Silas tucked the orb back into his belt pouch and wiped straw from his armor. The chase had left him sweating, but his coin purse felt heavier. Worth the trouble, even if he'd made some enemies.

Not that it mattered, he never planned to fight in the outer ring again once he had enough gold.

His stomach growled. When was the last time he'd eaten? The arachne hunt felt like days ago, though it had only been this morning. Amazing how much could change in a few hours - from hunting monsters in collapsed buildings to running across rooftops in Bastian.

A nearby food cart caught his attention.

The vendor was grilling skewers of meat and vegetables, the smell making Silas's mouth water. He had plenty of coin now, might as well treat himself to a real meal.

"Three skewers," Silas said, dropping copper pieces into the vendor's weathered palm.

The old man nodded, handing over the hot food. "New to the outer ring? Haven't seen you around before."

"Just passing through." Silas bit into the first skewer, savoring the seasoned meat.

Silas chewed slowly, studying the old vendor. Street merchants usually knew more than guards about what happened in a city. "Been here long?"

"Thirty years on this corner." The vendor turned another set of skewers. "Seen everything worth seeing in the outer ring."

"What about the Beckham Estate?"

The vendor's hands stilled over the grill. "Bad business, that place. Used to be grand, finest monster tamer in Bastian. Old Dewalt the Archmage could control anything with scales, fur, or fangs." He shook his head. "Then something went wrong. Real wrong."

"How so?"

"Started with the smaller beasts - hunting hounds, messenger birds. They turned savage overnight. Then the bigger ones followed. Guards found pieces of servants scattered across the grounds." The vendor lowered his voice. "Even the magical creatures went mad. Elementals, constructs - everything with a binding just... snapped."

Silas took another bite, keeping his expression neutral. "Estate's been empty since?"

"Empty?" The vendor barked a harsh laugh. "Five families tried claiming it. Last one lasted three days before something tore through their guards. Now the monsters own it, ferals stalking the halls, magical beasts gone wild. Nobody survives long enough to claim it."

"Nobody?"

"Well, there was one fellow made it a week. Said he heard voices in the walls, saw things moving in mirrors. Found him trying to claw his own eyes out."

The vendor handed Silas his last skewer. "Take my advice - whatever gold you think that place is worth, it's not enough. Some things are better left alone."

Silas frowned at the vendor's words. Something didn't add up. "How could they claim it if there was already an heir?"

"Heir?" The vendor scratched his stubble. "Estate's been empty since Dewalt died. No wife, no children. Whole family line dried up."

"The Bird of Hermes found me." Silas pulled out the inheritance scroll. "Brought this straight to me while I was hunting."

The vendor's eyes narrowed, then he burst into harsh laughter that drew stares from passersby. "Good story lad, right up there with every kid who dreamed they were really a richling waiting for their real family to arrive."

"I'm not-" Silas stopped himself.

No point arguing.

He'd spent enough years as a orphan in Doan to know better.

But the Bird had found him. That meant something. The creature couldn't be fooled by false claims or pretenders, it existed solely to deliver inheritance notices to legitimate heirs.

The vendor was still chuckling, shaking his head as he turned back to his grill. Silas wadded up the empty skewer wrappings and tossed them in a nearby barrel. Let the old man laugh. Soon enough he'd have the estate and three thousand gold in debt to worry about.

That thought sobered him.

Silas studied the vendor's weathered face. "What did happen to Dewalt?"

"The archmage?" The vendor sprinkled seasoning over a fresh batch of skewers. "Old age as far as anyone knows. Not the monsters." He adjusted the meat on the grill. "Found him in his study one morning, slumped over his desk like he'd fallen asleep. No marks, no signs of struggle. Just stopped breathing."

That didn't match the wild tales of rampaging beasts. Silas leaned against the cart's wooden frame. "When was this?"

"Six months back. City guard sealed the place same day - too many valuable artifacts to leave unprotected. Then the monsters started appearing." The vendor shrugged. "Guards tried clearing them out at first. Lost eight men before they gave up. Now they just keep people away."

Six months.

The timeline nagged at Silas. If Dewalt died peacefully, why did his creatures turn savage after his death? And why did the Bird of Hermes take so long to find him?

The smell of burning meat pulled him from his thoughts. The vendor cursed, rushing to save his skewers from the flames.

He still needed more coin just to pay the inheritance fee, never mind the estate's debts.

Silas fingered the few coins in his purse. The weight felt good, but it wasn't enough. That inheritance tax stood between him and the estate. Even after the string of fights, brutal takedowns, and that mad dash across the rooftops, he still fell short.

He left the food cart behind, cutting through a dim alley.

The vendor's warnings about the estate lingered at the back of his mind, but they didn't matter. Not yet. First, he had to solve the immediate problem, scraping together enough gold to pay the fee.

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The estate could be packed with savage beasts, haunted by spirits, or cursed six ways from summer. None of that changed the fact that it was his only path forward.

His alternative was crawling back to Dolan's streets, back to five-silver contracts that would eventually get him killed, the only ending that didn't stop with him rotting in some back ally.

This way, even if it was dangerous, he only had to do it once.

The fighting pits had been profitable, but he couldn't risk going back. Word would spread about his earlier escape. The local tamers wouldn't forget that humiliation quickly.

Silas rubbed his neck, considering his options. As a mercenary he knew their should be a gambling den, somewhere tucked away from the main streets.

All cities had them, if you knew where to look, and with the pit fights no longer viable, perhaps a different gamble would net him those final coins.

He followed the sounds of muted conversation down a cramped side street.

A burly bouncer blocked the doorway, arms crossed.

He gave Silas's blood-stained armor a once-over. "Got coin?"

"Enough," Silas said.

The bouncer stepped aside with a shrug. "No city guard, no fights inside. You cheat, you answer to the Hound."

"Fair enough." Silas kept his face neutral as he slipped past.

The door clicked shut behind him. Lantern light revealed a low room thick with pipe smoke. Wooden tables dotted the space in uneven rows. Men and women bent over games of chance, weapons visible beneath cloaks and coats. Coins littered every surface.

A woman with sharp features dealt cards at one table. Two dwarves argued over dice in a corner. A scarred man in armor glanced up from his drink, then looked away.

Silas kept his head down, searching for medium-stakes games. He spotted a rickety table where three players faced a dealer, silver and copper chips scattered between them.

The game looked similar to Five-Point Tarot from Dolan's card houses.

He moved closer. A sweating nobleman cursed at his cards. A half-elf pushed more coins forward, grinning. An old soldier watched with cold eyes.

The half-elf collected his winnings.

The dealer noticed Silas hovering. "Playing or watching?"

"Playing." Silas pulled out silver coins, letting them catch the light. "If there's room."

They made space. He sat down, relaxed on the outside while his pulse quickened. He rarely gambled, survival meant hoarding every coin. But he'd picked up tricks from watching others lose their money.

If the house cheated, he'd need to get, better.

The dealer slid three cards across the worn table to each player, followed by two face-down in the center. Silas lifted the corner of his cards. Not terrible, it was a spread of mid-range numbers, but didn't quite form the set he needed.

He matched the opening bet, keeping his posture loose. Let them think he was green.

The half-elf's lips curled as he pushed forward a stack of silver.

Sweat glistened on the nobleman's forehead as he called.

The old soldier just tapped a single coin against the table.

When the dealer flipped the first communal card, Silas kept his face neutral. The Wild Hunt, it allowed a card to change suits.

That could work in his favor.

He recalled a trick from his days in Dolan, taught by an older thief who made it into old age. The right sleight of hand could improve odds significantly. But timing was everything.

The half-elf bet aggressively through the round. Silas kept his raises measured, not wanting to draw attention. The old soldier folded with a grunt. The nobleman called, dabbing his neck.

The second reveal brought the Bleeding Tower. The half-elf muttered a curse under his breath.

Whatever he had been chasing failed.

"Raise two silver." Silas mumbled, trying to seem unsure.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" The half-elf's eyes narrowed.

Silas shrugged. "Luck's luck."

Both remaining players matched his bet.

The dealer announced the final swap round. Silas watched their exchanges carefully before making his move. As he reached for the discard pile, he dropped the summoning orb and the glow of it masked him palming an extra card.

"Sorry." Silas fumbled for the orb, letting it roll across the table before snatching it up. "I'm new to summoning."

The half-elf's eyes locked onto the device. "Magistrate-issued. E-rank." He snorted. "Pit fighter?"

"For now." Silas tucked the orb away, noting how the other players' attention had shifted. The nobleman's sweating increased, while the old soldier's cold stare gained an edge of calculation.

The dealer cleared his throat. "Cards, gentlemen."

Silas's fingers closed around the card he took.

The dealer gave one more card.

Silas studied his improved hand, keeping his expression neutra. The half-elf's earlier confidence had cracked, his fingers beat against the table's worn surface.

The nobleman's face had gone from sweating to pale, clearly regretting that he hadn't folded earlier.

The dealer's eyes swept across their faces. "Final bets."

The half-elf pushed forward a stack of silver. "All in."

The nobleman folded with a groan, tossing his cards face-down.

Silas matched the bet, then added two more silver pieces. The weight of his coin purse had lightened considerably, but the risk felt calculated. Better odds than fighting six tamers at once.

The half-elf's jaw tightened as he called.

"Show," the dealer commanded.

The half-elf spread out in front of him, three matching Knights. A strong hand in most games.

Silas laid his cards on the table one by one. The Cup of Crowns, the Tower of Crowns, and the Hermit. The card he stole, the Maiden of Crowns completed the set. With the Wild Hunt conversion changing the Hermit card to match, he had four Crowns total.

The half-elf's face darkened as he processed the hand. His fingers curled into fists, knuckles white against the table's surface.

Silas kept his movements casual as he pulled the coins toward him, though his muscles tensed for trouble. The weight of silver felt good in his hands as he stacked them methodically.

The dealer's expression remained neutral as he collected the cards. "House takes five percent."

Silas counted out the fee without complaint.

Worth every copper to avoid another mad dash across rooftops.

The dealer's hands moved in practiced motions, cards flowing like water between his fingers. "Another round?"

"Think I'll quit while I'm ahead." Silas tucked the coins into his belt pouch, the weight bringing a small measure of satisfaction. Finally enough to cover that inheritance fee.

The half-elf's chair scraped against wooden floorboards. "Funny how your luck changed after dropping that orb."

"That's luck for you." Silas kept his tone flat, watching the half-elf's fingers drift toward his belt. The motion set off warning bells, same way thugs in Dolan reached for hidden knives.

The old soldier interrupted. "Let it go, Vanis. House rules."

The bouncer had warned about fights inside. But outside?

Different story.

He'd seen enough street brawls to know how this might play out once he left the den's relative safety.

Silas turned from the table, scanning the cramped room. The old soldier watched him with hard eyes while the nobleman slumped in defeat.

He navigated between tables where dice clattered and coins changed hands. His goal was simple - slip out with enough gold to pay that cursed inheritance fee.

A massive figure in a dark coat stepped into his path.

The Hound.

The den's enforcer earned his name through a reputation for hunting down those who crossed the house.

The man's scarred face twisted into what might have been a smile. "Heard you had a good win tonight, friend."

"Just beginner's luck," Silas said, keeping his tone light. "Heading out while I'm ahead."

"The house likes to celebrate winners. Stay, have a drink on us."

Silas recognized the trap, they'd keep pouring until his luck ran dry or worse. "Appreciate the offer, but I've got business early in the morning and need my head clear."

The Hound dropped the smile. He shifted aside, but his presence still filled the narrow space. "Watch yourself out there, friend. Dark nights swallow heavy purses."

Silas nodded and squeezed past the enforcer's bulk. Eyes followed him to the exit, but no one made a move to stop him.

His fingers brushed the coin-heavy purse enough to finally clear that fee, with some extra padding.

He melted into the shadows of the outer ring's streets, taking random turns to shake any pursuit. The gambling den's sounds faded behind him as he vanished into Bastian's maze of alleys but also kept the summoning orb close.

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TAMED/SUMMONED MONSTER ROSTER (6 SLOTS)

[Grey Owl - E - Common]

Status: Available

Notes: Aerial superiority, excellent grip strength. Best used for quick strikes from above.

[Lesser Salamander - E - Common]

Status: Available

Notes: Fire breath effective for area control. Burns easily tire larger opponents.

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