Chương 3: The Lords of Misfortune

"No way! Goblins are such bulls—!" Una Martillo made a sound in her throat. Duncan and Vlad looked up and found an old woman glaring at them with her hands on her hips. A boy stood beside her, his eyes locked on the miniature battlefield. At once, Duncan turned red.

"Whoops. Sorry ma'am," Duncan apologized, with a crooked smile. He was sixteen, with big ears, bad acne, and worse teeth. He wore a purple Duke Games polo shirt with a golden crown embroidered over his name. His adversary was around the same age but twice his size. Una's eyes narrowed at Vlad's sloppy attire. He wore ratty black jeans, a Black Sabbath shirt with sweat rings, and Birkenstocks.

Vlad's side of the battlefield was lined with empty bottles of Pleasure Time soda and greasy wrappers from vanquished hot dogs.

"Filthy mouths, filthy minds," Una chided. Both players were silent. Satisfied, Una tutted away to look at chess boards. The older boys covered their mouths so they didn't burst out laughing. Robin was still rooted in place, gawking at the battlefield. The body-aches were coming on, and he had a kind of drifting feeling, like he wasn't completely tied to any of this. The tiny scale and sprawling complexity gave him a feverish sense of almost-real. Every angle seemed to tell a different story.

What broke through the stockade? Had those wiped-out defenders fled in terror from the Goblin horde or stood their ground to the last Dwarf? Guess by guess, he could feel a grand narrative taking shape. He wished he had his journal. The table was a 4x8 sheet of plywood covered with fake grass flocking. There were hills made of carved styrofoam, toothpick ramparts, and a stockade made of splintered balsa wood. Painted figurines were turned on their sides all over the board.

By the accumulation of candy wrappers, the tiny war must have raged for hours.

"What game is that?" Robin dared to ask.

"Lords of Rapaxoris. It's not for kids," Vlad answered, quick and dismissive.

"Don't listen to him. LOR is recommended for ages fourteen and up. It's an awesome hobby," Duncan argued.

"I'll be thirteen in a month," Robin said.

"That's fine! The age rating is just a suggestion, anyway. We have a new player orientation the first Saturday of every month. The rules aren't that complicated. You should come!" Robin eyed the pile of rulebooks. Some were thicker than his textbooks. He gawked at the figurines as Duncan and Vlad broke up the battle. There were standard bearers, captains, wolf cavalry, siege weapons, all painted in incredible detail. He watched the careful way the older boys handled each soldier as they packed up their armies.

They had black plastic flight cases with foam cut-outs for each figurine.

"Do they come like that?" Robin asked, pointing at a unit of brightly colored Berserkers. Their faces and arms were painted with jagged scars and interlocking tattoos.

"No, and that's half the fun! You get to put them together and paint them any way you like." Duncan explained.

"We sell starter packs. You get five hundred points of troops, the lore tome, and the basic rulebook. I would avoid Dwarves for your first army though, they're a little weak this season."

"The Dwarves are fine, it's their leader that's weak," Vlad jabbed.

"The game does have a strong element of random chance. My General was slain in the first round," Duncan rued.

"Speaking of which, hand him over," Vlad thrust his palm over the table.

"Let me slide, Vlad. Goblins are so overpowered right now. The paint's barely dry on Gorthar. I didn't even get to use his ultimate!"

"No mercy for Dwarven scum. You lost, cough up Gorthar." Duncan had hidden Gorthar behind a wall of spent Mountain Dew cans. With a sigh he handed the General over. The figurine was incredibly detailed. Gorthar's multicolored robe was trimmed in golden runes and his staff had a silver ram's head with tiny sapphire eyes. Duncan must have spent days painting it.

"You have to give up your general if you lose?" Robin asked.

"Just if they die in battle. We say they're 'captured'. You can either ransom your general back with others you capture or they're returned at the end of the campaign. This isn't part of the official game, by the way! It's a house rule for our campaign."

"What's a campaign?"

"So our game club is called The Lords of Misfortune. It's really cool. All the games we play are like individual chapters in a much larger book. We record all the results and they impact what happens next in the war that will run all summer long. The winner of the campaign wins a prize and the rest of us have to call them 'Duke' until someone else wins." Duncan explained.

"Which will never happen," Vlad raised his scruffy chin proudly at the chalkboard next to a giant map. Under a scroll marquee that read "THE LORDS OF MISFORTUNE" there was a list of eight armies.

'Duke' Vlad was in first place. Duncan was in third.

"Wow. So cool!" Robin breathed.

"Check out my trophy hall," Vlad said. It seemed like he was warming up now that he realized Robin wasn't going to make fun of him. Vlad popped open a smaller flight case that contained all the generals he'd captured. There was a twin-tailed lizard king with a feather headdress, an elf queen with three arrows nocked in her bow, and a knight in crimson armor with a bloody sword. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"That's my Silverwind," Duncan pointed to the elf.

"Vlad wiped out my Everglade Brigade early in the campaign so I swapped to these Highland Dwarves. If the battle went my way, I could have won her back. No such luck."

"It isn't just luck." Vlad folded his arms across his chest.

"You rolled four sixes in a row! I failed all three saves."

"You misplayed the scenario. You let your footmen get bogged down in the barley. By the time your Berserkers got going, it was all over. Should have sacrificed your Shieldbearers and rushed the stockade."

"Hard to get a charge going when your archers get four sixes…" The older boys seemed like they might bicker all night.

"How much does a starter army cost?" Robin interrupted. Duncan's attention snapped back to him.

"Just $9. 99! Comes with everything you need, paint, primer, and brushes. Plus, we're running a special, you get a free champion figure of your choice to lead your troops to glory!"

"Oh," Robin said. He turned and found Una was watching him from the aisle. He knew better than to ask. He took a last look at the battlefield.

"Thank you." Robin left Duncan and Vlad to go find his abuela (grandmother). They began to squabble again at once.

"Your grandfather would have loved this place," Una said. She pointed up at a model bomber that hung from a strand of fishing wire.

"See this B-29? The stupor-fortress. We lost twice as many to engine problems as we did to the Japanese. For every ten we sent, one never returned. God was looking out for your grandfather."

"Huh. Did you ever fly in one?" Robin steered the conversation away from Grandpa Hector. Every time Una got on that track, she got sad and lectured him about Jesus all evening.

"No, but some of the WAFS did. In '44, a lot of pilots didn't want to fly in these because the engines would blow up. So they sent two women up as test pilots to shame the men. It worked." Robin looked up at the plane. One in ten. He felt a little lightheaded. Everything from the game was still so vivid in his mind. He was pretty sure he had a fever. Una noticed at once.

"Do you feel all right? Let me know if you need the bathroom before we go home."

"I'm all right," Robin said quickly. He looked back over his shoulder, afraid the older boys would hear Tita babying him.

"Hello? Can we get some service please?" Una called out from the counter. Tucked under her arm was a battered yellow box. Duncan hurried over. Una had found the cheapest chess set in the store, a used Milton Bradley Chess, Checkers & Acey Deucey Backgammon set. Robin hoped she wouldn't haggle, but she did. She brought up how light the pieces were, how beat up the box was, and took all the pieces out on the counter to make sure the set was intact. Duncan played along and ultimately, let her have it for a dollar.

Una strutted out of the store with the chessboard, beaming with pride. For the second time that day, Robin felt like he was dying, this time of shame. He saw Duncan smirk as he left. Robin was sure he'd surrendered just to get rid of her. Every single time. Una always butted in everywhere and ruined everything. She just couldn't act normal. There was no way Robin could show his face in the game store again. It was just as well, because he couldn't afford to play anyway. A bad headache loomed.

Robin wanted to go home and disappear into his room with a rag over his eyes. He winced when the car slowed and they weren't close to home. Una pulled the Falcon into the Piggly Wiggly parking lot and circled for ten minutes looking for a closer space.

"We're out of eggs. Want to come in? It's cool inside."

"Can I stay here, Tita? I don't want to look at food right now."

"I'll be quick," Una frowned. As soon as she left, Robin wished he'd gone inside with her. The day was fading but the heat remained. Una always took forever. Bored, he hunted in the game box for the rulebook. It was there, but there was a surprise as well. BLACK LABYRINTH - THE LORDS OF RAPAXORIS QUARTERLY SUPPLEMENT ISSUE #28 - SPRING 1979 - $1. 99 The magazine had a wild-looking Dwarf with a giant axe on the cover, surrounded by flames and frenzied Goblins.

Robin was sure it wasn't in the box when Una checked the pieces. Duncan must have slipped it inside. He flipped through the pages and found the rules for The Doom of Dagbellow Dell scenario they'd been playing in the store. The magazine was full of art, lore, painting tips, and campaign reports. There were maps, charts, and two-page spreads of battles with hundreds of miniatures. The last quarter of the magazine was a catalog of all the figures and a mail-in order form.

At the very end, the inside back cover had photos of different clubs all over the world. At once, Robin recognized the War Room from Duke Games. It was far cleaner in the picture. A group of smiling boys was gathered around the table where three trophies were placed.

CLUB HIGHLIGHT DUKE GAMES, ALBUQUERQUE NM, USA"THE LORDS OF MISFORTUNE" WINNER - ARGENT GARGOYLE GRAND PRIZE 1978 - SANDY AMSLER, BATTLE DIORAMA - THE SLAYERS IN THE LIZARD QUEEN'S LAIR WINNER - 2ND PLACE, 1978 US NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP - VLADOMIR ROZINOV, THE BURNED BETRAYERS (CHAOS CAVALRY) WINNER - 1976 MARVELOUS MERCHANT STORE EXCELLENCE AWARD, DUKE GAMES - THE SCHWEIZER FAMILY The game club was in the magazine!

Apparently the little hobby shop next to the ice cream place was famous and the huge metalhead in the hippy sandals was almost a national champion. No wonder he'd won. Robin was so engrossed in BLACK LABYRINTH, he didn't even notice Una until she threw open the Falcon's rear hatch. She stowed two bags of groceries in the back. Her walk to the driver's seat was wobbly and awkward. Robin felt guilty. He should have gone into the store to carry the bags for Una.

"Sorry. I ran into Florence, she wouldn't shut up about her dog. I don't know who yaps more—wait, what is that? Did you take that without paying?" Una's eyes locked onto the magazine.

"No! I wouldn't. It was in the box," Robin said quickly. He could feel Una mustering her wrath.

"I think the game store guy put it in because I was interested in the game. It's free."

"Give it to me," Una commanded. Robin handed the magazine over. Una thumbed through the pages while he sweated in the passenger seat. Her eyebrows furrowed deeper and deeper. It was only now, with his grandmother scanning through the pages, that Robin noticed how the elven women in the advertisements were half-covered by scraps of chain mail. The whole Chaos Summoners spread was a crimson mess of horned demons frolicking in an orgy of sundered limbs and severed heads.

The real scowl came when she got to the mail order part. Una shook her head from side to side and tutted. The prices seemed to offend her far worse than all the gore and occult stuff. Robin's heart sank. He was sure this was the last he'd ever see of BLACK LABYRINTH. Una closed the magazine, flipped it back to the cover, and tapped on the price: $1. 99 in the top left corner.

"This isn't free. It's bait," Una said. With a sigh, she handed the magazine back. Robin could barely believe his luck. He forgot all about his headache and dove back into the pages of BLACK LABYRINTH. His eyes didn't come up until the Falcon stopped at the little pink adobe house at the end of Telesfor Sanchez Road.