The heavily tattooed bouncers allow us inside, but they keep a close eye on us anyway. They are rather watchful. The fact isn't lost on my companions either, but neither Matylda nor Sylwia show any signs of minding it. Of course they don't. That would be like admitting that we are up to something, which would be a little counterproductive.

Only once we are inside and the doors close behind us again, after we dive right into the lively crowd surrounding the ring set up inside the barn, does Matylda speak up.

"Masked sister? What was he on about?"

I shrug. Not because I have no clue, but to signal that I'm not entirely sure about the suspicion I do have.

"One of the skills of my special cleric class. It can block identification skills. He might have confused it with something else. Something he was familiar with."

It's now that Sylwia chimes in, after falling back a little so she can wrap an arm both around my hip as well as Matyldas, making it look like we are all quite familiar with each other.

"I get the feeling that this might not be as easy as we initially expected."

I snort and jab my elbow into her side lightly, keeping up the facade of playful familiarity while I keep my voice low at the same time, which earns me another little bit of progress for my [Bluff] skill.

"Is it ever? Stick with the plan though. We only start to improvise once the Treat Snatchers have had enough of our antics."

The nickname I use seems to confuse Matylda a little, thus I elaborate, careful not to be overheard.

"Their tattoos. Don't look at the individual images, but the overall impression they give when viewed from afar. Oh, look over there, is that the ring master?"

That last exclamation, louder than anything I have said before, gives both of my companions a decent excuse to look at the boss of this gang. A big and burly man tattooed in a similar fashion to the goons outside as well as the women flanking him.

There is a moment of realization clearly visible on Slywia's face. Matylda, as an experienced card sharp and con artist in general, hides her surprise better. Either way, I'm pretty sure that they are now both aware that we are up against a rival underground organization, possibly with divine backing through Raccoon.

Thankfully Sylwia covers up her brief slip quickly, urging Matylda forward, before she speaks up again.

"Yep, I'd say that is the ring master. Why don't you go ahead and have a talk with him. Set up a fight or two for me and place some bets."

No real surprise there. That's what we are here for after all. I wonder how well it'll work out though. The initial assumption was that this enterprise is run by a handful of independent thugs. We are dealing with a more organized threat though. It might turn out that things will be a little more complicated than anticipated as a result. Either that or we can skip complicated and get started with the all out brawl right away. That is still an option too. Not the preferable one, but it isn't off the table.

There is another complication though, which I spot as I move over to one corner of the ring together with Sylwia. A man sitting at one of the tables set up above on the second floor, the former hayloft, with free view of the proceedings below. He is a fat bastard. Well, the former is a fact that can't be argued and the latter is my impression. I'll stand by it though. The two facts alone, that he hangs out here and is wearing the uniform of the city guard, even though the one he is wearing is more ornate, leave no doubt in my eyes.

That my [Gather Information] skill improves a little as a result of my observation doesn't exactly inspire confidence about the situation in me either. I lean in close with Sylwia, as if to study the two fighters currently busy posing in the ring and firing up the crowd.

"Saw him? Fat bastard?"

Her answer is just as curt.

"Not like I could miss him."

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She doesn't say it out loud, but her tone alone reaffirms my impression. This really is bigger than anticipated. Bigger and more trouble.

I steer the conversation back to a topic others who might eavesdrop might expect, while I start to knead her shoulders a little.

"So, what do you think of these two blustering fools in the ring? You'd be able to toss them around a little, right? To entertain the crowd, you know. Wouldn't want to disappoint them, you know."

I fall back into the pattern I picked up when talking with the bouncer, just in case. Even though I'm pretty sure that no one around us is paying us too much heed yet, a little extra misdirection won't hurt. At the same time I grin on the inside though, as a notification delivered via divine whisper brushes my mind.

[*Ding!* Your skill Massage has leveled up to level 3!]

Who knows, if I keep this front of the tagalong healer up for a while it might just earn me a few more notifications. I certainly won't protest. Judging by the fact how Sylwia relaxes a little I'm not doing it wrong either. Good.

A moment later Matylda rejoins us, the purse at her belt now considerably lighter. She is aware of the fat man up in the hayloft too. No doubt about it. She manages to avoid looking up without it looking like she avoids looking though. She really is pretty good at this.

Sylwia greets her with a grin.

"So? How did it go? Do I get to ring some bells?"

Matylda chuckles and pats Sylwia's back.

"You sure do, Sylph. In fact, you get a go after this fight. Couldn't place all of our money on the bet on you though. Had to grease some wheels first."

Slywia nods in response, with a weak grin on her lisp, while I take the news without showing any hint of emotion. It's not really surprising after all. Especially not considering that this isn't just some freelancers trying to muscle into the guild's turf. Of course they want to see some compensation or some such up front. Well, it's not my coin and if Sylwia's fight works out we should earn back more than enough anyway.

If I were to place a bet myself though, it would be on these guys trying to withhold Matylda's winnings in an attempt to rope us into another fight and another after it and so on. I wonder if our dwarven companion is already planning for that possibility, too.

Then, at long last the two fighters in the ring are done posing and blustering. The crowd quiets down for the briefest of moments as the two return to their respective corners of the ring, only to start cheering and hollering even louder only moments later as the two start to move in earnest.

Both are fist fighters. That much becomes obvious quickly. That's not necessarily bad, and the crowd doesn't seem to mind either, not yet anyway, but it severely limits their options.

It's not the only thing that sticks with me, as I watch the initial exchange of blows. It's not just the way they block or dodge, as they trade punches, that I watch. I watch their movement in general. I can feel my [Tactics] skill improve a little as I watch on. It's only a sneaking suspicion at first, but then, after a moment, realization strikes me. This might look like a brutal slug fest at a glance, and to a degree it is, but overall there is a little more to it. I mean, of course there is. I glance to the side, only briefly, at the barn's wall, where the quotas and odds for betting are noted down with chalk for all to see. Oh yes, I'm almost certain now. This fight is fixed. I don't say anything though. Not yet anyway. Not where we are most certainly not unobserved even if we are not directly watched. Instead I focus my attention back on the fight that really isn't one.

It really isn't a fight. This is a show, the outcome determined before it even began. And since there is betting for actual money going on, that means it's a scam too. The two fist fighters seem pretty evenly matched at a glance. Judging by the betting pool one should have the upper hand though. And that that one will almost certainly not win. No he'll probably go down after suffering an unexpected knockout punch.

I resist the urge to narrow my eyes as I focus on the fight even harder, to make sure I won't miss the first telltale signs. My senses sharpen another little bit as my [Perception] skill improved a little as a result. I suspect it won't be executed in a clumsy way. This tattooed bunch seem rather capable after all, even if my opinion of them suffers a little for hopping into bed with the city guard. Well, I guess they are new to town and need the money. I manage to refrain from laughing out loud at the thought, but just barely. My lips do twist into a little smile.

In the end I'm proven right. It's like I anticipated. For a while the fight goes first this way and then the other. Overall it looks like the favored fighter has the advantage, but then he overextends himself a little too far and the other takes advantage, sending him tumbling into the dirt with a powerful swinger.

Since I know what to look for it's almost glaringly obvious. For anyone else it'll look like twist of fate, a fortunate or unfortunate, depending on the perspective, turn of events. I have to admit that I'm a little impressed by the fighter who threw the fight.

It takes some courage to take a hit like that. The punch wasn't pulled after all. It was real. As real as the blood and the spit that went flying as a result. I wouldn't be surprised if it knocked a few teeth loose as well. Either he gets a cut or they have some serious dirt on him.

I certainly wouldn't be willing to let anyone punch me in the face like that. I can't even imagine it. No, I wouldn't do it. Not for all the money in the world. Well, alright, maybe I would, but only because all the money in the world is a quacking lot of money. I chuckle softly as I catch myself thinking these thoughts. I only started this fad to poke some fun at other people but it seems I'm a bad influence on myself too.

Winners collect their winnings. Losers grumble as they tear up the slips of parchment with their placed bets. I can't help but note that by far not all winners look as excited as they should. I take careful note of their faces. These are probably the ones in league with the gang running this scam. They'll drop off most of their winnings with the ring leader or one of his lackeys before long if I'm not mistaken. More importantly though, these men and women are probably part of the crowd into which we might need to knock some sense should things go south. I can feel my [Streetwise] skill improve a little as I do. It's close, so very close to leveling up now.

I pat Sylwia's, or rather Sylph's, back one last time, as two goons grab the downed looser to frag him out of the ring as he slowly starts to come around again.

"You ready for your performance? I'll go and have a quick chat with that lad. Maybe he'll be willing to part with a penny for some healing, so he won't loose any of his teeth after all."

She flashes me a confident grin.

"You go do that. Just give me a moment and I'll serve you up another customer in short order."

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