“It's a burnt pumpkin skin garnish.” I snatch my hand back.

“Sounds like peasant piss.” He bursts out laughing, a solid two beats later his comrades join in.

“We’ve misjudged it seems. The twine of culture snipped off your path long ago.” I sink my drink and dramatically depart with Russ to the bar.

“Twine, I knew it. He’s a pleb pretending. Run along and get some more watered down grog with your dinner in it.” He shouts after me before turning back on the attendants.

A woman in a silk toga rushes from the bar with a jug. 

"Ask her where the bathrooms are?" Russ says as she heads towards the group.

I tap her shoulder and ask as he leans over her shoulder to sprinkle a fine powder in the open jug.

"In the corner sir." Her natural smile contorts into a practised grin as she heads to the Blackroots.

I ask no questions as we wait by the unmanned bar.

The marble man shouts in disgust, tossing the fresh drink over the woman. "Are you trying to pull Omnia's wool over me? You scoundrels."

Russ moves rapidly, stepping into a shabby corridor beyond the drapes. I give chase, checking my now opaque ring. Doors and corridors lead off like a maze, staircases that descend further into this hellish place. At the far end sat the only freshly stained door. Whatever is behind there is worth locking away. Russ immediately pulls out a set of small tools that he also hid in his skirt. “Keep a lookout.” He instructs as he goes about his work.

I check my ring, the cloud had thinned slightly. Rut this, she’s right here. Behind a door, I had just passed.

“She’s here Russ, Piia’s here. I need to go find her.”

“Who? The Satyr? Seth, we don’t have time for this.”

I’d told him my whole story. From when I first met her to the prophecy, to how she was taken from me. He showed no empathy, not a hint. Only frustration as I hindered his own goals. I turn to leave. "I’m getting her and leaving.”

“Seth.” He hisses at me but doesn’t give chase.

I find the room, the ring solid. My hand shakes as I take the knob. Will she be alive? Chained up and used. This whole time waiting here for me, for her Shepherd. I push inside, ready to throw myself at any employee I find.

I crash into mops and brooms. It’s a tiny cupboard of random crap, shelves full of junk and old clothes. I rummage for her, a dread washing over me as I imagine her body stuffed into the corner to rot. But all I find are organised boxes and trays. One in particular contains cheap rings and bracelets. Her white ring stands out from the rest, probably considered worthless while it merely resembled a basic glass band. I take it as the tears fall, my hands still shaking. I don’t know if she’s still here, but she definitely was at some point. Amongst the junk a shaft of light glints off a knife's blade. I snatch the curving weapon and head back to Russ. If he finds the manager or owner then they’ll know where my friend is.

Running headlong through the now unlocked door, I crash into a room of harnesses and torture.

Crack

“... amateurs. Apparently very dim amateurs at that. I’m surprised you made it to adulthood with these wits driving such choices. Attend our guest, Pamphlet.” A woman leers nearby. Her upper-class accent is painfully embellished. I try to remain still as I gather my thoughts, hoping they don’t notice I’ve awoken. A boot in my gut causes me to gasp, almost puking my breakfast.

“Aaahhh the heroic partner in crime has joined the land of the living.” I was afraid my dear Pamphlet was a tad harsh with that- what do you call that device- a cudgel. Yes, I have seen him do many things with it, including ending a life. Come now dear, don't be rude.”

A meaty hand grabs my hair and pulls me to my knees. I wince from the head wound. 

My sight, wavering, finally focuses allowing me to drink in the room. Strange tables with straps and harnesses dangle from the ceiling. All manner of instruments are laid out along weapon racks, though these devices of pain aren’t the warring kind.

I’m in a rutting sex dungeon. 

A chair scrapes as the henchman that knocked me out offers his madam a seat.

“Mother…” Is all I can mutter as the Satyr Madam in glossy black leather sits before me.

“That is a common service I offer, so many mummy issues in this so-called society. But not today. I’ll be the one seeking pleasure in this meeting. So since you seem to manage more words than your mute friend, we’ll start with you. What brings you to my alley?” Her smile doesn’t reach the bags under her eyes. Dark eyes that have seen many horrors in her long years. 

Russ spits blood at her red varnished hooves, resulting in Pamphlet slapping him across his battered face. I manage to catch a quick look from him. His message is clear, ‘don’t mention the Yorks’.

A feathered riding crop tickles my chin. “Attention, I demand it or this is not the only toy you will feel this evening.” She continues to threaten further tickles while glaring at me. 

“That was a threat if you did not quite pick up on it.” She says.

Her Pamphlet still held my hair and would pull on it every few moments to remind me. With my abilities suppressed, I could only rely on physically overpowering him and grabbing the knife, still abandoned on the floor. With all my recent empowerment exploits in White Chapel, I’d made significant gains with my attributes.

Ordo 19/20 (Ash)

Neuo - 26/50 (Iron)

Chao - 21/50 (Iron)

Though Russ stated that hiding your level and rank was considered polite in Yorkton. Bragging about it would bring about a quick death as high rankers generally have decent loot. He also mentioned how any ex-soldier or warrior veteran with at least one raid under their grotty skin will easily be iron. 

By the looks of this man’s toned forearms that are laced with scars, I assume he fits that assumption. 

He slaps his cudgel across my face and yanks my head down before spitting into my ear. “Please, please stay quiet. I love watching her make the quiet ones sing.” 

I finally see his weapon of choice, a floppy item that wouldn’t appear out of place between a horse's legs.

They think we’re criminals, just like everyone else in this wretched city. 

“It’s a famous little hole that attracts fat purses. Why do you think we’re here? To get paid.” I snap.

The old Satyr watches me for a moment. She leans in, lighting an ebony so close I can feel the heat on my skin. “Finally, a man with an honest tongue. Keep that tongue wagging until I’m satisfied.”

“What do you want to know?” I ask.

“Of our fame, of my reputation that has blown on the wind into your hairless little ears.”

“It’s well known you have Satyrs in your employment. Takes high stacks of shillings to employ that kinda service.” I smile at her as my words sink in.

She hesitates for just a moment. “Slaves you mean? Is that what you have come to steal?”

Russ perks up, noticing as well. “Yeh, Shepherd. Why don’t we talk about them.”

“A shepherd.” She rolls the word around in her mouth a few times.

Does she know the prophecy? 

I squeeze Piia’s ring and pray it will bring me luck. 

“Chosen by Mother herself to lead your kind to haven. Your saviour.” 

My neck cracks as I’m thrown to the floor. I drop the ring as the horse dildo repeatedly smashes my body, hitting any exposed flesh. Which is most of it.

“I’ll beat respect into you, you-”

“Pamphlet. Enough. Let me see him.” She says with a quiet, commanding voice as she finds the ring.

He once again yanks me to my knees.

She turns the lover’s ring over in her hand before staring into my eyes, her ears twitching at a sudden revelation.

“Green. Beautiful emerald like the ferns and trees of… home. I see it in your eyes. You are her chosen?” She grabs a hold of me. Pulling me to my feet as she embraces me. 

“Mother has sent me to save you all. I can take you away from this place.” I whisper as we hug.

She lets go, and her small smile broadens. “Truly? You will take me with you?”

“Of course,” I say with relief. 

Piia I’m almost there. 

The flutters of hope start to die as her smile turns sadistic.

“Come to free the Satyrs. Mother’s chosen.” She repeats sardonically. 

The henchman steps close behind me, wrapping something around my throat. I don’t have any time to take one last breath before he pulls it tight.