The mag-lev train smoothly pulled out of Crimson Valley City, accelerating toward the City of the Holy Anthem.
This was a custom-built VIP carriage, spacious enough to comfortably fit dozens of Astartes standing shoulder-to-shoulder. The transparent reinforced glass gave the passengers an unobstructed view of the scenery outside. The endless stretch of farmlands was gradually replaced by rolling hills, with occasional groves of fruit trees flashing past the windows.
Inside the carriage, the atmosphere was much more relaxed than when they had first set out. The Ultramarine and Blood Angel officers, visiting Aurelian for the very first time, were gathered in small groups. They chatted in hushed voices or curiously admired the view outside.
But over at the card table in the center of the carriage, the tension was thick enough to cut with a combat knife.
[The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man] stared dead at his hand. His poker face, honed from years of grinding at various tables, was currently cracking under a poorly concealed look of absolute smugness.
He had taken the Landlord bid this round. He didn't even need to look at the three hole cards on the table to know he had this in the bag. He was holding both Jokers, a bomb of four Kings, a bomb of four Jacks, and a high single Two.
Not calling the Landlord bid with a hand like this would be a total disgrace to his ancestors.
"My lords." He looked up at Guilliman and Sanguinius sitting across from him, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips. "I won't be pulling my punches this time."
Guilliman sat perfectly straight in his chair, his cobalt-blue power armor maintaining a flawless posture even while seated. His icy blue eyes swept over his own cards before glancing up at the incredibly smug face of [The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man].
The corners of his mouth ticked upward slightly. The smile was faint, but it carried a profound, almost unreadable depth.
Sanguinius leaned back in his chair. His golden power armor cast a soft glow under the carriage lights, and the pristine white wings folded behind his back rustled gently with the slight sway of the train. He was also studying his hand, a teasing, half-smile resting on his flawless face.
"Not pulling your punches?" Sanguinius's voice was gentle, but laced with amusement. "Are you sure?"
[The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man] felt his heart skip a beat. But he quickly steadied himself.
Both Jokers. Two bombs. How could he possibly lose with a hand like this?
You really think you can wipe me out when I'm holding a nineteen-card hand?
"I'm sure." He nodded confidently and reached out to flip over the three hole cards.
The first card: a Three of Spades.
The second: an Eight of Clubs.
The third: a Nine of Diamonds.
The carriage went dead silent for a second.
The cocky grin completely froze on [The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man]'s face. His eyes darted back and forth between his hand and the hole cards on the table three times before the brutal reality finally set in...
His draw was a giant steaming pile of garbage.
Not a single one of the three cards synergized with his current hand. He still had his two Jokers and his two bombs, but what was once a smooth, flawless lineup of cards was now a fragmented mess.
Sitting across the table, the two Primarchs burst out laughing at the exact same time. It was a hearty, incredibly satisfying laugh—the kind that had been bottled up for twenty-three long years.
"You know," Guilliman spoke slowly, a rare tone of relaxation in his voice, "twenty-three years ago, during that Eve, we spent the entire night playing cards with you." He paused, a glint of nostalgia flashing in his icy blue eyes. "And we didn't win a single game the entire night."
Sanguinius picked up the thread, his tone equally amused. "After we left, Guilliman and I spent a long time reflecting on that. We analyzed every single match, studied your betting patterns, and calculated the distribution probability of every card in the deck."
He looked at [The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man] with an effortless, victorious smile. "Eventually, we realized that 'Fight the Landlord' is fundamentally a game of probability and psychological warfare. So, between our crusade campaigns, Guilliman and I started playing it frequently with our sons."
Guilliman chimed in, "Over the past twenty-three years, we've played more rounds of this game than you've had hot meals."
[The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man]'s mouth twitched. He looked down at his cards, then back up at the absolute confidence radiating from the two Primarchs across the table. He took a deep breath.
Both Jokers. Two bombs. Even if the draw was total garbage, I still have the Jokers and two bombs!
"Bring it on, then!" he gritted his teeth and slapped down a single Three. "Three!"
Sanguinius glanced at his hand, slid out a Nine, and gently placed it on the table.
Guilliman followed up by dropping a Two.
[The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man] watched Guilliman escalate straight to the highest single card. Without hesitating, he slammed down his bomb of four Jacks.
Sanguinius shook his head, indicating a pass.
Guilliman also passed.
Relieved, [The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man] tossed out an Eight.
Sanguinius followed with a Nine.
Guilliman dropped another Two.
This time, the "God of Gamblers" didn't dare to throw his second bomb. His remaining hand consisted of a single Nine, a single Two, and a pair of Fours.
The two Primarchs sitting across from him hadn't played a single bomb yet. They were biding their time. Waiting for him to lose his patience. Waiting for him to blindly blow his other bomb. Waiting for him to expose a fatal flaw.
[The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man] took a deep breath. He gritted his teeth. "Pass!"
Just let me pass this Nine, and you guys are totally screwed!
Sanguinius looked at his hand and gave a slight shake of his head.
Guilliman smoothly dropped three Eights with a single Four kicker.
[The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man] stared at his own hand and helplessly shook his head again.
Sanguinius and Guilliman locked eyes. Then, both Primarchs chuckled simultaneously.
Sanguinius passed again!
Guilliman slowly pulled four cards from his hand and gently placed them on the table. It was three Nines with a single Four kicker.
[The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man]'s eyelid twitched violently. He knew he couldn't let Guilliman keep dictating the pace like this, or the Primarch would empty his hand and end the game.
Gritting his teeth, he slammed down his four Kings!
"Bomb!" he barked, his voice rising a pitch. "Pass or play?"
Sanguinius chuckled and casually pulled four cards from his hand. Four Aces. "Bomb."
[The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man]'s face went completely pale.
His hand was whittled down to just the two Jokers, a Two, a Nine, and a pair of Fours. Meanwhile, the guys across the table still had plenty of ammo. He took a sharp breath and stared at the red and black Jokers in his hand. This was his last hope. The absolute strongest hand in the game.
He had to go all in!
"Jokers!" He violently slammed both Jokers onto the table, his voice practically dripping with reckless desperation. "Pass or play?!"
Sanguinius and Guilliman looked at each other. They shook their heads. "Pass!"
[The Last God of Gamblers of the Imperium of Man] stared miserably at the Two, the Nine, and the pair of Fours left in his hand. Since the other three Twos had already been played, he tossed out his single Nine, praying to the Emperor that the Primarchs only had straights left and were out of bombs.
Instead, a massive grin broke out across Sanguinius's face. "Out of big cards, are we?"
He revealed the only five-card bomb left in the entire deck, absolutely obliterating the gambler's Nine. He immediately followed it up with a pair of Sixes.
Left with absolutely nothing to play, the gambler helplessly muttered, "Pass."
Guilliman smoothly took over the momentum and dumped the rest of his cards in an instant, completely clearing his hand.
The Landlord had lost. The peasants were victorious.
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