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A Lack of Stability | Morning, Thursday 22nd (Open)


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"I am very much in the minority in this, I know, but I have always thought cards, as a whole, the pre-eminent game of strategy," Charles said with a smile. "Much like war, one must decisions from incomplete, imperfect information. Much like war, one must carefully account for what one stands to gain or lose before committing. And, much like war, one must of course deal with the vagaries of Fortune."

And has the world e'er seen another whore as fickle?

"But that is by the by. You are right that a variety of games would be a benefit, particularly if we can get some from the Orient. A little taste of the exotic never harmed anyone, nor did some friendly competition." Charles grinned. "We could even keep a list of standings to foster that competitive spirit."

He nodded along as Melville mused further upon election to the Commons, and smiled ruefully.

"We are setting ourselves up for a great deal of work, Melville, but if we could accomplish even the tenth part of what we have discussed, what good we shall have done!"

For Crown and country, of course, but also for themselves. The nets of influence and patronage that could be woven, the wealth that would flow, the legacy that would be left behind... Well, Charles was ambitious enough that the thought filled a corner of his soul with deep, dark satisfaction, and honest enough to admit the fact, if only to himself.

There is no sin in profiting from my service, if State and Monarch likewise profit thereby.

He nodded again to agree with Melville's assessment of their hand of piquet.

"I have enough Hearts to guarantee claiming Cards," he admitted, and played the Nine of Hearts.

"Six."

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“I have learned that a good way to peek into a military commander's mind is by playing cards against him. Loose on purpose. Win and boast about it. Note how he reacts to both. Be timid. Be foolhardy. Note if his play changes when you do so. Just make sure he is not doing the same to you”. To Duncan that was less military strategy and more social skill, but it was definitely useful. “I played enough times against Spanish, French and Dutch officers to know how they think, at least a little. If I ever meet them as enemies in battle, I might have a surprise or two in store”.

“A list of standings would make things interesting. It would become a motive for many a wager, I think. An enterprising gentleman could make a hefty profit by betting on those standings…” or lose a small fortune!

It dawned on Duncan that both Chatham and he had arrived at some of the same conclusions, even though they took very different paths to get to them. Soldiers! Duncan decided. “If we do, Lord Chatham, when we do, we will have given our descendants a very honourable name”. The Scot refilled his glass and lifted it. “To your health, my lord, and to our success!”

As he placed the Eight of Clubs on the table, Duncan sighed. It was the most productive card game he had ever lost. “Your trick”. After a pause, the Lowlander added, “I concede, unless you want to play it to the bitter end, as you have the right. I discarded abysmally, and I was never able to recover”. The Scot extended his hand. “I salute my vanquisher in this field of battle”.

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Charles grinned and raised his hip flask to clink against Melville's glass.

"I can never remember if 'sláinte' is an Irish or Scottish toast, and either way I have likely butchered the pronunciation," he admitted cheerfully, "but in any case, to your health Melville, and to the challenges and glories of our enterprise. May we ever be equal to the former and worthy of the latter!"

Charles nodded in reply to Melville's concession and shook the Scot's hand.

"Under the circumstances, you can be forgiven for being a little distracted, I think," he said graciously. "Another hand? I shall deal, so you shall not be at a disadvantage again."

 

(OOC: Seems as fine a point as any to fade out, I think. Thanks for a very fun thread, rife with promise!)

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“The word means the same in Irish, Scots Gaelic, and Manx... health!” Duncan replied. “And your pronunciation is understandable. If someone tells you they cannot understand, they are either trying to pull a prank or to offend”.

Duncan raised his glass again after the first sip. “And to yours, Lord Chatham. May we serve His Grace Charles and His Three Kingdoms in a manner worthy of history”. As usual, he used the Scottish form of address for the king. To him, Charles II would always be more a Scot than an Englishman, even if the king himself thought otherwise.

“Another hand? Why not!” The Lowlander seemed less gloomy after their conversation. “I promise I will make it harder for you to beat me this time, my lord…”

And so it was that the friendly game of cards continued for a good while.

OOC: Thank YOU! It was tons of fun!

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