---
They stormed into a dim chamber lit by a single lantern, where men sat around a table counting stones and sharpening knives.
The hideout carried the smell of sweat and dirty smoke.
A large man leaned back in a chair at the table, face half-hidden in shadow. He was not the leader.
But he was close enough. Vice leader.
His eyes were sharp, like someone who enjoyed breaking rules only because it made other people afraid.
The thugs staggered in, bruised and pale.
"Vice," one of them rasped. "We got jumped."
The vice leader lifted his gaze slowly.
"Jumped," he repeated. "By who."
The thug swallowed.
"A young guy," he said. "Came out of nowhere. Beat us. Broke my wrist."
He flexed his hand, still trembling.
The other thug nodded angrily.
"He made us look like fools," he said. "If news spreads… our rep is done."
The vice leader's gaze hardened.
"Where," he asked.
"Near the market edge," the thug said. "Close to the exit path."
The vice leader leaned forward slightly.
