Disorder: World of the Wicked

Cinderfall

The Eisvogel.

One of the many brothels found in this district, but just by looking at its facade, you would know that this is somehow different from the average brothel. There are no hookers hanging around out front like you'd expect. Instead, they've got a system where the workers sit on park benches behind the building, like some kind of a discreet drive-thru service.

The parking lot is packed with nice high class cars. We parked beside them, and maybe it's because they are familiar with our car, none of them would approach. Instead this large muscular man with golden arm braces approached our car and opened the door for me, he gestured for me to follow him inside.

"You're on your own from here, I don't fuck with the vibe of the place." Ryan said as Glade exited the car. She rolled her eyes, and urged me to follow the guard, I then followed the man with Glade closely following behind me.

As we walked, I noticed that the tables where the workers sat were separated into two, the farther side had men with colourful and revealing clothes and the nearer side were where the ladies sat. None of them even seemed to dare glance at us, the fact that the interior—from what is visible on the outside of the building—seems to only be lit by dim neon does not help. I instinctively started to fiddle with my ring, we were out of our element here. Glade seemed just as uneasy —whether due to the nature of the place or the person we're about to meet— I can't tell

After a brief search conducted by another guard, we were allowed entry, we are then greeted by another hallway with a wooden partition on one side, showing us a glimpse of what was inside, I could barely see inside, though the sounds of splashing water and laughter echoes from beyond, on the other side were two doors, a locker and a changing room, I saw a few people —both men and women— enter that door, but the guard guiding us told us that we do not need to change into a bathrobe or a towel, so we nodded and continued along.

At the end of the hallway was a two way wooden door, and as it swung open, the strong smell of aromatics would fill our nostrils, although it was none too pleasant as the smell had mixed with the smoke of burnt tobaccos and other rather questionable smells. The main room was vast and well lit, with cascading floors that each held a sizeable pool, in the centre of each pool stood a small hexagonal platform where the workers danced around a pole, the largest pool was located at the centre of the room, with a bar where servers revealing outfits would make and carry beverages for the guests.

Smaller private rooms lined the sides, marked as saunas—but it was clear what they were really for. I glanced at Glade and raised an eyebrow, silently questioning her choice of informants, but instead of responding she urged me to walk faster only to shudder moments later. We had to navigate the narrow walkways which eventually led us to a staircase, we noticed how the patrons were staring at us, I clenched my fists, and at that point Glade shoved me aside and walked faster, her gaze locked at her own steps, avoiding the gaze of the patrons.

As we reached the second floor, the guard made a sign to wait and knocked on the door three times, another guard opened the door from the inside, allowing us in.

The room was almost blinding in its brightness, the white walls stark against the rich golden pillars lining each side. Our footsteps echoed on the polished marble floor, a kaleidoscope fresco subtly catching the light beneath us. At the far end, a white desk with gold accents stood beneath a large circular window, framed by a German flag. Two armchairs faced each other in front of the desk, positioned at an angle that hinted at careful planning.

To our left, a plush white sofa beckoned, flanked by tall bookshelves packed tightly with volumes. A door sat between them, barely noticeable, leading to what I guessed was The Kingfisher's private chamber. The entire space felt both grand and unnerving, every inch too clean, too precise—like we had stepped into the lair of someone who preferred things just so.