Desmond was surrounded by sailors.

Many of them were drunk ( lots of them, to be sure), some on their way, and others, it seemed, had preferred to save that sort of thing for when the party started.

In a brothel.

An Empire brothel, no more and no less.

To where the captain and the crowd, like the tide, were dragging him.

Abigail was with him, of course. And she looked at him as if to ask: are you really going to do this?

He wanted to shout: no, of course not! You should know without having to ask! But he couldn't just start talking at nothing.

Desmond hadn't run away because he had decided it was best to play along, for the time being.

Find a good opportunity to sneak away instead of running off like a murderer trying to disappear into the night.

Maybe nothing would happen, but the right thing to do, the best thing to do, was to avoid attracting attention.

As far as was possible and reasonable. Of course.

"My name is Jack," said the captain, still refusing to take his arm off his shoulder. "Come on, now you."

"Huh?"

"Your name, boy. Your name. To drink and whore around with someone I have to know their name, at least."

"Desmond."

"Just Desmond?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, you've only told me your name too."

Jack laughed as if he'd told the funniest joke he'd ever heard in his life.

What a... exaggerated person. All in all.

"That's right, that's right, you got me there.

They went into the village. It looked like there was still a bit left, so he figured he might as well take the opportunity to ask something that had been bothering him.

While he was at it.

"How come this is so easy?" Desmond asked.

"What, let 's see?"

"This. To come and go and... using services in Imperial territory. How can it be so easy?"

"Even though we're what you'd call mortal enemies?"

Desmond nodded his head.

"Yes, precisely."

"Oh, boy. The nonsense they put into your heads."

"Nonsense?" Desmond repeated, danger in his voice.

Judging by the way Jack's expression changed, plus the fact that he finally let go of him, he had sensed it.

"Don't misunderstand me. We are mortal enemies. And if we came here to fight, well, I wouldn't hesitate to gut them all. Not even batting an eyelash."

"But?

"Morals, ideals, old quarrels. All that's dried up horseshit next to necessity. Necessity is pure and simple. Real."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Because you didn't let me finish," grunted the captain. "You see, we're in a shitty little town. Near the coast, on top of it. I'd be one of the first to fall as soon as Albion moved into Imperial territory, in this war that's started up again, unfortunately. I'm already beating around the bush a bit. As I was saying, it's a crappy little town whose main attraction is precisely where we're going. And it's in a dangerous place."

He understood that. Or at least, he thought he understood.

"They can't afford to turn away customers, no matter where they come from. And it's in their interest to forge good relations."

"At least they won't end up with their heads on a pike when the army comes through here. Smart guy."

"But you're not from the army. You're just sailors." After realizing what he had said, Desmondadded: "No offense."

"I am what I am. I'm not ashamed of it, so why should I be offended? It's true. We're not soldiers. But we enjoy it, well... How shall I put it?"

"Secondary privileges?"

"Yes. That."

So... there were soldiers in the Albion army who liked to go whoring here, in other places surely too.

One moment, inside an enemy, enjoying themselves. And the next pretending to be a respectable person, giving his all for the motherland. Disgusting, Desmond thought. Absolutely disgusting. Now Desmond was only loyal to Abigail. He didn't care about the war between Albion and the Empire, as long as they were left alone.

But...

His hatred for the Empire, for all those dogs, was a very real thing.

Independent of his feelings for Abigail. Of his loyalty.

They had taken... everything from him. Everything except his life. No, even that. And then he'd moved on anyway, rebuilt himself. But how could he not hate them, after that, until his last breath? How could he not feel like vomiting at the idea that the soldiers who were supposed to put an end to the menace of these animals liked to lie with them?

It was disgusting enough that these sailors did it, and on top of that 'almost every day', to quote Emerald.

But the soldiers?

That was too much.

They walked on, as they had been. Where was the brothel?

Well. At least now the captain had taken his arm off him, which made the walk more bearable.

Because Desmond didn't like to be touched. Especially by men.

He didn't like it, but...

Even that depended on the person, of course. He wanted nothing more than to sink into Abigail's warm embrace. He wanted to experience that, not 'how a woman felt'. That was all he wanted. Finally they stopped in front of a shop with a sign over the door rather gaudy.

Purple, very bright.

And shaped like a pair of tits.

Yes... They left no doubt about what kind of place this was, that was for sure. They entered the local. Although calling it a local was like giving it airs that didn't belong to it. Too much importance.

Inside, well...

Desmond had never been in a place like this before and hoped he'd never be forced to go inside again. But he found what he expected. Drunk and lustful men, staring at women displayed like pieces of meat in a butcher's window. Scantily clad women and, as time went on, still more and more. Until they were left with nothing, or practically nothing.

What he hadn't expected was that there were also men doing the same. And a crowd of drunk and lustful women.

They were little different from the crowd of men.

He would say breasts and skirts. But that couldn't be said about everyone.

In short, depravity.

Decadence.

People behaving like animals, holding nothing back.

A face they wouldn't show to anyone. Maybe outside, under the rational sunlight, they appeared to be decent people.

Here they only looked like animals.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

... And they were.

Desmond remembered that this was Imperial territory. While many of his people would enjoy coming to places like this, most of the customers had to be people of the Empire.

That idea made this sight less painful.

But not by much. After all, the Albionese here were virtually indistinguishable from those from the Empire, who were behaving as one would expect from animals.

Worst of all by far, however, was that Abigail was watching everything.

And that perhaps she believed that Desmond wanted to take part in this.

That he was deviating from his mission, his duty, out of simple lust. By... Being driven by his natural instincts. Like this bunch of animals with no human decency.

Albionese, Imperials. He didn't give a shit.

Wherever they were from, everyone here was despicable. Desmond wanted to puke.

Desmond wanted to puke so badly... He took a deep breath.

"Nervous? I understand. But you'll see, it won't be that bad." Jack laughed to himself. "I mean, it will be a big deal, very big. But, you know, in a good way. There's nothing better in this world. Fuck, that's the meaning of life."

Jack blinked.

And laughed again, like a complete idiot.

"Yes, exactly. Sometimes my own genius surprises me."

How embarrassing.

"Guys, let's let our hair down. I'll join in. But not before helping the kid, you know."

The sailors gave their captain a standing ovation and went around, saying.

Some of them were shouting obscenities.

Shouting.

This, in general, was a noisy place. As if it wasn't already obnoxious enough as it was.

He hated this noise.

It didn't make his head hurt... but it was fucking annoying nonetheless.

Jack led him to the front of a counter. Behind which stood a surprisingly young woman.

He was saying that because he had a feeling that woman owned this... this shithole.

Desmond turned out to be right.

"Well, how's our best customer?" the woman greeted him.

Her eyelashes were painted. Lips too, a very garish red.

Desmond hated everything about this...

Everything about it. He should have known better, should have turned and run when he'd still had the chance.

But since he was here, he could hold on, even if it was just a little longer.

He could do it.

"Great. And now that I'm looking at you, even better."

"You sure know how to please a lady. At least with words."

Desmond was surprised that she'd cracked a joke like this. Suggesting that Jack... well, that he wasn't up to par.

He was even more surprised that Jack didn't take it the wrong way.

In fact, his smile widened.

As if it had been a random greeting. No, that was not a good way to put it.

It had put him in an even better mood, after all.

So... a habit between them? Probably.

Why was he bothering to analyze something as insignificant as this?

"Yes, I'm very good at using my tongue. But let's not talk about me. This guy..."

"Now that you mention it, I don't recognize him. New sailor?"

"Nah. Stowaway. He really wanted to come here, you know? The poor guy's a virgin and I'd like him to lose his virginity in the best possible way. I'm even going to invite him."

"You don't say?"

"I'm telling you. You don't have a discount? Any special offer?"

The madam put her hands on the table and leaned forward.

Jack, without even pretending otherwise, took the opportunity to look at her cleavage.

In truth, there wasn't much to look at.

"There is no such thing. But it can be done. As a thank you for being a good customer." The madam looked at him sideways, blinking. "And to win one over. For life, maybe."

"Yes. If she sinks his claws into you, be sure she won't let go, boy."

This was… Nauseating to the core. That's why Desmond was keeping quiet. So as not to say anything untoward. And even if he kept his emotions in check.... To be honest, he wouldn't have a clue what to say. So yes. Better to keep quiet, in more ways than one.

"Have you thought of anything?"

"Of course. A threesome with the most popular girls in this distinguished establishment. Sounds good to you, kid."

Keeping quiet was best in many ways, yes.

But now, unfortunately, Desmond couldn't choose silence. He'd put him between a rock and a hard place.

Fuck, you're nothing but a fucking nuisance.

"Eh, I..."

"Maybe it's a bit much to begin with," suggested the madam. "But it's fine with me, of course. However it works out, more money for me. And my girls," she added as if she had forgotten about it.

Was it really good to be so honest with a client?

To just say that kind of thing? It didn't seem very... very... Well, good for business

"No, it's okay. I guess," Desmond said.

Laughing loudly, Captain Pain-in-the-Ass gave him another series of pats on the back.

"That's the spirit. But skip the I guess next time. You have to look to the future with determination."

What the fuck is this shit?

Desmond felt as if he had entered another world. As if this situation and these people had nothing to do with his world.

He would eventually end up throwing up.

Or screaming.

One or the other. He really couldn't feel more out of place.

"How much would it be? "Jack asked.

The madam told him, the captain took out the money and placed it on the table, sliding it over to her.

——

With the transaction made, the madam personally escorted him to the room where 'it' was supposed to take place. Before, of course, Desmond had to leave the sword behind. It was always with him, as if it were a part of his body, so it didn't bother him. They found his gun and he was also forced to leave it behind. That really bothered him. One more complication.

What an attentive service. And annoying. Had it not been for the escort, he would have taken this as an opportunity to escape.

Without arousing suspicion, without attracting attention.

They would think he had chickened out. An idea that, to tell the truth, bothered him a little. But what had to be done had to be done.

So why aren't you saying anything now?

Desmond licked his lips.

Right.

"I don't know if I'm going to be able to...".

"Oh, come on. You've come this far already. A little more courage and soon all your worries will melt away, vanish like morning dew."

Very poetic. For the madam of a whorehouse.

The madam, whose name, if it had been said, he could not remember, opened the door for him. Oh, they had arrived at the room in question.Desmond had been so long out of sorts, immersed in his thoughts, that he had chosen a bad time to bother. Near the end of the line.

"Yes, but it's just that I, I don't know if...."

The madam gently pushed him inside.

"Don't be silly. And wait here."

The door closed in his face. Not literally. But it was close, to be honest...

Now he had even more reason than before to wonder what the hell he was doing.

"Desmond..." Abigail said, now that they were finally alone and could talk. There was something in her tone... Yes, she was certainly thinking something wrong.

"It's not that I want to do this. I really don't. I just... You know I just..."

I only have eyes for you, or something like that.

But suddenly he couldn't say it, the words choked in his mouth. Because they were embarrassing. Maybe not much, but as far as embarrassment went, he was a glass full to the brim. So anything was enough to make it overflow. What expression was he making, and how red would his face be?

"But I thought it best to leave discreetly. Without attracting attention. Without making a fuss."

"I understand. It's true, you only have eyes for me," she said as if it were nothing.

As if she had read his mind.

Your mind isn't that hard to read, he thought.

Desmond nodded his head. Even redder, if possible. People used the expression 'burning cheeks' liberally.

He did feel that his cheeks were burning.

This was another story.

"This place is disgusting," Desmond said, "from the bottom to the top. I wouldn't have gone in but they got the wrong idea."

He realized, vaguely, that he was shaking.

"Desmond, what's the matter?"

Desmond looked at his hands.

He looked at his legs, unsteady. He took a deep breath. It didn't help much.

"It's nothing," Desmond said. He himself didn't even understand why he was this way, all of a sudden.

There was nothing to be afraid of.

No, he had nothing to fear anywhere.

Except losing the people he loved.

Just that one thing. Just that one thing.

He took a deep breath, again. With identical lack of result.

He heard the door opening behind him.

He had wasted too much time. He turned around abruptly.

Through the door came two women. They were not scantily clad, in fact, they brought quite normal clothes.

Not for long, an inner voice whispered to him.

Desmond grimaced.

Even if they had arrived as they had come into the world, Desmond would have felt nothing but disgust.

They were animals.

Even if they looked like human beings, they were nothing but animals.

So he had no reason to be ashamed, let alone feel... desire.

And he didn't. He wasn't ashamed, he didn't desire the pleasures of the flesh.

What he felt...

"Why the frightened face?" asked one, though she thought she already knew the answer. We don't bite.

"Unless you ask for it," said the other. She smiled and did it showing all her teeth, as if mocking.

No, not at all. They were doing it.

And he wasn't amused.

"My name is Lucia."

"My name is Rena."

I don't care what your names are, Desmond thought. But didn't say anything.

He just backed up until he couldn't move any further. Desmond fell backwards, on her ass.

On the only bed in the room.

Wiggling like snakes, those two followed him, taking up position one on either side of him. They wrapped their arms around him and he tensed like a bow.

"I'm sorry."

The apology had not come from either of the girls.

It had come from his own lips.

The women looked at him as if surprised. From what? Why? This was all wrong.

"I'm sure you don't want to live like this. I... I understand. I understand what it is to be... degraded. Something to be used."

What was he doing?

Talking to them like that, treating them as if they were human beings, the same beings that had taken everything from him years ago. They hadn't personally attacked his city.

Ravaged everything.

They hadn't participated in that massacre, or any of those perpetrated by the Empire.

But they were the same.

There was no difference between them and those monsters.

None at all.

They were all the same, deep down. Animals.

They all wished for the extinction of the human race.

They weren't even human beings. Showing them sympathy? As if they could understand what they felt? As if they were human enough, at least, to suffer such an existence?

Not just unforgivable, not allowed.

Ridiculous.

Utterly ridiculous, there was no other way to put it. As if they could understand what he felt.

Desmond couldn't stop shaking.

And he couldn't stop talking either.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "I can't think of anything worse. I'm sorry."

Apparently, Lucia and Rena were too shocked to speak.

Offended, maybe.

He had no way of knowing. What he did know was that he couldn't stand this. Not for one more second.

——

He headed for the exit of that hell.

He ignored the voices that called out to him, the noises that were sticking like knives all around him, not necessarily directed at him.

He retrieved his pistol. The sword he left where it was and only realized it once outside.

Not out of the brothel, but out of town.

There was nothing wrong. As soon as he remembered, he summoned it back, scabbard and all, to his hand. Then he put it on.

He moved wobbly, as if he were drunk.

He hadn't had a drop of drink, though. Not even a drop of water. He felt...

"Desmond? Desmond!"

She called his name. Over and over, trying to make him react.

But he was far away, too far away for her voice to reach him. For even her voice to reach.

In the end he couldn't take it anymore.

On a dirt road to somewhere, Desmond bent at the waist and vomited on the ground between his legs.

Violently. Sending jolts throughout his body.

Until his throat was raw.

He lost strength in his legs and fell to his knees.

"Desmond!

Abigail's voice penetrated the 'glass' he was hiding behind.

Desmond sought support, with one hand, on the trunk of a tree.

"What happened before?"

Nothing is wrong with me. Give me a moment.

"What happened then, Desmond? What's happening to you?"

He didn't answer.

Desmond got to his feet and continued traveling down the desolate and brutal road he had been traveling all his life.

Alone.

Slowly, slowly, he disappeared into the darkness.

Traces of the scar: FIN