“This is it?” Jude asked, raising an eyebrow. “Not exactly a treasure trove.”

Jude leaned against a crumbling wall, watching as Silas rummaged through a weathered wooden chest. The younger man muttered curses under his breath, tossing out scraps of clothing, a tarnished buckle, and what looked like the remnants of a broken dagger.

Finally, he produced a worn leather satchel. “It’s enough,” he said, his tone defensive. “I’ve got a few odds and ends that’ll sell. I just need to find the right buyer.”

Jude folded his arms. “And what about the rest? Entry fee’s steep. You really think you can scrounge up enough selling that junk?”

Silas hesitated, glancing at the satchel. “Well, there’s... another option.”

Jude’s eyes narrowed. “Another option?”

Silas sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “My sister. She’s loaning out gold to desperate folks. She’s not exactly thrilled about lending to family, but if I ask—”

“She’ll charge you,” Jude finished. “And if you can’t pay it back?”

“Then I get to hear about it every day for the rest of my life,” Silas muttered. “Believe me, I’m not looking forward to it. But we don’t have a choice, do we?”

Jude considered him for a moment. Silas’s usual bravado was tempered with genuine concern, a rare glimpse of vulnerability. Finally, Jude nodded. “All right. Let’s see what she has to say.”

Jude followed Silas through the narrow streets of the Warrens, the younger man walking with an air of reluctant determination. As they approached a modest shop tucked between two larger buildings, Jude couldn’t help but notice the heavy wooden shutters on the windows and the scent of herbs, metal and something else wafting from inside.

“This is your sister’s place?” Jude asked.

“Yeah,” Silas said, pushing open the door. “And remember, no sudden moves.”

Is his sister a bulldog?

The interior of the shop was a mix of cluttered shelves, hanging dried herbs, and blades of varying quality displayed on racks.

Behind the counter stood a woman who could only be Lyra—sharp-eyed, with the same earthy skin as Silas and dark hair tied back in a practical braid. She looked up as they entered, her expression hardening immediately.

“What do you want, Silas?” she asked flatly, her hand drifting to the hilt of a small dagger on her belt.

“Hey, sis,” Silas said with a nervous laugh, raising his hands in mock surrender. “No need for the hardware. I’m just here to talk.”

“If you want a couple coins, you’re out of luck,” she said, her tone cold. “Unless you’re here to pay up, I’ve got nothing to say.”

“Actually, technically, I’m not here for a couple coins,” Silas began, trying to sound casual, and then dropped the bomb, “We need way more.”

Lyra’s eyes narrowed. They shifted from Silas to Jude, and suddenly Jude felt a cold shiver creep up his spine. Her gaze was sharp enough to cut steel.

She should’ve been the fighter, not Silas.

“Is this your idea, white hair?” she asked.

Jude blinked. “I… Well, I…”

“I hope you fight better than you talk.”

“I do,” Jude managed to say, straightening slightly. “I’m pretty good.”

“How much?” Lyra’s gaze snapped back to Silas, her tone icy.

“Well, I thought that, um, you see…” Silas stammered, scratching the back of his neck.

“HOW. MUCH?” Lyra’s voice was sharp enough to make both men flinch.

“Five hundred,” Silas blurted out. “Each.”

Lyra’s expression didn’t change, but the air seemed to grow colder. She leaned forward slightly, her hand still resting on the dagger. “Is your friend a better fighter than you?”

Silas hesitated, his pride caught in his throat. “He is. Not by much, but—”

“Then why should I pay for both of you? Maybe I should cut my losses and only pay him.” The word “cut” carried a dangerous edge that made Silas instinctively take a step back.

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“I’ve been training with Jude,” Silas said quickly, gesturing toward his companion. “I’m a much better fighter now. Ask him.” His eyes darted to Jude, silently pleading for backup. “Our chances of getting the grand prize have doubled.”

Lyra snorted. “Doubled from what? Zero? Let’s be honest, Silas, you’ve never been much of a closer.”

Jude cleared his throat. “But it’s true. He’s come a long way. Still has a lot to learn, but he’s got potential.”

Lyra’s piercing gaze softened—just a fraction—as she looked at her brother. “Potential isn’t worth five hundred gold.”

“It is if we win,” Silas said, trying his best to sound convincing. “The prize is five thousand for first place and half that for second place.”

Lyra sighed heavily. She turned and opened a drawer, pulling out a small pouch of coins. She did it quickly, almost as if afraid she was going to change her mind. “I’m charging you interest,” she said, tossing the pouch onto the counter. “And if you lose, I’ll make you work it off.”

“Any special discount for a Redgrave family member?” Silas asked, a hopeful smile creeping onto his face.

“I’ve got a special interest rate for family members.” She pointed to Jude. “And you. You’ll give me 70% of your purse, regardless of the outcome”

Jude blinked in disbelief. “Seventy?”

Lyra arched an eyebrow. “I’m taking all the risk. Don’t like it? I’m sure there’s a long line of loaners who want to give you some cash.”

Silas gave Jude a sheepish look. “I think we’d better take it.”

Jude sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Is there any way to make it more… uh, manageable?”

Lyra studied him for a long moment. “Fine. Here’s my deal. I’ve got a couple of clients who’ve forgotten how to pay their debts. You go talk to them, collect what’s owed, and I might consider knocking your interest down.”

“Debts?” Silas asked, blinking. “What kind of clients?”

Lyra handed him a slip of parchment with two names scribbled on it. “Start with this one. He's local, runs a gambling stall near the market. Get the money, and maybe I won’t charge you through the nose.”

“And if he doesn’t want to pay?” Silas asked.

Lyra smiled for the first time since they got here. “You’re fighters, aren’t you? Think of it as a warm-up for your precious tournament.”

QUEST RECEIVED: Make Them Pay!

* * * * *

The marketplace buzzed with the chatter of merchants and customers as well as the occasional shout of a deal being made. Silas adjusted his gloves as he and Jude approached their target, a giant of a man running a comedically small gambling stall. The table was littered with dice, cards, and a few trinkets.

Silas bounced on the balls of his feet, cracking his knuckles. “You know what, Jude? I got this. No problem.”

Jude gave him a long, skeptical look. “You sure about that?”

“Absolutely,” Silas said, grinning. “It’s just one guy. A little chat, maybe some light intimidation—piece of cake.”

Jude shrugged. “All right. I’ll hang back. Don’t get yourself stabbed.”

“Please,” Silas said with mock offense. “I’m a professional.”

Jude leaned against a post, crossing his arms, as Silas strode toward the stall. The gambler looked up, his cheerful grin faltering as he saw Silas approaching.

From his position across the square, Jude watched the exchange with mild interest. Silas was using his usual cocky charm, but the gambler’s body language didn’t scream “intimidated.” If anything, Silas looked like he was scared of saying something wrong.

And for good reason, too. The gambler was twice the size of Silas and Jude combined.

The conversation grew quieter, the two leaning closer as they spoke. Finally, Silas straightened up and turned back toward Jude, his expression unreadable. He walked back slowly, hands shoved in his pockets.

Jude raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Silas stopped in front of him, his grin gone. “Good news!” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He promises to pay back half next week.”

Jude stared at him for a long moment. “Half?”

“Next week,” Silas added.

Jude sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Well, that’s... a start.”

And I thought Silas’s debt collectors were pathetic.

“Perhaps we should talk to the guy again,” Jude said. Before Silas could object, he was already on his way to the gambler.

“Ah, back so soon?” the gambler said. “I thought we had an agreement. Next week for half.”

Jude’s gaze lingered on the dice scattered across the gambler’s table. He picked up three of them, turning them in his hand as he examined the edges and weight.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” the gambler screamed and tried to grab the dice back. “Put them down now!”

Jude took a step back and flicked his wrist to roll the dice across the table. They tumbled in a series of neat bounces before each landed squarely on a six.

He picked up one of the dice and held it up to the light, examining the subtle imperfections. His lips curled into a smirk. “I wonder if I’ll roll six every time.”

The gambler swallowed hard and made another move to grab the dice. “They’re just for show. I would never—”

“You sure about that? Because they look mighty loaded to me. What do you think, Silas?”

Silas was a bit too slow to understand what was happening.

“I think City Guards might take some interest in this fine gentleman,” Jude winked.

Finally, it seemed that Silas understood the assignment. “The Guild of Commerce!” he yelped. “I’m sure they’ll have a few words, too!”

“C-come on, fellas,” the gambler’s eyes darted nervously around the market. Nobody was listening in. Yet.

“You give us the money you owe, we’ll keep quiet. Fair?” Jude asked him.

“I—uh…” the gambler stammered, visibly sweating now.

“Wrong answer,” Silas said, his grin widening. “Now, how much have you got?”

The gambler hesitated, then reached under the table and produced a small pouch of coins. “This is all I’ve got right now. I swear!”

Jude took the pouch and opened it, counting the contents with practiced efficiency. “Not enough,” he said, his eyes hardening. “You’re short by fifty.”

“I—I can make it up next week!” the gambler pleaded.

“Or,” Jude said, leaning forward, “you can sell something. Like these dice. They’re weighted, aren’t they?”

The gambler froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “I—uh…”

“Thought so,” Jude said, pocketing one of the dice. “We’ll take this and the coins. Consider it a partial payment. Don’t make us come back.”

The gambler nodded frantically, relief and terror mingling on his face. “Y-you’ve got it. Thank you, gentlemen.”

As they walked away, Silas broke into a grin. “That was... impressive. How did you know he was cheating?”

“I dunno,” Jude chuckled. “Just got lucky, I guess.”