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[Dymm Crowley]

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Not often did Dymm play cards alone, but tonight he did. The sun had already gone down and only the dull light from the hanging lantern above illuminated his desk. He held an entire deck in his hands, but his eyes were fixed on only one tonight. It was quite a time he stared at the card’s face, resting at the bottom of the deck. For Dymm, though, a lifetime of procrastination would be yet too short.

Friends. Friends would be the death of him. He knew it now, more then ever. He knew that he was a professional and a businessman. He knew that he needed to get the job done. There was no choice. If the job didn’t get done, he’d be out of a broker, and soon after, out of money. And money, after all, is what makes the world go round.

Sighing deeply, Dymm placed the card face-up on the desk. He continued to eye the card, even after it was placed, though, as if a new, horrifying thought was just unfolding to him. The card rested now peacefully; it rested upon the map of Yew Dymm had purchased a few days prior. Not for long would it rest peacefully, though. Dymm took the next card from the deck and placed it half on top of the other.

Tearing his eyes quickly away from the desk, Dymm blew out the lantern, leaving the house in darkness, save the moonlight shining through the window. As Dymm walked up the stairs to his bedroom, the moonlight shown onto the map, where rested the cards: the Ace of Spades upon the King of Clubs.

“What an awful hand,” was his last thought, before drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

[Dymm Crowley]

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There will be a lesson somewhere in here – a moral. Something will be learned from all this. Something positive will come out of this.

Those were Mister Crowley’s last thoughts before strapping up his boots and leaving the house. The job was completed with general ease. Dymm expected it to feel different. It didn’t. It was just a job and now the King of Clubs was out of the game – Arlin was done.

Returning home safely, Dymm silently placed the Ace of Spades fully atop the King of Clubs. He threw away the map of Yew. He didn’t need it anymore. Sitting on his bed, he ran a cloth over his kryss. As he cleaned the blood and excess poison from the blade, he thought about what the lesson was. He thought about how he felt, but there was nothing. He felt nothing. No sadness. No happiness. There was no lesson.

He cleaned the kryss thoroughly, yet the blood remained long after.