As Fein stepped into the dimly lit tavern, the scent of ale and spirits enveloped his senses. It was a place of gathering, where secrets were whispered and information flowed like the amber liquid in the patrons' mugs. Fein's purpose was clear—he sought to gather intelligence about the structure of the Abyss, the intricate web of power and influence that governed the demon realm.
The bartender, a shrewd and reedy businessman with a glint of mischief in his eyes, noticed Fein's arrival and offered a knowing wink. It was a silent acknowledgment of their shared understanding—a transaction was about to take place. With a subtle nod, Fein motioned for a drink and took a seat at the worn wooden counter.
