Tzarek spoke first.
"We are looking for information on powerful individuals in the area.
Anyone new in the last few months?"
One of the Durnokh, half-hidden in the dim room, sneered.
"Sure.
Ten thousand Durcell, and I will give you a list of names.
One hundred thousand if you want to know their strength."
Tzarek's expression darkened.
The price was absurd.
It was outright extortion, even for Durnokh.
He was about to argue when Draeven cut in.
"Forget it.
Just tell me where Slark is.
I have something to offer."
The moment he said the name, the entire room changed.
Every Durnokh in sight melted into the shadows and vanished.
All except one.
The bartender.
Unlike the others, the bartender wore a formal black suit.
It was clean and well-fitted.
He carried no visible weapons.
Draeven knew that among the Durnokh, the ones who did not show weapons were usually the most dangerous.
The air grew heavy.
A thick pressure settled over the room.
