The room fell silent as Mercy entered the meeting hall.

“Am I late?” She asked as she walked towards the head of the table to an empty chair.

“As ever.” The man at the head of the table replied.

“Sorry,” Mercy responded, without much sincerity, as she took her place at the long table, “I had a pressing matter to attend to.”

“Of course. So what news?”

“He let me in.”

“So quickly?”

“Yes, well it seems big brother and his foreign friend put some pressure on Daddy. It’s a lower position than what I would have hoped for, but I’m in regardless.”

“Yes, it seems that girl can be quite persuasive.” The man said in a thoughtful tone. “Do we know how much she remembers?”

“Not much.” Nereza’s voice rasped from the other end of the table. “It seems her memory starts at the refugee camp. But there’s really no telling; she’s been rather preoccupied with finding the bartender’s killer.”

Mercy cut in, “I told you that would happen.”

“Yes, well who’d have thought that she’d become so absorbed in the search?” Nereza shot back.

“A person can only be orphaned so many times before they start getting tired of the ones they love being snatched from them.”

The man raised his hand before Nereza could respond, effectively ending the conversation. He turned his attention back to Mercy, “So what should we do about your father?”

“Nothing now. I know enough about the man I’m under to…persuade him to my ideas. I’ll be able to turn things to our favor soon enough.”

Another man at the table spoke up, “Which leaves the question about the girl.”

“Leave her be.” The head man responded, “The time isn’t right for her to be brought in. She wouldn’t fully understand our aims and she could attempt to stop us. I would hate to have to do away with an asset as valuable as she is.”

Nereza scoffed, “She doesn’t even know who she is. How can she possibly be valuable?”

“Do you doubt that she wants to know?” The second man asked.

“I doubt that she even cares.” Nereza replied, “She’s been in their world so long, she’s even happy with the name she chose for herself, disgusting as it is.”

“Now that she knows she’s not alone in this city, she’ll want to know more. Nereza, you and Arawn are to make yourselves a little more conspicuous. The more she sees of her own kind, the more she’ll question where she belongs in this society.”

And with that, the meeting was adjourned.

   Trea was visibly bored sitting in the waiting room outside Mr. Meadowhart’s office. The secretary across the room busied herself with paperwork but managed to keep half an eye on Trea. She couldn’t blame her, Trea had walked into the office carrying a weapon and grumbling obscenities behind Kalwren. Trea was certain that her sheer height didn’t help matters.

This was the third trip in two weeks to Mr. Meadowhart’s office. Every time they had gone he had found a new reason to put Kal off for another week, and Trea was getting annoyed. Mercy’s tactics had gone from nosy investigations to outright threats and it wasn’t in Trea’s nature to let these things just “slide”, as Kal had suggested.

Trea checked the clock on the wall, she was convinced time was now moving backwards. From behind the heavy wood door, she could hear Kal raising his voice, something most people never did towards his father, but Kal was just as irritated with his father as Trea was and he was letting it be known.

Trea had promised to sit quietly and wait, but waiting was also against her nature especially when it was her life at stake. She had approached the door once, but the secretary was faster than she looked and cut her off before Trea could reach it. She gave her a cold, hard look and pointed towards the sitting area. Trea sat down, pouting like a scolded child.

The clock on the wall showed that twenty minutes had passed, and she was getting irritated. She stood and the secretary’s attention snapped to her. She frowned and gave Trea the same cold glare, but Trea wasn’t in the mood to be so obedient anymore. She approached the door once more, the secretary stood, ready to block her again.

“Do it and it’ll be the last step you take.” Trea said in a low growl.

The secretary’s eyes widened in shock. No one had ever threatened her life before. She sat back down and allowed Trea to pass. Loyalty only went so far and Mr. Meadowhart didn’t pay her enough to die for him.

Kal spun around when the door flew open. He opened his mouth to yell at the intruder, but quickly shut it  when he saw the expression on Trea’s face. She didn’t often get angry, but, at that moment, she was. Kal stepped back as she approached his father’s desk.

Mr. Meadowhart stood and slammed his hands on the desk, “Now what’s all this?” He demanded.

Trea stood opposite of Mr. Meadowhart and slammed her hands on the desk in the same fashion, only this time the desk tipped up a few inches on it’s front legs then fell back to it’s original position with a loud bang, causing both Kal and Mr. Meadowhart to jump back in surprise.

“The meaning of this,” she said through clenched teeth, “is that I’m sick of doing this dance with you. You’re going to give Mercy a position, and it’ll start next week. Are we clear?”

Mr. Meadowhart’s expression went from shock to amusement. He a laughed a bit and looked at his son, “Where’d you find her? I could use someone like that on my negotiation team.”

Kalwren backed as far away from the two as he could. He couldn’t believe his father was laughing. The look on Trea’s face read “death” and his father was laughing. Kal began to wonder if such insanity was genetic.

“I said: Are we clear?” Trea repeated. She didn’t find the situation amusing in the least.

Mr. Meadowhart turned his attention to her, “There are no positions open besides a few on the secretarial level.”

“Make one.”

“I can’t just come up with a job out of nowhere.”

“Fire someone.”

“It’s not that easy. I’ll have to compensate…”

“Either you clear a position for her or I will.” Trea didn’t bother to fully veil the threat.

“Now isn’t the time to doubt her, Father.” Kal said from the across the room, “They’ve been making threats on our lives, and Trea places her survival above some old man on the board.”

Mr. Meadowhart frowned. A threat to his only son’s life was no laughing matter, never mind the fact that the tall desert-born woman just threatened to kill an employee. He took a deep breath and let it out loudly.

“Fine.” He said after a moment, “She’ll be an assistant to the Vice President in accounting. We’ll see how she does there and if she’ll be promoted further.”

Kal smiled, but Trea continued to glare at the man from across the desk.

“Write it.” She said

“What?!?” Kal and his father said in unison.

“Write it down. I want proof of your word.”

Mr. Meadowhart felt the heat of anger rising in his face, and he fought to keep calm. He reached into his desk and grabbed some paper.

“Fine.” He growled,”But if you threaten one of my employees again, you’ll be in front of a judge and hanged before the week is out.” He scribbled his promise onto the paper. Trea snatched it from him.

“So long as you keep your word, I doubt I’ll have to.” She turned and walked out.

Mr. Meadowhart looked at his son, “Why can you be more like that, son? Six years in the Royal Army and you’re still too nice.”

Kal rolled his eyes and followed Trea out the door.

“She is completely out of control!” Kal shouted, “She’s got mercenaries-mercenaries, not private investigators, not detectives, mercenaries-following Trea and I and harassing anyone who comes into contact with us. One of them even had the gall-the gall!-to break into Trea’s room above the office the other night, in the middle of the night! Honestly, Father, it’s time that you stepped in a did something about this.”

Kalwren Meadowhart II leaned forward on his desk, putting his folded hands underneath his chin and considered his son who was pacing the office like some enraged beast. This was the first time he had complained about Mercy since they were children. Mr. Meadowhart had always known his son felt sympathy for his little sister, Kal was not blind to the way his step-mother, Mercy’s mother, treated her. Their aunts weren’t much better.

Kal’s mother, Mr. Meadowhart’s first wife, died when Kal was only 20 months of an infection in the blood. A year later Mr. Meadowhart married a scheming, conniving woman named Lamia after being persuaded that Kalwren needed a mother. For Mr. Meadowhart, women were only a means to an heir, and he had an heir already. The nurses and maids could do a fine enough job raising the boy in his opinion. After setting his eyes on Lamia at a gathering one night, he decided a wife could be used for much more than just breeding sons. Three years later Mercy was born and Kalwren II lost interest in his new wife, content to let her spend money as frivolously as she wanted. Lamia became cruel when she realised Kalwren wasn’t interested in a baby girl. Kalwren III was all he had needed, so she set her intentions on marrying Mercy young so she’d be rid of the girl. Time and again Kal would defend his sister from her mother. Lamia wouldn’t dare to touch Kal, it would have been like committing a cardinal sin in the Meadowhart house, and Mr. Meadowhart would have had no problem divorcing the woman who injured his son, leaving her in the poor house.

Kal, had stopped pacing and stared at his father, who seemed to be lost in thought. He sighed, “Will you just, please, put her on the board or something? You know she’s better than half the men you have there now. She’s always had a mind for math and she’s as shrewd a businessman as anyone out there.”

This snapped Mr. Meadowhart out of his reverie, “Wh-What? Put Mercy on the board of directors? No. No, it’s unthinkable. There’s never been a woman in a position of power in the company, and I see no reason to change that.”

Kal rolled his eyes, “All she wants is a chance, and, truthfully, she deserves one a lot more than I do. How many times does she have to prove herself to you? Father, we’re the only family in the area without an accountant doing the household budget. Mercy takes care of all of it. When she buys something, she never pays the asking price, she always gets them down by at least ten gold.”

Mr. Meadowhart shook his head, “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“This isn’t going to end until either she or I are dead. Which of us would you prefer it to be?”

“Hmmm…”

“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT IT! FOR GOD’S SAKE FATHER! You’re supposed to say that you’d rather neither of us were dead.”

“Then don’t ask me which of you I’d like dead. I wouldn’t want either of you dead, but if it’s a choice between my daughter and my heir…”

“FATHER!“

“Well would you rather I were dishonest?”

“In this case, yes.” Kal was flabbergasted at his father’s attitude, he couldn’t comprehend why he couldn’t be more flexible in his thinking. Women owned businesses all over Ralaugh, not just brothels either. Stores, bakeries, restaurants, even some of the suppliers to the family business were owned and run by women. He flopped into a chair on the other side of his father’s desk and slouched down, defeated.

“Why are you so eager to do this for your sister? You’re next in line for the inheritance, if I put her on the board she can challenge that. Everything you said about her is right, don’t you see her as a threat?”

Kal took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “No. I don’t. Because I know she will challenge it, as well she should. Father, allow me to be blunt here: you spoiled me, gave me everything I wanted. I felt no push to actually achieve anything. Mercy, on the other hand, you completely ignored and wrote off. She’s worked her entire life to earn your love as a father and respect as a business person. She started investing her allowance when she was thirteen while I was still piddling it away on nonsense. She studied every move you made in your business dealings and found a way you could have profited more each time, legally. And I’ll let you in on a little secret: your biggest competitor has offered her a high position in their company, just under the vice president. She turned them down. She doesn’t want to work for them, she wants to work with you. They see her value. I don’t understand why you don’t.”

Mr. Meadowhart sat back in his chair, his forehead creased. He clasped his hands over his ample middle and stared off into the distance, as he was known to do when he was giving something serious thought. This gave Kal some hope. Maybe, just maybe, his father would see things his way and give Mercy her well deserved chance. The moment was cut short by the sharp ring of the telephone on Mr. Meadowhart’s desk.

“Crap,” Kal thought, “I was so close.” He got up and began to walk out the office.

“Hang on son,” his father called out after him, “wait a second. I’ll be off in a minute.” Mr. Meadowhart finished his conversation and looked at Kal. “Come back and talk to me in two days, son. You’ve given me quite a bit to think about.” He paused and thought for a moment longer, “Mercenaries you say? Uh huh. Well,” he said letting out a deep breath with it, “make sure you bring Mercy with you when you come back. Two days. Understand?”

“What time?”

This question shocked Mr. Meadowhart. Kal was known for ignoring appointment times and sauntering whenever he so felt like it. Mr. Meadowhart stumbled for an answer before reaching for a small calendar in his desk drawer, “Uh…How about, uh, three-fifteen P. M.?”

“We’ll be here at three.” Kal walked out, leaving Mr. Meadowhart convinced that either his son was dead serious or had been replaced with a look-alike by Mercy. After hearing she hired mercenaries, he now believed she was capable of anything.

 Never Enough

Trea stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around her. It was the first time in weeks that she could, in some small way, relax. Two weeks had passed since the filthy man at the dock-house, named Paren, had started investigating what Mercy was up to. As far as anyone could tell, Mercy was simply looking for ways to discredit Kalwren with his clients. However, when your clients were made up of people like Paren, discrediting Kalwren would be something of a feat.

Trea extinguished the flame in the bathroom gas lamp, and then cut off the gas to the room. She entered the door to her bedroom, and reached to turn up the dim flame in a lamp when a voice rasped from the corner.

“Clumsy girl. Walking around unarmed at night.”

Trea reached for her knife, but found only the bare skin of her thigh where her weapon usually was. “Dammit,” she thought.

On the other side of the room, one of the gas lamps was turned up, dousing the area in light. There sat a woman, grey and hunched, with oil-black eyes. Trea took a step back and glanced at a table near the door.

“Looking for this?” The woman asked, flashing one of Trea’s knives. “Do you really leave your weapons lying around so carelessly where anyone can get them?”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

The woman smiled; it was a cruel, twisted smile. “How bold of you to question me when I obviously have the upper hand.”

The mixture of water and sweat was drying on Trea’s skin, tightening it and making her itch. She didn’t move to scratch though, the grey woman had yet to state her purpose, Trea couldn’t risk making a sudden move and ending up with her own knife lodged in her chest. “How embarrassing would that be?” She thought, “To be found nude and dead by my own knife. By Kalwren no less.” She stared at the woman, who seemed to be thoroughly amused by the situation. “Who are you? Are you working for Mercy? Why are you in my room?”

The woman chuckled, “While I am certainly under the employ of Miss. Meadowhart, this little visit is purely personal. As for who I am,” the woman stood, and as she stood she seemed to grow, her joints and bones creaking and popping along the way. When she was finished she was a good three inches taller than Trea, her skin had taken on a hint of color, and her eyes went from oily black to pale grey, “I am not much different than you.”

Trea gasped, “You-You’re an At’Trean.”

The woman rolled her eyes, “You call one of your own by that name? Even your name is a derivative of it, isn’t it? Don’t you know your true name?” The woman moved toward Trea, “You don’t, do you? Poor, lost child.”

“Who are you?” Trea took a step back and stopped, her back against the door jamb.

“You’re annoying me with that question.” The woman snarled.

“Then answer it.”

Again, a gruesome smile spread across her face, “Nereza.”

“That’s not your name.”

“You’re correct. It is the name that these slow tongued idiots can pronounce. We all have chosen names so these fools can address us properly.”

“All? There are more?”

“Hundreds, just in this city alone. We are over a thousand strong throughout the world.”

“So what then? Why are you here? To kill me?”

Nereza shook her head as she laughed, “I can not kill you, foolish girl. The Grand Elder won’t allow for it.”

“Who is the Grand Elder?”

“Poor, lost child.” The Nereza’s smile waned a bit, “You’ll know everything when the time comes.” She walked towards the windows and looked out of them.

Trea was unsure about what to do. Knowing the woman couldn’t kill her was something of a relief, but she still didn’t say why she had come? Certainly no one would go through all this trouble just to see her and deliver cryptic messages. Trea began walking towards the woman; when she was just a few feet away, the woman, Nereza, spun around and looked her dead in the eye.

“The Grand Elder will be happy to know you are in good health, but I suggest you leave the Meadowharts alone. We fed false information to that twit you hired to follow us, just to put you two at ease. However, Mercy is no one to toy with. She is determined to bring her brother’s world crashing down upon him, and if that means taking you out with him than so be it. If you continue to involve yourself with them, I can not guarantee your safety. Mercy has many hired guns in her employ, I am just one. The next one to visit you may not be so nice.” And with that, she stabbed Trea’s knife into the window sill, opened a window and jumped out it. Her landing was almost inaudible. In the dim streetlight, Trea watched the strange woman run into a dark alley and disappear, leaving Trea unable rest for the remainder of the night.

Daddy Dearest

Trea was up and dressed when Kal reached the room where she slept above the office.

“So she’s finally taking a look at your private life.” Trea said, pulling hard on a cigarette.

“So it would seem.” Kal replied, half mumbling. The fact that Mercy had went so far as to question Madame Broudeaux disturbed him. Everyone knew that what happened in her brothel never went beyond the bedroom doors. Even the workers there weren’t allowed to gossip about this or that lover they had spent time with. Did Mercy think that she could intimidate Madame Broudeaux?

“Well she certainly took her time getting around to it.” Trea said, sounding rather irritated, “If I was her I wouldn’t have wasted my time stopping your father from giving you your allowance, I’d just expose you for the filthy heathen you are off hand and let it go from there.”

Kal looked at her startled, “Well, gee, thanks. Remind me to never make you an enemy.”

“You’re just now figuring out that it would be a bad idea? You’re as slow as your sister.”

Kal yanked a cigarette from a brass case he pulled from his pocket, and put it in his mouth, not once reaching for his long filter. Trea raised an eyebrow as he lit it and pulled so hard on the butt that he burned half of it before removing it to exhale. He was mad. Mercy had pulled underhanded stunts before, always in an effort to discredit her brother as a capable heir, but never had she gone so far as to delve into his private life. A man’s private life had nothing to do with how he ran a business. So long as he wasn’t being extorted or somehow manipulated by an outside force who he slept with and where he drank had no bearing in his business.

Kal picked up the phone and began dialing a number.

“Who are you calling at this hour?” The clock had just chimed half past one a.m.

“A former client who owes me a favor.”

“Which one is that?”

“The one that got you put in jail.”

It was forty-five minutes later when Trea and Kal met with their client in the office of a dock-house. Behind the desk sat a dirty, unshaven, balding man who looked like he belonged scrubbing sewers more than officiating over dock business.

“You’re bounty hunters. What do you need me for?” He asked, seeming rather peeved to have been awakened at such an hour.

“Because I nearly went to jail for your greedy ass.” Trea shot back, staring him down the way one does an aggressive dog.

The man rolled his eyes, “Hazards of the job lady. Get over it.” As the words passed his lips, something sharp burned past his temple, taking a thin layer of skin with it. In the wood paneled wall behind him, a long thin needle wobbled away the last of its momentum. He stared at Trea in shock as the wound began to weep tiny dots of blood.

“Next time I won’t miss.” Kal said. Trea raised an eyebrow, when had he learned that little trick? The dirty man’s eyes doubled in size when he realise Kal had thrown the needle.

“What do you need, Kalwren?” He finally said after several minutes of speechlessness.

“Find out what my sister wants. Why she is asking around about my personal life. Keep an eye on her visitors and make sure no one is following Trea or I.”

Trea looked at Kal, “Why would she have me followed? I don’t go anywhere, don’t do anything and don’t know anyone.”

“You’re an unknown variable to her. She’ll want to know everything she can about you. Right down to who your parents are.”

“I don’t have parents.”

“Even so, she’ll find out, or at least try to.” Kal turned to leave, leaving both Trea and the man completely puzzled.

The man looked at Trea, “What the hell have we walked in on?”

Trea just shrugged, and before she could reply Kal called out, “Are you coming or are you just going to stand there gaping?” Trea and the man traded glances, the man gave her a helpless shake of the head and she walked out the door behind a Kalwren Meadowhart she didn’t recognize.

Sitting next to Kal in the auto, Trea attempted to gel the Kalwren she had known all this time with the one who had walked out of the dock-house. “Where did you learn to do that?” She asked finally.

Kalwren never took his eyes off the road as the dead, grey trees flew by, his countenance was just as hard and fixed as it had been when they first left. “I had been in the military for some time. I was sent to covert ops. I learned to throw needles from a Dragon Master from the Eastern Kingdom of the Desert Region’s Fourth Empire. They are easier to carry than knives and they look so flimsy no one would take them as a serious weapon anyway. It takes a very special hand to master it. I’m one of three in the entire history of covert operations to master it with such proficiency, and the fastest.”

Trea was now completely confused. “Who in the hell are you?”

Kalwren looked at her. His face softened into a smile that didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “I’m more complicated than I let on. Sorry for lying. I had hoped to put things behind me, but meeting you, starting the business, and now Mercy’s meddling…if I don’t nip it in the bud now it may become very ugly very quickly. No one can win this one.” His smile remained, but it seemed sadder. The sadness reached his eyes.

“You realise you’re going to have to tell me everything, don’t you. I need to know what I’m dealing with and how deep a pile of dung I’ve put my foot into.”

“Deal. But tomorrow. I’m exhausted. Mind if I sleep on your couch? If I go home I may murder my sister in her sleep, then I really would be out of my inheritance.”

Trea nodded, then asked, “Why do you care about the inheritance? You barely care about the business you started.”

“I don’t care about the family business. I’d rather not even take it, but I can’t deny it, Father won’t allow it. The plan was that once I was put into power at the head of the company, I would bring Mercy on and slowly give her more responsibilities until she had basically taken over. I’d be owner in name, but she would run it.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“Tried to. She said she didn’t want some pittance from me to ease my conscience. I could barely even explain the whole thing to her before she started yelling. I gave up after the second time. She seems to want to blame me for everything she went through, as though it were all my fault.”

“So what are you afraid of her finding out?”

“There are things I have done, things I was ordered to do, that I take no pride in. Things that I’d rather remain buried, now that I’ve finally moved beyond them.”

Trea nodded. For once, she completely understood.

Revelations

“It’s been some time.” The old man said, neither looking up from his tea nor turning to see who was behind him.

“Quite.”

“I assume you are here about our friend.”

“Indeed.”

“And how is she faring these days?”

“Hurt. Angry.”

“As should be expected.”

“Of course.”

“You found her?”

“She found me.”

“After all this time? Interesting.”

“It is time she learned. She needs to know.”

“And you believe I am the one to teach her?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You are the eldest of them all. More importantly, you are her blood relative. Only you can teach her.”

The old man lifted his head. “Indeed.”

“Master?” a voice called from the other side of Kalwren’s closed eyes, “Is everything alright?”

“Of course, dear. Why do you ask?”

“You seem so distant lately. I was beginning to wonder if, maybe, you are no longer pleased with me.”

Kalwren chuckled, “If I wasn’t pleased with you, I wouldn’t be here now, would I?”

“No. I guess not.” The voice paused, wanting to say more, but not sure.

“What is it love? What are you thinking now?”

“I’m not sure if I should say, but…a representative for your sister came here yesterday.”

This made Kalwren open his eyes. Mercy was on a mission to destroy him, as though it were his fault that he was the only boy and their father was still so old fashioned. She had started to snoop on what he did in his down time. “How did you know it was one of my sister’s people?”

“All they asked about was you. The Madame would not tell them anything. But…I was thinking…” Another heavy pause.

“Yes?”

“It may be better if you stayed out of the backrooms, visited some of the others here for a while. To protect yourself from whatever it is your sister has planned.”

Kalwren put an arm around the bare waist of his lover and placed kisses on his shoulders, “How odd, you’re actually concerned about me.”

“I’m sorry if it’s inappropriate for me to suggest.” The boy turned away from Kalwren’s gaze.

“No. Not inappropriate at all.” Kalwren chuckled, “You’re actually quite right though. Until I know what it is that Mercy is up to, it may be best for me to stay away from the brothel all together.” He checked his pocket watch, nearly one in the morning. “I should be on my way.”

“Will this be the last time I see you?”

“For a while,” Kalwren responded, placing his hand on the boy’s cheek and giving him a reassuring smile, “once I know what Mercy has up her sleeve, I’ll be back when it’s safe.” Kalwren quickly dressed and left the room.

At the front of the brothel he picked up a phone and dialed the number ot the office. Trea answered, her voice thick with sleep, “Wake up. Things are getting serious. I think she’s planning to make a move against me.” He paused, “And maybe you also.”

Old problems rise anew 

George was fairly irritated by time the doorbell rang for the fourth time. Where were those guards? Why hadn’t they come to announce there was a guest? And what rude cad would ring a doorbell four, now five, times in the span of a few minutes?

He opened the door and attempted to hide the shock he felt. On the other side of the threshold stood a woman with a deathly grey complexion and posture that reminded him of a vulture. Her back was humped and her head hung low between her shoulders. She wasn’t old, but by no means was she young either. Rather than lifting her head to look at him, she simply rolled her eyes upwards, staring from beneath her hairless brow. She lifted her arms; in each hand was a guard, both unconscious but still breathing.

“These belong to you?” she rasped. It was a rhetorical question, they both knew that. Still she seemed to take some pleasure in asking anyway. She smiled a gruesome smile that made George’s stomach lurch.

“What is your business here? Do you have an appointment?” George said, attempting to maintain his professional composure even as she dropped the two men on the doorstep.

“She is my guest George.” A voice from behind him called.

George turned around, “Miss Mercy?” There was no need for him to even finish the question. Everything was understood in his tone.

“I’m sorry I didn’t inform you ahead of time,” Mercy said as she came down the stairs at the front of the entrance hall, “I wasn’t certain what time my guest was going to arrive. I thought she was going to phone first.” That comment was directed at the grey vulture woman, who remained smiling.

Despite her name, Mercy held nothing of the sort in her person. She had always been cold and calculated. Even her father had often remarked that, had she been born a male, he would certainly pass Kalwren’s birthright to her.

The maids blamed it on the way she had been treated. Though he was several years older, Kalwren had been babied and coddled his whole life. He was the last living heir to the Meadowhart estate. Everything he wanted for, he got. Mercy, on the other hand, was not afforded such luxury. She was pushed and scolded for even the slightest misstep. At fourteen, her mother put her into a corset, telling her that fat girls don’t marry well. Mercy could barely even be described as chubby at that age. A stiff bar had been strapped to her back at fifteen to, as her mother put it, “Perfect her posture. Hunch backs don’t marry well.” It was no surprise that, when her mother died in a riding accident a year later, Mercy barely seemed to flinch.

The grey woman dropped the two guards just inside the door and followed Mercy into the study. Mercy closed and locked the doors behind them. She motioned for the grey woman to sit.

“You were supposed to phone before coming by.” She said.

“I know.” The grey woman replied, still wearing her disturbing grin. “I got caught up in some…things.”

Mercy sighed. “George is one of my family’s most trusted servants, but he is not above reporting suspicious behavior to my father. You can not simply go around knocking guards unconscious and dropping them on our doorstep. Father must not hear of any of this. George will over look this once, because I intervened. Next time he will go straight to Father. If that should happen, I will certainly be your last client.”

The grey woman’s smile broadened, there was an amused look in her eye. “It may not be so wise to threaten one like me,” she said, “I am no ordinary hunter. My skills, my powers, are beyond your comprehension. I have not survived as long as I have by allowing simple humans like yourself threaten me.” The woman sat up straight, the joints in her back and neck cracking along the way. Her eyes, once black, became a silvery grey and a hint of color returned to her skin. She rolled her head in a circle, working the kinks out of her neck, then stood. She had gained a good half meter in just a matter of moments.

“Now, tell me about this woman your brother is working with.” Her smile was no longer gruesome, but looked no less dangerous than before.

Mercy was unfazed, she shrugged, “Not much to describe really. Tall, slender, golden skin tone, long dark hair, grey eyes.”

The hunter cocked her head a bit, “Like mine?”

Mercy thought for a moment, “No, slightly…not lighter, but…” she searched for the right word, “clearer.”

The hunter nodded. “I see. If she is what I think she is, I may not be able to kill her.”

Mercy shrugged again, “That’s fine. I didn’t hire you to kill. I hired you to follow.”

The woman rolled her eyes, “Well that takes the fun out of everything. Do you have a name?”

“Trea.”

The woman thought for a moment, then nodded again. “What, exactly, is it that you want from me?”

“Information. I hear you’re the best bounty hunter in the area, and I see you can manipulate your appearance, so you may be exactly what I need. She’s a cautious woman. Rather distrustful. No real friends to speak of; none living anyway. I barely believe she actually trusts my brother, I can’t help but to think she is just looking for an income and a place to stay.” Mercy pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to the woman, “This is the address to the office. She sleeps there most nights.”

“And the others?”

“Couldn’t tell you. She’s fast, even on foot.” She looked at her guest curiously, “What do I call you?”

“My name couldn’t fit on your tongue,” the woman chuckled, “but, for now, Nereza will do.”

 A house divided

When they arrived back at his apartment, he pointed to a chair for her to sit in and poured them both a cup of beer. She turned away when he handed her the cup.

“What? What’s wrong with this?”

“I don’t drink beer.” She replied flatly.

Aindreas shrugged, “Well, I tried to be hospitable.” He placed the cup on a small table, sat in a chair across from Trea and took a sip of his drink before addressing her. “Alright then, what’s this all about? What brings you back to the Court after all these years looking to cut my throat?”

“If I was looking to cut your throat I would have done it a long time ago. I certainly wouldn’t have waited all this time.”

“Ok, you don’t want to kill me, that’s a relief.”

“I never said I didn’t want to kill you. I really see no reason why I shouldn’t, but you won’t be very useful to me dead right now.”

Aindreas raised an eyebrow and chuckled, “Now, why would you want to kill me? I thought we were friends.”

Trea’s eyes grew wide, “Why? WHY? You’re kidding right? You abandoned me! What’s worse, you never even bothered to say goodbye. Just up and gone in the few hours I was doing my chores. All you left was a lousy note, and not once did you even attempt to contact me. Your friendship is a lie.”

This time Aindreas looked away. “I guess I deserve your anger then, don’t I. And I guess you deserve an explanation.” Trea opened her mouth to protest, but Aindreas held up his hand to stop her, “No. You do.” He sighed and then took in a deep breath.

“The day I left I was given two choices: I either pack my things and leave right then, or get court-martialed and watch you get sent to a brothel. Word about our relationship had reached the Lieutenant General, he sent an assistant with those two options. I was not to have any contact with you before I left, I took a risk even leaving you that note. You were considered a prisoner of war, you staying in my quarters was illegal. You should have been locked in a cell where they would have interrogated you and then prepared you to be sold as either a slave or a whore. I couldn’t let them do that to you, you had already been through so much. I figured leaving was best.”

“So you couldn’t send a letter or something? The Captain knew where I was.”

“They wouldn’t even let me contact him for over a month. By time I could, the regiment had been sent back out into the field and the Captain had been comatose for sometime. A wall had fallen on him. He died six months later without ever coming to.”

Trea gasped. She hadn’t known about that. During that time she had locked herself in her room above Marco’s pub, refusing everything except the simplest foods to survive. She had been so depressed that she shut out the world around her. Even when she finally came out her room she refused to discuss anything from her time in the Court or the Desert Region. Marco wouldn’t ask, she wouldn’t volunteer.

“I came back two years ago,” Aindreas continued, “I thought about finding you, but I didn’t know where to even start. All the Captain’s personal affects had been taken to a friend, but they wouldn’t tell me who.” He drew in a deep breath, “I figured you had moved on, so I thought it best that I move on too.”

Trea laced her fingers together, put her hands under her chin and closed her eyes. After a while, she spoke, “I came to get you to do me a favor.”

“And if I say no?”

“I wouldn’t suggest you do so.” This made Aindreas look at her curiously. “The King’s only daughter is about the age I was when we first came here to the Court. Being Captain of the Royal Guard, it is your duty to protect her. I doubt the His Majesty would be pleased to hear that his daughter’s close, personal guard has a taste for young girls.”

Aindreas laughed, “Blackmail?”

“I’d like to think of it as a high-pressure incentive to make up for wronging an old friend.”

“But I just told you, it couldn’t have been helped! I couldn’t contact you!”

Trea shrugged, “Explanations are nice, but they don’t heal hurt feelings. Just because I understand the situation doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

Aindreas straightened up, his face became hard and serious. “Well then, what do you need done?”

“Contact the guard in Entara, tell them to drop the warrant and bounty for my arrest.”

“The guard in Entara are not part of the Royal Guard.”

“I know, but they are your subordinates. If war breaks out and there are not enough soldiers in the Royal Guard, you take from the civilian guard. And even as a Captain you out rank all of them by simply having the Royal Guard insignia.”

Aindreas rubbed his face; she was right. He could send a note to them and the warrant and bounty would disappear into thin air. “Why are you wanted anyway?”

“They think I robbed a jewelry store. I was out there doing a job and happened to be nearby when it was robbed. They are trying to pin it on me because I am a foreigner.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Job? What job?”

“That’s for me to know. Are you going to do it or not?”

“What have you gotten yourself into Trea? Why are you so cold now? You used to have such warmth and brightness in you.”

“This is what happens when you’ve been abandoned, rejected, and orphaned three times over.”

This stung Aindreas. “Alright. I will send the official letter in the morning.”

“Thank you.” There was no sincerity in her words. They were flat and hung heavy with obligatory politeness. She got up to leave, and Aindreas grabbed her by the arm, she turned to swing and he caught that arm also.

“You’ve gotten faster.” He said, “But it’s better for me to walk you out. An intruder this time of night is not guaranteed safe passage.” He looked into her eyes for a moment, searching for the girl he had known. He so desperately wanted to kiss her, wanted to take her right then and there, but so much time had passed. He knew nothing about the woman who stood in front of him now. Even a kiss could complicate things further. He released her left arm and walked her through the Court and out the main gates. He watched her as the gates closed; not once did she look back towards him.

MercyNary

Trea came to the Court of the Royal Guard and stopped at it’s outer wall. Cloud cover blocked the large, full moon, and the air smelled like rain. She would have to do this as quickly and quietly as possible. She knew the court like the back of her hand. It was where her life in Ralaugh started, and where she had found her first friend. It had been so long since she had been back. So long since she saw her friend. Her mind spun with memories and emotions.

It had been more than five years earlier when she first arrived at the Court of the Royal Guard. Back then there was a war between the Northern Kingdom of the Plains Region and the Third Empire of the Desert Region. The reasons for it starting were lost to her now, and she was sure they were just as lost to her then. She had only been a child when it started, people simply didn’t discuss such things with children. All she could remember from that day was being dug out from under a fallen wall by Northern Kingdom soldiers. The Third Empire’s armies had either been killed or abandoned the fight when they saw the slaughter that was to befall them if they continued their attack. The Northern Kingdom soldiers were digging through the rubble looking for something, what she didn’t know, but when they found her, legs broken and semiconscious, she remembered one of them yelling out for a medic before she passed out. She was about fourteen then.

Her savior had been a young corporal named Aindreas. He was almost twenty then. Young and handsome with golden hazel eyes and long brown hair. The Desert Region’s sun had tanned his skin, making his eyes seem like they could glow. He had taken her back to the base camp’s medical center. When she had finally come to, Trea couldn’t remember who she was or where her parents were. The Captain commanded Aindreas that she be taken to the small tent that housed several other people from the same, and nearby, villages to find out who her parents were and if they were still alive. As soon as he entered the tents, people ran from her, recoiling in horror. One woman screamed, another hissed to all the others, in their native tongue, “She is a demon. They are trying to curse us!” Trea clung to the Corporal terrified, not entirely sure why people were reacting they way they were, but knowing it was not good. It would not be the last time she had felt like an outcast and a freak. The Corporal, quickly assessing that the girl may well be in danger if they stayed any longer, quickly returned her to the medical center.

Later that night, an elder approached Aindreas. He apologized for the people’s behavior earlier and explained that the girl was unique amongst their people. They called people like her At’Treans, and were gifted with amazing abilities, but many people saw them as children of the Unholy and felt they carried curses that could destroy entire nations if unleashed. At’Trean, he explained, meant “soulless”, referring to their colorless eyes. It was believed the clearer the eye the more powerful the At’Trean. The elder remarked that the girl had to have been protected by her parents for many years, hidden away in rooms and cellars, since many At’Treans did not live to see adolescence. Most were killed before they even reached the age of two; the people believed once they could talk they would be able to unleash whatever curse they carried inside themselves. As he departed, the elder warned the Corporal to keep the girl away from the refugee tents. For her own safety.

By then, though, it was too late. Word spread of the At’Trean amongst the refugees and many confronted the Captain, insisting that he hand her over to be “dealt with properly”. Several times they had attempted to break into her room in the medical center and kill her, only to be stopped by Aindreas everytime.

“SHE HAS SEDUCED HIM!” One woman screamed as she was dragged away from the entrance of the tent that housed the medic, “THE UNHOLY WENCH HAS DARKENED THE SOUL OF YOUR SOLDIER! HE IS AN ENEMY TO ALL MANKIND NOW! HE MUST DIE ALSO! THE DEMON WHORE AND HER CONSORT MUST DIE!“

As the violence escalated, against the girl and against himself, Aindreas sought the councel of his Captain.

“You saved her. You brought her here. You presented to her people only to be rejected. It would seem the Gods have put her fate into your hands. You decide what to do with her. You can protect her or hand her over.”

“But…What do the Gods want me to do?”

“Do I look as though I know the will of the Gods boy?” The Captain chuckled, “If I knew the will of the Gods do you think I’d be here fighting for King and country? Hell no. I’d be safe and secure in a temple as a cleric somewhere.” The Captain shook his head, “No son, this is a decision you must make.”

Several hours later Aindreas requested, and was given, an extra tent near his own to move the girl to.

By this time the only one of the refugees who would still speak with Aindreas was the elder. The elder was a merchant and caravan driver who was said to have lived over a century and outlived over twenty wives. He claimed to have lived in every known region in the world, studying under great scholars and clerics, selling his wares, and learning different languages. Aindreas and the elder spent many hours talking, usually about the girl. The elder taught him several words in the girl’s native language and encouraged the Corporal to teach her the language of the Plains Region.

“You’ll have to take her with you when you leave. She won’t survive here if you leave her behind, not now that the people know she exists.”

“She doesn’t even know her own name. How is she to survive in the Plains?”

“It is up to you to give her a name. You are the only protector she has. She’ll be depending on you to take care of her until she can stand on her own.”

“What sort of name is appropriate for a girl like her?”

The elder shook his head. “Most never get beyond being called At’Trean. The fact that she survived this long without being discovered is nothing short of a miracle.”

“Have you been able to find anything out about her parents?”

He shook his head again. “No. Even if they are here at camp, they will not claim her. Their lives could well be at stake also for hiding her. The people could go so far as to blame this entire war on them not killing their child.” He sighed, “Are we really so barbaric that we destroy what we don’t understand?”

Aindreas looked the old man in his eyes, “I believe we all are.”

A year later Aindreas had named the girl Trean, “soul”, a show of defiance towards the people who rejected her, and taught her Plains language. They had become close friends, she often tended wounds he suffered in battle. They had even been intimate at times, never quite going as far as sex, but often coming close before Aindreas would stop himself. They had also returned to Ralaugh, Aindreas’ regiment was no longer needed in the area though the war continued. He had asked the Captain to bring Trean with them, as her life would be in danger if they didn’t. The Captain warned him that Trean would have to considered a prisoner of war and marked as the property and slave of the regiment. This opened her to being taken by the King himself, sold to a brothel or farm as a slave. He discussed it with Trean that night.

“Which is worse,” she asked, “to live as a slave for a time, or die by the hands of those who hate you without reason? It is true that in the Plains that a slave can buy her freedom, even a whore in a brothel, right? Even if I must bear chains, it would be better than to be left to the mercy of these hateful people.”

She stayed in the Court of the Royal Guard as a servant for three years. Her relationship with Aindreas had deepened, finally leading to her giving herself fully to him several times over the years. She had loved him, and he professed his love to her time and time again. One day it all came crumbling down around her. After finishing her daily duties, she returned to his apartment only to find his things gone and a note on the dresser simply saying, “I am sorry. You are free now.” She waited for him to return for over ten days, never moving from his bed. Finally, it took the Captain to carry her out of the apartment, she had been so weakened from not eating that it was impossible for her to move on her own. It was through the Captain that she met Marco.

Marco…

Over a year had passed and just his name cut like a knife.

Trea steeled herself, took a deep breath and jumped to the top of the wall. From there she could see the entire court. She went through her path in her head for the umpteenth time. She didn’t really need to, she knew the Court like it was her own bedroom. She could walk through there blindfolded and not trip on a single stone. This time, however, she was taking the rooftops. Her soft, suede-bottomed boots barely made a sound as she leapt from apartment to apartment with amazing speed. She finally came to the apartment before the Captains quarters. Through the window she could see Aindreas sitting as his desk, writing. He almost looked exactly the way he did the last time she had seen him nearly six years ago, only hours before he disappeared from her life. She watched him for sometime before he got up and left his quarters for a walk. She pulled the knife from her boot and made her move.

Landing softly behind where he had been standing, she quickly reached around and put the knife to his throat. “That little officer’s insignia on your breast making you slow, Aindreas?” She whispered in his ear

Aindreas smiled, “Hardly, you just make enough noise to wake the dead. I heard someone following me and decided to see who could possibly want to meet me alone in the dark.” He inhaled, “You still smell like spice Trean, not as much as you used to, but being this close to you again I can smell it.”

This made Trea’s mind race between slicing his throat open and embracing him. “Do not call me Trean. I don’t go by that name anymore. I haven’t for years now.”

“Oh? And what name should I call you?”

“Trea.”

“Trea? Alright. Now would you be so kind as to take that knife from my throat so I can tell my subordinates not to kill you.”

Trea looked around, the cloud cover she had relied on earlier made it hard to see if anyone was near.

Aindreas chuckled, “No, you can’t see them. We’ve been training covert soldiers here for the past year. If you did see them, they’d be the last thing you saw before you died.” He made a motion with his head and Trea felt the edge of a blade sting the side of her face. She turned to look and behind her, stuck deep into the wall, was a thin, handle-less throwing blade. A warm, thin line of blood ran down her cheek.

“Shit,” she thought, “he wasn’t lying. I can feel them near by. I didn’t notice before. Shit.” She moved the knife from Aindreas’ neck. He grinned.

“Good. Now let’s return to my quarters and discuss whatever brought you back here like civilized adults.” He grabbed her by the arm the way a father grabs a misbehaving child. Trea was wrong. He had changed. He had become harder. His eyes seemed so much colder, even when he looked at her they didn’t soften they way they used to. Even the aura about him changed. He was much more intimidating. She wanted to pull away from him but knew such a move could lead to the next knife hitting her dead on. She wasn’t going to fool herself, she knew they missed on purpose the first time.

A favor

Trea’s head was pounding, and all the bouncing and shaking that was going on wasn’t helping in the least. She opened her eyes and saw a chubby man sitting across from her. He was wearing a guards uniform. Through the haze that blurred her vision she tried to focus on his badge.

“Not-Not Ralaugh.” She groaned.

The guard across from her chuckled, “So, you’re finally awake eh? I was almost afraid I had killed you. You’re right though, you’re not in Ralaugh. You’re in Entara. Are you wanted in Ralaugh too? I wonder if I can collect both bounties on you.”

“Wanted? Bounty?” Trea still hadn’t quite taken in her situation. She tried to put her hands up to rub her headache away, but found them cuffed. This snapped her back into reality. Her eyes widened and she looked around. She was in the back of a police truck, cuffed. But what had happened? Why was she being arrested? The reason was there, buried in the fog that clouded her mind still, she could just barely make it out. She managed to cup her hands just enough to rest her head and rub her eyes with the heels of her palms. What was she forgetting?

“Yeah, five thousand gold for your arrest. I’d have to say, it was pretty ballsy of you to try to pull off that heist before dark. Even in all that black you stand out.”

Heist? “Shit!” she thought, “Shit! Shit! SHIT!” She remembered now, though a part of her wished she hadn’t. If she couldn’t remember, then she could at least claim she had been coerced into her crimes; not that she expected that would have gotten her any leniency, but it would have been better than nothing.

Since they had opened their security and bounty hunting business over a year ago, things had been slow for Trea and Kalwren. Not that it bothered Kalwren in the least, he was simply biding his time until his father retired and passed the family business on to him. Having clients was not an issue to him, it simply meant less paper work and that he could live with. Things went this way for a while, until Kal’s younger sister, Mercy, put it into their father’s mind that he could use Kalwren’s business as a sort of barometer to measure how well he would do with the family business, and that the best way to judge it was to cut off his monthly allowance that Kal used to keep up with bills. This sent Kal into a panic. To be cut off meant he would eventually go broke, or worse, he’d have to give up his regular indulgences. Kal began accepting any job that was put his way, this included several jewelry heists.

That is how she ended up in cuffs. Kal, ever the coward, had left her at the shop at the first sign of trouble. She probably could have escaped, but the officer that sat across from her now had hit her across the head with a small club. She hadn’t even gotten the merchandise they were after. She knew the job was a bad idea. Hitting the same place twice in a month was just dumb, but Kal insisted that they had to do it for that month’s rent.

“Shit!” she yelled and stomped her foot. Then she heard a distinctive, yet very unexpected, sound. Wood. Splintering wood. She looked at the floor. It was wood. As were the walls of the police truck. Only the roof and doors were metal and they were a thin, cheap metal at that. “God bless the Arch-Duke for being a penny pinching miser of a bastard.” She thought as she began to think of how to get out of this bind. Soon she felt the truck begin to slow and she began doing thankfulness prayers in her head.

The guard banged on the wall separating them from the driver. “What’s going on up there!” He barked.

“Th-There’s an accident of some sort. Everyone’s backed up. I can’t get around.”

“Then back up!”

“I-I can’t…sir. We’re blocked in.”

The guard moved back over to the middle of the bench he was on muttering something about how the goddammed people of this goddammed town needed to show the police some goddammed respect. He looked at Trea, as though just remembering she was there. “We’re gonna be here a while.”

Trea smiled. This was her chance. “Got a smoke?”

The guard looked at her cautiously. “What for?”

“Well we’re gonna be here for a while, I may as well enjoy one last smoke before I get to jail.” Having spent all that time in Marco’s pub, she learned to soften herself enough to seem harmless to any man by watching other women do it. Trea was putting her education to good use as she made an effort to seem complacent about her arrest.

This answer seemed to please the guard enough. He moved over to her side of the truck, pulled out a cigarette, lit it and reached to put it in her mouth. As soon as he was close enough, Trea hit him with a hard headbutt, knocking him out cold. The blow slightly stunned her, but she shook her head and recovered. She stared at the guard and grimaced, “Yeah it sucks when someone sneaks a blow to your head, doesn’t it?” She sucked on the cigarette and frowned even harder, “And your smokes suck.” She dropped the cigarette and stomped it out.

Trea grabbed the keys to her handcuffs and managed to get herself loose, bruising her wrists in the process. She cleared her throat, banged on the front end of the truck the way the guard had and did her best to imitate him. “Hey idiot! Get back here, there’s something wrong with the prisoner.”

“O-OK.” the driver responded.

When Trea heard the driver’s door open and shut, she positioned herself right behind the door. As the driver opened the back doors, she let loose a kick sending him flying back five feet. She hopped out the truck, and looked at the driver. The man couldn’t have been more than 25. “Sorry there chappy, but I seriously doubt you’d have let me just walk out of there.”

Some time after sundown, Trea walked through the door to their office. Kal was at the desk smoking a cigarette through one of his favorite long, ivory filters. Trea rolled her eyes.

“I was expecting you to call. How did you make bail?” Kal asked.

“Bail? I didn’t make bail. I knocked out the guards who arrested me and escaped. No thanks to you. What the hell happened back there? You’re the get away car, that means you want for me before you get away.”

Kal shrugged, “Well I heard the sirens and thought I should probably leave. Our clients weren’t going to bail us out, so it didn’t make sense for both of us to get arrested.”

Trea reached over the desk and lifted Kal by his collar, “If you ever do that again,” she said through clenched teeth, “I will nail you to the bottom of the car, find the bumpiest road I can and drive down it at top speed. Got it?”

Kal was unfazed, he blew the smoke he had in his lungs out the side of his mouth. “Sure, sure,” he said, unrolling Trea’s fingers from his shirt, he frowned when he saw her grip had left wrinkles, “I get it.”

Trea straightened up, sat down in one of the chairs facing Kal and propped her feet on the desk. She lit a cigarette and pulled on it hard. The blast of smoke she let out made her resemble a steam whistle. “So what are you going to tell the clients?”

“That we were not able to finish the job we were hired for.”

“And they’ll just accept that?”

“Mmmm…probably not.”

“So…?”

“So what? You’re the thief, you got caught not me.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten caught if you had let me do it at night like I originally planned.”

“Yes but then that would have interfered with my plans.” Kal whined.

“Your plans? What plans do you have besides going to Ms. Broudeaux’s brothel?”

Kal’s eyes widened, but in a split second he regained his composure, “I planned to meet with some friends.” He said, forcing calm into his voice.

Trea’s lips curled into a cruel smile, “Friends? Really? Which one tonight? Troy? Basil? Or maybe the new boy, Pasquale. You seem to have taken a liking to him. Though I can certainly see why, he is quite beautiful. Young, limber. And that dark hair with those pale blue eyes. He makes a striking image doesn’t he? An angel in the devil’s boudoir.”

Kal began to shake nervously, “What do you know about this?”

Trea’s eyes sparkled like a cat ready to pounce, “Come on now Kal. We’ve been working together for almost two years now, don’t you think that I would have checked on you? Especially since you were in Marco’s pub the night he died. I followed you for weeks before I agreed to be your partner.”

“You thought I killed Marco?!?” Kal’s voice rose and cracked, “How-How could you?”

“Don’t get so upset. I followed everyone who was there that night who may have had a reason to kill him. I even managed to get that loud fellow to stop blubbering long enough to exonerate him. Though the chances of him killing Marco and burning the pub were slim. After they bandaged his arms they had him committed. Apparently they thought the shock of his arms being broken drove him to madness. The guard described me and said he claimed I broke his arms, everyone agreed there was no way I could have done it. When Marco was killed, he was drugged, and in a cell by himself.”

“Even so,” Kal said with a pout, “I am far from the murderous type.”

“Well, I know that now, but I didn’t know back then you were such a coward.”

“Coward! I am no such thing. I’m just…cautious.”

Trea scoffed.

“Anyway, I don’t just keep company with the young men at Ms. Broudeaux’s. I like women too.”

“Oh yes, I know that also. You like them lusciously curvy. And the more exotic the better.”

Kal’s face turned a deep red. He could feel the heat of his embarrassment burning through him. Trea laughed and rolled her eyes.

“I know more about you than you thought, eh? Don’t worry, I have no reason to spill your naughty secrets to the world, and Madame Broudeaux is on your father’s payroll-yes, I know about that too-so she’s certainly not going to say anything.”

Kal sat back in his chair, attempting to regain his composure. He normally kept his cool under all sorts of conditions, but he never expected anyone to know what he did in the backroom of the brothel. The backrooms were saved for the more deviant acts of carnal shame. The things no self-respecting, upright man or woman would admit to doing, but fantasized about often. It was not at all unheard of to find a cleric rushing from the backrooms, muttering blessings and prayers of forgiveness quickly under their breaths, guilt smeared on their face like the incense ashes. If asked they would always use “saving the soul of these hapless sinners” as their go-to excuse for being there.

Madame Broudeaux’s brothel housed some of the most beautiful men and women, of all ages, from all three regions. Some were captured in wartime, others were slaves traded and sold. Madame Broudeaux got the first pick of them all. Having been the King’s concubine before the birth of the Princes and Princess afforded her privilages others could only dream about. Trea was quite right on all points. Madame Broudeaux extorted some of her richer clients to maintain their secrets, and it was said that she kept books with trusted people so that should she ever turn up murdered the wives of all the society elites would know how their husbands fouled their flesh.

Kal inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. His cigarette was near the tip of the ivory filter, so he gingerly plucked it out and extinguished it. His heart had slowed to it’s normal steady beat, his mind had stopped spinning. He looked at Trea, who had started in on her second cigarette. “What are you going to do about the bounty they’re going to put on you for knocking out two guards?”

Trea raised her eyebrows in surprise. It felt like an eternity had passed since she revealed Kal’s secrets, and in that time he became as cool as ever. She pulled the cigarette from her mouth and blew the smoke upwards. “Well, there was already a five thousand gold bounty from the first job.”

Now it was Kal’s turn to look surprised, “So, what are you going to do about it? If we need to go back to Entara we can’t have your face plastered on every wall with a bounty under it.”

“I have a friend. He’ll take care of it.”

“A friend?”

“Yes. A friend. He has some influence.”

“Well if this friend should fall through, I’m certain a bribe to the Arch-Duke will clear things up nicely.”

“Yeah, but the Arch-Duke is a greedy fucker. The police truck was a plain wood cart with some flimsey metal over it. I wouldn’t put it past him to hold that bribe over our heads for as long as he can milk it. Even you Meadowharts don’t have enough to keep him quiet forever.”

Kal stood and threw his heavy cloak over his shoulders. It was autumn and there was a chill in the air. He walked around the desk and past Trea. As he reached for the door he stopped. Without looking back at her he said, “I trust you Trea.” Then he opened the door and left.

A friend