A Trip to the Golden Butterfly

53rd day of Spring, 582

For reasons I have yet to fully put a finger on, I’ve had a strange calling as of late, to indulge in the smaller pleasures in life, as if intellectual pursuit might not be the only thing worthwhile. Preposterous concept of course, but all the same, it’s in such a spirit that I found myself thoroughly enjoying an evening of gambling with Slyph. Not a superstitious person as a general rule, I am however not ignorant of my past record with gambling. And thus decided it would be best to let Slyph handle the pocket change that I decided to indirectly invest in the Golden Butterfly casino, as well as the money Kitlin entrusted me to transform into chains – apparently we have a reputation.

My original plan for a round number was thwarted by Kitlin's investment, but it also permitted to prolong our amusement.

Her expert fingers on the sum, and the traditional ritual to warm up the wheels – and spirits – having been handled, Slyph proceeded to “let it roll”, with some degree of success. I found myself burdened with lilaberries and chains (three of which went to Kitlin for her generous sponsoring of our debauchery), while Slyph’s squire Lily Fren, who hung back within safe distance of her knight’s fiery temper (when she loses, anyway), was assigned to beer-drinking and ore-checking duties – which in retrospect might have been a poor choice, for either I should start believing in luck and assume her to be the unluckiest person in the lands, or she embezzled every piece of iron found in the process.

That last wheel seemed to move in slow motion.

But little did I care for iron, and my friend Lily was of course welcome to it if she needed it. So we proceeded with this technique until… I dare not call it an incident; an incident would require more than the simple coincidence that is involved in the wheels showing a winning item on all three slots machines, but still, it seemed to offer a perfect excuse to my partner in crime for stepping outside and sending her squire away to “fix” the wheels by losing on the 10c slots “before it explodes”. I suspect (hope?) she just wanted some time alone with me.

A life-threatening gumball attempted to cut the party short.

After that convoluted yet welcome attempt at courtship, and some further ritualistic demonstrations, she was ready to head back in and gamble some more. Perhaps bolstered by the rituals, she proceeded to win a cluster of orgaberries and a myriad of other less-valuable prizes. And thus the rest of the sum was spent nonchalantly as we bantered about the need for the casino to set up a V.I.P. room for its best clients – although if anyone calls us “whales”, they will be in for a world of pain.

The big prize of the evening, and a step toward my next outfit.

And so we headed back to town to let the adrenalin rush fade, and gloat of course. Sadly, we didn’t go relax in the bath house this time, for I would have loved to draw another sketch of that particular scene – the one I have of our last stay will remain in my pocket.