The midday sun scorched the Phoenix Range like a furnace, but that did nothing to reduce the excitement surging through the tournament grounds.
Stalls brimmed with shouting vendors, betmakers waved thick scrolls of odds, and the energy in the air thrummed with violent promise. Among the colorful chaos, a new name was on everyone's lips—
Kent King.
And at the heart of this storm stood the freshly erected Golden Rat Gambling House, its lavish red-and-gold banner dancing in the wind like a challenge.
Fatty Ben stood proudly under it, waving a fan decorated with a rat holding a coin. He was busy entertaining a pair of flirtatious vendor girls, boasting, "You see ladies, when people say 'fortune favors the bold,' they mean me. And my boss? He's the lion of this land!"
But the easygoing moment ended in a flash.
"Which idiot is the owner of this store?"
