Incursia was divided into several districts, such as the trading, finance, port, and the guild districts. Each one contained businesses and establishments that were related to their namesake (The Finance district had a bunch of banks. the port district had a lot of, ports). I, not having grown up in a large (or even small) city, was surprised to find that a red light district has very little to do with the buying and selling of things that emitted a red light. In fact, it mostly had to do with women dressed in very revealing “clothes”.
I’m not some innocent butterfly that has no idea about this world of urban life. I knew exactly what was going on. I was just surprised by the sheer size of it all. Hundreds of people were on this street. Each moving to or from one of the many bordellos and cathouses that lined the street.
Our destination was the Cathouse Tragedy located at the end of this street, overlooking the bay. The entertainer we were supposed to meet was standing on a wooden crate, attempting to attract gentlemen, and somewhat less gentle men, to his brothel. He was doing a decent job. He had a whole song prepared as well as some prostitutes to dance to it. It was all very theatrical.
When he finished, the Stranger approached him. When the man saw the him he attempted to run. But was stopped by a chain firing into his left leg, causing him do a little flip, landing face first into the ground.
“Jak, I’m here to collect that debt?” The Stranger asked.
“What debt?” Jak asked.
The Stranger twisted the chain, I could see blood pooling on the ground below his leg. “I think you know the one, I’m talking about.”
“Argh,” he said, “Oh, that one. Yes, about that, I need time to get the fun-”
“I don’t need your money,” The Stranger said.
“Then what do you want?!”
“I need,” He said, counting our party members “three beds and a space to accommodate a large hell beast.”
“Fine, just stop with the fucking chain thing.” Jak cried out.
The Stranger release his hold on Jak. Jak stop up and motioned for us to enter the brothel.
“You said three beds.” Anya said the Stranger.
“Yes I did, very astute listener.” He said.
“But there are four of us.” She said.
“Yes there are.” He agreed.
“Does that mean some of us have to share?” She said hopefully.
“I don’t require sleep.” He said, bluntly. She stood there for a few seconds dejectedly.
The interior of the Tragedy was very apt for its name. The walls were covered in a green wallpaper that must have begun to peel off years ago. The floor was an “elegant” brown marble. The main entranced opened into a lobby type room. Large stairwells offered access to upstairs rooms. Small hallways, lined with private rooms that offered the clients “entertainment”, jutted from the lobby.
Jak led is upstairs and down a hallway. He showed us our individual rooms. Each had a single bed, a desk and a window that offered what would be a magnificent view of the harbor if it wasn’t obstructed by a massive, heavy curtain, nobody wants to be seen in a brothel.
My room was located at the end of the hall. It was a large suite, probably for nobles or royals (If they would ever be willing to enter of course). I shared this room with Molly. I guess thats what the Stranger meant by a space large enough for Molly. For a split second, I wondered why they had allowed a giant hell hound into their establishment. Then, I remembered that this was a brothel, probably not the haven of sanitation. I looked at the bed I was provided for me: old, musty, and probably not in a condition acceptable for sleeping. I decided to just use Molly as a cushion, rather that find out who’s “sleep” in that bed before.
A few days, maybe a month. I thought to myself.
YOU ARE READING
Rune of Oldfyre
FantasyAn incredibly unimportant wizard goes on the adventure of a lifetime. (ACTUAL COVER AND MAPS OF LAND IN PROGRESS)