The Shattered Seas

Beneath a fake bookshop sits the Den — a sweltering gambling pit lit by amber lanterns and choked with cigar smoke. A cracked hourglass on the wall gives the place its name. Tables thrum with dice games, Dominion playing cards, and “shells & bones.” Vol Rembrin, the one-eyed Aurelian ex-commander who runs it, watches from a throne-like chair, wrapped in a wine-stained officer’s cloak. Cheaters vanish mid-game. Winnings are paid in coin, contraband, or favors.

The Den is dimly lit, with amber lanterns casting flickering shadows across the smoke-filled room. The walls are adorned with faded military memorabilia, and the air is thick with tension and the scent of cheap cigars. Tables are crowded with eager gamblers, and the cracked hourglass on the wall ticks ominously, a reminder of the fleeting nature of luck.