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“Fools!” Malcom Ace barked at his attendants. “Where is this you have brought me?”
“We brought you to Lord Deathrock’s castle like you requested. Sir?” a towering figure engulfed in black robes pleaded to his master.
Malcom Ace looked around the room.
“Look at this!” He motioned to the Roman period furntiture and electricity and plumbing (or rather, lack of). “How can this man help me? He is so behind. More likely I will be the one losing in any alliance with this man. Remember your shame, my men.”
“This Lord has magic rubies. If you gain them, you could start a whole new branch of your cards. It could be very powerful.”
Malcom Ace considered the shimmering doorway of ink in the air behind him for a moment, and flicked a card hovering in front of him. The doorway disapeared.
Malcom Ace looked at his two men and grinned at a sound. “Whips. That means slaves. This may be more worthwhile than I imagined. Forward men!”