A shout erupted from the village square, drawing Apollo's attention from Nik's elaborate fabrications. A crowd had gathered around one of the wooden tables normally used for displaying market goods, now repurposed for a different kind of commerce altogether.
"Another challenger!" someone called out, followed by raucous laughter and the distinctive thud of coins hitting wood.
Apollo drifted closer, curious. The crowd parted just enough to reveal Thorin seated at the table, his sleeve rolled up to expose a forearm corded with muscle. Across from him sat a red-faced farmer, his arm trembling as Thorin inexorably forced it down to the table's surface.
"And that makes three!" declared a self-appointed referee, slapping the table as the farmer's hand touched wood. "The dwarf remains undefeated!"
