The High-Stakes Wager
"Whoa... Is this really okay?"
"How the hell should I know, idiot."
Siron replied indifferently to my worried words, picking up a snack from the table and popping it into my mouth.
*Munch munch.*
The moment it touched my tongue, it vanished in a puff of magic. Smith rates it very highly... No, that's not it.
I peered intently once more at the vivid, moving image projected onto what had to be an absurdly expensive glass shard—something I couldn't even begin to price.
At first, it showed the overall view, so their size didn't seem all that threatening. But as the time for the territorial skirmish drew near, the view zoomed in, growing sharper until I could even make out the soldiers' faces. None of them looked scared. Their fierce gazes, filled with steely resolve, stared straight ahead.
After the regular soldiers passed, there came riders on horseback towering far above them—massive figures clad head to toe in steel plate armor, gripping their lances with grim determination.
That was exactly why I'd voiced my concern. Even indirectly, they exuded an overwhelming pressure. Anyone facing them head-on would feel it tenfold worse than I did right now. So how could I not worry?
At least Siron and Giena beside me stayed utterly calm throughout, which helped settle my racing heart a bit. If I'd been with guys like me, we'd probably trigger some [Smith x3] set synergy and chatter like maniacs.
Knock knock knock.
Someone rapped on the firmly shut door.
—It's Nyaho. May I come in?
"Ah, yeah. Come on in."
The door opened silently, and Nyaho entered, trailed by a few attendants. I thought they were other guests at first, but no—they were just staff she'd brought to tidy up the snacks on the table.
They moved quietly with her, clearing the pastries and tea set. Then others came in to set out fresh treats, leaving just one by the door as the rest bowed to us and slipped out silently.
Siron, eyeing the table closely, looked up at Nyaho standing by the sofa and said,
"No booze?"
Classic Siron. Blunt as hell with anyone but me.
"From black ale to Brubong wine. Whatever you'd like, just say the word~"
Nyaho smiled sweetly in response.
"Then black ale."
"Right away. And if anyone else has requests, please don't hesitate~"
I pondered Nyaho's courtesy for a moment. Should I order a beer too? My nerves were shot—stomach churning even sober. But in a world where gods actually existed, getting drunk and praying irreverently might backfire.
"I'm good."
"And you, miss...?"
Nyaho asked Giena ever so delicately.
"I'm fine."
"...Understood."
Nyaho nodded slowly, her face subtly stiffening at Giena's reply. She signaled the woman by the door, who left quietly and soon returned with a frosted wooden mug, placing it carefully on the table before resuming her post.
"Whoa, I knew you had money, but is this really meant to be drunk?"
"Of course~"
Siron pointed at the chilled mug, frost wafting off it, and Nyaho nodded with a gentle smile.
"Looks like it'd shatter my teeth. I mean, it's that cold."
"Hehe, our magical artifacts are a tad pricey. But we wouldn't serve our guests anything unsafe. Drink up without worry~"
They were chatting lightly with smiles, yet the mood grew heavier with every exchange. Siron and Nyaho fell silent, staring each other down.
Then Siron smirked, unfastening a heavy pouch from her belt and slapping it on the table.
"So, no betting games here?"
"We certainly do offer them~"
"Then why no rundown? It's about to start."
"My apologies. I got so excited to host esteemed guests that I overlooked it."
Nyaho bowed, smile fading, and Siron's twisted grin softened to normal.
Hmm. So cute in bed, but out here? Total tomboy with everyone else.
Of course, that's part of her charm. And no need to worry—she picks her moments and targets wisely. Amelia sis and Ardella are prime examples.
Anyway, not the point. Betting, huh?
"Siron, isn't betting on this a bit much?"
Lives on the line, and we're wagering coin? Still a high bar for me culturally.
But Siron just tsked and raised her voice at me.
"Idiot. You think Kernax that bitch is gonna lose?"
"Hell no."
I could worry about injuries, but defeat? Never.
"Then obviously bet everything on her side."
"...Huh?"
Am I missing something? How'd we jump there?
Siron tsked again at my confusion.
"Your tribe got no rituals like this?"
"From my reaction, probably not. Siron."
Somewhere along the line, she'd started calling gambling a "ritual." Worth digging into.
"What do ya think gamblers want from betting?"
"Uh... for their side to win?"
"Bingo."
Siron gave me a now you get it? look.
Sorry, Siron. And...?
As if reading my mind,
"...Meaning the pot size shows faith. Proof your belief's that strong."
"Exactly~"
Nyaho chimed in from her quiet spot.
"If someone drops a huge sum out of nowhere, folks assume they've got inside info and pile on. Suddenly, everyone's praying to their gods for that side to win—at least for their own stake. Whether gods listen is another story, but the shared prayers comfort the soul~"
"Yeah... makes sense."
Never knew it had that layer. Siron's sudden push clicked now.
But problem: broke-ass Smith here. Penniless.
Damn. Back in Molingta, I rarely carried cash—guild errands only. Post-money-making? Siron, Kernax, and now Ardella handled everything. No chance to spend.
Saying it out loud, am I peaking in life? Stunning beauties as lovers, doting to the point they can't say no. Isekai's upside...?
Funny, since linking with Siron, I've thought of family maybe three times total. Guess that's how happy I am.
Point is: flat broke.
Siron tsked at my fluster.
"Never thought you'd have cash anyway. Just sit tight."
"If it's money,"
Giena, primly seated beside me, plunked a heavy pouch on the table. Smaller than Siron's, but somehow weightier.
"What? You got money too?"
"I always carry emergency funds."
Giena continued, eyes on me.
"Truth is, compared to that bow you gave me, I've done so little in return. I hope this at least covers a fraction."
TL;DR: use it freely, pretend it's yours.
What a saintly forest elf. Knowing how hard it is to hand over someone else's pouch contents, I just shot her a silent grateful look.
Her lips twitched up briefly before flattening again.
"Bullshit."
"Tsk. Siron, watch your mouth."
"...That was polite."
Siron pouted at me siding with Giena, looking adorably sulky.
Damn. Shouldn't think this with Kernax and the troops in mind, but sulky Siron? Too cute.
Alone, I'd hug her tight. Instead, I slyly hooked her pinky with mine. Her lips softened back to cute cherry pout.
"Ahem. So, wager on simple win/loss. Side: Viscount Biolin. That alright?"
I nodded.
"Anything besides win/loss?"
"A few more. First, casualties on both—"
"Nah, skip it."
Siron cut Nyaho off.
"In life-or-death stuff like this, the bad bets swarm. Best not to peek, Smith."
Giena added.
"Sorry. Merchant habits..."
Even Nyaho apologized to me.
Mood like that, I couldn't press.
"Anyway, check the pot and signal downstairs?"
"Right away~"
The door attendant approached, grabbing Siron's pouch first.
"Two gold coins, thirty silver."
"Money ghost much?"
Siron muttered, impressed. Nailed the count spot-on.
She pocketed it and lifted Giena's—mine now. She froze, glancing anxiously at Nyaho.
"Branch chief..."
Nyaho turned to us.
"A moment, please."
She stepped back with the woman.
"You. What'd you stuff in there?"
"My usual activity funds."
"Activity funds?"
Siron tilted her head, demanding details—right as
"...Forgive the rudeness, but do you intend to wager everything in this pouch?"
Nyaho's face was rigid. Her usual smile gone, curiosity peaked naturally.
But I didn't ask.
"Yes. All of it."
"...Understood. And sorry again for the impertinent question."
I got why she apologized this time. Same reason I didn't pry despite wondering.
Unshakable faith in Kernax's victory. Contents would return intact. No rush to check now.
Insisting would've screamed doubt in her win. She knew, but the sum shocked her into double-checking.
Nyaho nodded to the woman, who gingerly pocketed it and bolted. Another took her place.
"Alright. All set, then."
Siron grabbed her frosty mug with her free hand, lounging deeper into the sofa.
"Time to watch our number two show her stuff."