of his former life.
“I had countless footmen and servants. I wore clothes made of only the most exclusive materials, such as gwynook skin and caterpillar whiskers. And as to wigs, oh ho, I could praise them for an entire lunar cycle and still not relate a tenth of their beauty. I had the finest wigs the queendom has ever known!” This occasioned much confused murmuring among his listeners. Jack of Diamonds had plenty of hair. Why would he wear wigs?
“If I had looked down from my privileged seat atop Wonderland society,” Jack went on, “I wouldn’t have seen any of you, that’s how little you would have been. You criminals cannot possibly understand how difficult this is for me, having to share a room with you.” Then, as he did every night, he suddenly cried, “There’s been a mistake! I’m Jack of Diamonds and I don’t belong here!” Tonight, however, hardly had he uttered these words when— eeeeeEEEEEEEBOOOOOSSSHHHK!
He was knocked to the floor. Chunks of stone flew every which way. The air became heavy with dust. A glowing orb generator had blasted a craggy hole in the wall. Jack scurried underneath his bunk, squeezing as far back as he could to keep from sight. Peeking out, he saw guards exchanging fire with a shadowy enemy, the razor-cards of their AD52s (automatic dealers capable of shooting a deck’s worth with a single pull of the trigger) zipping past, searing through the night sky.
A figure stepped through the blasted hole into the dorm. “Jack of Diamonds?” Jack hustled out from under his bunk and approached the figure with open arms, as if welcoming a guest to his drawing room. “What took you so long, my good man?” “We have to be quick,” the figure said.
Jack bowed to his dorm mates, who lay in various degrees of dishevelment and shock from the blast. “Gentlemen, I bid you farewell. My parents’ emissary has arrived to take me home!” And with that, Jack of Diamonds escaped the Crystal Mines. CHAPTER 3
T HE BRIEFING room hadn’t yet been used in its official capacity: thrice-daily meetings during which Bibwit, Dodge, General Doppelgänger, and Alyss’ other advisers would apprise the queen of pressing Wonderland business, be it financial, political, or militaristic. “What’s this I hear about you refusing to come to my party?” Alyss teased, forcing a professional smile onto her face as she glided into the room—hexagonal in shape, with holographic viewing screens lining the walls and, at its center, a thick, heavy conference table carved from a single slab of soapstone. King Arch was not one for teasing. He turned from his intel ministers, with whom he’d been conferring in a lowered voice. “Queen Alyss,” he said, “I make no secret of my prejudices. I don’t believe the turmoil Wonderland has recently endured would have happened were it a kingdom instead of a queendom. But I have come to pay what respects I can to you, for between you and your aunt Redd, I much prefer having you as a neighbor.”
“I had countless footmen and servants. I wore clothes made of only the most exclusive materials, such as gwynook skin and caterpillar whiskers. And as to wigs, oh ho, I could praise them for an entire lunar cycle and still not relate a tenth of their beauty. I had the finest wigs the queendom has ever known!” This occasioned much confused murmuring among his listeners. Jack of Diamonds had plenty of hair. Why would he wear wigs?
“If I had looked down from my privileged seat atop Wonderland society,” Jack went on, “I wouldn’t have seen any of you, that’s how little you would have been. You criminals cannot possibly understand how difficult this is for me, having to share a room with you.” Then, as he did every night, he suddenly cried, “There’s been a mistake! I’m Jack of Diamonds and I don’t belong here!” Tonight, however, hardly had he uttered these words when— eeeeeEEEEEEEBOOOOOSSSHHHK!
He was knocked to the floor. Chunks of stone flew every which way. The air became heavy with dust. A glowing orb generator had blasted a craggy hole in the wall. Jack scurried underneath his bunk, squeezing as far back as he could to keep from sight. Peeking out, he saw guards exchanging fire with a shadowy enemy, the razor-cards of their AD52s (automatic dealers capable of shooting a deck’s worth with a single pull of the trigger) zipping past, searing through the night sky.
A figure stepped through the blasted hole into the dorm. “Jack of Diamonds?” Jack hustled out from under his bunk and approached the figure with open arms, as if welcoming a guest to his drawing room. “What took you so long, my good man?” “We have to be quick,” the figure said.
Jack bowed to his dorm mates, who lay in various degrees of dishevelment and shock from the blast. “Gentlemen, I bid you farewell. My parents’ emissary has arrived to take me home!” And with that, Jack of Diamonds escaped the Crystal Mines. CHAPTER 3
T HE BRIEFING room hadn’t yet been used in its official capacity: thrice-daily meetings during which Bibwit, Dodge, General Doppelgänger, and Alyss’ other advisers would apprise the queen of pressing Wonderland business, be it financial, political, or militaristic. “What’s this I hear about you refusing to come to my party?” Alyss teased, forcing a professional smile onto her face as she glided into the room—hexagonal in shape, with holographic viewing screens lining the walls and, at its center, a thick, heavy conference table carved from a single slab of soapstone. King Arch was not one for teasing. He turned from his intel ministers, with whom he’d been conferring in a lowered voice. “Queen Alyss,” he said, “I make no secret of my prejudices. I don’t believe the turmoil Wonderland has recently endured would have happened were it a kingdom instead of a queendom. But I have come to pay what respects I can to you, for between you and your aunt Redd, I much prefer having you as a neighbor.”