Crimson and Gold

Mormo guided the three women through the corridors back to the main hall.

As they were passing by, the guests gathered there turned their heads after them. Some felt like they were seeing things—the Princess in a brothel was rather unusual. Others were simply lured by the beauty of everyone in the group.

Those guests who were still sober enough to have a semblance of tact managed to cast coy, mostly unnoticeable glances.

On the other hand, those already well acquainted with the local wine didn’t even try to hide, staring with eyes and mouths wide open as Mormo and his guests walked through the middle of the main hall.

“Isn’t that… Isn’t that Her Highness?” A middle-aged man stretched his neck trying to reach above the crowd of people standing in groups around tall, round tables.

His companion took a glance just as he was finishing his cup of wine.

“Heh… Two women and some skinny lad. Must be her. The Harlot Queen of Aervelis wouldn’t be satisfied with just one,” he cackled, filling his goblet to the brim with more wine.

Despite the music and chatter, the comment didn’t go past Saria’s ears unnoticed.

She glanced towards the man only once, briefly as she was walking by.

In the next moment, just as he was about to down another goblet of the wine, the guest’s hand twitched, pouring the alcohol all over his face. Then, he smashed the empty cup against his forehead.

“What in the abyss are you doing?!” his friend yelled, jumping away from the table.

The people around in an instant forgot about the curious guests that arrived and instead focused their whole attention on the confused, mumbling man drenched in wine and blood pouring from a round wound on his forehead.

Seeing the commotion, Mormo stopped and looked around the hall, trying to understand what happened.

At the same time, Lysandra took a glance at her lover, catching a glimpse of a bloodied tear in her eye.

Noticing her gaze, Saria quickly wiped the tear before it fell. “I didn’t like what he said about you,” she muttered.

“There’s no need to trouble your mind with people like him,” Lysandra whispered, wiping off a smudge of blood from Saria’s cheek.

She was accustomed to hearing all kinds of unsavory things being said behind her back, so the man’s comment didn’t have any effect on her.

That being said, it would be a lie to claim she didn’t enjoy being protected.

Having someone to get angry on her behalf was a novel experience, and it made Lysandra want to cherish Saria even more.

She sighed, then smiled. “The only opinion that matters to me is yours.”

“One day, they will all bow to you and regret ever saying this nonsense about you.” Saria took Lysandra’s hand caressing her cheek, and kissed the inner side of it.

Eris, standing at the very end of the group, didn’t know what happened. However, seeing the loving exchange between the lovers, jealousy stirred in her heart.

At the moment, she could only hope that one day, she would take Lysandra’s place by Saria’s side and be the one she looked at with such fondness.

“Escort him to the exit and take away his pass,” Mormo ordered to his guards, once he got a grasp of the situation. “We have no need for his sort in here,” he added.

As the man was dragged away, the commotion died down, and the guests returned to minding their own business.

“I’m sorry you had to witness this, Your Highness. ‘Charybdis’ is usually a peaceful place. I’m not sure what happened today,” Mormo said, sending a suspicious glance at Saria.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that she had a hand in whatever had occurred.

“It’s fine. Accidents happen,” Lysandra waved her hand nonchalantly. “I attended noble parties that were much less tactful than this.”

“Please, let’s continue, then. We’re almost there.” Mormo nodded, then guided them to the section where the private rooms were located.

This was the area where the guests could indulge in the main attraction offered by the establishment.

Despite the reputation ‘Charybdis’ had—being especially good at fulfilling even the most outlandish desires of the body—Lysandra noticed that the rooms were unexpectedly quiet.

That didn’t stop her from wincing at the thought of what kind of sickening scenes were happening behind those heavy, ornate doors.

To her surprise, Mormo stopped in front of one of them and gestured at the servant standing nearby.

The girl rushed over, and with a wave of her hand, a covert peephole appeared in the door.

“Take a look,” Mormo said, turning to the Princess.

Lysandra blinked twice, being momentarily taken aback.

“Thank you for the opportunity, but voyeurism is not my thing,” she replied coldly, regaining her composure.

Mormo didn’t move.

His slightly upturned lips and a cunning gaze suggested that he more or less expected this reaction.

Instead, he turned his eyes to Saria, tacitly making the same offer.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering what kind of trap he could be setting for her.

When she didn’t notice anything suspicious using her senses, she walked over to the door and peeked inside.

The room looked exactly like she’d expect.

Red ornate walls, dark hardwood floor, and a bed that claimed most of the space for itself.

What caught Saria’s attention was the scene playing out among its tacky sheets.

A woman sitting comfortably on the bed, leaning against the padded headrest. In her left hand, she held a book that seemed to absorb her attention completely.

Saria recognized the cover as the newest volume of Aervelis’ hottest mystery series—‘The Maxima Code’.

The courtesan’s right hand hovered over her client’s head, with a dozen pink translucent threads woven between them.

The man himself was sprawled on the bed. Judging by the expression on his face, wherever his mind was sent, had to be a true festival of decadency.

Saria stepped back and looked at Mormo. “Psychomancy?”

He nodded.

Seeing this, Lysandra realized there was more to it than met the eye. She hastily walked over to the door and took a peek herself.

“Do they know?” Saria continued.

“Of course not,” Mormo answered truthfully. “As far as they are concerned, everything is completely real.”

Saria’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at such unrestrained honesty. “So you’re scamming them?”

“Would you prefer I allow them to do all of those wicked things they dream about to the real people?” Mormo fired back.

Lysandra stepped back from the door, feeling confused, but also somewhat… impressed?

“Every person working here was offered a choice,” Mormo continued. “None of them were forced to do this. Those willing were taught psychomancy, those who weren’t, we provided with means to start over.”

As the Princess remained unusually quiet, trying to collect her thoughts, Saria used this opportunity to find out more.

“You’re telling me that this whole time none of your customers ever realized that they were made a fool?” she doubted.

“We make sure to confiscate any items that could potentially disrupt the magic here, but every once in a while, we get someone who catches on. That’s true,” Mormo admitted. “We always take care of them before the news can spread.”

Lysandra frowned. “You kill them?”

“No,” Mormo shook his head. “We wipe their memory, sometimes plant new ones to obscure the truth.”

Saria had to admit, the more she heard, the more she respected Mormo. His methods weren’t the most ethical, but they seemed to be quite effective.

Next to her, Lysandra’s thoughts on the matter were a bit more muddled.

“What are you getting out of this?” she asked. Motivation, after all, was often the best indicator of a person’s character.

Mormo gestured at the servant again, then started leading them back to the office.

“Information,” he said finally. “Information has been the most valuable currency since the dawn of time. Taverns, inns, and brothels were always abundant in it… Especially brothels.”

“But if information was all you wanted, then why not just do it the way everyone does it?” Lysandra pressed. “This method seems a lot riskier and more demanding.”

As they were about to enter the office again, Mormo abruptly stopped and for the first time seemed to hesitate.

His reaction caught Saria’s attention.

She observed how he undid the strings on the arm guard he was always wearing and showed his wrist to them.

At the sight, Saria instinctively raised her own arm.

Two similar brands. ‘III’ and ‘XIII’. Symbols that would never fade, that couldn’t be removed by alchemy or magic.

“I chose to do it this way because I know this kind of life better than anyone,” Mormo said with an unusual melancholy in his voice and eyes. “I could never put another person through something like this.”

Neither Lysandra nor Saria knew what to say.

Seeing as there were no further questions or tests, Mormo put the piece of leather back on his forearm. “Does this clear your doubts, Your Highness?”

Lysandra exchanged looks with Saria, seeking the final confirmation.

One glance into her lover’s crimson eyes was enough for her to know the answer. There was no need for words.

The Princess turned back to Mormo.

“So how are we going to deal with the Husks?” she asked, marking the beginning of their cooperation.

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