~Risch~
The chance, and it wasn't as small a chance as he would've liked it to be, but the chance that he died here was significantly higher because he had elected not to bring Ihre with him. At the same time, he much preferred that to the alternative. Not the him dying part, not that there was any part of him that wanted that, but the alternative that he had brought Ihre and they both died was much worse.
The dull thud of leather against cobblestones was coming closer. Writs and orders be damned, nobles treated them like they were worth their weight in gold, but gold had never made for an even half decent sword. The lighting was bad, like everywhere not trodden by the highest of feet, but it wasn't so bad that they wouldn't see him if they turned the corner. For all that it was absurdly difficult for a noble or inquisitor to turn up a particular commoner out here, it was absurdly difficult to stay hidden as either of the former. There were a fair number of other men with more weight than was healthy, but none of them wore the red.
Supposedly, the place had been where people went for distribution before things had gotten shut down. When he had been out of the reds nobody had told him that it was also where one of the smaller groups ran a gambling ring. They were small enough and new enough that they had decided it was a good idea to take out the inquisitor when he saw what was going on. Risch was either losing his touch, or they had lied to him. More likely than not, one had caused the other.
Risch was ever so careful that the rasp of steel was as quiet as possible, but the footfalls stopped at just the wrong time. It was also absurd that a new group like this had enforcers who were more competence than bigness. There was no doubt that they were still getting closer, but the easy signs weren't there any longer. The long shadows of dusk were obscured by all the turns that Risch had taken in order to lose his pursuers. The only smell that he could get was the constant stink that only confirmed that he was indeed in the common district. He was surely leaving some sort of trail as he moved, but so long as his pursuers didn't make any glaring mistakes, he was in the dark as to how close they were following behind.
Waiting around a corner was the oldest trick in the book for this sort of chase not just because it was obvious, but because it worked. If all four of the ones that he had seen go after him initially came around the corner, then he was even odds on dying and dying painfully. If he was lucky and they had split up, then his own skill might end up mattering. At least he wasn't running any more though. Back in his youth he would've had no problem making it back to the guard's station separating the common district and the more wealthy residences. Now it was luck that had bought him his slim lead and fear that kept his breathing quiet.
If only they knew that he had been the deciding vote to allow the "rabble" to tend to their own rather than to bring the guard down on them and "clean up" the streets. Maybe they would still hate him for what he was, but they could still try a little less hard to catch him.
Finally, one of the enforcers came around the corner. He carried a club that was probably just as effective at killing a downed man as any blade. Rather than surprised, he looked angry when Risch rammed his sword through him. He staggered backwards, helping Risch pull the sword free again and roared in pain. Blood was flowing freely, but the man still took a step forward and brought down his club. It was only by a handspan that Risch escaped the blow. It wasn't wise to stick around though, so Risch took off. So long as the wound didn't get infected, he would probably live, but there was no way that he was in a state to keep on running.
Risch kept away from the main thoroughfare since the consequences of tarnishing the inquisitors' reputation were also rather dire. Luckily, after a couple turns in what he hoped was the right direction, Risch came to a part of the district that he recognized. All the little marks of damage that they used to use to find their way around were still there. There were a lot of newer marks and some had basically subsumed the old, but they were the same old stones that they always had been. Not a cause of nostalgic celebration that, but nonetheless it was very helpful now.
Risch slowed down and took a weaving path, one of the old routes he remembered using as a boy. It eventually took him to the main street, but not before he had caught his breath. He had gotten nothing useful out of this expedition and worse, nothing that he could hold up as proof that he was making progress. Risch scanned the street for a particularly striking piece of trash that he could pawn off as a clue. As was often the case, the brightest, most inviting establishment just as the sun set was the brothel. The woman who had run it when he was a boy had been old enough that ownership had no doubt changed hands. What caught his eye though, was a sign that he didn't remember from before that featured a crescent moon.
Risch dug out the pins that he had left in his pocket. He hadn't wanted to stand out as important and potentially worth attacking, not that it had worked out that way, but now he wanted to stand out. If his colleagues could be relied on, then it would be to act arrogant and to indulge.
He marched up to one of the greeters and put an arm around her, feeling her ass for good measure.
"You and..." Risch looked around before settling on a slip of a girl, "Her."
He barely got a second look as they guided him up a set of stairs and then all the way down the hall. Between the two of them, it was the older one who had been greeting guests that was most likely newer to the job. Having her work as a greeter was the easiest way for a proprietress to advertise a new addition to the lineup. The other girl, maybe fifteen if she had hit puberty late, looked much more comfortable. She had already started to strip before Risch stopped her.
Risch said, "As much as I'm sure that your services would be excellent, I'm here on business," he said. The way that the younger girl purred at that made him question whether he had accidentally fallen into some sort of role play, but he forged on. "A lot of things have been happening around here. Have you girls seen anything out of the ordinary? Oh, and don't worry, I'll pay for your services regardless."
It wasn't as if the idea that prostitutes might know things was a new one, but the glint, or maybe it was lust, that filled the younger girl's eyes at the mention of being paid told him that his approach had been unique. Too much time politicking and too long since he had really been in the field. The eternal balancing act of being in a position to make change, and being in a position to know what change was needed.
Even with the promise of payment, it was the older girl that spoke first. "I mostly don't have time, so I don't see much, but three days back, when I was done my shift, I saw the baron's son collapsed. He was hurt pretty bad, so I brought him back to the Masler estate."
"You just, brought him back?" Risch asked disbelievingly.
"Isn't that the right thing to do? You think I should've just let him bleed out?" The lack of guile was evident as much in the girl's confusion as in the younger one's stifled laughter. It was too bad that the prince would no doubt require her testimony in person. Royal bastards were serious business and her occupation would be quite the temptation for the prince. Hopefully she would survive the inquisition's training process. That was the best that Risch could do for her.
The other girl stayed tight-lipped. The brothel was well-to-do enough that it would make for an above-average career, so she probably hadn't wanted to risk that. Risch still paid, as he said he would. He also ended up buying out Vee's contract. He didn't tell her that it was so that he could register her for the inquisition, but she didn't even complained when he didn't give her the chance to collect her things and had her follow him out of the common district. Maybe she thought he needed a maid or even a mistress. Both of those were better than what was actually in store.
