“So, whatchya been briefed about, huh?” he asked, back leaning against a board of sorts, arms crossed almost indifferently.

“Why are you asking this?” she promptly replied, standing at a reasonable distance.

“Just wanna know if we’re on the same page is all—as that phase goes, you know?”

“Well, we can assume that we are.” she thus stated.

“Eh… Wouldn’t be too sure on that, honeybun…”

“Ugh…” It was way too early in the morning for this.

They were in a room of a kind; one that looked almost like a Far Western schoolhouse, with a chalkboard and teaching stand at the front sight of rows of desks. Old and abandoned, the wood seemed almost rotting, with spiders’ webs feasting in shadows. It was, at the very least, an obscure enough place safe for…certain conversations.

Albeit she herself did not feel comfortable with the gun-armed elves guarding doors and halls, their pointy ears in hearing range; nor did she appreciate the presence of that cloaked and fancy masked adventurer at the window near, mysterious and armed with a rather peculiar rifle with a fat stock. Most likely on watch, granted, but not even a special Emerald had an intrinsic right to be in hearing range either.

It was only a day since she had been so inducted into this trickster’s ‘gang’, essentially. He was the Bureau’s chiefest asset in this city, yet for reasons and goals she did not know was unlikely to ever know. Even so, she did not trust him; she was not supposed to trust him.

He did not know why she was here; she did not know why he was here. Standard order of things, really. All that was necessary to know was that, whilst her usual handling ‘eggs’ so handled that other matter, he was the one to whom she was to follow and assist in the meantime… In addition to also being on the watch for the…signs and symptoms of a little-known disease called ‘treachery’.

Indeed, there was no reason to obfuscate this blunt reality: she was here to both be his ‘little helper’ and also be the Bureau’s own scrutinizing eye of suspicion—a reality he was most certainly well aware of.

“Let me take a guess, huh…” he thus took a guess, “you were told sometime on the way that… Strawberry’s a fat man’s liquid shithole that don’t trust the Guild a single—”

“The Strawberry Guild branch was permanently closed by order of the count.” she flatly interrupted; “This follows with the Security Office’s takeover of the greater Huckleberry branch; in exchange for being allowed free reign within the Alweny’s dominion, they are helping Grandberry suppress further rebellion. By consequence, Strawberry and other separatist-scheming realms could no longer trust the Guild’s neutrality.” She explained both what she had been told and her own inferences drawn therefrom. “The reasons are obvious. So, skip the narration.”

“Heh.” Yet he huffed with a smirk. “Yeah, sure… But that’s a bag of horseshit.”

“Huh?” She raised an eyebrow of total doubt. “That’s our intelligence.”

“From eggs who haven’t stepped not a foot in this city.” he bluntly stated. “That’s how this ring works, ya know? You get told shit from people who’ve been told shit from people who’ve been told shit from people who’ve been told shit from men on the ground like me, and by the time it reaches you, whaddya know? It’s outdated!” he explained what she already well knew of this job of hers.

“Uhuh…” She nearly rolled her eyes… “Alrightly. So then just tell me the inaccuracy…” She hated it when they wasted her time like this—she could be doing other things right now, such as sleeping or…staring at magical butterfly-things for emotional comfort or…

Literally anything else that was not standing here and listening to this wicked man-freak.

“Impatient, huh?” he merely remarked. “The Adventurers’ Guild wasn’t expelled just because of that nonsense. The blunt reality is, the Strawberrien Merchants’ Guild never liked us to begin with. There were people on the great council screaming for the expulsion for years; once they got their excuse, they pushed hard and finally got it.”

She gave him a dead-eyed stare, as if she were expecting something new. “Oh, wow. The local merchants’ guild pushed for the expulsion? I am shocked. I could only wonder, was it because they hated competition with collection quests or were they just envious of our superiority?” Her voice was so obviously sarcastic. “Yes. Of course I know this. It wouldn’t be the first time.” She was frank.

“And I wanna make sure you know this.” He was equally frank. “Because I don’t know what your local handlers did and didn’t tell you while they had you be their job-slut before hooking you out to me, so—”

“Do not call me that.” Her stern voice alone made clear…the consequences.

“Woah, alrightly, alright…” He raised his hands as if backing off; “Simmer, I’ll lower the ass in my tongue, you’ve got it.” He ahemed. “Look, I see this’s off to a fantastic start here, but all I was trying to ramble to is that, if you wanna know why we’re stuck rummaging in the slums, you’ve gotta understand the shit the Guild did wrong.” He spoke candidly. “Because let’s not honey the bitter coffee here, sweetheart, the Guild’s got a fat habit of making its own pile of shit and then crying about the smell.”

“Hmm?” She gave him a stare that implied she could interpret his words in several…implicating ways.

“Oh, no no, hey, hey! Don’t give me that look,” he quickly began to say, “I ain’t squawking color turning here”—he pinched his ear, wiggling it demonstratively—“See my ears? They’re half pointy! The Guild’s been good to our kin. So don’t think I am stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid, maker.” Which was exactly the problem… She sighed lightly; “Listen, I know I am being…”—her words paused—“I know you didn’t bring me here for a lecture, so just…move on with it, please.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled; “I wasn’t bringing this shit up for no reason. I’ve got a job for you, schoolgirl.”

“Who is it this time?” she immediately asked.

“Heh. Lucky you, honeyshine, you don’t gotta prick another soul this time.” He smirked. “Instead, you’ve gotta mint your breaths, spray some fresh, and just go out and have a nice chat with a prick.”

“Great…” She loved this already, totally.

-||-

Somewhere eastside. Noisy and busy-ish, as it usually was. This part of town was a bit distant from the center and looked a little rundown, as one could say. But it was not riddled with the desperate, poor, or the undesired, at the least.

A brothel. Such was the sight before her eyes down the far way ahead. A classic Strawberrien brothel to be precise. Prostitution was a recognized and legal enterprise in Strawberry and…Rosefield realms more generally; therefore, it was likely staffed by employees and not merely the enslaved—both literal slaves and those legally free souls shackled to mistress’ debt.

Regardless, she hated brothels… Full of men, usually. Albeit apparently Strawberrien brothels catered to both sexes—being blessed by Fertility herself and her sisters Love and Pleasure, even. Either way, blessed by the Temple of Fertility or not, she hated brothels. But she needed to enter this one.

She approached, though paused at some distance.

The outer periphery did not appear so active, and, to her surprise, despite her proximity to the brothel, she had yet to be heckled, ‘called’, or…presumed to be a harlot by men looking to molest or solicit. A positive indication indeed, for it was not uncommon for men intoxicated from either drink or lust to presume any girl in the vicinity of a brothel was, herself, an unprotected whore—albeit Strawberry was actually one of the few realms to recognize rape and other violating offenses against prostitutes, so whores were not entirely unprotected.

The target was a member of the great council, a burgher of some relevance; he was a vocal anti-Guild advocate—amongst many things—and had played a partial yet key role in orchestrating the expulsion of the Adventurers’ Guild from this city. Already, a troublesome nuisance indeed, however maker was only interested in ‘confirming’ something and nothing more beyond that. Of course, he had not specified what exactly she needed to pry from that burghery mouth… So, this whole job was already off to a completely vague start…

Oh, and she needed to go a brothel. Was it mentioned that she hated brothels? Because she hated brothels…

“Whores and man-whores; fornicators and adulterers… Pugh, Raven Mother…” she muttered, finally stepping closer to that building.

Unsurprisingly, not many sounds were emanating from within as she approached its rather fancy door. It was only just morning, after all, and brothels were by no means a morning activity. But she knew people were in there—otherwise she would not be here.

According to maker, the target was known for disappearing within this specific brothel on days like this day at or around this hour; so, she could assume that the target was somewhere in there…or was eventually going to be there soon enough, in which case it was best that she was at least accustomed to the within beforehand.

Her hand reached for the handle, yet did not press or open… Instead, she froze and stared awfully blank, a strange and sudden tension intruding into breaths.

She was without any disguise or mask; her full face was exposed, her hair was…identifiable. Indeed, she was in her normal girly form, and…there were still some people around. They could be…watching, seeing such a sweet and innocent girl like her…entering…a brothel.

A bizarre anxiety entered her cheeks which turned gently pinkish…

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“Seriously…? You literally stumbled upon a girl suckling a boy’s tail right out in an open alley—nobody here cares, nobody here cares…” Her whispers had to quietly remind herself…where she even was. For Strawberry was ever renowned for its more…open relationship with debauchery.

However, she was no Strawberrien. And although she could don different identities and personas, she still found this to be awfully embarrassing.

Yet she had a job to do, and she always got the job done. Thus, gripping the handle once again, she pressed with determination… Only to freeze yet again, not opening the door…

For, quite suddenly, one particular thought just had to so strike her head…

What if, through Fortune’s ever-frustrating luck, a certain enigmatic someone was…somewhere around here to…witness her…enter…this sort of building?

Breaths tensing, this one thought quickly sunk deep inside, refusing to leave as it squeezed within.

For…indeed… What would she think of her? Shock? Disgust? Something else? Completely nonsensical indeed, for she knew the answer was literally nothing, but… What did she even know about her in truth? What if…this did change the way she thought of her?

And although she was by no means a virgin—already an ever-increasingly viewed as taboo for a young unmarried lady in these contemporary days—, she was not an active fornicator and did not want to be viewed as such by anyone and most especially not by her.

Though, that said… It perhaps had been a long while and recent…accidental stumblings…had left her feeling unusually…weird. And so…since she was here, maybe…one time should not…

No. She shook her head. No. She was only here for one…purpose, nothing else.

But, like… What if the ladies in there were really pretty? And it was not as though she exactly hated men either even if her preference was clear, so if there also…a guy in there who happened to be very…interesting… Then…

Her cheeks turned red.

N-n-n-n-no, no no no, no, no. No, no. No. She rapidly shook her head. Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts. Stupid…unwanted thoughts.

But, like… What if that certain enigmatic girl was watching, and… What if seeing her enter this place…made her curious, and she followed and saw the…activities within, which then…maybe…made her more curious…and potentially even…tingly…

And…

What if…that then led to…a spark of realization…

Which then led to…them…

The two of them…

…Having a moment.

She froze, her mind frying itself—metaphorically—from the heat generated by the steaming blush.

“I need water…” Indeed, she immediately withdrew from that building, her eyes cast towards the ground as if she were resisting the urge to hide them in shame whilst running away… A thorough splash to the face from the nearest public fountain; that was what she urgently needed.

Although her mind was one to make things needlessly complex, it had rarely hindered her as badly as this; yet such felt like an increasing tendency as of late.

-||-

Dimly lit yet not gloomy…as if it were a mellow night within, an atmosphere helped by the near total lack of windows. Tables, couches, and a bar; it was almost like a Far West tavern. This brothel was fancier on the inside than she expected, although she still could not see why a burgher from the council would bother with a facility this far from the center.

She eyed about, her recently splashed face still slightly wet; she was a little timid though tried to appear natural. As expected given the hour, it was sparsely populated; the patrons who were here seemed more interested in the drinks and food, only casually socializing with the ladies—who were indeed very pretty though she tried not to process that. Intimacy was minimal, with anything further being reserved for the private rooms.

Frankly, it was odd how she had witnessed—accidently—more open sex getting here than actually being in here.

Regardless, not surprisingly, she was the only lady would-be patron, which made her already awkward standing…even more awkward. No doubt, the first presumption was going to be that she was some angry wife looking for her unfaithful husband, as was the common trope.

“Ah, wow-wow! A lady entry! How fascinating!” Yet such a voice hailed way, one high-pitched and womanly yet…also kind of boyish.

“Uhm…” She immediately looked…at the source of this voice.

A prettily dressed and fairly make-upped…lady? Standing behind the bar counter, looking right at her…

“Hi…” Eyes quickly evading away, she twirled her hair with a single finger… Why was she here again? She forgot even though she absolutely had not. It was as if there was something in the air of this building that made her flustered… Or maybe it was the gaze of that…pretty lady or maybe it was the reoccurring thought of a certain someone stumbling in at any moment…

Either way, she wanted to run back to the water fountain.

“Don’t get many of thee ‘round he’e, as we say. Lookin’ for some morning love, gentle socializin’ company, or…maybe just a drink?” the lady thus inquired, voice lovely.

Taking a deep breath, she eased her nerves. “Just a drink.” She looked at the bar lady, trying to remain…confident.

The bar lady gestured friendlily. “Well, don’t be shy now, honey-hon, come here. Thou have this whole counter to thyself!”

Indeed, that counter was empty, and, besides a few glances, nobody was actually caring to look at her… Phew. She really did not want to be looked at right now.

Hiding her incredibly awkward anxiety in at least her posture, she thus approached and sat at one of the many soft chairs, the bar lady looking at her with a dovey smile.

This lady seemed…vaguely peculiar-ish in body-shape, she noticed… Not having those exact ‘womanly curves’ even if still lean, skinny, and unmuscular; limbs were awfully long as well. These were among many subtle signs easy to miss for most; however, for her, it was kind of…immediately obvious-ish that.…

This lady was…most likely a man—a very specific type of man to be exact. She had encountered these sorts before, for they were not exactly uncommon even if rare… But they always played with her head whenever they dressed like girls, for they could be so uncannily close to the real thing.

This one smelled sweet and looked pretty at least… “Hi…” She was getting nervous again… Maybe a bit too freakily pretty, indeed.

“Thou seem a wee adorably nervous… Thou’ren’t looking for a job here, rightly?”

“N-no, no… I already have one, ha..ha…” Why was she being so awkward? She knew how to control her…real anxieties, yet they were showing. She was visibly nervous… This was bad; really bad, since confidence was the key to coiling charm. Thankfully, however, the target did not seem to be here yet. “I thought…this was a normal tavern, haha… I guess to say… So, I am…very… Uhm…”

“Aww! So naive!” The bar lady giggled. “But… During the day, we basically be suchly. Folks come herein looking for spice and sugar, literally; nothin’ frisky or too hot. Love ain’t the only thing we sellin’.” she…he…they thus remarked. “So, don’t be nervous, hon. Thou seemst outsider, so, it must be sayed: our business is legitimate, and nobody will judge thy presence.”

Although she was perfectly aware of that fact, hearing these words spoken nevertheless…soothed her. Indeed, in Strawberry many brothels also happened to be well-qualitied taverns; sex was not the exclusive service, and she was just here for a drink; nothing more and nothing less. And if a certain enigmatic someone did somehow happen to…discover her here, such was what she would say: she was just here for a drink.

With a deep sigh, she calmed and eased, looking at the bar lady. “Alrightly! Thanks… I feel better now, haha” She smiled with recovered confidence, her voice conveying a natural transition away from…initial nervousness. “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s just, there is someone…whom I would prefer did not…catch me in a place like here, I guess…” Partial honesty made the deceptions more realistic and believable, never mind partial openness being the key to opening others. “And I keep thinking they’ll barge in at any moment… I know they won’t, but the thought is both terrifying and… Yeah…” She was never going to admit the other direction her mind had gone.

“Awwe! I see, I see…” The bar lady nodded as if understanding; “Thine accent be top northern, rightly?” It…really was that obvious, was it? “That explains it. The nervousness. A girl who’th got a wee hinch but’s reservin’ herself for the one she loveth, always soo noticeable with yee top northerns.”

“Well, I would not say it’s like that or anything,” she thus replied, “we are more…co-workers, so…” She ahemed; “And I wouldn’t say that…I have a hinch either…” She could guess what that word meant despite having never heard it before now.

“Hmm?” Yet the bar lady gave her that skeptical eye; “Oh, girly, don’t think I didn’t notice thee leering at my ladies,” they winked, “no need to deny…”

She blushed a little… “Well, you know… I just… You see pretty people and… It is normal to…recognize their…niceness…” She was becoming slightly nervous again.

“Exactly, hon!” the bar lady’s voice so lunged; “Normal. To want and to desire, to lust and to love; all normal! Nothin’ to shame, sweetheart, nothin’ to be shamed. Roses of these fields bloom red from the love of ourn Gods, who gifted us such a passion and a drive.” They certainly seemed passionate. “That’s why we Strawberriens be no cowards to ourn feelings, desires, nor hinches. Nope! Nut-a-nuh. Never-ever!”

“Yeah, I am really not used to the openness here…” She was honest. “Though, I…travel around a lot, so I’m not exactly from the top north, just to say.”

“Oh, I can tell thee be a traveler sort… Thou’st got that rugged traveler’s stank on thee.” The…bar lady remarked. “No disrespect, but it be obvious thou hadn’t bathed before comin’ hither.”

“…” Was she being insulted right now or was this just typical cordial Strawberrien frankness? She had no idea… “Ha…ha… Yeah, I…haven’t had the time to…freshen myself…” She could poison this man-lady’s next meal—which she was obviously not going to do, of course… But she easily could.

“Still, traveler sort or not, it be clear wherein thou’st spent most time” the bar lady thus continued, voice still sweet; “Thou’st got that typical north coast flare; spent wee too much time ‘round them, yeah… Those borin’ Trinitarians.”

“Oh, you don’t like Trinitarians, then?” Following the flow, she leaned herself in a little, relaxing her seated posture.

“Bah. If they stuck with their stick about mercy ‘nd compassion, I wouldn’t mind them. But they’re prickly panties when it comes to love and sex. It’s pathetic—What are they so scared of, huh? Seeing two lover-ducks indulge in feelings we were created to have pleasure therefrom.” They were very honest, indeed.

“Hm… I think they have some points, though…” she remarked, cordially.

“Oh, that be suchh a top north thing to say, girly hon…” The bar lady’s honesty remained ever blunt. “Thou know, half their priests be sayin’ that the ladies’ allure is a test by their Father—or a trickery by their Devil… What denial! To shame their own yearns and blame whom they desire for making them feel so riled…as if that be wrong.”

“Yeah, blaming ladies for being desirable to them is a little silly…” she acknowledged with a titter… “But their idea of…salvation; that forgiveness for all the wrongs you’ve done is…possible so as long as you redeem yourself… I find that to be…a nice thought, is all…” Especially considering what she was and would always be. Quickly becoming uncomfortable from this topic, however, “Anyway,” she immediately shifted it, “But speaking of ladies… Uhm… If I may ask, you aren’t… You are a…lady-dresser, aren’t you?” she decided to ask, trying to caution her phrasing and remain respectful.

Yet the bar lady merely stared, eyebrow raised… “Ahah… Noticed the wee bulge, did we?”

“N-n-no, no! I wasn’t looking there…” she rapidly clarified.

“Thou’re such a girly, haha! Amusing!” the bar lady laughed, unoffended… “But, tsyeah, I don’t bother hiding it. I suppose I be an ol’ boy, but I always found heartfelt resonance with the girls—fashion ‘nd tastes. They be whom I spent most time with, yeah, since I received the ‘ol…snip snip as a wee young lad.” They snipped with their fingers…

“Snip…snip?” It did not immediately click with her, even though it was very obvious.

“Let us just say, I’m a fantastic steward, tradesman, and high-voice singer, hehe…” The bar lady giggled, not clarifying.

“Tradesman?” She immediately picked out; “Wait, you’re a…merchant too?” Hm…

The bar lady gave her a look, a bit slow to reply… “Oh. Woof, sayed a bit of a wee slip, I did…” They ahemed; “Yes, I suppose I’m with the trades. Not dressed like this, unfortunately… So tiring, bah, having to pretend what thou aren’t.”

“Yeah, I imagine so…” Relatable words, indeed. Though, still… Hm… She did not connect this until now, but…their eyes, she noticed.

“But, anyways, when I’m here, je soi La Castrada. No pas lo comerciand.” The bar lady thus stated, smiling; “Ond whomst thou mayst ben?”

“Oh, uhm…” Hm, what should she go with… “Am… Novea.” Indeed, “I am…Novea.”

“Novia? Strange name, but pretty, yeah.” Thus, La Castrada remarked. “Well, Novy. Thy drink, then?”

“Oh, rightly, I nearly forgot, haha. Yes, I’d like a drink—nothing tipsy, though…”

Nine was not obtuse to the fact that her target was still seemingly absent; however, the eye color matched maker’s description. So, she reasoned she was likely already speaking to him.