Before the fight
The rear of the underground building was abandoned, a place few patrons ever visited. Distant lights of the lanterns barely illuminated the place. Wooden barrels lay toppled, discarded like trash.
On one of the barrels sat Lucian. His posture relaxed and his ever-beaming smile still plastered over his face as he studied Urias.
This was where they always met before fights, where Lucian told Urias who to bet on and how far to push the stakes. The scion, still indebted, followed every tip from Lucian like a fervent believer listening to his messiah.
Today too the intention was the same. Or at least that is what Urias thought.
"You are saying I have to place one big bet on Berel today?" Urias said. His tone was surprising rather than questioning. Time after time he'd learn that Lucian's Intel was always accurate.
Today he wore clothes that finally made him look the part of an aristocrat. Only days ago, no one would have believed he was a young noble.
