13

In a secret underground room hidden far below the hustle and bustle of the port, on the outskirts of the city of Veradian, the air was heavy and humid. The smell of gunpowder, cheap tobacco, and sweat mingled together, creating a suffocating atmosphere. The light from the flickering hanging lamps cast long, dancing shadows on the mossy concrete walls. Several burly men with tattoos encircling their arms sat around a long, dull wooden table. On the table were several half-empty bottles of liquor and piles of ammunition. "Why isn't Mr. Henry here yet?" asked one of the men, his voice hoarse as he tapped his rough fingers on the table. "He should have been here an hour ago." The man opposite him, who was cleaning a dagger with a dirty cloth, only glanced up briefly. "Wait a little longer. Maybe he has more important business to attend to. You know Mr. Henry, he doesn't like to be rushed." "I really can't wait to tell him the news about that woman named Amelie," replied the third man w