold out. Ah, gotta shove it in some bitch's mouth or pussy while playing. Oh yeah... Tongue on the base while drawing? Game's way more fun now.
Despite boldly ordering a woman to service him, Baltic kept losing to Billeneuve—his skull cracking, brains leaking. With his mind long since melted away, his bets never paused midway.