A maid spoke respectfully. Phield opened the envelope and saw a balance of eighty thousand displayed—part from the goods he had brought this time, and part from his savings.
"Enjoy yourself, but please refrain from using violence—it can be fatal. Here, no one has a real identity."
With that, the maid picked up a wine glass from a silver tray and handed it to Phield.
Before her words had even faded, a commotion erupted in the hall. An old man had forcefully pinned down a beautiful woman, spewing obscene words as his hands roamed shamelessly over her body.
The woman's face twisted with disgust as she snorted coldly. "Let go of me, or I'll rip your head off."
"What can you do to me, you slut?" the old man sneered. "You're not even wearing a scrap of cloth, yet you still pretend to act dignified. Let me show you the power of binding magic."
Clearly a mage, he chanted a spell, and purple-red chains of magic instantly coiled around the woman, restraining her completely.
