The pub’s lively chatter faded into the background as Glynhorn sat across from the Dark Elf at a dimly lit corner table. The air carried a subtle tension, not hostile but electric, as if even the cards themselves carried secrets waiting to be unraveled. The Dark Elf, who introduced himself only as Silven, shuffled a worn deck of cards with a practiced grace, the soft *snick-snack* of the cards mesmerizing.   “You’ve got a sharp eye for opportunity,” Silven remarked, a sly grin playing on his lips. “That’s a good start. But this game isn’t just about luck; it’s about reading people, knowing when to fold, and when to bluff.”   Glynhorn listened intently, his natural elven focus sharpening as Silven explained the rules and mechanics of Three Dragon Ante. The game’s strategic layers—matching flights of dragons, balancing risk and reward, and using gambits—sparked Glynhorn’s analytical mind. By the end of the first lesson, he understood the basics, though he knew mastering the game would take much more than knowing the rules.   Silven was a patient teacher but never gentle. “Again,” he’d say after a misstep, tossing down another card from his deck. “If you’re going to play with the best, you can’t afford hesitation.”   The first few days were spent memorizing the deck and its intricacies—different dragons, their strengths, and how they interacted with one another. Silven tested Glynhorn relentlessly, quizzing him on probabilities and scenarios until the ranger could calculate odds in his head faster than he could draw an arrow from his quiver.   On the fifth day, Silven introduced the concept of “the tell,” a subtle gesture or expression that could betray an opponent’s hand. Glynhorn practiced this in the pub, observing patrons' mid-game as they played for small stakes. He noticed the way one dwarf’s fingers drummed faster on the table when bluffing or how another human player’s eyes darted to their card pile when their strategy fell apart. These details fascinated Glynhorn, as if learning a new language spoken without words.   By the seventh day, Glynhorn was playing mock games against Silven. Though he lost more than he won, Silven’s approval was evident. “You’ve got potential, elf,” the Dark Elf admitted, shuffling his deck again. “But potential doesn’t fill pockets. Next week, we start working on your bluffing and intimidation.”   As Glynhorn left the pub that night, his coin purse a little lighter but his confidence bolstered, he felt a spark of excitement. The game wasn’t just about gold—it was a test of wits, instincts, and nerve. And Glynhorn Wildfond never backed down from a challenge.