Rohan sat in the dimly lit backroom of the pits, the haze of smoke hanging thick in the air. His body ached from the fight, but the lingering effects of the drug dulled the pain. The other fighters lounged around, some nursing wounds, others indulging in drinks and substances offered freely by the handlers.

  The man from before, the one who told him about the nobles and their twisted pleasures, leaned against the wall, watching Rohan closely.

  "You're getting pulled in deeper, kid, one fight at a time, one cut at a time. Before you know it, this place owns you.”

  Rohan exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing the hilt of his dagger.

  "I just need to win."

  The man chuckled, shaking his head.

  "That’s what they all say. But you keep winning, and they'll keep raising the stakes. Until you’re fighting something you can’t walk away from."

  Rohan’s gaze was steady.

  "Then I’ll make sure I don’t lose."

  The doors creaked open, and a handler stepped inside, scanning the room. His eyes landed on Rohan.

  "You. The bosses want to see you.”

  Murmurs rippled through the fighters. Being summoned wasn’t always a good thing. Rohan stood, rolling his shoulders before following the man out. The deeper he walked into the underground chambers, the colder the air became. Something told him this meeting wasn’t just about another fight.

  Rohan stepped into the lavishly decorated room, his boots sinking slightly into the thick carpets. The air was heavy with the scent of perfume and incense, a stark contrast to the blood and sweat of the pits. The walls were draped in fine silks, and in the center of the room, lounging on an oversized bed adorned with golden embroidery, was a woman dressed in sheer fabric and jewelry that clinked softly as she moved.

  She studied him with sharp, predatory eyes, her lips curving into a smirk.

  “So, you’re the fighter everyone’s been whispering about, I must say, you’re younger than I expected.”

  Rohan remained silent, his fists clenched at his sides. He had fought men twice his size, had stared death in the eye, but standing here, unarmed and exposed, made his skin crawl.

  The woman laughed softly, reaching for a bottle of wine on a nearby table. She took a sip before setting it down, her gaze never leaving him.

  “I bought you for an hour.”

  She said, her voice smooth, almost amused.

  Rohan’s stomach twisted. He had heard the rumors, had seen the way the nobles looked at the fighters like they were nothing more than entertainment, things to be used and discarded. His jaw tightened as he forced himself to stand still.

  "I'm not here for that.”

  He said, his voice low and controlled.

  “No?”

  She leaned forward, the golden chains draped across her body shifting with the movement.

  “Then tell me, what are you here for? Do you think you have a choice?”

  She sighed, standing from the bed and stepping toward him, her bare feet soundless against the rug.

  "You're tense."

  She observed, reaching out to touch his arm. Rohan jerked back, his body reacting before he could think. That only seemed to amuse her further.

  "You're like a wild dog, fighting so hard even when you're already in a cage."

  "I'm not in a cage."

  He snapped.

  Her smirk widened.

  "Oh, but you are. You just don’t see the bars yet.”

  She circled him slowly, her perfume invading his senses.

  “The nobles love fighters like you. Young. Angry. Willing to bleed for their amusement. But sooner or later, you’ll break. They all do."

  He forced himself to take a breath, to keep his anger in check.

  "I'm leaving."

  He said finally, turning for the door.

  "If you leave now…”

  She continued smoothly.

  "I can have you kicked out of the pits. No more fights, no more coin. And I doubt you'd last long on the streets with the way you've been throwing yourself into the arena."

  His grip tightened, but he didn’t move. He knew the pits were dangerous, but they were also the fastest way to get stronger, to get closer to the Iron Talons. If she followed through on her threat, he’d lose that advantage.

  She stepped closer, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm.

  "But."

  She purred.

  "I'm feeling generous tonight. There's another way. Come to one of my gatherings. You’ll be a waiter, nothing more.”

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  Her lips curled into a sly smile.

  “The others would love you. You’re cute… and like a wild animal. They enjoy that sort of thing.”

  Rohan hesitated, his mind racing. It sounded like a trap. But at the same time, this could be an opportunity, an easy way to get close to the nobles and merchants who might have connections to the Iron Talons. If they were backing the bandits, someone in those circles would know.

  Slowly, he turned to face her fully.

  "And if I agree?"

  She tilted her head.

  "Then you show up, wear something nice, serve drinks, and try not to bite anyone."

  She traced a finger across his chest before stepping back.

  "Do that, and you can keep your place in the pits. Maybe even earn a few favors from the right people."

  Rohan exhaled sharply. He hated the idea of playing along with these people, but he couldn’t let his pride get in the way. He needed to see where this led.

  "Fine.”

  Her smirk widened.

  "Tomorrow night."

  She walked back to the bed and picked up a small vial from a nearby table, rolling it between her fingers.

  "Be ready. And Rohan?"

  He looked at her warily.

  "Try to behave.”

  The next evening, Rohan stood outside the lavish estate where the gathering was being held. The building was far removed from the filth of the pits, its marble walls and gilded accents a stark contrast to the blood and dirt he was used to. He adjusted the simple yet finely made black tunic he had been given for the occasion, uncomfortable with how clean he looked.

  A pair of guards flanked the entrance, their expressions bored as they scanned him. The one on the left gave him a once-over before stepping aside.

  "Go in. Keep your hands to yourself.”

  Rohan didn’t respond. He stepped through the grand doorway, immediately hit by the scent of wine, perfume, and roasted meat. Inside, nobles and merchants lounged on silk cushions, draped in expensive fabrics, their fingers heavy with rings. Laughter and hushed conversation filled the space as servants moved effortlessly between them, pouring drinks and offering trays of exotic foods.

  He spotted her immediately, the woman from the night before, reclining on a couch near the center of the room. She met his gaze and smiled, lifting her glass slightly before turning back to her conversation.

  A man with graying hair and sharp eyes stepped in front of Rohan.

  "You must be the new one."

  He shoved a tray of wine glasses into Rohan's hands without waiting for confirmation.

  "Go. Serve."

  Rohan swallowed his irritation and took the tray, weaving through the crowd as carefully as he could. He felt eyes on him, hungry, curious stares sizing him up, some amused, others speculative. He focused on his task, listening in on conversations as he moved.

  "Another village was taken last week. The Iron Talons move quickly.”

  "Lord Davos is furious, he thought they were under control."

  "They aren’t working alone. Someone is feeding them gold."

  Rohan’s grip on the tray tightened, but he forced himself to remain calm. This was what he came for, information. He just had to be patient.

  As he approached a table near the back of the room, a noblewoman draped in furs ran a finger along the rim of her glass, watching him with interest.

  "You're the fighter, aren’t you?"

  She mused, Rohan met her gaze but didn’t respond.

  She chuckled.

  "Shy. That’s adorable."

  She reached out and grabbed his wrist, tugging him closer.

  "I saw your match. You fight like a beast. Tell me, do you bite?"

  Rohan yanked his arm free, his patience wearing thin.

  "Only when I have to."

  The woman laughed, amused rather than offended, and waved him away. He turned to leave, only to be stopped by a conversation nearby that made his blood run cold.

  "The Iron Talons have been gathering forces. If what I hear is true, they'll have control over half the region within a few months.”

  Another voice scoffed.

  "And the noble houses still deny they’re a real threat. Fools."

  Rohan clenched his jaw. He needed to hear more. Carefully, he edged closer, pretending to adjust the tray in his hands.

  One of the men lowered his voice, forcing Rohan to step even closer, feigning interest in refilling a noble’s glass.

  “They aren’t just growing in numbers. They’re being supplied, gold, weapons, even trained men. Someone wants them strong.”

  The other man scoffed.

  “Who stands to gain from a bandit army? They attack everyone, rich or poor.”

  “Unless they aren’t just bandits anymore.”

  The first man leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass.

  “They’ve taken over villages, wiped out entire garrisons. At some point, they stop being raiders and start being an army.”

  Rohan’s fingers twitched at his side. The thought of the Iron Talons being more than just a roaming group of killers sent a sharp unease through him. The destruction of his village had been just the beginning.

  The men continued talking, their voices dropping lower. Rohan was about to move closer when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him backward.

  He turned, heart pounding, to find the woman from before, the one who had invited him here. She was smiling, but there was something sharp in her eyes.

  “Eavesdropping?”

  She asked, her voice light, but with an edge beneath it.

  “I was serving.”

  Rohan replied smoothly.

  She raised an eyebrow, then glanced toward the table where the men were still speaking.

  “Come with me.”

  Rohan hesitated. He had just started getting useful information. But refusing her now could draw suspicion. Reluctantly, he followed as she led him through a side door and into a dimly lit corridor.

  Once they were alone, she turned to face him, arms crossed.

  “You’re not as subtle as you think.”

  Rohan tensed, prepared to make an excuse, but she didn’t seem angry, more… curious.

  “You’re not just some pit fighter looking for money, are you? You’re after something.”

  Rohan said nothing, his mind racing for a way out of this. She tilted her head, then smiled.

  “I can help you, y’know?”

  He narrowed his eyes.

  “Why would you do that?”

  She took a step closer, lowering her voice.

  “Because I enjoy knowing things. And I enjoy watching men like you try to tear down things bigger than themselves.”

  Rohan’s breath was steady, but his pulse wasn’t.

  She reached out and smoothed a hand over the front of his tunic, her fingers lingering for a moment before she stepped back.

  “Think about it. There’s more to this world than fighting in the dirt.”

  Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving Rohan alone in the corridor.

  Rohan didn’t linger. The longer he stayed, the more dangerous this place became. He weaved through the halls, slipping past drunken nobles and distracted servants, until he found the exit.

  The night air hit him like a wave of clarity. The scent of sweat, wine, and perfume still clung to his skin, but at least out here, he could breathe

  He walked quickly, keeping to the shadows, his mind replaying the conversation over and over. The Iron Talons weren’t just growing, they were being backed. Supplied. Turned into something bigger than a band of raiders. And now, he had a potential ally, though he wasn’t sure if it was a trap or a real opportunity.

  By the time he reached Sera’s place, exhaustion pressed down on him. He knocked lightly, and after a moment, the door cracked open.

  Sera’s friend, the same woman who had tended to her before, peered out. Her expression hardened when she saw him, but she didn’t say anything, simply stepping aside to let him in.

  Sera was lying on her cot, bruises still faintly visible on her skin, but she sat up when she saw him.

  “Back again?”

  She murmured, her voice laced with tired amusement. Rohan didn’t answer right away. He just stepped inside, shut the door, and let himself breathe.

  Sera raised an eyebrow as she took in his slightly disheveled appearance.

  "You look cleaner than usual. What, did you finally take up that job as a waiter?"

  Rohan hesitated for only a second before nodding.

  "Yeah."

  He said, forcing a smirk.

  "Figured I should make some easy cash instead of getting my ribs broken every night."

  Sera scoffed.

  "That would be the smartest thing you've done since I met you."

  She leaned back against the wall, studying him.

  "Guess that means you won’t be throwing yourself into the pits anymore?”

  Rohan shrugged, keeping his face neutral.

  "We’ll see. The pay’s decent, but I’m still figuring things out."

  She didn’t look entirely convinced, but she didn’t press him either.

  "Well, at least you won’t be coming back half-dead every night."

  Rohan just nodded, sitting down in the corner, staring at the ceiling.

  He had lied to her. It was easier this way. Because the truth was, he wasn’t getting out of this world anytime soon.