Underworld.
Dead Drunk was quiet, a rare thing these days. As the origin of the betting pool that started the Battle of Queens, this bar was always full these days.
But today, there was no people.
The bar's owner, a minor god with a round belly and a nose permanently red from drink, sat hunched over his counter.
His stubby fingers flipped through his account book, and with each number he saw, his grin grew wider.
"By the king… I've made more this month than I did all of last year!" he whispered to himself, eyes glittering with greed. "All thanks to those fools throwing drachmas at the Battle of the Queens pool. May this betting never end!"
Usually, with these sales, he should be open so he can earn more, but this god has been beyond exhausted. He hasn't gotten any wink of sleep since the betting started.
That was worse than when he was working twenty hours a day under Lord Charon! At least he actually gets to sleep for at least an hour!
Just then, the doors creaked open.
