We are all haunted
by the decisions we make, either for good or bad.
~Ace_zza
***
"You have six requests for today, which I must admit is one of the first I've witnessed client demand throughout my business. Now, you do you, and I'll consider introducing you to a few more wealthy clients of mine who are willing to pay quadruple the amount for an entire day." Madame Lorraine said, wearing her usual frown and a profound gaze whenever she talked about an assignment regarding work.
Ravenna's mouth parted in surprise, "An entire day?" She asked. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or dread about the news because she had never worked for an entire day. How else would she handle the castle's morning shifts? Lady Alethea's face greeted her and she shuddered at the vicious imagination.
"That's the only way if you really want such an amount you've asked of me, and of course, if I did, I'd have helped you as much as you've brought so many customers to my tavern,"
Ravenna knew it was impossible of her to raise such amount within the span of two days, no matter how many men she beds, so she resorted in requesting some money from Madame Lorraine, to pay her off by working in the tarvern for two years without any pay, but the lady, as expected, went all shocked and suprise at the same time when she mentioned the amount.
There were only a few clients beckonst known to Madame Lorraine, who were rich—some of higher status and even the middle class—willing to pay triple for an entire day.
The only disadvantage was how they chose you to serve them. Some as puppets, while some as sex slaves. Other times, more than the actual client gives turns to whoever they wish, turning your body into dismantled toys for as much as gold.
One of them was Ser Thorold of Elinshed. Ravenna remembered the rumor and encounter of how Agnes Marieth, a former whore, suffered severe internal damage after serving the General and his comrades. Till now, she hasn't been able to resume duty, resorting to several Healers.
Ravenna heard a bit of gossip about how crippled she was, and a shudder ran down her spine, knowing fully well that 'a few clients' included the General.
"That's if you want to raise such an amount within the hours you've told me," Madame Lorraine added, cutting her off from her reverie and she nodded, still shaken by what was supposed to be half a reprieve. "You've been one of my most faithful girls, Hannah. It saddens me to see you walk away so soon, but I understand. You deserve a better life," There was both resignation and unspoken ache in her voice, so subtle that Ravenna almost blamed the tavern's music for playing tricks on her ears.
She couldn't tell the lady about the manor. Its secret had been her shield, making it quite easy for her survival along the years yet deep down Ravenna couldn't shake the gnawing suspicion that Madame Lorraine had always known from the start.
When she first came under Madame Lorraine's care, she was struck by how the woman never asked about her past. Instead, she welcomed her without question—as if her body alone, along with the whispered praises of satisfied clients, was reason enough. Perhaps her wig had its way of convincing people she was a human rather than her silver hair. However, Potoink was a well-known small village in Cartwild where people barely fed rather than building identities that wouldn't feed the hungry stomach. Not everyone acknowledged one another, and as ludicrous as it sounded, it was the perfect spot to carry her fake identity without a hint.
So instead, she lied, "A wealthy household is willing to take me in as a maid. It may not be glamorous, but it's steady, and I won't last long in this life." She remembered her words clearly to the stunned woman, which was entirely not a lie.
She won't last long working as a whore. Despite being used to it, her body was failing due to the stress, both physically and mentally, and she was reminded of Alaric, causing her heart to clench. If there's no better reason to quit, he was the solid reason. She wondered if it would ever be possible to make up for those times being a whore to his sister. Whatever she could do to prevent him from looking the way she saw herself.
Now, it was up to her to decide whether or not to take up the offer and face the consequences afterward.
Nodding, "And who are these six?" She asked rather, donning the mask of Hannah Maere as they made their way into the common room.
The air was intense with incense, smoke, and something else, as the music mingled with moans and cries of pleasure. At the center, a blonde-haired woman, hooking her lean legs around the pole, her bare breast exposed, and her curvy ass a sight for the clients ogling from afar. Women paraded half-naked across the floor, flaunting themselves in the weak lamplight accustomed to their painted lips parted in laughter that didn't reach their eyes. Men sprawled on benches with their cheeks red with drink, clutching their whores like hunters clutching quarry.
"One of them is Tomas Mandray," She said, the sound of her heels clicking as she smiled warmly to a few of them. It was one of the rarest times Ravenna actually caught her 'smile'.
"The woodcutter's son?" She arched a brow in question, following her lead, and the shift of a few eyes on her almost caused her skin to crawl. But something about the atmosphere caused her skin to burn and a shiver ran down her spine.
"He's willing to pay forty coppers for two hours and more if you wish," She passed her a look which Ravenna understood. The type of 'you make good money for an entire day' look. But he was the woodcutter's son, and last she heard, their family was going through a hard time.
But she cared less. She needed the money anyways.
She called a few other names that were familiar to her and some new, but one got her heart racing. "... Heirktoerm..." She continued, her British accent accentuating the mispronunciation but Ravenna was already lost at that name.
"Lord Hectorhem?" She interrupted mid-sentence, staring at her wide in shock, more if there's a mistake.
Madame Lorraine gaped at her, arching a brow. "Lord?" She asked, looking confused. "And yes, that," She flung her hand, narrowing her gaze, a sign of her nonchalance in accepting the mispronunciation.
"You mean, Lord Hectorherm of Grielworm? The one in Vladoryn?" She muttered, her heart racing wildly against her chest and wilder when the Lady stunned, turning to face her.
"Seems like you know quite a lot about Lords in Vladoryn, but I doubt he is the one," And she nudged the young man seated at a corner, causing Ravenna's heart to kick into a fierce pace at the recognition when she followed her line of sight.
Sensing the sudden look of dread on the girl's face, Madame Lorraine shared a look between them, and slowly, her face glistened in both shock and surprise. "You mean, that's the Lord of Grielworm? Him?" There was a tone of uncertainty when she said, and displeasure too. More like she was being surprised the man she welcomed a few minutes ago, was a Lord of higher prestige and not just an ordinary man. In here, one of the rules was never acknowledging a client you know. Everyone likes to remain anonymous and anonymous people are better off anonymous than known.
When she confirmed, Ravenna atuned into shock, numbing most of her senses when she tried to stone her expression. W-what was he doing here?
He was all alone, one leg crossed above the other as he gulped whatever was in his cup, eyes on the naked girl displaying her skill on the pole. But the real question wasn't why he was here but why use his real name?
Even with the hood, the cap fallen behind him, Ravenna caught his side profile, the familiar rich brown hair peeking from it, his polished shoe glistening in wealth, and his powerful aura reaching her. Even with that commoner's look, he was very far from being a mere commoner that one could tell, and her heart raced in acknowledgment.
As if he noticed her gaze, his eyes met hers for a fleeting moment and Ravenna's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't recognize her. She was just another face in the crowd, hidden behind her disguise, and a barely audible sigh escaped her lips when he pulled his gaze away.
She knew she was safe behind the mask of a whore but as she watched, a mix of emotions swirled within her— surprise, curiosity, and a hint of wariness. She wondered what had brought him to this place, and what he would think if he knew she was standing mere feet away, exposed in plain sight as a whore he was about to bed.
The thought of it sent shivers down her spine, and her heart drummed feriously so that she could hear the rhythm louder than the music.
***