Inside the Coin Corridor's finance office, Renato stood guard at the door.
The crimson velvet curtains were tightly drawn, admitting no sunlight. Amber magical wall lamps provided all the room's illumination.
The casino's financial director sat beside the tax commissioner at a mahogany desk, checking the accounts page by page.
The four accompanying City Guard members lasted only an hour at their posts before eagerly slipping downstairs to enjoy the staff's "warm hospitality."
On the last of these three days, the guards could not manage even something as simple as staying beside the commissioner.
Laziness alone could no longer explain this. Renato even wondered whether they suffered from some physiological defect that prevented them from concentrating on anything for long.
"I hear you're a Third Tier Adventurer? You must be from out of town. A swordsman of your caliber couldn't possibly be unknown if he were a Fried City local."
The Mercenary striking up a conversation with him was named Brandon. He appeared to be the financial director's bodyguard.
He wore splint armor, had a face covered in stubble, and carried a kite shield on his back. He kept grasping for things to say.
"My caliber? We've never fought. How would you know how good I am?"
"Ha, I can tell by your eyes. You're definitely one tough customer."
My eyes? More likely my equipment.
Renato was inwardly speechless. He could not be bothered with the man's empty chatter. Flattery from a young woman might have been welcome, but what was the appeal of being praised by some middle-aged man?
"Why stand around here? How about a drink at the bar downstairs?"
Ignored yet again, Brandon rubbed the tip of his nose, looking a little awkward.
From inside the room came the faint voices of Lawrence Sterling and the financial