The wager was agreed upon, and the innkeeper, though trembling, hurriedly cleared a sturdy oak table in the center of the room. Plates were swept aside, mugs stacked hastily onto counters, and benches were pulled back to make space. The firelight flickered brightly against the polished surface of the table, casting long shadows as every patron in the inn gathered around. It was no longer just a contest of pride; it had become entertainment for the night.
The merchant rolled up the sleeves of his embroidered tunic, revealing arms that were not merely padded with wealth but hardened with a lifetime of travel and bargaining in places where coin alone did not guarantee survival. His forearms were thick, veins prominent, the kind of arms that had gripped wagon reins for weeks at a time and wrestled stubborn mules into obedience. He flexed his fingers and smirked at Lucas. "You are sure you want this, boy? You look like a reed that the wind might break in half."
