Guild of shadows and cheese poker

Guild of shadows and cheese poker

Kremen Yar

© Kremen Yar, 2026

ISBN 978-5-0069-8845-3

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

GUILD OF SHADOWS AND CHEESE POKER

Chapter 1: Burrow in the Glow of Glory

The silence on the orbital station “Burrow” was new. Not the anxious silence of waiting before a jump into the unknown, nor the creaking silence of an old ship where every part was about to fly apart. This was a quiet, contented, full silence. The silence of a home that had finally been tidied up.

Two weeks had passed since the “Cheese Eaters” team returned from Mars, heroes who had cleared their names and received not only gratitude but also a solid fee. The money went to what Gadget had dreamed of for years: a full modernization of their floating home.

Now the “Burrow” sparkled. The floors were covered with anti-static coating, softly shimmering underfoot. The walls, once plastered with schematics and announcements, were now smooth panels with holographic displays showing system status or, optionally, works by Martian artists gifted by the Council. Even the air smelled different — not of ozone, dust, and old cheese, but of clean ions and a light scent of pine (Gadget had installed a new aromatization system and was now experimenting).

In the center of the command hall, on a genuine leather chair procured from a space auction, sat Cheddar. But he wasn’t commanding. He was… degusting.

Three cryostasis containers stood on the table of polished dark wood before him. Inside each lay a sample of cheese sent from Mars as a sign of “enduring gratitude.” Cheddar, wearing magnifying lens glasses, carefully extracted a tiny piece with tweezers, brought it to his nose, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Then he placed it on his tongue and froze, his face becoming focused like a surgeon’s during an operation.

— “Rusty Edam,” he pronounced finally, making a note on his tablet. — Aging… seven Martian cycles. A slight iron oxide taste in the aftertaste, reminiscent of the dusty storms of Mariner Valley. Interesting, but… simplistic.

Spark, sitting on a new reaction trainer (a gift from Martian engineers), snorted. She was all in sweat, her fur ruffled. The trainer was a room where soft balls flew from all sides, and she had to dodge them or hit them with shots from her blaster at minimum power.

— You’re becoming unbearable, boss, she said, knocking down another ball with a precise shot. — Before, you just ate cheese. Now you… analyze it. The next step is you’ll start writing sonnets about it.

— I am an official Galactic Investigator on Special Assignments, Cheddar replied with dignity, not looking away from the next sample. — My expertise must be flawless. “Domed Roquefort”… Hmm. Too sterile. Perfect blue veins, but no soul. You can feel the hand of a fanatical technocrat, possibly a former student of Count Meus. I give it no more than three stars.

From an open hatch in the floor, from where buzzing and contented grunting could be heard, Gadget emerged. His snout was smeared with grease, and in his paws he clutched something resembling a hairdryer with an antenna.

— Ready! he announced solemnly. — “Cheese Detector 3.0”! Now with a function for spectral analysis of mold and determination of the planet of origin with accuracy down to the continent!

— Why? asked Shadow. She, as usual, sat in the darkest corner of the hall, almost merging with the shadow of a new decorative plant (a Martian chameleon cactus). In her paws was a disassembled and reassembled “Mirage” — she was implementing improvements drawn from Martian masking technologies.

— Why not? Gadget was surprised. — For… for science! For accuracy! Here, let’s test it on the boss!

Without waiting for an answer, he aimed the device at Cheddar and pressed the button. The device beeped joyfully, data flashing on its small screen.

— Object: adult male rat. Biochemical composition… oh. High content of lipids characteristic of mature hard cheeses. Traces present… this can’t be… Edam mold? Cheddar, did you eat Edam today?

— That’s me, idiot! Cheddar barked, putting down the tweezers. — Your detector is confusing me with cheese!

Gadget turned red. — Possibly needs calibration… or you’re just very… cheesy today.

Spark couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing, rolling on the floor. Shadow inclined her head to hide a smile.

Cheddar took off his glasses and sighed. In this sigh was not anger, but a strange fatigue. The very fatigue that covers after a big victory, when the adrenaline is gone, and what to do next is unclear.

— All this is wonderful, he said, looking at the sparkling hall. — New gadgets, new status, recognition… But where is the case? Where is the challenge? The Galactic Police sent us a letter of gratitude and a box of candies (which, by the way, turned out to have cheese filling, Gadget, don’t eat them). The Martians sent cheese. We sit here, like… like museum exhibits. Polished and useless.

— We can train, Spark suggested, getting up. — I’ve honed my reaction so much I can hit a fly between the eyes from twenty meters. If there were flies here.

— We can explore, Gadget said. — I got access to the galactic academic network! There are so many articles on cheese cryogenics…

— We can wait, Shadow said quietly. — Real threats don’t like fuss. They approach quietly.

And at that very moment, as if hearing her words, all screens on the station — both the large holographic panels and the small service monitors, and even the screen on the “Cheese Detector 3.0” — went black simultaneously.

The silence became tense.

— Gadget? Cheddar asked, already rising from the chair.

— It’s not me! the technician squeaked. — All systems normal! Power is there! This… is an external signal! Very powerful, directed, bypassing all our protections like zero!

The screens flashed again.

But on them was not the view from the porthole or system data. On them was video.

The quality was perfect, crystal clear. The sound — live and volumetric. And the content was… impossible.

Count Meus was dancing on the screen.

He was in a pinstripe triple-piece suit, too wide for his thin figure, in spats and a bowler hat. A brisk, cheeky jazz melody began to play — saxophone, banjo, drums. And the count broke into a tap dance. His paws in lacquered shoes beat out a clear, complex rhythm. He twirled his cane, winked, his gray mustaches danced in time.

And he did all this standing on a huge, painfully familiar object. On the “Galactic Delicacy”. The milky-golden sphere with veins of the Andromeda Nebula served as his stage. He was dancing on the legendary cheese, stolen by him and, as everyone thought, destroyed in the depths of the volcano.

The team froze. Spark forgot to breathe. Gadget dropped his detector. Shadow slowly stepped out of the shadow, her eyes narrowing to slits. Cheddar stood as if nailed to the spot, his paws clenched into fists so hard the bones cracked.

The dance lasted exactly fifteen seconds. In the finale, the count took off his hat, made a deep, theatrical bow, winked straight into the camera, and said in a hoarse but cheerful voice: “Hello, Cheese Eaters! Missed me?”

The image went out. Only one thing remained in its place: a three-dimensional icon rotating in empty black space. It was a stylized piece of cheese, cut out of golden light. Below it burned the inscription: NFT #001: “Meus & Delicacy. Dance of the Defeated”. Unique. Irreplaceable. Digital memory of the triumph of spirit over matter.

And a small, flickering line: Coordinates of the prize inside.

No one spoke. The silence was thick as tar. Cheddar’s fist hitting the table broke it first — a dull, furious blow. The wood cracked. The cheese containers jumped.

— How… Cheddar began, and his voice was a low, dangerous whisper. — How does he DARE?

— This… is art! Gadget gasped, his eyes round not from fear, but from admiration. — Digital art! He encoded the performance into a non-fungible token! It’s genius!

— It’s obscenity! Spark roared. — He’s dancing on our cheese! On CHEESE! Our common, galactic heritage! I’ll burn him! I’ll melt him into a puddle of his own shoes!

— Calm down, Shadow said. Her voice was an icy oasis in the boiling rage of the room. She was already at the main console, her fingers flying over the interface. — This is a message. A cipher. And the coordinates… are not spatial. This is a network address.

— What? Cheddar approached her, still trembling with anger.

— Station “Shadow of the Zodiac,” Shadow read from the screen. — Not a physical object in the usual sense. This is a neural network hub. A cosmic dark web. A place where data that shouldn’t meet, meets. Where secrets are sold that shouldn’t be sold. Where you can find anything. Disappear forever. Or… receive a message from a runaway tyrant.

Cheddar looked at the rotating golden cheese. His initial rage slowly, like lava, cooled and hardened into something colder and sharper. Into resolve.

— He’s laughing at us, Cheddar pronounced quietly. — He lost the battle, escaped, and now, instead of licking his wounds in some hole, he… dances. He turns our victory into a joke. Into a digital souvenir.

— Then we must turn his joke into his last mistake, Shadow said, and for the first time steel sounded in her voice.

— Exactly, Cheddar straightened up. The familiar command fire burned in his eyes again. — He thinks that hiding behind screens and servers, he is safe. That we, rats, only know how to smell real cheese and shoot real blasters. He is wrong.

He turned to the team.

— Gadget! Everything you know about the “Shadow of the Zodiac”, about digital trails, about hacking NFTs — I need it in ten minutes! Spark! Put away the balls. We won’t need fire, but… light. Bright, blinding light of attention. Shadow, you lead the preparation. We need new identities. Digital masks. We are going where you have no shadow, where Spark is invisible in the infrared spectrum, and my nose smells only bits and bytes.

— And what will we do there? asked Spark, still clutching her blaster.

— What we do best, Cheddar smiled, and his smile was sharp as a blade. — Smell. Search. And… make reposts. World-famous galactic investigators are going into cyberspace. Get ready, team. Our cheese nose has just caught a new scent. The scent of digital audacity. And we will dig to its source, even if for that we have to burrow into the rottenest data dump in the whole galaxy!

A familiar tremor of anticipation ran through the “Burrow”. The shiny new interior suddenly felt like just a shell again. A shell for something old, hungry, tenacious. For a team that had been challenged again. And this time the challenge was as insulting as it was strange.

And on the broken table, among the shards of cryostasis containers, a golden cheese cube still flickered on Cheddar’s tablet. Silent, nagging, like a tic. It was not a trophy. It was a door.

Chapter 2: Digital Aura and Cheese Poker

The “Cheese Hole”, shining with new side panels and silently operating engines, exited warp jump at the given point. Before them was not a planet, asteroid, or even a gas cloud. There was emptiness. A black, starless emptiness so deep it seemed light itself drowned in it.

— Coordinates correct? Cheddar asked, peering into the porthole.

— Absolutely, Gadget answered, not looking away from three different screens. — But the “Shadow of the Zodiac” does not occupy physical space. It… overlays it. Like a projection. We need to activate the communication protocol and… let it find us.

He pressed a series of keys. Outside, blue waves of energy ran along the ship’s hull. A moment — and the emptiness before them trembled. Like the surface of water into which a stone was thrown. Then space tore — not with an explosion, but with a quiet, sigh-like sound. And a… portal appeared.

It was not a hole in space. It was an interface. A huge, shimmering screen floating in the vacuum. Lines of code in unknown languages ran on it, abstract symbols flashed, icons resembling either ancient runes or smileys of the distant future flashed on and off. In the center of the screen pulsed the inscription: “SHADOW OF THE ZODIAC. ENTRY. DIGITAL AURA SCAN”.

— Here’s the reception, Gadget whispered. — Now they will scan us. Not for weapons. For… reputation. For significance. For the trace we leave in the networks.

— I have an impeccable reputation, Cheddar grumbled. — I am a hero of Mars.

— Your reputation is what the algorithms say about you, boss, Gadget corrected him. — And they say a lot about you. Especially after MiauMaster broadcasted our feed across the galaxy.

A beam of white light struck from the screen. It slid over the hull of the “Cheese Hole”, penetrated inside, ran through all rooms, touched every team member. It felt like being X-rayed through and through, but you didn’t see bones, you saw… posts, comments, mentions, likes, dislikes, ratings.

After a few seconds the beam disappeared. Results appeared on the screen. Above each of them — a stylized avatar generated based on their “digital trace”.

CHEDDAR (Avatar: Worthy Rat in uniform with medals made of cheese) Digital Aura: “Hero-icon. High recognizability. Strong narrative of “tyrant victor”. Risk: perceived as establishment, “systemic”. Recommendation for entry: “Covert Celebrity” mode.

SPARK (Avatar: Fiery Flash with blaster) Digital Aura: “Explosive content. High virality. Associations with action, chaos, spectacle. Risk: trigger for moderators. Recommendation: accompany with warning “Possible Spoilers”.

GADGET (Avatar: Tangled Genius with soldering iron and book) Digital Aura: “Niche expert. Deep immersion. Low reach, but high audience loyalty. Risk: may bore the general public. Recommendation: use hashtags to attract attention”.

SHADOW (Avatar: Barely noticeable blur in the corner) Digital Aura: “Ghost. Minimal digital trace. Algorithms cannot form a stable profile. Risk: regarded as system error or highest form of stealth mastery. Recommendation: issue temporary digital passport “Guest-Observer”.

Spark snorted. — “Explosive content”? I like it. And “risk for moderators” is a compliment.

— I’m not “niche”, Gadget was offended. — I’m fundamental!

— I was called a ghost, Shadow stated without emotion. — Accurately.

Cheddar read his characteristic. “Systemic”. This word hurt him. He caught himself thinking that he would prefer the ava “Dangerous Outsider” or “Untamable Sleuth”.

The portal-interface changed again. The inscription changed to: “AURA ACCEPTED. ENTRY PERMITTED. PREPARE FOR INTERFACE SYNCHRONIZATION”.

And the world behind the porthole disappeared. Or rather, it turned into something else. The “Cheese Hole” seemed to float inside a giant holographic interface. Around them stretched not space, but the digital landscape of the “Shadow of the Zodiac”.

It was impossible to describe in words offhand. It was a city assembled from information. “Streets” were data streams — vertical, horizontal, diagonal rivers of shimmering light, along which packets of information flew in the form of symbols, images, flashes. “Buildings” were databases — huge, geometric structures constantly changing shape, their walls were living screens showing everything: fragments of intercepted messages, footage from surveillance cameras of distant planets, ads for unthinkable technologies, quotes from forgotten books, memes a thousand years old.

A hum hung in the air (if it was air). Not mechanical, but digital — a quiet, continuous buzzing of millions of processes, hissing of encrypted channels, echoes of disputes on forums. And smell… there was no smell. There was a sensation. A sensation of cold, cleanliness, and infinite complexity. For Cheddar, whose world was built on smells, this was frightening.

Their ship moved smoothly along one of the “avenues”. Around them, other “entities” flew past, paying no attention — some looked like ghost ships, others like clumps of energy with camera-eyes, others like just avatars floating in the digital flow.

— Recording everything, Gadget muttered, his eyes glued to the screens. — Architecture… this is not just code. This is artificial intelligence that has evolved into its own ecosystem. It has its own laws. Its own physics. Look — there’s a “trading district”. See, structures in the form of counters? They exchange not goods, but… pure information. Security algorithms patrol like robots… God, this is…

He fell silent, seeing something. In one of the “squares” stood a giant sculpture assembled from holograms. It was… Cheddar. Enlarged a hundred times, heroic, with raised “Ice Squall”. At his feet lay a defeated, caricature Count Meus. A plaque glowed under the sculpture: “Memorial of Mars Liberation. NFT Collection: 10,000 unique tokens. Buy a piece of history!”

Cheddar followed his gaze. His snout twisted.

— They… they are selling me? By pieces?

— Your legend, boss, Gadget corrected. — Your digital image. This… is an honor, actually.

— It’s filth, Cheddar said through his teeth. — I feel like a dressed carcass at the market.

— Hold on, Shadow said. — We need to find Meus’s trail. Not his statue, but him himself.

— Data from the NFT leads here, to the very center, Shadow said. She was not looking at the holograms, her gaze was glued to invisible data streams that her modified “Mirage” displayed on a separate screen. — But there is too much noise here. Millions of signals. Need a filter. Or… bait.

— What bait? Cheddar asked.

— The one he will bite, Shadow answered. — He sent us a challenge. Means, he’s watching. Means, he’s waiting for our reaction. We must give it. Bright. Loud. Such that all algorithms of the “Shadow of the Zodiac” pay attention to us for a second. Then his system, if he is here, will react. And we will see the response.

— I can blow up something digital! Spark suggested hopefully.

— No explosions, Cheddar said quickly. — We’ll get banned, or worse, deleted. We need… to declare ourselves. In a new way. Gadget, what is currency here? What is valued?

— Attention, Gadget answered without hesitation. — Likes, reposts, mentions, subscriptions. And… information. Especially rare, exclusive.

Cheddar thought. His gaze fell on the samples of Martian cheese he had grabbed at the last moment. An idea, wild and cheesy, formed in his head.

— Excellent, he said. — We will hold an auction.

— Of what? Spark and Gadget asked in chorus.

— Information, Cheddar smiled. — Exclusive. About what didn’t make it into the official reports about the Mars case. About what only we know. We will go to the main… what’s it called… “feed”? And offer it in exchange for something. For access to archives about the Guild.

— What information? Shadow was alert.

— The spiciest, Cheddar’s eyes gleamed. — For example… the truth about how Count Meus panically fears… water. Yes. After he fell into a fountain as a child. Or about what funny sound he made when we iced him into the ceiling with the ice beam. Unbelievably similar to a kitten’s meow. We will post a teaser. And the full version — only to whoever gives us what we need.

— This is black PR, Gadget said, but admiration sounded in his voice.

— This is detective tactics, Cheddar corrected. — We use his own weapon — mockery. Only ours will be… more aromatic.

He took a sample of “Olympus Dust”, brought it to the internal surveillance camera, which Gadget redirected to the external broadcast channel.

— Attention, “Shadow of the Zodiac”! Cheddar said, and his voice, amplified and processed, spread across their local network segment. — Galactic Investigators Cheddar and Company on air! Information about the so-called “Guild” is wanted! In exchange, exclusive is offered: unpublished, spicy details about a certain Count M… the very one who dances tap. First teaser free: he panically fears wet socks. Seriously. Bargaining acceptable. Seeking contact in personal messages. Hashtag: #CheeseTruth.

He sent the message. For several seconds nothing happened. Then, like circles on water, the reaction went.

First, a flurry of connection requests, messages, memes with wet socks fell on their ship. Then answers began to appear. Mostly spam, offers to buy anything, from fake diplomas to plans of someone else’s planet. But there were others.

One message stood out. It came not to the general channel, but directly, over a protected, almost invisible line. It contained only one phrase: “Want to know about the Guild? Win at poker. Cheese Poker. MiauMaster Table. Applications accepted for the next 5 minutes. Stake — your legend.”

And coordinates. Coordinates of a virtual “casino”, deep in one of the most protected clusters of the “Shadow of the Zodiac”.

— MiauMaster, Gadget whispered. — That same streamer? Who hosted our feed from Mars?

— Looks like his audience is here, Shadow said. — And he knows the rules of the game.

— “Cheese Poker”? Spark repeated. — Is it like regular poker, but chips made of mozzarella?

— Worse, Cheddar said, reading the rules that came with the coordinates. — Players make stakes not with chips, but… with stories. Everything related to cheese. Personal memories, secrets, legends. Each round — a new cheese variety, theme. The winner is determined not by card combination, but… by audience reaction. Likes, dislikes, comments. MiauMaster hosts a live stream. His viewers are the judges.

— This is idiocy, Spark stated.

— This is their reality, Cheddar said. — And our only ticket to the archives. If MiauMaster is really connected to the Guild or knows about it… this is our chance.

— Huge risk, Shadow said. — If we lose, we won’t lose money. We will lose control over our own history. He can expose us as fools to the whole galaxy.

— And if we don’t try, we will just circle here like blind kittens, Cheddar parried. — I’m going. Alone. The rest — my support group. Gadget, look for vulnerabilities in the broadcast system. Spark… be ready if suddenly virtuality becomes too real. Shadow, watch the perimeter. For any strange data movements.

— Cheddar, this is a trap, Shadow said quietly.

— Of course, it’s a trap, Cheddar smiled. — But it’s also a stage. And on stage, team, I know a thing or two. After all, everything I’ve done the last few years is tell stories. Usually — to investigators or clients. Now I’ll tell a streamer and his audience. Cheese stories. The best I have.

He accepted the invitation. The coordinates flashed, and the “Cheese Hole” smoothly turned, heading deep into the digital city, to the place where a game awaited them, the stake of which was not only information, but their own faces. And over all this, invisibly, hovered the spirit of Count Meus, somewhere watching and, probably, smirking. His dance was only the beginning. The real show was yet to come.

Chapter 3: MiauMaster and the Rules of the Game

The “Luck Casino” cluster represented not a building, but a whole planetoid structure assembled from clumps of light resembling dice, card suits, and spinning roulette wheels. All this shimmered, iridesced, and emitted quiet, pleasant sounds — rustling of cards, clatter of bones, brisk jazz, nothing like the one under which Meus danced.

The “Cheese Hole” docked to a virtual pier — a platform of holographic energy. Cheddar, putting on a simple digital mask-suit (avatar of a “modest guest”, generated by the system), exited the ship. The rest stayed inside, on comms, their voices sounding in his ear through a hidden channel.