“I still think it was a good name,” Tunde said as they left the Golden Pill Pavilion, its large doors closing behind them.
The sun beat down in full force, the heat making the stone floors burn as they made their way toward another section of the city.
“I wouldn’t be caught dead as the patron of some assassin-sounding house,” Elder Joran muttered. Tunde rolled his eyes discreetly.
The elder had changed the house's name from Dark Sword to Dark Fist, much to Tunde’s reluctance. Still, Baron Dale had accepted the contract immediately, signing alongside the two of them. Tunde had deposited most of the items he’d gained from the void rings, and the baron had purchased them all, nearly emptying his coffers. Five hundred thousand lumens—an amount that staggered Tunde. Yet, he knew how quickly that wealth could vanish, especially when investing in advancement.