[Courtesan 5 (Siren) POV] Year 2, Day 191 (Continued)

  Borderwatch unfolded before them as they walked through the main streets.

  The siren had seen provincial cities before. Many of them. Five hundred years in this continent, serving various clients, accepting assignments to remote locations when the pay was good enough. Sometimes clients even organized sightseeing trips—showing off their exotic courtesan to local nobles, letting her swim in decorative ponds, demonstrating their wealth and taste.

  This was familiar territory.

  [Monster hunting economy. Standard for border regions.]

  Adventurers everywhere. Armed. Moving in groups or alone. Their gear varied wildly—some wore proper plate armor and carried quality blades, others made do with leather and whatever weapons they could afford. Some looked young—new to the profession, still eager, still believing they'd become legends. Others showed the wear—scars, missing fingers, the particular wariness of people who'd survived too many close calls.

  [They live free and wild. Earn well. Until they die or run out of adrenaline or have one too many near-death experiences. Then they try to find safer work.]

  The agency had plenty of ex-adventurers on staff. Guards mostly. Security personnel. People who'd traded the thrill for stability. Better to protect a mansion than fight monsters for the rest of your shortened life.

  The siren had reviewed some of their contracts when they'd asked for help renegotiating. Most were terrible—terms that would make even desperate courtesans refuse. Some ex-adventurers had specialized skills that gave them leverage, but most had little to offer beyond muscle, and the Republic had a near-unlimited supply of replacements. No leverage meant horrible contracts.

  [Some of the younger courtesans—like that dryad—envied them though. "They get to go outside without escorts. They're so free." The siren found it darkly funny. They weren't free. Their value was just so low that if something happened—injury, death, disappearance—the agency wouldn't lose much. Being allowed outside without protection wasn't freedom. It was proof of how disposable you were.]

  [The maids escorting them showed the same signs—former adventurers who'd traded danger for stability. That alertness. That way of scanning threats. They'd learned to fight first, served as maids second. But unlike the agency's disposable guards, these ones had found employment that actually valued them.]

  Shops lined the streets. Various kinds. Weapon smiths. Armor merchants. Potion sellers. General goods. And food stalls—everywhere, constant smell of cooking meat and bread. Adventurers needed calories. Lots of them. The economy adapted.

  "It's busy," the harpy observed. Walking close beside her. "More crowded than I expected."

  "Border towns are always like this," the siren replied. "Monster hunting brings money. Money brings services. Services bring more people. It sustains itself as long as the monsters keep coming."

  "Which they do," Pebble added from the front. Leading their group confidently. "Ley line produces them constantly. Plenty of work for anyone brave or stupid enough to take it."

  One of the other maids laughed. "Or desperate enough. Most adventurers are some combination of all three."

  They continued through the market district. Past more stalls. More shops. More armed individuals conducting casual business while wearing enough weaponry to siege a castle.

  Then—movement ahead. People running. Not panic exactly. More like... anticipation. Entertainment. Following something interesting.

  Several wore green cloth bands around their left arms. Guild security. Moving with purpose.

  Pebble slowed slightly. Glanced back at the group. Expression thoughtful. "Do you want to see something interesting?"

  The courtesans exchanged looks. Uncertain.

  Courtesan 3 asked. "What kind of interesting?"

  "The kind that explains why this city has such low crime rates." Pebble's tone was casual. Matter-of-fact. "Educational, I suppose. But not pleasant."

  The siren felt curiosity. "Show us."

  They followed the crowd. Not difficult—enough people moving in the same direction that navigation was simple. Around a corner. Down another street. To a shop with a gathering crowd in front.

  The scene resolved quickly.

  A shopkeeper stood in the doorway of her store—a general goods merchant by the look of the displays. Human woman, middle-aged, holding something small in her hand. Some kind of item.

  On the ground in front of the shop: a human male. Young. Maybe mid-twenties. Face down. One of the green-banded adventurers had a boot on his back, pinning him. Two others stood nearby. Watching. Professional. Efficient.

  The man on the ground was begging. "I have money! I have money! Please! I can pay! Whatever she wants! I have it!"

  One of the guild security members—dwarf, heavily scarred, expression bored—looked at him. "That so?"

  "Yes! In my bag! Take it! Just take it!"

  The dwarf nodded to one of his companions. Cat beastkin, female, moved smoothly. Searched the downed man. Found a pouch. Tossed it to the shopkeeper.

  The shopkeeper caught it. Opened it. Looked inside. Thought for a moment.

  "I have no further complaints," she said quietly. Formal. Like reciting a required phrase.

  Courtesan 1—the dryad—spoke up. Trying to sound knowledgeable. "Oh, that's Thief's Guild standard procedure, right? Carry enough gold to compensate victims if caught, so they won't press charges?"

  [Yes. Common knowledge.] The siren had entertained enough Thief's Guild members to know their protocols by heart. They always explained their "honest thief" principles with such pride—avoid violence, carry gold, compensate victims. Professional standards. Honor among thieves. She'd heard the speech more times than she could count.

  The dwarf nodded. Then pulled something from his belt. Small box. Crystal set into its surface. Signature detector.

  [I know that device. The agency has them. Uses them to scan everyone entering and exiting the mansion. Tracks who comes and goes. Identifies people.]

  The dwarf crouched. Grabbed the thief's hand. Pressed it against the crystal despite the man's struggling.

  The device lit up. Displayed a pattern. The dwarf studied it. Then showed it to his companions.

  One of them—human, tall, lean—whistled. "Oh. Third time this year. Twice in Greyhold, now here." He looked down at the thief. Voice carrying dark amusement. "You're not very good at this, are you?"

  They searched him more thoroughly. Found something. One of the adventurers held it up—a tattoo on the thief's shoulder. Small. Distinctive symbol.

  The siren recognized it immediately. [Thief's Guild mark.]

  The adventurers' expressions shifted. Less amused. More disgusted.

  "Guild worm," the dwarf said. Tone flat. Cold. "Makes it worse."

  He looked at the shopkeeper. "Which hand did he use to take your goods?"

  The shopkeeper froze. Clearly didn't want to answer. Tried to deflect. "I said I have no complaints. He paid. It's resolved—"

  "Which. Hand." A pause. Cold. "Or we take both."

  The shopkeeper's eyes jumped between the thief's arms. Visible internal struggle. Then she pointed. "His... right hand."

  The siren watched carefully. [She looked at both. Hesitated. Picked one. But the way her eyes moved... she's lying. Trying to save him. Or trying to identify the wrong hand so the punishment is less severe.]

  The dwarf nodded. Stood. Walked to where his gear lay against the wall. Picked up an axe. Large. Well-maintained. Single-bladed. Execution tool more than combat weapon.

  Returned to the thief.

  "Old law," he said. Conversational. Educational. "You lose the hand that takes what isn't yours."

  The thief went rigid. Then started struggling. Violent. Desperate. Bucking against the boot. The adventurer standing on him pressed down harder. Immobilizing.

  The dwarf positioned himself. Raised the axe.

  The thief's struggles became frantic. Then—he managed something. Twisted. Hit the adventurer's leg. Hard kick. Enough to make him shift weight. Lose balance slightly.

  The thief rolled. Scrambled up. Started running. Blind panic. No direction. Just away.

  Straight toward the courtesans.

  "HELP! Please! Girls please help me! They're going to—"

  He reached for the harpy. Grabbing for her arm. Contact.

  Pebble's fist connected with his face.

  The sound was extraordinary. Like a hammer hitting meat. Wet. Solid. Definitive.

  The thief flew. Literally. Several meters. Airborne. Hit the ground hard. Something crunched. Ribs maybe. Or shoulder. Difficult to tell.

  The guild security caught up immediately. Two of them. Fists and feet. Not killing blows. Just pain. Enough to ensure he stopped trying to run. Stopped trying anything.

  Then the dwarf with the axe arrived.

  "Your mistake," he said. Calm. Educational. "We would've only taken one. But you ran. So now it's both."

  The axe rose.

  Fell.

  Twice.

  The siren looked away after the first strike. Not from squeamishness—she'd seen worse, much worse, in seven hundred fifty years—but from professional courtesy. The thief's screaming was enough. No need to watch.

  The sounds told the story. Impact. Cutting. Separation. More screaming. Then—fire magic. The sharp smell of burning flesh. Cauterizing the wounds. Practical. Preventing death from blood loss.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  When she looked back, it was done.

  The thief lay on the ground. Handless. Both arms ending in cauterized stumps. One of the adventurers was tying something around his neck. Rope. And attached to the rope: two hands. His hands. A grotesque necklace.

  "So they don't get lost," the adventurer explained. Like it was obvious. Sensible.

  The dwarf pointed in one direction. "Temple's that way. They have good priestesses. If you have gold and you move fast, they'll fix you up completely. Won't even leave a scar. You've got maybe an hour before it's too late for reattachment."

  Then pointed another direction. "Slave market's that way. They'll also fix you up, then sell you to recover their costs. You'll need more honest work anyway. You're clearly shit at being a thief."

  They stepped back. Released him.

  The thief staggered up. Ran. Third direction. Random. Neither temple nor market. Just... away. Hysteria and pain driving him somewhere. Anywhere.

  [Will he make it to the temple in time? Does he even know which way is which? Is there something in that direction or is he just too broken to think?]

  The siren didn't know. Didn't particularly care.

  The crowd dispersed. Casual. Like they'd watched street theater. No horror. No shock. Just... routine. Entertainment maybe.

  Pebble turned to the group. "That's why Borderwatch has low crime. Guild Master hires security who'd fit right into the Assassin's Guild. Every punishment is as draconian as possible. Makes people think several times before doing anything illegal."

  She paused. "Thief's Guild has rules, technically. Compensation protocols. Avoid violence. Standard procedures. But Borderwatch doesn't care much about those—more like suggestions we ignore." A dark smile. "Word travels well in thief circles. Most guild thieves avoid this city entirely. The ones who show up anyway?" She gestured at the bloodstain. "Learn why the others stayed away."

  "But the shopkeeper took the gold," one of the courtesans said. "She dropped her complaints."

  "She did," Pebble confirmed. "And these adventurers didn't care. Victim's wishes? Guild protocols? Irrelevant. They have their own rules here. And those rules say: steal in Borderwatch, lose a hand. Minimum."

  [That's why the shopkeeper didn't want to participate. Didn't want to identify the hand. She'd already accepted payment. Considered it resolved. But the guild security forced her into it. Made her part of the judgment anyway.]

  The siren processed this. Not horrified exactly. She'd seen far worse. Girls punished for transgressions. Client "entertainment" like gladiatorial fights. Public executions. The borderlands weren't nice places, but this level of brutality had to be common enough that no one reacted.

  [I've seen worse. Much worse. In seven hundred fifty years of this business, you see everything eventually. Torture. Executions. Creative punishments designed to maximize suffering.]

  [But I'm proud of something. In all that time, I've never been physically punished. Not once. It's not that hard. Submit instantly when required. And when something is too unreasonable, use my contract protections. Use Mr. Greed's name. The agency backing. Legal framework. Protection.]

  [That's the difference between surviving centuries and dying young. Knowing when to bend. Knowing when to invoke the powers that protect you.]

  After the crowd finished dispersing and people returned to their business, the harpy noticed something.

  "Look." She pointed. "A bookshop."

  The store was modest. Two stories. Windows displaying various texts. Academic. Practical. The kind of shop that served adventurers needing reference materials and locals wanting entertainment.

  "I wanted to find something about ley lines," the harpy said. Hopeful. "For understanding the hot springs project better. My detection ability might be more useful if I understood what I was sensing."

  "That's smart thinking," one of the maids said approvingly. "Master Ealdred always taught us to keep learning. Makes us more useful."

  They entered. The shop was organized. Clean. Well-maintained. The owner—an elderly human man—looked up, clearly surprised by their unusual group.

  "Welcome!" His voice carried genuine pleasure. "Please, browse freely. Let me know if you need assistance."

  The harpy moved toward a section on magical theory. The siren followed, more out of companionship than interest. The other courtesans spread out, examining different areas.

  One of the maids, however, went to a different section. Games. She pulled something from a shelf—a boxed board game, colorful pieces visible through the clear window in the packaging.

  She brought it to Pebble. "Can we buy this? We don't have it in the collection yet."

  Pebble glanced at it. Shrugged. "Why are you asking me? Just buy it. Keep the receipt. Ask for reimbursement later using it."

  The maid smiled. "Thank you!" She went to the counter to make the purchase.

  The siren watched this exchange with confusion. Curiosity.

  Another maid noticed her expression. Explained. "We have a large board game collection in the maids' quarters. Played often during free time. We don't have this particular one yet, so we're adding it. The household provides funds for reasonable purchases that benefit the staff."

  "Just like that?" the siren asked. "No approval needed?"

  "Approval is implicit. If it's within reason—books, games, personal supplies—we can buy it and request reimbursement. Lady Kira or Master Void review the receipts, but they've never rejected anything reasonable. It's just... how things work here."

  The siren was genuinely impressed.

  [That's extraordinary care for household staff. Not bad. But then again...]

  She thought about the agency mansion in Central. Large facility. Heavily protected. And they did have ways to pass time there. A library. Recreation rooms. Various amenities.

  [We even have board games in the library. But almost no one uses them. Maybe two or three girls total. Most find it boring. Prefer other activities.]

  [Foolish, in my opinion. The library has useful things. Various laws and regulations that govern our contracts. Legal texts. Information that could help negotiate better terms. But they don't care. Don't think long-term. Just want immediate entertainment.]

  The harpy found a book. Thick. Academic looking. "Ley Line Fundamentals and Practical Applications." She brought it to the siren. "This looks relevant. Do you think it's worth it?"

  The siren checked the price. Twelve gold. Not unreasonable for a comprehensive text. "Educational investment. Within your budget if you skip the hair comb. Buy it."

  "I will." The harpy looked genuinely happy. Excited about learning.

  [Good girl. Making smart choices. Prioritizing skills over trinkets. She's learning.]

  As they gathered their purchases, the harpy asked the group casually, "Would we be allowed to join the board game sessions sometime? All five of us live in the separate building for specialists—mages, dwarves, various consultants. It gets quiet sometimes."

  One of the maids considered this. "I don't see why not. We'd need Lady Kira or Master Void's permission formally, but some dwarves have been invited to play, so there's precedent. Should be fine."

  The dryad—Courtesan 1—made a face. Subtle. Dismissive. Like the question itself was beneath her.

  [Still that superior attitude. Still thinking she's above everyone else. Just enjoy the calm. It's nice here. Why can't she see that?]

  The siren said nothing. Just noted it.

  [She's going to cause problems eventually. That attitude never ends well. Especially in a place where even the maids carry legendary equipment and the masters actually care about their staff.]

  They left the bookshop. Continued through the city. More streets. More shops. More adventurers conducting business.

  Then—in the distance—they saw someone. A maid. Alone. Near some food stalls. Same uniform design. But solitary. No group. No escort.

  The dryad noticed immediately. Pointed. Voice carrying accusation. "What? You just said no one's allowed outside alone. And there's one of your maids. Same dress. Alone. Right there."

  Pebble glanced that way, unconcerned. "That's Null. Strong enough to handle the entire city by herself."

  The dryad's mouth closed. No comeback. No sneer. Just... silence.

  The siren watched this with internal amusement.

  [Got put in her place nicely. Pebble didn't even try. Just stated fact and moved on.]

  As they got closer, the siren could see the maid clearly. Null. The one who'd consulted with them yesterday about Master Void. About the intimacy issues. The dressing rituals.

  [Looks innocent. Young. But powerful—Pebble stated it like simple fact. High-ranking servant, clearly close to the master. The kind of person worth staying friendly with. They have influence. Access. Authority.]

  [Professional yesterday. Polite. Genuinely interested in learning about intimacy. Took advice seriously. Smart to keep good relations.]

  They continued walking. The siren's mind cataloguing. Analyzing. Understanding the power structures. The relationships. The dynamics.

  Soon they arrived at a large building. Impressive. Central location. The Guild house.

  Pebble gestured toward the entrance. "Want to look inside? It's the heart of Borderwatch's economy. Interesting place even if you're not an adventurer."

  The courtesans all agreed. Curiosity genuine.

  They entered.

  The interior was exactly what the siren expected. Large open space. Quest boards covering one wall—papers pinned everywhere, requests for monster hunting, escort missions, various jobs. Service desks occupied the center area, clerks working behind them—processing paperwork, accepting completed quests, distributing payments. Along the back wall stood several service booths with shutters raised, handling administrative functions. Another wall held maps. Large. Regional. Detailed. Showing Borderwatch and surrounding territories. Desert. Mountains. Various landmarks.

  When they walked in, everything stopped.

  Every adventurer. Every clerk. Every person in the building turned. Stared.

  [Six maids in perfect uniforms plus five exotic courtesans. Probably not standard Guild house visitors. We're attracting attention.]

  The stares weren't hostile. Just... surprised. Interested. Appreciative maybe. The kind of attention beautiful women always attracted, but amplified by the unusual group composition.

  Pebble ignored it. Led them confidently toward the map wall.

  The siren studied the maps. Professional habit. Understanding regional geography was useful. Knowing where you were. Where you could go. Where dangers existed.

  Then something caught her attention.

  Blue. Large section of blue. Labeled clearly.

  Lake.

  Right next to Borderwatch. Practically within the city boundaries. One edge touching the desert directly.

  [A lake. Right here. Stone's throw away. How did I not know about this?]

  "That lake," the siren said. Pointing. Trying to sound casual. Failing. "Is that accurate? It's really that close?"

  One of the maids nodded. "Locals call it the Wonder. The mages studied it heavily during the hot springs project—thought maybe they'd learn something useful." She shrugged. "Apparently there's some ice reaction underneath that generates water constantly. Stable but not replicable. They gave up on it."

  "Most people go see it once when they first arrive," another maid added. "Then forget about it."

  The siren felt her heart rate increase. [Water. Real water. Large body of water. Right here. Right now. Available.]

  [Swimming. I could swim there. Really swim. Not decorative koi pond swimming. Real swimming. In real water. Open space. Proper depth.]

  The rest of their time in the Guild house passed in a blur. The siren heard words. Responded appropriately. Maintained professional appearance. But internally, she was obsessing.

  [Five hundred years in this continent. Five hundred years of almost no swimming. Only during client appointments—if they happen to have large ponds or pools. If I can ask nicely enough. The mansion has nothing. Never proper swimming. Never freedom in water. Never real immersion.]

  [Last time was over a decade ago. Some wealthy merchant with an elaborate koi pond. He'd let me swim when I asked. Found it entertaining. Exotic fish woman among his exotic fish. Showed me off to friends. One of them even offered to buy my contract specifically to watch me swim regularly. But I bought information from the guild about him. Too many possible red flags.]

  [And now. Right here. Right now. Real lake. Large. Deep probably. Available.]

  They left the Guild house. Walked back toward the compound. The siren barely noticed the route. Too focused. Too consumed.

  [I need to see it. Need to confirm it's real. Need to understand the access. Need to know if I can actually swim there.]

  When they returned to the establishment, the siren immediately started looking for high ground. Somewhere she could get a proper view. Confirm the lake's existence. See it with her own eyes.

  The highest point was obvious. Near the airship landing pads—a metal tower. Tall. Very tall. Rising above everything else.

  She approached some dwarves working nearby. "Excuse me. What is that tower?"

  One of them looked up. Smiled. "Communication and navigation equipment. Magical systems. Helps airships navigate safely. Direction finding. Weather monitoring. That sort of thing."

  "Could I..." She hesitated. Made her voice sweet. Interested. "Could someone show me the top? I'd love to see the view. Must be spectacular from up there."

  The dwarf considered. Then shrugged. "Why not? Come on. I'll take you up. Just finished my shift anyway."

  He led her to the base. Started climbing. Internal stairway. Metal. Endless stairs spiraling upward.

  The siren followed. Immediately regretting the request.

  [Hate heights. Always have. I'm made for depths, not heights. Water below me is natural. Air below me is wrong. Metal tower with only nets between me and falling? This is insane.]

  But she continued. Driven by need. By obsession. By five hundred years of denied proper swimming.

  Halfway up, she could see blue. Through the gaps. Between buildings. Beyond the forest surrounding the city.

  [It's real. It's actually real. Not a map error. Not a legend. Real water.]

  At the top, the view was complete.

  Large lake. Beautiful. Blue. Clear. One edge against the desert—stark contrast between water and sand. The other edges surrounded by vegetation. Trees. Natural beauty.

  [So close. Right there. Stone's throw away. Available. Waiting.]

  The dwarf guide was saying something. Pointing out landmarks. Explaining city layout. The siren barely heard.

  He stopped. Looked at her more carefully. "You alright? Heights really bothering you, yeah? I got something back at the workshop—calming draught. Help with the nerves."

  "The lake," the siren said. Ignoring his concern completely. "Could someone take me there? To see it?"

  The dwarf blinked. Surprised by the question. "The Wonder? You want to visit it?"

  "Yes. Today if possible."

  He hesitated. Uncomfortable. "I... don't dare, honestly. None of us workers do."

  "Why not?"

  "Look, there's no monsters close by right now. Guild patrols keep the immediate area clear. But if something should happen..." He gestured at her. At her obvious value. The expensive dress. The exotic appearance. "If something happens to you out there, with me as escort? I'd end up in the slave shop paying off damages for the rest of my life. Can't risk that. Not for anyone."

  The siren understood immediately. [Liability. He's right. Valuable courtesan gets hurt or killed, someone has to pay compensation. Low-ranking worker escorts me, he becomes responsible. Financial ruin.]

  "I understand," she said.

  The dwarf nodded. Relieved she wasn't pushing. Started the descent.

  The siren followed. Mind elsewhere. Already planning. Already calculating. Already obsessing.

  [I have to swim there. Find someone strong enough to provide security. Make it happen.]

  [No proper large open water since coming to the Republic. And now—right here. Real swimming. Real freedom.]

  [I'm going to swim in that lake. No matter what it takes.]

  By the time they reached the ground, she'd made her decision.

  She would swim in that lake.

  Soon.

  Very soon.