Radeon and Calyx built the entrances and exits with the same cold care they used for auctions.
Losers still had to pass the cash counters. They walked out slow, carrying empty sacks and heavy faces, forced to see the piles they could not touch anymore.
Worse, once your bank balance dropped by ten percent, you were done for the day, banned till next week.
No pleading. No bargaining. You could kowtow to Eldric until your forehead split and it would not matter.
The attendants would guide you out all the same, firm as iron and just as cold.
Some people spat curses as they were pushed aside, indignant at being denied the chance to chase their losses.
Halfway down the paths, that anger thinned into something closer to gratitude. They could have been burned out there, emptied until even pride was gone.
This kind of ruthlessness had a shape to it, and the shape was care. They hated it while it happened, and appreciated it once they could breathe again.
