274 TO TASTE A NOBLEWOMAN
"She is a beauty this one," he mused, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "If I were the young master, I wouldn't be so eager to kill her either until I get bored of her."
Lady Dassa remained impassive. She wasn't convinced yet with her story. "And how, exactly, did you escape?" she asked.
Hanna exhaled. "He neglected me after marrying a new wife. His new wife was watchful and his obsession with me faded, and he stopped watching me closely. I found an opportunity and fled."
"Fine, you escaped," Dassa said, unimpressed but accepting her accounts. "But that's not enough of a reason for you to seek an audience with me. You do not report to me for failing your mission."
"I—I have valuable information," Hanna said hastily. "And with Cruenna away, I had no choice but to bring it to you myself."
Ramses raised an eyebrow. "Speak."
"Another Giga Codex is hidden inside a magic dungeon in Eoloth," Hanna revealed.
Ramses let out a low chuckle. "A magic dungeon, you say? Perhaps I'll turn it into my personal harem at last."
Dassa ignored his comment, her interest was piqued. "I never knew Eoloth possessed a magic dungeon. Tell me more. What kind of defenses does it have?"
"The dungeon is heavily guarded," Hanna explained. "Gubana, a peak-tiered mage, oversees its security. There are also a few dozens of magic hounds—none weaker than peak-tier."
Ramses' grin faded. "That is no small force."
"As expected of a magic dungeon," Dassa said, considering. "If it weren't well defended, it would have been taken long ago."
Ramses leaned back against his throne. "Then the question is—do we claim the Giga Codex and the dungeon for ourselves?"
Dassa hesitated. "We lost too many of our assassins and soldiers during the Sodom City expedition. If we move now, we'll leave the Temple of Hera and Debauchery city vulnerable."
"There's no need to worry," Ramses reassured her. "No one knows where the temple of Hera is, and it's protected by our main army… and nobody can invade Debauchery city with me around to defend it… nobody."
A slow smile spread across Godmother's lips. "Then I will take the dungeon for you."
-----
[In an old untidy brothel in Debauchery City]
Petunia stepped into the dimly lit brothel, the air thick with cheap perfume and the cloying smoke of hallucinogenic incense. The place reeked of sweat, lust, and desperation.
In the sprawling common hall, men and women lounged on oversized cushions and tangled sheets, their bodies draped over one another in states of undress.
A bleary-eyed patron staggered toward her, leering. "You're a beauty. Come, let me fuck you tonight.."
Petunia shoved him aside without a word.
"How much for this one?" another slurred, reaching for her.
His hand snapped up before he could touch her—crack. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Petunia broke his shoulder with a quick grasp.
A deep voice cut through the murmurs. "What the hell is this commotion?"
A hulking man pushed through the haze, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor. His thick fingers gripped a smoking pipe, his expression darkening as he took in the scene.
Petunia eyed him, unimpressed. "Old Fat Stump."
His face turned red with fury. "Nobody calls me that in here!" He lifted his pipe, ready to strike.
She didn't flinch. "I'm here to see Lord Frouer."
The moment the name left her lips, Old Fat Stump froze. His raised arm trembled slightly before lowering. He let out a grunt, eyeing her warily.
"Well, why the hell didn't you say so earlier?" He turned, motioning toward the back of the brothel.
Petunia followed as he led her past a curtained doorway, revealing a hidden staircase spiraling downward. She descended into the depths of the building, where the true heart of the operation lay.
Unlike the crude pleasure den above, the basement had a colder, more calculated atmosphere. A mix between a prison and a gang's war room, dim lanterns cast flickering shadows across iron-barred cells and wooden desks cluttered with documents, coins, and weapons.
Old Fat Stump stopped before a long table, where a lean, sharp-eyed man was seated, counting a stack of bloodstained bills.
"This bitch wants to see you, Lord Frouer," Stump announced.
Frouer barely glanced up. "Who the hell are you?"
Petunia reached into her cloak and withdrew a badge, placing it before him.
His fingers traced the insignia, his brows lifting ever so slightly. He exhaled, a whisper escaping his lips. "So… the Deacons of the Temple of Assassin have finally taken notice of us."
Petunia's gaze remained steady. "Yes. You have a mission from the Deacon of Death, of the Temple of Assassins."
A slow smile crept across Frouer's face. The air in the room grew heavier, the weight of something dangerous settling between them.
"About bloody time."
-----
General Tashom moved cautiously through the dimly lit chamber, his hood drawn low over his face. His eyes flickered with unease as he approached Lord Frouer, his steps deliberate, wary of unseen eyes.
"Why did you summon me so urgently?" he asked, his voice a low whisper.
Frouer leaned back against the wooden table, exuding the easy confidence of a man who held all the cards. "Relax, General. We know you're a powerful figure—the gatekeeper of this city. You have our word, no outsider will ever know you were here."
Tashom exhaled slowly, tension easing just slightly. "What is this about?"
Frouer grinned. "A beauty, of course. We know you're tired of the usual offerings, so we've brought you something special. Something... exquisite."
Tashom's interest piqued. "Oh? And what exactly do you have for me?"
"A noblewoman."
At once, his excitement curdled into suspicion. "A noblewoman?" His tone sharpened. "From which family? Do you have any idea the trouble you'll bring upon yourselves if anyone discovers this?"
"Calm yourself," Frouer reassured him smoothly. "She's not from this city. She fled from a major family in another kingdom, searching for some lost lover. Fortunately, we found her first."