The spacious warehouse stood silently in the dim light, a maze of wooden crates neatly arranged in rows. The scent of dust and aged wood permeated the air, and the quiet ambience was occasionally punctuated by the distant echoes of the city's nightlife. The crates, lined up in various sizes, hid their contents like mysterious treasure chests, tempting the imagination.
Within this warehouse, three men patrolled the aisles with an air of camaraderie. Each thug was clad in street-smart attire, their faces bearing the marks of their criminal profession. They were close friends, bonded by loyalty to their boss, Tobias. The flickering light of lanterns illuminated their path as they chatted.
"Man, this place is like the king's royal bank," one of them commented, his eyes scanning the crates. "I bet there's enough loot here to retire on."
