The doors opened onto the Mezzanine, and the sound hit Reed first.
It wasn't the clang of steel or the scream of goblins that echoed from the lower levels. It was a low, sophisticated hum. The clatter of ivory chips on felt, the soft chime of crystal glasses, the murmur of bets being placed and fortunes being lost.
It smelled of expensive perfume, aged whiskey, and desperation.
Reed stepped out, adjusting the cuffs of his velvet coat. He paused at the obsidian railing overlooking the main Casino Floor.
It was working.
The "Tier 1" strategy was live. The floor was packed, not with mud-caked adventurers, but with the upper crust of the region who had crossed the new bridge. Merchants in silk tunics, minor nobles dripping with jewelry, and guild officials trying to look impartial while eyeing the roulette wheels.
