The House Where Fortune Lies
Crow did not arrive in Avarra with banners.
He brought no proclamation from the Black Caste, no demand for land, and no announcement that an Assassin had taken interest in the city.
He simply found a place where men were willing to lose money.
A gambling den.
It was not the grandest establishment in Avarra, nor did Crow require it to be. What mattered was its location. The right sort of people eventually passed through places such as this.
Merchants with too much coin.
Warriors with too much confidence.
Officials who preferred their conversations away from the ears of the city’s halls.
Men who drank too deeply and spoke too freely.
And occasionally, men who believed that because they held a position of authority, they were beyond consequence.
Crow understood gambling.
Not merely the games.
The people.
Every wager revealed something.
Who took unnecessary risks. Who cheated. Who watched the dealer instead of their cards. Who became angry when they lost. Who became generous when they won. Who always seemed to know when to leave.
It was an excellent place for an Assassin to listen.
Crows Murder 
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