Gottfried was the first to awaken, it was early in the morning, his eyes fluttered open to find himself looking up at the muslin covered bosom of Iris. The events of the previous day came back in a rush, and he grabbed the table and the back top of the booth, then pulled himself upright. ‘They’ll burn the bodies today… I need to go.’

He didn’t wake alone however, as he was blinking away the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, Iris yawned and stretched out. She looked around, briefly confused as to why she was not in her room and why Gottfried was there and…

Then he saw the light come on and she bowed her head. “Forgive me, Master Gottfried, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“No… no. That was… thank you, that was hard to see. You were a comfort.” He said to her and stood up.

“I’m your… cohort. And… I know how hard it is to see friends die.” She didn’t meet his eyes when she said it, and it was an instant regret that it came from her lips at all.

A sense of unjustified shame hit Gottfried, ‘It was a war.’ He told himself. “Did any of them survive, do you know?”

“This place is staffed mostly by Abacleon noble sons and daughters. Our security, our boys, our girls, me… why do you think we’re all so skilled at talking to the wealthy and keeping them entertained? I may be the best dancer, but you’ve seen the others do the same. Didn’t you know that, my Lord?” Iris asked more formally, cocking her head in disbelief.

“Oh, no… no I didn’t.” Gottfried answered and his lips tightened. He heard no judgement in her voice, though he better than half expected it. ‘Just resigned, she’s used to this now, I suppose.’

“Any… any others, maybe? A servant of your old house perhaps, someone you wouldn’t want to live a difficult life?” Gottfried pressed.

Iris let that sink in, then said in a dead voice. “I don’t want anything.” When he blanched at her empty, hollow tone, she put on her professional smile and added. “I’m grateful the Master asks, but everyone I ever knew falls into two categories. Either they’re already dead either from the fighting, the axe, or overwork, or they’re like me. Even you can’t do anything about that, my Lord. Just don’t ask. What you already did for my mother, which I should be more grateful for… that was enough.”

She approached him and put a hand over his heart, “What will you do, Master Gottfried?” She felt the warmth of his chest beneath his shirt, and between her gentle, formal voice and delicate touch, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse the change of subject.

“Fa’Alenshi will have to pay for what he’s done, but ‘how’ is what I will have to work out. For now, I’m going to say farewell to the fallen.” Gottfried rubbed his eyes briefly, then cleared his throat. “But I will come see you again tonight.”

Iris lightly dug her nails into his chest. She felt the hard flesh beneath give only a little, and saw the indentations in the fabric he wore.

“I look forward to it.” She said, and that much was true. As he headed for the door, a thought occurred to her, “Gottfried,” she said, just before his hand could turn the knob. His fingers lingered there and he looked back at her.

“Maybe there is one thing… but I never want to know if you do it or not, or what you find if you do this, can I ask?” She pressed.

Intrigued, Gottfried nodded. “Look into the fates of the survivors of the other broken houses. If any of them are suffering… if there’s no hope for better lives for them… give them mercy… whatever you can. Put them to service somewhere they won’t be hurt… or if you can’t do that, at least give them painless deaths.”

“I-I can see about it. But… why would you ask for that?” Gottfried asked, his eyes briefly widened at the unexpected request.

“You’re going to look after the slaves you lost… this is me doing the same. I don’t need anything, I can take care of myself here… I get by. I don’t know that everyone else was as lucky. Just don’t tell me… I’d rather n-not, you know.” She said, and slowly went down to her knees and bowed her head. “Thank you, my Prince.” She added, as he finally left the room.

Gottfried descended the stairs with his orc bodyguards in tow, and the proprietress curtseyed deeply as soon as he came into view. “Was my Lord pleased with the wares of the House of Tyren?” She asked with a little smile that was slowly spreading over her face.

“Yes, that was a relief.” Gottfried said immediately, “We fell asleep up there, she’s awake and will be down shortly. I’ll be here again tomorrow.”

“Of course, my Lord… and… the hotel did send over your reservation, but that is all. How should we ah… arrange for payment?” Lyrica briefly froze for a moment, then added with a fumbling tongue, “Of course if the Prince wishes it as tribute I wouldn’t even consider it anything but our honor to provide him this happiness…”

“Right… that.” Gottfried frowned, he approached the bar and held up his hand with his family ring. “I’ll authorize you to draw from my funds at the palace.”

Lyrica’s smile came and went and came back again. “My Lord!” She exclaimed, “Just one moment, I promise!” She said and scurried back to her office, returning a moment later with a blank piece of tan parchment, quill, inkwell, and melted wax in a small bronze dish suitable for a teacup.

“I’ll trust that you won’t cheat me of her services by charging vastly more to me than…” He left that hanging, then added, “I also understand she is allowed to earn extra through ‘favors’ or ‘tips’ is that right?” Gottfried asked.

Lyrica answered promptly, with wide and somewhat fearful eyes, “I would never cheat the future Emperor. Also, yes, my Lord, she is a high earner…”

“Give her what she usually makes and a little extra, what do you do with it? Is it held at a counting house or…?” Gottfried asked.

“Most of them spend what they make, she had hers sent to a temple… but the last was returned…” Lyrica trailed off, then quietly added, “I will have it stored in a counting house for future use…”

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” Gottfried remarked offhandedly and dipping his signet ring into the red wax, he affixed it to the authorization letter, and then while Lyrica blew on it to cool the seal, Gottfried made his exit.

Iris came down a moment later after piling everything on the tray. Her steps fell lightly as she descended and she moved slower than she commonly did, her bare feet carried the light chill up from the now toughened soles, and she found the door swinging shut with Gottfried gone and her Mistress swaying her hips back and forth and humming a tune… a sort of happy dance with a piece of parchment held up at eye level.

Iris didn’t have to guess what it was. ‘The Prince’s payment for my time.’ She kept her head down as she walked past the happily bopping Lyrica. Her owner paid no mind to her, so Iris went to clean up. The scalding hot water in the wooden bin hurt her hands, but she knew what to do. Iris held her hands beneath the burning heat until she was used to it, the pain faded away, became nothing, became normal. Then she began to scrub, dumping the food waste into a pail and sloshing over the silver with a soft cloth.

She was at it for several minutes, her mind was turned off in the course of the drudgery, only the sound of water striking water and plate clinking over plate until her mistress came in.

“When you’re finished with that, join me in my office, I have more for you to learn. Work hard, and maybe when I’m ready to retire I’ll let you run the business for me.” Lyrica said with enthusiasm evident in her higher inflection. The woman was still practically singing.

It was meant to be encouraging, so Iris pasted the fake smile on her face that she wore on the floor many times, and went back to her Lady’s office to learn more.

Two weeks later, Eniera Jabara, sister of Emperor Jiracen Jabara, stood on the red shore with her hands folded behind her back. Behind her stood some of her most devoted servants. The women were clad in calf length white dresses bound at the right shoulder. The men wore simple white wraps at the waist, their torsos bare, and all wore their hair closely cropped, a stark contrast to the shoulder length Princess.

She looked out over the placid waters of the lake and listened with only one ear as one of her servants read from an unrolled scroll about the latest events that would require some part of Eniera’s attention.

Her other ear was focused on the desperate wails that were drawing steadily closer, she could clearly see the source. A small rowboat was closing in on her position, in it sat two of her soldiers, clad in light chainmail armor and helmets that came down over their brows with a guard at the nose and ears, their shuddering was obvious even from where Eniera stood.

They shuddered because of what they towed, a rope held by one soldier near the end of the rowboat had hooked the other end to another craft. This one was unique. One boat had been fastened on top of the other in a coffin-like state, except that there lay holes in it through which the arms and legs protruded.

Eniera was clad as if she were going to war, she wore flexible scalemail armor painted a midnight purple to mark her royal status, her high boots meant for riding sunk a little way into the soft red ground, on her head she wore a conical helmet which in turn bore a golden circlet with a purple gem embedded in the center. When the rowboat reached shore the soldiers acted immediately, leaping down and splashing into the placid blue waters. They grabbed the thick rope and began to heave the unfortunate cargo back to shore.

“He’s been in there awhile now, I’m amazed he’s still alive.” Eniera remarked offhandedly.

“Open it, let him see the light one more time, if he tells me what I want to know, he will not be fed again.” Eniera gave the order and the soldiers began to carry it out, the foul stench of human waste and disease was pungent even with the little wooden boat sealed. Flies and other insects buzzed around the protruding limbs with such voracity and in such numbers that she had to speak up to be heard over the noise they made, and her soldiers and servants had to swat them away to reach for the latch.

The servants managed however, and when the boat was opened, vomit was added by both the soldiers and the servants at the wave of foul odor that came up from the unfortunate former nobleman. Eniera however, ignored it. She leaned over the ruin of a man, ignoring the pus and open wounds, she asked him.

“Who put you up to it? Who got you to try to poison my son!” She hissed with venomous hatred filling her narrow eyes. The agony that filled the pockmarked and ruined face of a man did not translate to speech. “Stubborn. Very stubborn. Admirable.” She reluctantly added. “If you’d been loyal to the Empire too, you might have done very well. I don’t think you’ll last much longer. But if I have to, I’ll sacrifice gold for the magic needed to keep you alive, you know how that works, don’t you?”

The fear in his eyes was answer enough, and the Mother of Terror swept out the back of her hand to drive the flies away from the side of his face, hovering over him with her demon-like visage, her hand touching him as gently as if he were her own child, she explained. “Foolish young man. If you had only paid attention. Yes, there are some gifted, or cursed, in the use of magic and can draw on their own body’s life to do it. Someone like that could never restore you to good health. You’re too far gone. But,” she held one finger over his face, hovering above his sunken, agonized and fearful eyes, “we can draw it from other sources. Like pure gold. Yes, the gold will be lost, but I can use your family’s entire fortune to start this over a dozen times before I dip into a single coin of my own. There is no escape. You will tell me what I want to know.”

As the horrified understanding began to fill the prisoner, she spoke again, “You tried to poison my son… my baby boy, my only boy who nursed at my breast and was the only one to bring me back from the brink… there is no suffering I will spare you from, if you don’t talk.”

The mouth of the prisoner opened, his tongue was rotting away, his lips moved and began to speak, it was a low whisper, hoarse and broken, the plopping noise of more waste leaving his infected bowels a moment later, was louder than his tiny voiced words. “El-Elf K-K-Kingdom.”

“Not the Champion? The Kingdom itself? How do you know, surely they didn’t tell you?” Eniera demanded, suddenly incredulous.

He shook his head a little, denying the first, then nodded. “Contact… worked at em-embassy. Has to b-be K-Kingdom.”

Eniera straightened up, her brow furrowed. “The Elf Kingdom… they have their own godsheir, if something happened to ours…” It made a twisted kind of sense. ‘Yes… a godsheir can’t conquer a country, but they can keep a country from being conquered… if something happened to Gottfried, or something ‘could’ happen to Gottfried, his father is gone to who knows where, my brother is getting older, I won’t live forever… it may take decades, but elves are patient and long lived… if it takes a hundred years of planning and waiting, so what?’

That did it. Eniera believed him. “Kill him, he’s earned it.” She gave the order, and the sword of the guard came out, then with a single thrust it pierced the eye of the conspirator. Death was nearly instant. The Princess’ expression never changed. “Put a hole in the bottom of the boat, then push it out to sink with the others. After that, carry out my son’s mercy for the rest of the conspirator’s families.”

“My Lady… sh-should I continue?” The servant with the scroll asked, and Eniera nodded.

“Go on.” She commanded, and the servant kept reading while Eniera walked away from the red shore and over the grass back to where her horse was tethered.

They just reached the shady tree on the tranquil plain when the servant read something else of interest.

Eniera paused with her hand on the black leather reins held at the tree branch. The shade was cool and the breeze fresh and clean, a far cry than the hell that she saw out of the corner of her eye, was now sinking, corpse and all, to the bottom of the lake. ‘I wonder how many are down there now…’ She put aside the question and focused on the servant.

“Say that last one again.” Eniera ordered, and again the bearded young man read off the string of numbers about her son’s spending.

“What is he spending all that on?” Eniera asked quizzically.

“The smaller number comes from the hotel where he has taken the suite at the top floor, but the larger number comes from a place called ‘The White Stag’.” The servant coughed into his hand.

“What is it… is it a brothel? I told my son to have his fun, he’s a vigorous young man, he should get the wilding days out before he settles down.” Eniera for the moment, put aside her worries and reveled in the memories of some of her own carefree youth, she let out an almost girlish sigh that had the rest of her servants and soldiers barely suppress a gasp.

She shook off the memories and cleared her throat, “Now, what is it?”

“It’s not exactly a brothel… My Lady. Ah… it is a kind of establishment close to that, not a tavern, not a brothel, it’s staffed with beautiful and educated servants and-”

She cut him off, “Ah, yes they call them ‘Host’ establishments.” Eniera replied, “They’re popular in some of the larger cities with a wealthier noble class, at least here. But how is he spending that much?”

“I took the liberty of finding out, my Lady. Xagen tells me it is all being spent on one young woman. And that establishment, the slaves who work there are all Abacleon survivors.” The servant cleared his throat again.

Eniera took a long, slow, deep breath. She pinched the bridge of her nose and looked down at the grass before squeezing her eyes shut tight. “You’re telling me, that my son… who could have his pick of all the finest courtesans in the empire, who could have an orgy of peasants on the very sands of the arena after beating a champion and nobody would bat an eye… is instead spending his time and money screwing a traitor?”

“Not… exactly, My Lady. The family of a traitor.” The servant replied, “Your son, the Prince, he did have the actual family heads killed, but he allowed the rest to live. They were sold and their estates confiscated to pay for the campaign. So whoever she is, at most she’s related to a traitor.”

Eniera turned that over in her mind, trying to find a meaningful difference there. “If she is old enough for him to be screwing her now, she was old enough then to warn us of her family’s treason and didn’t. That makes her a traitor.”

They didn’t argue with the reasoning of the Princess, and she went off in her own thoughts. ‘Kill the son and you have to kill the father, kill the father and you have to kill the son. His ‘mercy’ is just inviting future problems… I told him to have survivors and not to slaughter the city, but sparing traitors is a bit much. ‘On the other hand, he did end the fight quickly. And he did restore order… his mercy helped that happen… still, he’s naive. She probably hates him with the burning heat of a thousand suns… I’ll have to do something about this.’

She kept her thought’s private and unbound the reins, she patted the pure white hairs of the mount that towered over the rest of them. Looking down at her servants, she made her orders crisp. “Anyone who breathes a word of what that traitor revealed, will be removed forever from my service. Not one word about it until I speak with my brother when he gets back. Clear?” She said, it was a question in name, but a statement in fact.

They nodded in mute obedience. “Good, we’re going back, and when we do, have my Arrows ready, and prepare a dragon, it looks like I’m going to have to go see my son again, and maybe deal with his whore.”