This will attract very little attention from the other people in the queue, if any. Two unwashed peasants turning out to be illiterate is among the least surprising things that could be going on. Stephanie takes the parchment back and reads the rules out loud for their benefit.

"'Let's all have fun and play together'? Is that really one of the rules?"

"No. It's just an expression."

It's a traditional comment to make after agreeing on the rules and before the start of the game. The pithiness of it may have been lost in translation.

The line advances. The trio are soon in the great hall of the castle, a vast and multi-lobed room with high vaulted ceilings like a European cathedral. The floor and the walls are made of the same sparkling white rock, illuminated by copious recessed windows and the occasional oil lamp.

The centerpiece of the great hall is a fountain. Water cascades from the boughs of gold and silver trees into an artificial pond filled with ornate fish in a plethora of shapes and colors. The rest of the space is occupied by felted oval tables, each surrounded by six high-backed wooden chairs. A fleet of uniformed men and women are engaged with moving the tables into place, setting up chairs, and clearing the floors to make more space. The queue winds between the tables, around the fountain, and ascends the stairs at the back of the hall to a landing covered in secretarial desks.

The man behind the first desk is thirty-odd years old and wears a finely-tailored suit with absolutely zero embellishments or frills. On his left is a stack of papers, and on his right is a glass inkwell.

For as long as Sora and Shiro have been able to hear him speak his voice has been listless and cold, though at the sight of Princess Stephanie at the front of the line he manages to speak with some warmth.

"Are you here to register for the tournament, or do you have other business?"

"Here to register," Sora says. "Although, and I do hate to impose, I have an unusual request to make at the same time. Would it be possible to join the tournament as a team?"

He waves his hand to indicate that he means himself and Shiro.

Stephanie will stand next to him and look aristocratic, in case that helps.

That's certainly unusual.

"Young man, have you ever before played in a poker tournament with the young miss, as you've described?"

"I certainly have."

They don't have any WSOP bracelets, as that would require leaving the apartment, but they've played at least half a million poker hands together online.

"You understand, then, that if one of you happens to be away from the table while the other plays, your opponent need only mention that the missing player is passing information in order to disqualify you?"

"Presuming that is the case. But, such an accusation holds no weight if it happens to be untrue, yes?"

"I suppose…"

He glances at Princess Stephanie.

"…very well, sir. Your names?"

Don't bother, Shiro wants to say. Just leave the space blank.

"Sora, Shiro."

The castellan copies this down in the same unfamiliar script the rules are written in.

"And now, sir, we shall play a game of Rock Paper Scissors, wager to be the truthful answer to a single question regarding the tournament. Err, from each of you. You shall choose paper, and I scissors."

Well, well, well. Looks like there's at least one person in this castle who isn't asleep at the wheel.

Both players raise their fists and speak in chorus.

"Rock, paper, scissors!"

Paper.

Scissors.

"Is this your first time entering the Succession Tournament?"

"Yes!" Shiro snarls involuntarily.

"It is," Sora says mildly, a beat later.

"Very good, sir."

The castellan reaches under the desk and retrieves a burlap sack the size of a man's head, with a single symbol printed on the side. It clinks enticingly when laid against the table.

"Your starting stack, sir. Five thousand in all. Elkia wishes you the best of luck."

"Thank you," he says, taking it. The chip bag is light enough to carry, yet satisfyingly hefty. He approves.

"You should register while we're here," he adds casually, looking at Stephanie.