A hot, stuffy room with air heavy with sweat and booze is what lies beneath Rosses’ Haven. The basement is cramped even before the presence of an unruly crowd cheering and jeering enters it. The walls are as damp as the floor is rugged and worn, bearing scars of countless fighting thralls. The low ceiling nearly touches the top of men’s scalps with its proximity.

Splintered chairs and tables are haphazardly tossed off into the shy corners of the basement only to be dragged forth whenever a bidding war begins. The crowd squeezes into the basement, all with their own reasons for partaking in one of Cidron’s games. A collection of goons and friends as well as business partners and merchants eagerly join when the violence is about to commence.