No one really knew where he’d gotten them. Nor did they really want to ask.

Some speculated that Kathrine was to blame, others chalked it up to a trinket found in one of the far flung parts of the Estate grounds, or else brought to him by the woman who sold the little curiosities from her travelers wagon. 

Wherever it had come from, when Alhazard pulled out the deck there was more than a considerable buzz. The paper quality was fine, the ink worn from much shuffling, the images on each card still clear and pronounced as they were displayed to each interested party. 

Most holy folk found it utterly blasphemous-- but still they watched with all the rest. All bated breath and barely disguised interest as the occultist shuffled, each of them he dared to step forward. To accept the insight the cards might have for them. 

And one by one each of them did.

The Jester full of bravado stepped forward at once. When The Fool was drawn, he crowed with mirth. Its meaning was lost to the chuckling crowd. When the impulsive Knight of Wands showed his face the Fool seemed ever pleased. It was only when the Seven of Swords with reversed face spoke to him secrets and self doubt that the laughter seemed to abandon him.

The bustling Plague Doctor allowed only one card for herself. Too busy for any more she claimed, and uninterested in the frivolous mystic arts. Still… when the scholarly Magician was drawn. She seemed neither surprised, or displeased. 

The Hellion seemed more than pleased as the regal High Priestess was drawn. But requested more ale when The Chariot in reverse whispered her unclear direction. She threatened to remove Alhazred’s head when he asked if she wished for more-- which was enough of an answer for him.

Two cards were pulled for the steadfast Man-at-Arms. He seemed not to grasp the gravity of this game, but delighted at the disciplined King of Pentacles. Even the 10 of Wands seemed to not worry him; its burdens shared in equal measure with hard earned repose. 

The Leper drew next; stoic and proud, his card fit him square. Those continued doubters in the crowd grew quiet as the Knights of Pentacles marked him a steadfast companion. 

The joking Highwayman pulled two cards for himself before he waved the deck away. The Seven of Wands he did not protest-- a card of challenge and circumstance. His second card however was unknown to the crowd. Few but the man himself saw The Lovers before they were hurriedly shoved back into the deck.

The Houndmaster’s dog pulled one card for its master, great paws knocking The Knight of Swords from its place; however it was impossible to say which way it faced. Quick-thinking and actionable, or worn and restless. None but the stoney faced man could say.

Justice was the card pulled by The Musketeer returned from her watch. She accepted it silently, and pondered it long.

The cards fanned out, The Antiquarian next. She more than any seemed unsurprised by her hand. A free spirited Page of Wands of limitless discovery, hand in hand with The Hermit who ever walks alone. 

The Wheel of Fortune befuddled The Arbalest as young as she was, speaking of life's ever changing roads. But the equally young and curious Page of Cups eased the confusion.

The Bounty Hunter seemed to neither know nor care that his fortune was drawn. But all who watched on agreed that the assured Strength and masterful Eight of Pentacles matched the masked man to a T. 

Seeming the most unwilling; The Crusader cursed the cards as blasphemy, even as he drew. More so when he looked down upon his draw. The man’s face was white as a sheet even as he was told that Death was not as ominous a card as it seemed. 

The Vestal agreed to two cards, to settle her fellow parishioner’s minds it seemed.  The motherly Queen of Pentacles made the holy-woman smile. But when The Nine of Wands questioned her faith, she found her resolve as shaken as the Crusader’s.

Not nearly as frightened as his fellows, The Flagellant agreed to 3 cards in quick succession. The Eight of Cups first, jumped from the deck; a herald of truth seeking journeys. But the Sun in reversed face and the Nine of Swords foretold it to be a harrowing one.

The Graverobber, who had watched all previous readings with glee was not thrown off in the slightest by her card. She simply cackled, her face a mask as she flashed The Tempting Devil into the awestruck crowd.

 Equally unsurprised was The Abomination by his fate. The onlookers were silent as the creature saw first the imprisoned and bound Eight of Swords and next the tumultuous Tower be drawn. He accepted his grim reading with the solemnity one could expect from such a beast. He did not need cards to tell him such things. 

Having watched the rest, The Shieldbreaker pulled last. Her face grimly determined as The Moon spoke of her nightly terrors it was the final card she accepted even as the triumphant Ace of Swords fell from the deck to dwarf it.

Their fates told and foretold, their nerves shaken. The ‘heroes’ of the Hamlet dispersed. 

None forgot the cards, nor did they forget their meanings. They stuck with their  recipients in the back of their minds for the days and weeks to come. An ever-present window to the face of their soul. 

As for The Occultist he had no real need to draw. The Devil sat ever at his back, waiting to deal out Judgement to him. 

Still he found it curious. To shuffle and to read both the cards and the folk around him alike, to ponder their secrets within and without. The Faces playing about the Hamlet in their revealed positions. 

Taking places, like toy soldiers, in the little World they’d built.