Half an hour later, the old man has nearly lost all his money.
He stands up and says, “Looks like my luck ran out today! You two have good fortune. Enjoy your ga!”
Henwell flicks a gold coin with his finger.
The old man catches it smoothly and laughs, “Heh… Is this the drinks money from our esteed guest? Much appreciated!”
Henwell replies, “I’m having fun today, but I see no one here has had enough yet. How about you act as referee?”
The old man studies Henwell for a mont, then turns and sits back down at the table.
“Alright then! What’s the plan? Still playing the sa ga?”
Henwell points to the coins in his hand. “Let’s do a quick coin toss guessing ga. You toss, I guess.”
Everyone finds this amusing and starts placing bets.
After several rounds, so win, so lose.
Henwell suddenly says, “This is getting dull. Let’s change it up. The loser either pays a hundred gold coins or answers a question from the winner.”
One caravan mber opts out of the ga.
Orak stands up and steps away, signaling he won’t join either.
Now only Henwell, the scarred man, the ranger, and a trader remain.
The ranger tilts his head at Henwell. “Interesting ga. I’ll join, but how do we know the answers aren’t lies or evasions?”
Henwell points to the old man across the table. “That’s why we have a judge.”
A gambling rchant asks, “And if soone lies? Double the bet lost?”
Henwell gestures with his palm. “Since we’re at a gambling table, let’s follow those rules. Cheating ans losing a finger. Lying here is like cheating, so sa punishnt.”
The scarred man grumbles, “How’s the old man supposed to tell truth from lies?”
Henwell taps the table. “Boss, care to show us a trick?”
The old man falls silent for a mont, then pulls out a carved stone. “Mantra Rune Stone. It reveals lies—unless soone counters with Fighting Spirit.”
Henwell shrugs. “No objections here. Let’s start! Ten rounds per ga, no quitting halfway!”
The old man tosses a gold coin high into the air. When it lands on the table, both Henwell and the ranger guess wrong.
Henwell chooses to pay up, while the ranger accepts the question.
The rchant and the scarred man exchange glances, then each asks a rather personal question. The ranger answers without hesitation.
The Mantra Rune Stone remains inactive. Round one ends.
By the fourth round, Henwell wins alone, and the other three all opt to answer questions.
Henwell looks at them. “Since fate has brought us together, may I ask your nas?”
The ranger replies, “Kleios.”
The rchant says, “Silk.”
The scarred man mutters, “Pippen…”
As soon as Pippen finishes, the Mantra Rune Stone suddenly glows.
Henwell raises an eyebrow. “Violation detected. Which finger will you sacrifice?”
Pippen glares at Henwell. “I’m definitely Pippen! No mistake there! That damn stone must be faulty!”
Henwell knocks on the table. “I said, which finger?”
Pippen tries to stand, but Hubert, standing behind Henwell, already rests a hand on his longsword. “You bet, you accept the loss. Cheating admitted. Or do you want to help chop off your finger? I’m not very steady—might take off a few more.”
Pippen looks at Hubert’s threatening gaze. The two other gamblers nearby watch with interest.
Finally, Pippen, scowling with resentnt, draws a dagger and slashes off his pinky finger.
By now, the spectators sense the tension and step back cautiously.
The ranger sneers, “If you lose, either pay up or tell the truth. You’re really bad at losing.”
Pippen shoots the ranger a glare but says nothing, instead shouting sharply, “Continue!”
In the following rounds, Henwell loses three tis and wins twice.
The rchant and ranger choose to answer questions; Henwell only asks about their hotowns.
As for Pippen, he answers others’ questions but pays up when Henwell wins.
By the tenth round, Henwell wins against everyone again.
Seeing Henwell’s calm smile, all three choose to pay their bets this ti.
The second round begins with no one choosing to bow out.
Henwell wins every one of the first five rounds, sweeping all the gold coins from the three opponents.
On the sixth toss, the coin lands vertically on the table.
The old man speaks up, “That counts as a draw. I think when it’s a draw, I get to ask the questions. I don’t need money—just one question for each of you.”
He looks first at Henwell. “Who are you?”
“Henwell.”
Then he turns to the ranger. “Are you here to kill ?”
The ranger grins. “Yes, I’ve been paid for it. But I won’t act now. We haven’t finished the ga yet.”
The old man faces the rchant. “What’s your connection to Black Ring Rider?”
The well-fed rchant smiles. “They’re part of my little empire.”
Gasps ripple through the crowd. Most here haven’t heard of Henwell, but everyone knows the Black Ring Rider.
They’re the most ruthless bandits on the Great Wasteland. No one knows how many they are or where their base lies.
No one expected this unassuming, friendly-looking wealthy rchant to be their leader.
The old man presses on. “What brings you here?”
The rchant chuckles. “Boss, that’s the next question. I hope you can toss another coin vertically. But I doubt you’ll break the rules with any extraordinary tricks. If you do, I’ll have to withdraw my respect for the Peace Tavern, and this won’t be a peaceful place anymore.”
The old man then looks at the scarred man. “Are you here to kill too?”
The scarred man replies coldly, “No.”
The ga continues.
By the ninth round, Henwell wins again, sweeping the table.
With no gold left, the three have no choice but to answer Henwell’s questions.
Henwell looks at them. “I just have one question: Are you here to kill ?”
They all grin and nod slightly.
The Black Ring Rider leader, the wealthy rchant, says, “Brother, no matter how strong you are elsewhere, here in the Great Wasteland, we call the shots. You’re interesting, but soone paid big money for your head. I promise you won’t suffer.”
Henwell nods slightly. This guy is a decoy.
After Henwell signals, Hubert turns and leaves the tavern.
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