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“Hey!”
“Shamir!”
“Shamiiir!”
“Hey Shamir!”
When Catherine yells into her ear, Shamir verges on firing an arrow into her so-called partner’s face. She lines up her shot and lets fly at a spider crawling in a corner of the knights’ hall instead. That eliminates at least one nuisance.
“I heard you the first time.”
“Why didn’t you acknowledge me? There’s no way for me to know that you heard if you don’t give a sign!” The blonde waves a gloved hand in front of Shamir’s face. She draws back, her nose crinkling at the invasion of personal space.
“As if your loudness could go unnoticed by anyone on these grounds.”
Catherine barks a laugh. Her blue eyes glimmer with amusement.
“You’d be surprised! There was this one time-”
“Stop it. I’m not interested in your stories.”
“Why not? They’re funny.” The noisy knight furrows her brow, her lips dropping into a pout. She leans in, again getting closer than Shamir cares for.
“This is your final warning. Back off if you don’t want a dagger in your face.”
“So cold!” Catherine remains rooted to the spot. “You realize that you’re supposed to teach me the ropes? As my senior, you could stand to be a little nicer. I know you had fun drinking together the other night.”
She shoots Catherine a glare. Entertaining her was a terrible, terrible mistake. Now that she knows it’s possible to convince Shamir, she’ll never stop. Which wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for Catherine’s incessant yapping. If she shut her mouth, she’d be attractive. Too bad it’s looking like the sky would sooner come down on their heads.
Her fingers flick to the dagger on her belt. She weighs the benefits of pulling the weapon against the trouble it’ll earn her. In the end, she opts to take several steps back instead. Despite repeated requests to be left out of partnering up altogether, Rhea has never been receptive to her wishes. The answer she gets in return is always something about ‘furthering understanding’ or ‘learning from one another’. Shamir couldn’t care less. She’s just here to pay her debt.
This time, Catherine doesn’t close the distance. It’s a start.
***
Next time they meet, Catherine throws a bundle in her direction. Shamir catches it on reflex. It’s a sack filled with round lumps. Heavy ones.
“Got you a gift.”
“It’s full of rocks.”
“Huh? It is? I must’ve gotten the bags confused.”
“No. This was deliberate. Getting back at me for yesterday? I expect you were hoping for me to be too surprised to catch it and get hit in the face instead. How juvenile.”
“What! How did you-“
“It’s written all over your face.” She hurls the sack back at Catherine. “Try again when you’re capable of putting on a proper front.”
So much for coexisting.
***
Catherine huffs and pulls her fingers through her hair. “Look, I just want to talk to you. Get to know you better. Is that so bad?”
They’re sitting on each their end of a stone bench in the courtyard.
“Nothing says ‘talk to me’ like hurling a bag of rocks at someone’s face.” Shamir’s gaze is fixed on her dagger. She’s taken to oiling it frequently these days, or at least pretending to. Her hope was that it would deter Catherine. Turns out she isn’t taking the hint. Shamir can’t tell if she’s too dense or just unwilling to.
“Okay, so I got upset and I acted rashly. Nothing happened, so I say we call it water under the bridge.”
Shamir snorts. “If everyone saw life that way, I’d be out of a job.”
“You’re the vengeful type?”
“It depends. Give me reason to strike at you and I won’t hesitate.”
“How’d someone like you become a knight in the first place?”
“Ran into Rhea. She offered me a position.”
“It’s Lady Rhea!”
The tone in Catherine’s voice prompts Shamir to look in her direction. It’s like she’s grown half a head taller. Her chest is puffed out and her nostrils flaring. How lovely. Her tongue-wagging burden may have no respect for boundaries but apparently puts great importance on titles.
Tough luck. It’ll take a lot more than that to intimidate Shamir.
“You’re nonsensical. You realize that?”
“Watch your mouth or it’s gonna be a bag of bricks next time!”
Oh joy.
***
She can’t figure out how, but Shamir is somehow growing used to Catherine and her loudness. The bag of bricks has yet to materialize, and if she focuses her mind just so, she’s able to have the incessant chatter go in one ear and right out the other. It’s not too different from meditation. If she deludes herself hard enough, she can pretend that it’s almost pleasant.
The thing that still throws her is the blonde’s emotiveness. Every little thing seems to elicit a response, be it a chuckle or a quirk of the brow or a fist pump or a grin or a wave or or or- No person should have license to be that animated, period. It’s exhausting.
She almost laughs out loud the day it hits her. There exists a perfect way to turn that trait against Catherine and get back at her. Who knows, perhaps she’ll even learn a lesson.
Roping her in takes no time at all.
***
They settle in a corner of the dining hall. Dinnertime has already passed and it’s too early to drink, so there are few others around. Shamir mixes a deck of cards with practiced motions, handing it to Catherine when she finishes. Her companion insists on giving it a shuffle of her own. At least she’s prudent in that area.
Catherine deals the cards. They’ve settled on a game that’s common in Fódlan. As with so many card games, this one’s all about reading one’s opponent while leading them astray.
“What’s your opinion on bets?”
“I’m all for it! Where’s the fun if there’s no risk?” Catherine grins, unaware of the fate that awaits her.”
“That’s one thing we can agree on,” Shamir smirks.
The quirk of Catherine’s lips as she takes in her cards immediately tells Shamir that she has a good spread. She’s even kind enough to indicate whenever she plays a high card. Unbeknownst to herself, of course.
Should she throw the first round to lull her into a false sense of security? It’s the age-old trick. Lower their guard by losing on purpose, then rake them over the coals when the stakes have risen. She decides against it. This is Catherine they’re talking about. Shamir is curious about how much she can get away with.
She keeps her expression blank as she places down the card that’ll win the round. She can’t wait to see Catherine’s reaction.
“I lost? No way!”
“Pity. It seems like the fabled beginner’s luck isn’t on your side.”
“Just you wait. I’ll crush you next round!”
“I eagerly await your demonstration.”
Several rounds later, Catherine is hunched over the table, looking through the cards one by one with a scowl.
“Something’s fishy about this. There’s no way you could’ve won every single round fair and square!”
Catherine frowns harder as she turns the cards over, going as far as to run her fingertips along the sides. “I don’t get it! There are no marks, no nicks and scrapes-” her brows slide upward in realization. “Your sleeves! There’s stuff in there! That’s how you did it!”
Before Shamir can defend herself, Catherine has jumped up and made her way around the table to pry off her jacket. Better to play along, lest it end up with a tear. She shrugs off the garment.
“Inspect it all you want. You won’t find anything.”
“That’s what they all say! I’ve kicked many a cheater’s butt. They’re all very sure of themselves until there’s no way to deny their deception.”
Shamir rests her elbows on the table, watching Catherine’s expression drop in disappointment as she comes up empty. Her lips curl into a sneer.
“Your pants. You keep something in there.”
“You’re asking me to undress in the mess hall?”
Catherine stiffens and her cheeks flush with red. “I- No!” It takes her a moment to recover. “I’ll be satisfied with patting you down,” she huffs.
“Generous of you, but I’ll pass.” Shamir stands and turns her hidden pockets outward. Two daggers and a few lockpicks hit the floor with a clatter. “Inspect them if you must.”
Catherine returns to her seat without a word. She gives the cards another look before shuffling the deck with abrupt motions.
“I’m going to find out how you do it. I don’t care if it takes me all evening.”
***
It doesn’t just take Catherine all evening. It also takes her at least half of her monthly salary. Why she didn’t stop betting the moment she started suspecting foul play is beyond Shamir. Maybe it’s because she hasn’t yet been able to prove anything. Either way, she’ll take it.
Catherine slams her cards down on the table with a loud bang. “I don’t get it! You still haven’t lost a single round! How is that possible?”
Shamir is unable to hold back a snicker. This is too amusing. “You really can’t figure it out, can you? The answer is so simple.”
Everything about the situation is too perfect. Catherine’s bluster, her obvious frustration, and her considerably lightened coin pouch.
“I can’t.” Catherine buries her head in her hands with a groan. “Have mercy and just tell me already.”
“All right.” Shamir gathers the cards and shuffles the deck anew. “Draw your cards. Now place them in your hand with the back facing you.”
“But that means you’ll be able to see them!”
“Yes. That’s the trick.”
Catherine regards her with a blank expression. Does she really not get it? Shamir takes a moment to consider the situation. This whole time, Catherine has been focused on what Shamir might be doing to the cards themselves.
“You could also look in a mirror.”
Catherine’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Wait. You’re telling me… to look at me? It’s something about me?”
“Correct.” Shamir picks a card off the table and flips it. “Your face is so expressive that I don’t need to see the cards to know what kind you’re playing. You’ve essentially been showing me your hand this whole time. Most generous of you.” She demonstratively rakes the coins on the table over to her side.
Catherine slams a hand down, pinning Shamir’s left arm.
“That’s cheating!”
“How? The whole point of the game is to observe tells in your opponent and react accordingly.”
Catherine snarls. Her hand presses down on Shamir’s arm, almost to the point of pain. Shamir maintains an impassive expression.
“Damn you. You planned this from the start, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
After an extended staring contest, Catherine finally lifts her hand off. “Wonderful. So I’ve been played for an entire evening.”
“Consider it my repayment for the bag of rocks.”
“You are a vengeful one!”
“Told you it depends. You might want to be careful about how much you reveal about yourself in the future. I could easily turn it back on you.”
Catherine snorts. “There are simpler ways to tell me to shut my trap, you know.”
“They didn’t seem very effective. Besides, I got used to it.”
“Huh? Then why are we here?”
“The way you emote at everything. It’s draining.”
“I do?”
Shamir picks up a card and holds it up with the face turned to Catherine.
“Oh. Guess you’re right. Huh. I never thought about that.” She scratches her head. “Is that such a bad thing for you? You just lifted a boatload of gold off me.”
Shamir’s expression softens. “You make a fair point.”
Catherine sighs. Shamir doesn’t miss the way she wistfully gazes at the coins on the other side of the table. “The remainder of this month is gonna be rough.”
“Perhaps I’ll show some mercy. After all, I’m your senior.”
Catherine’s face lights up. “Really? You’ll help me out?”
“If you don’t annoy me too much.”
“Damn,” Catherine laughs. “You really give no quarter. I like that about you.”
Shamir chuckles. Maybe this won’t be as bad as she initially thought. For one, she’ll always know what is up with Catherine. Getting leverage over an open book is child’s play. She should acknowledge that as the advantage it is. If she gets too annoying, she can always do something about it.
Her lips curl into a smirk as she places the card face down on the table.