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Races and knives (closed)


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Titus' fingertips tapped against the surface of the wooden desk. He could not stop thinking about ways to earn more coin. Eventually, he would need to either make a truce with the other gangs or attempt to push them out. Anything that would gain him further coin, and through that. Power. If he ever had a son he wanted the very best for him, even if it meant that he may have to sacrifice his happiness for the chance of a better life for his son. Always more. Neither the legitimate and illegitimate lines of work were particularly honourable for him yet they brought in considerable amounts of coin. He exhaled in irritation and sipped some of his wine. Temporarily he was away from his wife, and purposely kept this part of the business away from her. He heard footsteps in the background, and saw Lucius Corvinus, his second-in-command approach him. 

"Lucius, I think it is time for us to have a little meeting with the faction leaders," Titus said, personally, he had no interest nor favour in any of the teams. All he cared about was the profit that would come from the bets that were made. Sentiment was not essential nor wanted. "To remind them that our services are vital to their success or failure in the races, and that we are here to stay."

"Yes Dominus, what team would you like for me to visit first?" Lucius answered in his gruff voice. His thumb idly scratched along the pale scar that marked his chin, the stubble made noise as he did so, and waited for the answer. 

"The Reds, make sure that they know who to come to for both protection and if they wish to sabotage another team. It doesn't take much. Men get sick, horses get sick, and all sorts of things." Titus listed things off and shrugged. Lucius was a veteran of this sort of thing and knew which of their agents who would be best to work with, for each task and what ones would be beneficial. 

"It will be done."

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