The day went very quickly for Iris as her Mistress had her learn the common tasks that went into running The White Stag, ensuring a steady supply of food, cleaning materials, and more. There proved to be a considerable amount of work that went into the running of the establishment, and left Iris mentally drained by the time of the opening.

Lyrica took it all in stride, and when she finally said, “...and that is how you keep this place running on paper.” Iris slumped backward in a melodramatic display of exhaustion that made the blonde Lyrica laugh in a silvery and much bemused voice.

“You'll get it. I'm going to start you off simply. With just one thing I want you to understand thoroughly. But that's not all you have to learn.” Lyrica became placid, quiet, and Iris sat up straight.

Iris felt the eyes of her owner boring into her. “Right now, you're one of them.” Lyrica pointed toward the closed door, where beyond it, music began to thrum and chatter could be quietly heard, muffled by the door.

“But soon, you're going to be above them. Have you ever forgotten that I'm in charge here?” Lyrica demanded, and Iris quickly shook her head in the negative.

“Nor can you let them forget. Ever. They'll walk all over you if you let them. Removing you from the common routine helps that separation, but that won't stop them from trying to bully you. When one of them falls pregnant and asks you for the Silphium Tea to terminate, they'll ask that you don't take it out of their tips... but you will. If one of them asks for the plant itself so they can make some later, they'll argue they should get it for nothing because they'll get repeat customers for me. You'll charge them anyway, and they'll resent you for it. They'll ask if you think you're better than them, remind you that you wear a collar... and you'll be tempted. Maybe to give them a discount, maybe to give it to them for free, maybe even to buy it for them. But the moment you do, you're their friend, and they will take advantage of you. Can you guess what happens then, slave?”

Iris listened with rapt attention as her mistress spoke with authority born of experience, and obedient to her will, she guessed, “They'll try to get me to take advantage of you, my Lady.”

Lyrica nodded and pointed to the whip on the wall. “Do it. I dare you. I've been kinder to you than I am to some, but that is because you sought me out for someone else. In my mind that made you more trustworthy. Show me I'm wrong, and see if any of them will take the whip for you. They won't. I promise you, they never do.”

Iris hung her head briefly and held one hand in the other in her lap. “I understand... my Lady.”

“I hope so, for your sake.” Lyrica said authoritatively. “We're out of time now, but tomorrow you'll start to learn to make drinks and use your eyes to help keep order. The bar lets you see everything but what happens behind a curtain or on the upper floor. You'll need eyes on everything while serving my patrons. Now go get yourself ready, you have a dance and a special patron tonight.”

Iris blinked, “But I thought-”

Lyrica smirked, “This is what gave me the idea. Your 'visitor' wanted to see you in private again. Show him a good time.”

Iris knew who it was immediately. 'Gottfried.' She knew it without a doubt, there was no one else it could have been, and with no fight pending that evening for him, or at all while the investigation was going on... how she felt about that, Iris could only suppress her frown.

“Mistress... when you say... ‘good time’, do you mean...?” She wasn't able to quite finish what she was about to say. 'I did it with him by choice once... if he's just paying for it...'

“Just that, a good time. This isn't a brothel, but,” Lyrica answered, stopped, stood, and leveled a finger at Iris' nose, a mere inch away, “he is part of the royal family. Displeasing them will ruin me. You do whatever you have to do, and just remind him you were expensive, get something more for whatever extra he asks of you.” Lyrica insinuated.

”I understand, my Lady, I won't disappoint.” Iris promised while the pall of uncertainty loomed over her head.

She performed for the crowd with her usual skill, her long dark hair flying about and her every motion graceful as flowing water, but her head was elsewhere. The audience cheered and raised their cups, and more than one tried to call her over.

But instead she stuck to the far wall, out of reach, much to the collective confusion. Iris caught the whisperings of various servants of the establishment.

”...She's by reservation only now...”

Various forms of that were whispered around the room, Iris could practically hear the coins clinking with every step she took out of reach.

The dim white light of the glowstones on the wall cast her shadow towards those eager to grasp for flesh, and she did her best to avoid noticing it before she reached the waiting Lyrica. “Go ahead and go upstairs, he arrived while you were up there... I might have to put up an actual stage for this...” Lyrica waved Iris away as she began turning over the idea in her head.

Acutely aware of her dismissal, Iris followed the wall the far way around the establishment until she reached the stairs leading to the second floor. She followed them, her steps heavy and slow, her hand on the rail, until she saw one of the orc brothers at the top of the stairs. He grunted when she came close, then reached behind himself, opened the door and backed in to allow her through.

He was dressed in rather subdued clothing, the only indicator of his royal status was the purple braided leather belt around his waist, and even that didn't stand out much against the black riding outfit he wore. “Iris.” He said, and waved her toward him. “Please, sit.”

That he didn't tell her where to sit, left her a choice. 'Sit farther, opposite him, or closer, beside him, or lewdly, on him. I can eliminate the third option easily but...' Her feet were already carrying her forward, and she sat at the table opposite himself.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, and Iris' belly spoke for her with a loud and angry growl. It was enough to embarrass her, and she blushed a little despite her attempt to stop it.

“A yes, then.” Gottfried said and looked over to his bodyguard. “Xagen, food for us both, and then remain outside the door.”

The orc grunted and departed, leaving them alone.

“You look well.” He said, attempting to break the ice.

“I saw you just this morning.” She chuckled when he blushed, embarrassed by the obviously uncomfortable statement of his.

“But I am well,” she said, mercifully sparing him a second try, “I'm being elevated here, I still wear this, obviously,” she touched the silver around her throat, “but I'll be in charge of the others and start learning more about how to run this business.”

“That's excellent.” Gottfried replied with a genuine smile on his face that fairly shone under the light of the glowing stones.

“Yes, I won't be serving any tables anymore, just here. Just the elites who can afford to pay the highest price.” Iris said, and then cursed herself for a fool when she saw the almost crestfallen look. 'I forget how unworldly this one is...' She told herself and stretched her hand across the table, the professional smile on her face, she tried to summon up a lie, but found none quite worked.

So instead she gave him advice. “Don't think about it, this isn't a brothel and there's no reason to be jealous. A handsome man like you isn't so easily intimidated by-”

The praise seemed to work at first, but then his hand came away, he looked at her with more gentle eyes than jealous ones, “Iris... don't treat me like a common... client, or patron, or whatever you call the people here. One of the reasons I...” He reached into a pocket and took out a wrapped purple leaf and put it between his lips. “Spark?” He asked, her hand went up, her pointer finger close to the plant, [Spark] she said, and the tiny flame caught. He inhaled and puffed a little white smoke out, then continued. “I'm not here to buy sex, I'm not here to be flattered. I get that for nothing all the time. Sometimes,” he gave her a cocky smirk, “even for good reason.”

“I'm sure you do, My Lord.” Iris replied and drew her hand back. “So... what do you want?”

“I honestly don't know.” Gottfried answered. “It felt good to be around someone who didn't want anything from me, so I guess... more of that?” He shrugged. “I suppose we can't really be 'friends'. Not given our history.”

“No. Not really.” Iris agreed. “But maybe... not exactly colleagues... even if we have some unexpected common ground, but maybe 'cohorts'? Come see me when you get tired of lies and flattery and expectations. And I promise I'll never treat you like a client. I won't try to turn you on, coax extra from you, or lie to you like I lie to everyone else. I'm expected to be discreet, so you can say whatever you want and...” She gave him a bitter smile, “Who would ever believe a doubly traitorous slave about anything I had to say anyway? So... you're safe. Ironically, you created the perfect confidant.”

“I- I suppose so.” Gottfried replied to her, but then added, “What we did, last night, that won't happen again, will it?”

Iris tightened her lips, “Do you need to ask that, Master Gottfried. Whatever you want, you get. Those are my instructions regarding you. But…” She looked away toward the lit up wall beyond the balcony, “I don't know. If you leave it to me to decide, I don't know. You were my first, miracle of miracles that it was. I don't feel entirely good about it. How can I? But... maybe? Am I allowed to say that?”

Gottfried nodded, “Do you know how my mother got her reputation?”

“Slaughter.” Iris replied. “Mass slaughter.”

“Yes... but it is more complicated than that. There was a girl once, someone she cared for very deeply, a slave she grew up with who was more of a childhood friend than anything else or so the story goes. My mother was in charge of a small army sent to take a particular border city, and by then she already had a fierce reputation. They resisted very strongly and my mother wasn't making much headway, so she chose to negotiate. Her servant offered to go as a diplomat, to speak for her Mistress. My mother, the way I heard this from my father, wasn't keen on the idea, but permitted it, promising the girl that she would convince the Emperor, her father, to set the girl free as a reward.

So...” Gottfried snapped his fingers, “She went. She went over the walls for the customary three days of negotiations while my mother's army waited. At sunset on the third day, the city gave their answer. My mother's childhood friend, a servant that had attended to her for her whole life, had been tortured and abused for three straight days. Likely from the very moment she disappeared beyond the walls. They put her naked on a crossbeam and my mother watched her die.”

Iris winced as Gottfried continued, “That must have been terrible. Father was with her back then, and he said something broke inside my mother that day. She renewed the assault on the city, led the charge over the walls herself, and the city fell before sunset. She had every man old enough to have harmed her slave executed and piled their heads into a pyramid. She had every woman and child sold off and then added her own money to the cause of hiring mercenaries. She then went to every single city allied to that one and gave them one hour to surrender. Any of those that didn't surrender got the same treatment. Only one survivor was sent out each time to warn the next one. Within two years the war was over and the last gave in. Thus the Mother of Terror was born.”

“I... didn't know all that.” Iris said and bit her lower lip. “But... why tell me?”

Gottfried couldn't really look at her then, instead he looked toward the door, like he was watching for the food. “Iris... I could snap your bones with a flick of my wrist. I'm an awakened godsheir, descended from the founder through my mother, and the son of one of the world’s gods. I have to handle most people with the delicacy of wet paper, or I’ll hurt them without thinking. “That same woman... taught me to 'not' be like her. She raised me to be her opposite, gentle, thoughtful... and kind, because if I wasn't, I could hurt people I don’t mean to. Or that's the explanation she gave. But I believe... I believe she never wanted me to make people suffer the way her slave suffered. She can be very cruel, but also very kind. I'm never going to be like the ones who broke my mother's heart. That's the least I can do as her son...”

“Layers upon layers with you.” Iris replied as the door opened and Xagen entered with a tray bearing silver dishes, a blue bottle and a pair of glasses.

He laid them out for both his master and the attending Iris, opened the wine, poured the first glass, and departed without a word.

“So... are we 'cohorts' then?” Gottfried asked, a bemused smirk returned in place of his serious expression.

“On two more conditions…” She said, and unused to hearing that out of anyone, he cocked his head at her words when she held up two fingers.

“One,” she said and lowered a finger. “never ask about what I do when you're not here. You won't be made happier by knowing about it. I won't bring it up if you don't. And second…” She lowered the second finger, “when you intend to stop visiting me... if it's possible, tell me goodbye before you disappear. I won't make a fuss about it, that's part of this life, but I'd like to know it’s happening. Can I ask that much of the emperor's nephew?” Iris asked, trying very hard to keep her tone casual while reaching for her glass.

Gottfried picked up his own and gave a sage nod, he then extended his glass halfway across the table, and when the rim of her own tinked against his, he said, “Then we are cohorts.”