Chapter 150: Book 2 Chapter 51: The Duke’s Chambers

“Color me surprised.”

“I don’t believe that’s appropriate.”

“Seriously, Deon?”

“No.”

Bella, Nevil, Aeron, and Jon all expressed their discontent at the place chosen by Deon. In front of them stood a tall building made entirely of stone. Large windows occupied the walls on the second and third floor, though most were curtained close. Two city guards stood watch at the busy entrance. Above it was a sign with the words, “The Duke’s Chambers,” spelled out in bright red lightstones.

When Deon suggested a place but wouldn’t tell its name, Jon already suspected it would be something of the sort. His suspicions eased off as they remained in the Emerald Hill, one of the wealthiest districts in the city filled with mansions for noble families and rich merchants. They even walked past the Whitestar Sprout, an exotic herbs shop where Professor Willow bought many of the ingredients she used for her personal alchemic brews.

He had assumed that, in such a reputable district, there wouldn’t be any unsavory locations. He was wrong.

“Don’t be so quick to judge. Yes, it is a pleasure house, but it serves more than just sex. For example, it has the best wine in this city. Maybe one of the best outside of Lisbleus. Trust me, I would know.”

“So your plan for a celebration is getting drunk in a brothel. You already do that every other night,” Bella argued.

“Stop being so negative. We’ll have a drink or five, and then we’ll see where the night takes us. We could go to the theater, the circus, or wherever else we like. But if there’s one thing I learned is that everything goes better with some wine.”

“Well, have fun then.” Jon turned around to leave, and Deon pulled on his robe. “Let go. I’ll not wake up with a hangover tomorrow.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Deon said with a wide grin. “You already drank one goblet of wine earlier. What’s a couple more? And besides, you still owe me a favor after I bought that armor for you.”

“And this is what you ask in return?”

“Yes, because that’s what friends do. Now stop complaining and come.” Still pulling Jon, he walked past the entrance and into the antechamber. A red carpet covered the floor from the open entrance to a closed door watched over by another pair of city guards. The two took one glance at their uniforms before pushing the door open and bowing down.

The main floor was a large atrium with a glass skylight on the rooftop to protect against the rain and snow. Lighstones at the walls shone so brightly that one could hardly see any stars in the sky, though the ones on the floors above were dimmer. 

Courtesans in lace underwear and see-through dresses cinched at the waist walked around the room, sat at tables with patrons, and ultimately led them to the stairway at the back. For every four or five such women, there was either a delicate man with smooth skin and makeup or a rougher-looking one with his chest bare. The Duke’s Chamber, it seemed, catered to all preferences.

Above, a waist-high railing separated the enclosing balconies from a direct fall to the tables below. From where he stood, Jon could barely spy the header of the doors leading into the bedrooms on the floor above. The angle didn’t allow him to see anyone unless they were close to the railing, and that was probably by design.

At the center of the room, five minstrels performed a song around a table on top of which two courtesans danced, flaunting their bodies. Other than the one blowing a flute, they all sang in unison.

A man in a well-tailored white tunic stood in front of a counter by the entrance, giving instructions to the workers behind it. As the door opened, he turned around with a warm smile. “Greetin…” His expression immediately turned sour after laying eyes on the group. Surprisingly, though, his annoyance wasn’t directed at Jon. “Deon. Mother won’t be pleased to see you.”

“It’s been months already, Rick. I’m sure she has forgotten by now.”

“Mother may forgive, but she never forgets.”

“Let me worry about that,” Deon said as he walked past the man. “You worry about bringing us the wine.” He guided the group towards a table near the minstrels. Barely a minute passed before a servant girl arrived, carrying a tray stacked with tankards. 

She made a show of leaning over the table to serve the drinks. Cinched at the waist with a blue sash, her silk clothing wasn’t see-through like the courtesans’ and was more in line with Rick’s clothing. “My lords, my lady, we hope everything is to your liking,” she said with a bow.

“Thank you, Nyla,” Deon said. He flicked her a golden centarii, and she caught it in the air without ever breaking form. “We’ll call for you if we need anything else.”

“You seem to know everyone here, Deon,” Nevil commented once the serving girl was out of earshot.

Bella scoffed. “Of course he does. This is his second home, after all.”

Aeron grabbed the closest tankard and took a gulp. Jon did the same, though he peered inside first. The wine was a clear pinkish-yellow, making it easy to notice the cherries deposited at the bottom. It had a strong kick but with a sweet aftertaste from the fruits. He took another gulp.

“What did I tell you? It is good, right?” Deon asked, and Jon nodded in agreement.

Nevil fished an apple slice from inside his tankard and bit half of it. “It reminds me of this drink my great-grandfather used to make. He would take a bottle of the strongest spirits he could find, squeeze a bunch of fresh fruits inside, and then let it mature for a few months. Back then, the smell alone would make me tipsy.”

“It is good,” Bella said. “The wine could be a tad weaker, but it is good.”

“Of course it is good. That’s why you should listen to me more often.” As he spoke, a courtesan strutted past his chair and her hand brushed against his shoulder. Deon just smiled, not turning to look. This scene repeated itself throughout the night, with various other courtesans trying to catch his attention. Some were bolder, coming to talk to him directly. Deon remained polite as he dismissed their advances.

While the courtesans mostly focused on Deon, everyone else at the table also attracted a few glances from workers and patrons alike. Four nobles and a half-breed was an unusual sight, to say the least.

More than a few courtesans also bumped against Jon, though he chalked it off to honest accidents. He had very little coin to his name, only a few leftover centarii from what he gained helping with the professors’ research. Most of it had been spent on mana potions to try and improve his cultivation. As for appearances, he doubted his skin color made him attractive to anyone there.

“Is it always like this?” Nevil asked after emptying his second tankard. “It feels like they all want your attention.”

Deon shrugged. “With how many coins I’ve spent here, it would be strange if they didn’t.” He turned towards Bella, staring at her without saying a word.

“What?”

“I’m waiting for the snarky remark. Surely you have one in mind to mock me.”

“Like pointing out that they love you solely for your coin, and there’s nothing else to love about you?” She twisted her lips. “I’m sorry, that was out of habit. This might not be my preferred choice of venue…” She glanced to the side. Nyla, the serving girl from before, leaned over another table while a patron’s hand slid up and down her thigh. “Most certainly not. But this is fun regardless, so perhaps you deserve a break.”

“Ah, that’s so nice.” Ignoring Bella as she rolled her eyes, Deon grasped his tankard and stood up. “In fact, this is cause for celebration. The duke’s mind was in the right place, but greatness means little without people to share it with. Friends. Family. These are the most important things in life. So I propose a toast to us, for becoming friends. May it remain as such for a long time.” He took a gulp from his tankard, everyone else following his example. “And may our cups be forever filled, and our beds never empty.” He drank alone this time.

As Deon sat back down, Aeron stood up to propose a toast of his own. “I also want to propose a toast. To us, for enduring a whole year in this damn academy. May it become easier in the future.”

As Aeron sat back down, Deon leaned over and whispered something by his ear. They both smiled and shook hands.

Nevil followed next. “To us, for learning a lot during our first year at the academy. May we become even more knowledgeable in the future.”

“To us, for proving our worth. May we write our names down in history.”

They all looked at Jon next, prompting him to play along. “To us, for improving our cultivation. May we continue getting stronger.”

Deon laughed and turned to Aeron. “Drink up.”

“Did you two really bet on what I was going to say?”

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“Easiest bet of my life. You’re too single-minded to talk about anything other than cultivation.”

The pot calling the kettle black, Jon thought. Deon, the nobleman who cared only for wine and women, was now calling him single-minded. “Is that so? Let’s talk about you then. I notice that you and Elina haven’t been talking lately. Did she find out about you and her roommate perhaps?”

Deon frowned. “Why bring that up? Just to annoy me?”

Jon grinned wide and patted the nobleman on the shoulder. “Yes, because that’s what friends do. Now stop complaining and talk…” He trailed off as he looked past Deon. Towards the back of the room, a woman arrived at the foot of the stairs.

A tight bodice hugged her waist while accentuating her already full breasts. Her eyes turned towards their table before she seemed to vanish in thin air. No, not vanish. She was still there, though even more transparent than the courtesan’s silk dresses.

That was a common effect of illusion spells. They create a new light source to simulate either an object, a person, or whatever the caster willed, but they couldn’t block other light sources. As a result, the illusions were always translucent to different degrees depending on the power of the spell, and the cultivation of the one looking at it.

In the woman’s case, she must have cast an illusion to make herself disappear. It almost fooled Jon, so the woman had to be a Warlock at least.

“I should be annoyed, but this was the first time you ever called me a friend, so I will ignore—”

“Lord du Bocage,” the woman said, arriving much too quickly to not be a Paladin. Her voice was sultry smooth, though her grip on Deon’s shoulder was far from friendly. “If I’m not mistaken, I told you were no longer welcome here.”

The nobleman flinched, though he quickly recomposed himself. “Lady Rosynne, it’s a pleasure to hear your voice once again.”

“The feeling is not mutual,” she said dryly.

Aeron’s lips tightened into a thin line as he tried not to laugh, clearly taking pleasure in Deon’s misfortune.

Lady Rosynne loosened her grip. “You’ve come with your friends, so I won’t throw you out this time. Be glad for that. But I still haven’t forgiven you for what you did to my statue.”

“I-I could pay for a new one.”

“Splendid. Will my lord also pay to bring the sculptor back from the dead?” Deon sank in his seat, and she finally turned her attention to the others. “My lords. My lady. Apologies for that.”

“No need for apologies,” Aeron said with a laugh. “It was fun to watch.”

She smiled and turned to the side, dark eyes landing on Jon. “And who have we here?” Her long skirt fluttered as she walked around Deon’s seat and extended her hand. “Lady Rosynne.”

“Jon.” He shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Thank you. I’m aware of who you are. Any commoner who manages to get far in the tourney becomes the topic of conversation for weeks to come. Though I must say, you seem to be much more well mannered than rumors would indicate.”

“Rumors are rarely reliable.”

“True words.” Her gaze shifted to the bronze medal hanging from Bella’s neck and then back to Jon. “I assume the Last Feast has concluded and you’re all here to continue the celebrations. My coffers might not be as rich as His Grace’s, but I’m still generous to those representing our esteemed academy.” She swept her arm towards the courtesans walking around the tables. “Look around, see which of my girls strikes your fancy the most and she’ll be yours for the rest of the night.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jon immediately refused.

“Oh, no need to be shy. Not here of all places.”

“Yeah, you need to live a little. Life is more than the tourneys, the academy, and even cultivation. We need to relax once in a while.”

Deon’s words made him recall something from long ago when he was at Rochdale and Athalia took him to the gardens. “You mean stop and smell the flowers?”

Lady Rosynne chuckles. “Funny you should say that.” She turned to the side and called out to one of the courtesans. “Lily, come here.”

A petite blonde approached. She had big round eyes and white silks over her slim figure. “Yes?”

“Lily, this is Jon. As congratulations for qualifying at the tourney, his stay will be free of charge for the rest of the night.” Lady Rosynne then turned to Bella. “Of course, I extend the offer to you too, my lady. All of my boys are well experienced.”

Bella didn’t even consider it. “I’ll have to decline.”

“Can I accept the offer in her instead?” Aeron asked half-jokingly.

“I was not aware my lord had such inclinations, but sure. What’s your preference? Bearded or clean-shaven? More muscular, perhaps?”

Aeron let out a dry laugh. “I was hoping for a woman…”

“I have some daintier options as well. Put them in a pretty dress and you won’t notice the difference.”

As their banter continued, Lily came up to Jon and extended him a hand. “Nice to meet you.” Her perfume was sweeter than actual lilies, but without being overwhelming.

He reciprocated the gesture. “Likewise.”

Rather than letting go, Lily spun in place so that his arm ended up draped around her shoulders and proceeded to sit on his lap. “Thank you for the seat.” She shifted her weight around, rubbing her behind against him. “Very comfortable.”

The move caught him by surprise and Jon didn’t know what to say. At that moment, he felt like the teenage boy from a lifetime ago getting tongue-tied when trying to talk to some pretty girl from class.

“I’ve only seen a few southerners in my life. Even fewer mixed people.” She pressed the palm of their hands together. Her fingertips barely reached the middle crease on his fingers. “You are all so big. Big hands, big bodies…” She bit her lip and her gaze traveled down his body. “...are you big everywhere, my lord?”

“I’m no lord,” Jon managed to blurt out the words.

“Tonight, you shall be treated as one.” She extended her arm to fish out a cherry from his tankard and popped it in her mouth. Done with that, she got back to her feet. “Shall we go, my lord?”

“That…” Jon was about to refuse but stopped himself. Why should he say no? He had been training and studying nonstop from his first day at the academy. Even worse before that as he spent years hiding in the countryside, constantly looking over his shoulder and sleeping under the stars with one eye open. It had been too long since he didn’t feel constantly pressured.

Now, he was on the brink of either taking an important step towards his objective or die trying. Maybe he could afford to delay it and do something for himself. Maybe he deserved it.

And so, Jon downed the rest of his drink and stood up.

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