The Hapless Harlot

The remainder of Hil’s hour with Leaf was split between sharing stories about experiences and people the two of them encountered during their time in Rotteson. As her elder, the innkeeper’s vast wealth of tales kept her entertained for the entire duration. He made mention of old friends, past lovers, and the Rotteson of a time before Hil had begun growing inside of her mother’s womb. Hil, on the other hand, would speak about the trials and tribulations she faced growing up.

For example, she went on about how she would sometimes go days without eating to save money, only for her father to go out and gamble the little coin that she managed to procure for him. When Leaf commented on how terrible that must have been for her, Hil shrugged and stated that it wasn’t the worst thing she’d been through on his account back then, which roused a shiver out of him.

When it was eventually time for Leaf to depart, the two shared a warm embrace and he promised to visit her again, but not before leaving her the mandatory five silvers, followed by a tip of ten extra. It was 6 silvers more than the mayor had typically provided, so perhaps her future might have been salvageable if she managed to juggle these two clients. And after all, one of them hadn’t even required any sort of physical relationship!

It was a good thing then that, for the next five days, she had, in fact, managed to maintain daily meetings with the two clients. As Mayor Langley had made a habit of visiting her after dark to avoid detection from his constituents, the innkeeper avoided him by continuing to visit during the crack of dawn at Hil’s insistence. Their conversations consisted more and more of Hil’s personal life, how she grew up caring for her alcoholic, gambling-addicted father, how her life had taken a dark turn since his passing, and how her one and only friend had moved to Peregrine City.

Leaf, in turn, shared the extravagant details of his marriage from its heartfelt beginnings to its bitter present, and the relationship he’d built with his son up until the incident. It felt like the two of them were beginning to share a deep connection. So much so, that eventually, he confessed his recent infidelity to her.

The truth was, since he wouldn’t allow himself to sleep with Hil, he wound up laying with the wife of the Red Dragon, an inn that his White Lily directly competed with for traveling guests. The owner had slighted him for guests one too many times, opting to send his young wife directly over to the White Lily to lure men over to his inn at a discounted rate. That week, he finally decided that he’d had enough of it. He offered the dragon’s wife drinks at his bar. The two of them had a chat and had surprisingly hit it off quite well. One thing led to another, and she took the reins and led him to the Red Dragon herself where the two of them shared a bed.

The story had bewildered Hil, who’d only heard about love in songs and her father’s books. Certainly, she had been aware of the innkeeper’s desire for revenge against his wife, but why did he choose fornication of all things as his medium of choice? Could he not have simply divorced her? When she posed this question to him, the man admitted that he still loved his wife and couldn’t bear to divorce her. And then, he said something to Hil that she’d be sure to remember.

“Our love has been a lot like managing the White Lily. It’s something that should have been upheld by the pillars of both of our dedication. But when one of us decided that we were above carrying our fair share, it took no time for its weight to come crashing down around the both of us.”

Hil had never fallen in love before, so she hadn’t considered what it took to maintain a relationship. It hadn’t helped her limited perspective that she had never truly met her mother either. She would like to have known, but she was terrified of asking anyone. The thought of bringing that woman to life might have broken her. If she was alive and well, then why wasn’t she there with Hil during everything she had suffered? If such a question had become a core part of her existence, then she knew that she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

“I hoped that this confession wouldn’t make you think less of me, so… here.”

The innkeeper pulled out a glass ball that appeared to contain miniature buildings resting along the white, sugar-like particles above the flat wooden bottom on the inside.

“What… is this?” she asked, accepting the strange object.

“Shake it, go on.”

Hil followed his instruction, and the white particles danced around playfully, floating on the inside as if celebrating the fact that she had given them a good rousing.

“Woah…” Her eyes widened in awe.

“It’s a snow globe,” Leaf said.

“Snow?”

“It’s something the northern countries of Vulturia experience during wintertime. A cold powder falls from the sky and colors the ground a pure white.”

“That sounds nice…”

None of the books she’d read, books whose origins were of primarily southern origin such as Vinessburg and Paramune, ever spoke of this thing called snow. It was a magical phenomenon that sounded unreal to her.

It appeared to the girl that there was now a new reason for her to travel the world. She wanted to see snow for the first time. Not on the inside of a snow globe, but in the sky above, and on the ground beneath her own two feet. Hil recognized that for her to do that though, she would have to become a singer and go on tour, a prospect that she still hadn’t found the strength to dream about anymore.

Leaving The Baening involved becoming either a pirate or someone important, and she had no interest in living a lawless life and no skill beyond her subpar singing to become someone important. The thought filled her with sorrow, but if singing could bring her to the snowy plains in the north, then she decided that she might have to give it another try.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Thank you, Mr. Leaf. I’ll treasure this for the rest of my life.”

That the innkeeper had granted her the will to chase her dreams again with his gift had warmed her heart, but she had found herself lost in thought over his own personal situation about what it meant to love someone for a long time. The trials and tribulations that came with love, and the sacrifices the two of them had to make for one another. Should his wife have forgiven their son for the sake of their relationship? Or had things been shattered long before that? Hil doubted that she could ever truly know the details of the life between those two. But her contemplation had nudged her creative mind into a frenzy.

It was about nine days after he’d first shown up when she decided that she’d debut the song she had written for him. It had initially taken a lot out of her to muster up the courage to sing before the innkeeper, having been condemned to singing only to Langley every day since her Chipping Hole debut, but with his encouragement, she managed to get the words out of her throat eventually. It was a song where she empathized with the feelings of a love that was once sweet but had wilted in time due to the lack of care it was afforded.

In Hil’s mental scenery, love was a child that required tender care from both parents in order to flourish. If abandoned or neglected, they would slowly warp into a troubled child who was more likely to get themselves into bad situations than not. Hil’s song remarked on the challenges of maintaining a lifetime of love, and the gut-wrenching regret that came with allowing it to break down irreparably.

When she was done singing, she slowly opened her eyes. She had braced herself for a sight similar to that of the one the mayor had blessed her with, the one of his back facing her, halfway out of the room thanks to her unfortunate performance. However, what she was greeted with instead was the sensation of the innkeeper’s tough arms gently wrapping around her slender body.

“You are worthy of love, Hil.”

His words were direct. Who was he talking to, she wondered? He’d said her name, but it was as if he was talking to someone far away.

“I... thank you…”

He pulled himself away, flabbergasted at the sudden emotions that overcame him in that moment. What surprised him was how her voice had moved him nearly to tears. He had heard from her that she’d wanted to be a singer, but it was his first time being exposed to her voice. Leaf was so impressed with her, in fact, that he offered her the chance to work at his inn as entertainment on busy nights, since the tips would come pouring in for someone as talented as her.

“I’ll think about it…”

Unfortunately for her, she hadn’t gotten over what the mayor had said a week prior. Was she truly a good singer, or was he favoring her because he was fond of her company? She needed to sort her feelings out before she hastily decided. However, that offer would fade away just about as quickly as her hopes had when she sung for the large man before Leaf.

“Your usual is gone,” Fish said the next morning. “The white flower.”

On Impetia 20th, exactly a week after Mr. Goblin’s fortune, Hil felt that her entire world had been shaken up. White flower? Was she referring to Mr. Leaf? Hil had certainly found it strange that the innkeeper hadn’t requested her the next day, but she had decided that it wasn’t a big deal. Perhaps he was just busy with the inn. He didn’t owe her his time every single day, after all. However, Fish’s words had caused the distress she had been bottling up to come bubbling out.

“What? What do you mean?” Hil asked.

At first she thought that her singing must have done it again. Was she truly that terrible at it after all? As she eyed the middle-aged woman in anticipation of her response, her short, red hair curled to perfection as she narrowed those infamously cold eyes of hers that were enchanted by the purple paint applied to her lids, she found herself puckering her lips in fear when the woman finally opened her mouth. “Gone, child. I heard this news earlier. Your man is dead. Passed an hour or so ago.

It had gone in one ear then out the other. She had been paying attention to Fish, who was intently studying her for a reaction. Her mind had simply refused to process the words out of a sort of desperate defense mechanism. “I’m sorry… can you repeat that for me please?”

“You poor child,” Fish took a drag from her wooden pipe and exhaled smoothly. “You still have the evening man, no? Do not cry about it. More men will come for your pretty self soon.”

Fish hadn’t known it, but that was exactly what Hil was worried about. The reason she enjoyed the innkeeper so much was because he hadn’t laid so much as a hand on her outside of the platonic hugs they had occasionally shared with one another. Had Mr. Goblin been wrong after all? Why did this happen? They had only known one another for a week, but she had become quite fond of him. She wished that they could’ve gotten to know each other better.

“Hey, Fish…”

“Speaking of more men, a client asked for you,” Fish said.

“A client…?”

“Head up to the room. She’s waiting there for you.”

It took Hil a moment to recollect herself after the news, but it was difficult for her to put back on the façade she wore when she met with the mayor. She had never met with a female client before. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard of one, but they were only as frequent as guests from Fort Dusk were, as same-sex relations weren’t as frowned upon in that city. Could Hil work with a new client while still recovering from the shock of the news she’d just happened upon earlier? She didn’t know. But she hadn’t the time to process anything. As always, she took a step outside of herself and allowed her body to work without her.

“T-thank you for selecting me,” she said with a bow once she was inside.

The woman before her who had been seated at the edge of the bed appeared to be slightly younger than Fish. Perhaps she was in her late thirties? She wore a traditional barmaid’s dress, and her short brown hair hung down the sides of her face. There were dark bags underneath her eyes as she examined Hil from top to bottom with a sour expression, one that crumpled into a snort and a short chuckle after she’d apparently satisfied her curiosity.

“Come sit with me, girl,” the woman said.

“Y-yes, of course…”

Fidgeting nervously, her gaze retreating to the bedside dresser where she seated her snow globe ever since receiving the gift, Hil approached the bed with hesitation as she examined the defenseless older woman before her. Hil wasn’t exactly a towering individual, standing at about 5.3 heads high, but before a woman of similar stature who was already seated, she felt safer than when alone with the mayor or even the innkeeper. This sense of security allowed her to lower herself and join the strange woman in sitting on the bed. Her head was down as her hair was now obfuscating her expression now that they were sitting side by side.

“You… requested me, right? Do you know me?” Hil asked.

The woman’s eyes shifted to meet Hil’s, which caused her to freeze in place. Her lengthy tongue wet her lips as she moved her hands slowly to part Hil’s hair from the side of her face with her slender fingers.

“M-mmn…” Hil flinched.

Perhaps if she hadn’t been so anxious about the sudden sensual encounter that she was being plunged into, she might have forced the issue more. For example, she could have pressed on the issue of why this person had decided to request her. Or, more importantly, she might have noticed the fact that, while that wet snake caressed the hapless harlot’s neck, the woman’s face folded open like the flap of an envelope into four petal-shaped lips, as razor sharp teeth sprung out of the center orifice, as what was once the woman slowly made its way to Hil’s vulnerable head.