Chapter 6

Igi returned to Bohemie after a dungeon run, his inventory heavy with loot from the freshly cleared dungeon outside the city walls. He sold the choicest pieces to the usual fences, restocked potions and travel rations, and left a generous donation at the orphanage on the edge of the merchant district. Only then did he allow himself the evening he had been quietly craving.

Before heading to the brothel, though, something pulled him toward the poorest quarter. The streets grew narrower, the air thicker with the stench of unwashed bodies, cheap pipe-weed, and desperation. Ramshackle huts leaned against one another like drunkards, walls patched with scrap wood and hope. Children in rags swarmed him the moment he stepped into the alley. Wide, hungry eyes looked up.

He smiled gently and tossed a handful of copper coins over his shoulder as he walked on. Behind him came the happy scramble of tiny hands and grateful laughter.

The brothel in Bohemie looked almost identical to the one in Sade — same faded red lanterns, same heavy oak door — but inside it was louder, busier, fuller. More patrons, more girls, more noise. Igi slipped into a shadowed corner booth and waited.

She approached after a minute. Older, thicker than the others, the one no one had chosen yet. Heavy hips, full belly, large breasts that had clearly nursed more than one child. Her smile was warm and professional, but her eyes carried the kind of quiet pain that no amount of makeup could hide.