In a section of the city far out of view of the city guard was situated a street known by the locals as pleasure row. A handful of taverns, brothels, and gambling houses stood tall on either side of the dirty stone road, overshadowing the dilapidated insulae that spread out in all directions. Altars to the goddess Retia, the maiden of pleasure and plenty placed in front of every shop, with priests and priestesses of the goddess offering contraceptive medicine at one silver per bottle. It was good business for everyone involved, the patrons didn’t need to worry about unwanted pregnancies, the businesses wouldn’t worry about their products, and the priests could further their goddess’s purpose.
The Lyrians worship Retia as the goddess of unrestricted pleasure, she who oversees the carnal needs of humans, there is no love or loyalty involved, merely an impersonal transaction of need.An antithesis to her sister Getia, the goddess of love and obedience. Retia is depicted as a sultry beauty, often disrobed, and possessing the sexual characteristics of both males and females. It is also the reason why both priests and priestesses of Retia are allowed and even encouraged to take part in whatever sexual encounters they choose to partake in, the choice is what matters. Retia’s Embrace was just such an establishment.
“Another mug barkeep!” Sitting upon a stool and resting his head upon the counter was none other than Maatilani’s second in command, Malakos. The somber Medean was observing the prostitutes strutting around in their fully exposed attire, all the while sipping what few droplets of beer remained in his mug. He was a regular at Retia’s Embrace, often one of the serving girls would stop by to chat, and he would take liberties with some of the younger men. It was a place that reminded him of home, a place without all the puritanical social confines, here he was free. Yet he understood that freedom was not a thing, merely an illusion that could be wiped away within a moment’s notice. Just the same as human life, one day you are spending time in the meadows, enjoying one another, and the next day they’re gone, without even the time to mourn their loss.
“Had that been how his attendant felt, the moment before his death.” Mumbling under his breath, Malakos took another sip of his drink. Four thick wooden mugs sat empty before him, his eyes staring into the distance. Although he was known to be fickle and whimsical when it came to his dalliances, Malakos was known to treat those encounters as special. So much death and loss on the trip over had undoubtedly left its mark.
“Hey there handsome, I heard about you from my friends over there. Interested in going somewhere more private?” Malakos turned his head while keeping it flat against the counter, using only his eyes to examine the younger man who had approached him. Over in the corner of the room he could see others observing their interaction, some appeared to be evening companions same as the young man.
“If it was any other day, I would take you upstairs and ride you all night long… But I’m not in the mood today, so I’d like it if you… and your friends could just leave me be.” The young man left with a huff, Malakos just took a sip from his cup and watched him walk away. Just because he was not intending in partaking of the fruits offered, did not mean he was going to ignore the free show.
“Medean!” The bartender’s call had Malakos sitting upright immediately, turning his attention to the hulking figure. “That’s me… How can I be of service Mr. Bartender?” Malakos made sure to answer as suggestively as possible, although he made his interests obvious, the bartender showed no interest and simply rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Don’t waste my time Mede, got word that the proprietress will see you now… Besides, you’re not my type.” The two men shared a light chuckle before parting ways, with Malakos heading up the stairs towards the topmost floor which the proprietress called home.
As Malakos made his way up the stairs towards the third floor of the establishment he was unaware of the observers below. A cloaked figure whose face remained obscured by the shadows watched the man ascend to the third floor, all the while sipping on a flagon of wine. With another figure standing up and quickly departing Retia’s Embrace.
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Around an hour had passed since Malakos entered the office of the proprietress, the woman was what one could label an aged beauty. Blessed by Retia, the proprietress had the appearance of a woman a two decades her junior, with many noble visitors paying a handsome amount for her affection. Yet it was her “children” that swayed her, as a staunch worshipper of Retia, the woman looked out for her own. Caring for the workers under her protection, providing a stable living and opportunities for many slum dwellers. Malakos had been the same, a wanderer cast out from his home, finding himself on foreign shores hungry and willing to do anything to survive.
“It’s good to see you again child. I barely see you anymore, what with how busy you are… Have you perhaps been able to speak with your superiors about allowing Retia’s love to grace the streets of Temrenos and others along the frontier?” The woman was sitting upright on the bed, Malakos was lying next to her his head nestled in her lap. As she spoke, she would slowly run her thin fingers through his curly dark locks, as if to push them away.
“The timing hasn’t been right ati, Temrenos is different from other places. There are so many different cultures, refugees from everywhere flock to the region. Even though all the stories speak of the wealth and fairness, it is not all sunshine, the forest is worse than what the stories express. Ten years ago, when we first arrived at the dilapidated husk that was Temrenos, it wasn’t as bad. The place was a mess, most of the people had fled, and the forest had encroached right up against the walls of the old city.” Malakos flipped over, switching to a position where he was on his back staring up directly at his ati, the Etruski word for mother and a term of endearment between the two.
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“Fixing the city was the easy part, the Scholar had stored away funds enough for a city or two, amassed during his time as a mercenary and throughout the unification war. Of course his position as the Grand Scholar, those five years as right hand of the Archon were also lucrative… he could have made more, instead of helping the people, the same people who threw him out when he cracked down on all the corruption.” The proprietress placed her hands on either side of Malakos’s face, stopping him as she pondered.
“We benefitted during that time you know, this street wouldn’t be possible, our independence from the nearby underworld families wouldn’t be possible. Those foundations are what made us who we are, you remember how much worse it was when the families ran these streets. The way they treated us.” Malakos was still locked in her grip, he did not have a choice but to stare into the woman’s eyes and answer.
“You’re right… I remember the way they forced themselves on you and my sisters. The Scylla were expanding at the time, I recall the bloody skirmishes in the streets. Before the unification war, under the Archon’s incompetent father. I remember yes, you are right… I’m sorry ati.” As soon as the woman released her grip on his face, he switched back to lying on his side, his attention on the closet at the other end of the room.
“Why don’t you continue your story my dear, it does not seem as if you finished your tale about the frontier. I am curious, what is that you have seen that disturbs you so?” This time the woman began to rub his back, like how a mother would their child when attempting to coax something from them.
Malakos did not answer right away, but the proprietress was nothing if not patient, waiting for him to begin. A few minutes passed before he felt confident enough to explain, “Time… Time is what I fear on the frontier. When we first arrived ten years ago, the beasts were dangerous, more aggressive than normal, but beasts nonetheless… two years later they had changed, faster, stronger, but still beasts. Five years ago, we had our first taste of something fundamentally different, a single bear required an entire elite ranger squad to take down. It was like it felt no pain, just filled with rage and aggression, charging forward with no thoughts of self-preservation.” Malakos’s body had begun to shake involuntarily, his body recalling the memories he sought to forget.
“I almost died that day, but that was just the start. Three years ago, we lost Merkurio, Leucena’s husband. He was the Scholar’s former right hand, what we came to call a Gralg killed him. Ripped him into quarters… it was like a bear, but with fur like iron and an extra pair of arms. Merkurio’s daughter was there, Mera hasn’t been the same since that day. She would have died like her father without her little bag of poisons. Because of her we figured poisons could work, somehow killing the cub and wounding the mother. Things have been quiet since then for the most part, but the creatures become larger, more varied with each season. Creatures like wolves with bone like protrusions coating their fur, these Worgs are just as big, if not bigger than their Dire wolf cousins. With each passing year the situation grows more dire, more brothers and sisters are lost to the forest and our manpower reserves dwindle… The frontier is expanding, fighting back, and I fear what lies deep within the center.” The proprietress seemed to simply acknowledge his words, taking in every syllable.
“Well, it seems pretty simple to me. The answer is mana, a rift seems to have appeared in the forest. That makes much more sense, this turned out not to be a waste of time after all.” The hand rubbing Malakos’s back came to an abrupt stop, the fingers intertwining, melding like twisted roots, the skin hardening into something that resembled the bark of a tree.
There wasn’t any room to avoid the spear like hand, Malakos barely managing to wiggle his body and having it avoid snapping his spine. He pulled away screaming, the root like weapon had missed his vitals, but still took a chunk of flesh and broke at least one rib. Malakos stumbled forward, putting some distance between himself and the thing in the shape of his mother.
Malakos watched in horror as the shadows seemed to twist and turn around the creature. Within seconds what stood there was no longer his ati, it was instead a mirror image of himself, save for the wooden lance like right hand. “Thank you for your assistance, I will give the Scholar your regards when I meet him.” Malakos winced at the sound of his doppelganger’s voice, which was perfectly in tune with his own.
“What did you do with my mother monster!” Malakos screamed as blood poured from his open wound. However, there was no time for an answer as the door to the room burst open, at least a dozen cloaked figure rushing in, armed with daggers, hatchets, and swords. They had come expecting to find an old woman along with their target, instead they found two targets, one injured and the other armed.
It took only a second before a decision was made, deciding to kill both, leaving the injured one for later. Malakos grasped the opportunity, instead of standing there waiting for death, he rushed to the other side of the room, grabbing a nearby chair, and flinging it towards one of the shuttered windows. The force of impact splintered the wooden shutters and created an escape route for Malakos to escape through.
A scream erupted from Malakos’s rear, one of the assassin’s had been flung through the air and crashing through the closet in the corner. As the man went through, something else fell out, a body. Whatever it was had clearly been female, but the damage done had been so thorough as to make recognition impossible. The skin had been flayed, huge chunks of flesh missing, as if a beast had devoured it. Tears welled up in Malakos’s eyes as he understood who it was, the bloodstained golden scarf clutched tightly in her dead fingers confirming her identity.
Malakos swallowed his anguish, staring down the monster as it cut down the assassins before stepping out onto the ledge and making his escape.