At the barracks where the city guards of Scribel would rest and train at, I heard some troubling rumours of a new gambling hall being opened on the southern side of town. It was relatively common knowledge that that particular area of the city was known to be more... unsavoury than others. With brothel houses, casinos, shady bars and many dangerously dark alleyways, it was safe to say that few people of more upright characters would traverse there. This new gambling hall was said to be owned by a rich merchant from afar, which quite obviously seemed to be a cover story. But the problem was that ever since that new gambling hall was opened up, the number of missing persons had increased. And the only thing that each of them had in common, was that they had beautiful eyes.
Safe to say, this was a quest that I felt compelled to take on. Afterall, I felt that I would make pretty good bait, with one of my eyes resembling the fiery rage of a dragon and the other matching the cruel coldness of an ice phoenix. After putting on an appropriately revealing outfit with my hidden dagger, I applied to be a prostitute at one of the brothel houses. Afterall, I had to make contact with the target somehow right? It wasn't a nice feeling being stared at so obviously during that time, nor being partially groped every now and then, but I told myself over and over again that this was for the greater good. Fortunately, when a client went upstairs with me, I could easily just knock them out and stuff them with alcohol so that nothing else would progress.
One might ask, why I was so adamant on taking on this quest. But the reason was simple, little Folke was one of the missing people. Yes, the little boy I saved from the sewers all those weeks ago. The one who grew attached to me after his rescue, and whom I would visit from time to time to chat and play with. The one whose irises matched the colour of my fiery left eye, had gone missing. I could only pray that he was still alive.
Fortunately, it seemed that the target couldn't wait much longer after seeing my peculiar eyes. One day, after arriving at a private room upstairs, I was suddenly hit on the back of the head. Although I was still conscious, I pretended to faint and was stuffed into a burlap sack and taken somewhere, the client jumping out the window to make his escape through the alleyways. It was difficult to tell where I was going, but based on the sounds I heard I could faintly estimate which direction we travelled in. Before long, we arrived at a certain building, close by to the gambling hall based on the loud music and cheering ringing through my ears.
Just as the sack was loosened and I was pulled out of the bag, with my eyes pretending to be faintly groggy so that I could see the situation, I viciously struck the hidden dagger beneath my skirt into the skull of the man about to carve out my eyes. Yes, you heard that right, he was just about to carve out my eyes. Horrified, I fumbled about his dead body for any clues before dashing away from the scene. Unfortunately, it seemed that the man was just a lackey of the true culprit. But also, fortunately, I found a note with the culprit's handwriting on it, ordering the lackey to carve out a certain prostitute's eyes and bring them to him for an outrageous sum of gold.
You know, I should've been happy. It was clearly a mission success, and I was sure that the culprit would be arrested soon. But tears still fell from my eyes as I went back to the tavern and changed clothes. The reason being, that there was very little chance, that Folke was still alive.
(Posts mentioning Folke if interested:
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