Legend of Ransera

Still studying the lad's reactions, things started to make a bit more sense. Given away by a mother whose lullabies still haunted him. A deference to male authority, either from a strict master or a stricter father, most likely.

"Careful," he said gently, resting his boot on the edge of Torin's chair next to his knee. "Keep talking about paying around here and the courtesans might get the wrong idea. Or the right one. The profession of courtesan covers all matter of sins—some are artists, some connect people socially with keen eye and witty banter, and some are glorified whores—no offense to the lovely whores of the world, of course. And the Velvet Cabaret covers all matter of sins as well. Gambling, voyeurism—private rooms for private things and dark corners for dark deeds."

Perhaps counterintuitively, his smile was sincere, but his mouth was so often smirking, it rather held that shape. He knew the world too well, did Aurin, not to know that whatever people and actions had tempered this young man, the sort of joys some people found in those private rooms might have been joys subverted, perverted for coming too soon, too young, or too forcefully. He relented.

"An honest, well-mannered lad is a nice change of pace." He paused, seeing the serving woman out of the periphery of his vision. Poised to flag her down, though he normally went back and got his own food if he hadn't gauged his hunger well enough the first go. This was a guest. His guest. "Would you like more to eat?" But the moment had passed and she was gone to do some other errand and so he merely nudged his plate a bit closer to the middle of their table. "Feel free."

His fingers fell among some cloudberries, which he brought up to his lips.

"What does the day hold in store for you, young Master Torin? The forge or freedom?"

Aurin's manner from the moment they met had been gentle amusement, occasionally distracted, occasionally with curiosity piqued. Nothing Torin said had changed the baseline amusement, however. His nod was almost approval when the lad started teasing back. That was a good sign, he thought. The fixer knew better than most that humor could deflect as well as any shield, but if the lad were so far out of his element, he surely would have begged off staying, or reacted otherwise.

"Stamina," he noted after chuckling, "is prized."

When Torin's thoughts wandered, Aurin's gaze flickered to the table near the door, where they were easing the weary patrons away finally. The night previous would become a story they told all their friends, no doubt. Another few cloudberries passed his lips before he looked back at the smith. When he finally translated his thoughts into words, Aurin considered them and nodded.

"A runesmith and a poet." But then he was asking more pointed questions about the establishment and so Aurin sought to answer them. "The front doors are almost always unlocked. Several times a year we close down entirely for some deep cleaning. A patron can show up at any time of the day or night. If they've coin to spend, there's food, drink, entertainment—though services tend to mirror demand. A person can come without invitation or appointment to gamble, to watch a burlesque or vaudeville, listen to the music and appreciate the view..." Had Aurin just given him a bit of a look over? Surely not. "If great entertainments are afoot, there might be a small fee at the door, but often the larger productions are next door at the Golden Peacock. We've courtesans, male and female, moving about, making conversation. They will endeavor to engage you, to make sure you are having a good time. They want to keep you paying for drinks, of course. Or to refill your hookah in the lounges where various sorts of smokes are available. Some courtesans are trained for dancing. Some are trained for a particular sort of dancing, which does come with a fee and which allows you to look and to enjoy, but not to touch.

"If it's touching you're after," he continued, amused but hardly judgmental, "quite a few of the courtesans might engage you for that as well. That requires a brief contract with Madame Lunaria, who would certainly come out to arrange before she would come out to receive a package. She's quite discreet. You tell her what you're looking for and she arranges everything. There are private rooms for that, of course." He paused, his voice softened. "I would hazard to guess that you are not experienced in a lot of the offerings provided here. She is a sharp businesswoman, but she is not unkind. She takes care of her people, and she takes care of her clients. One can never prevent every danger, but we endeavor to make this a safe place to enjoy one's vices."

The lad was not a talker, 'twas true. However, when he disappeared into his own head and finally blurted something out without nerves to gnarl it, Aurin thought he was rather a good communicator, but he kept that to himself as the conversation evolved. Laughing softly at the question, he gulped the last of his coffee. He wanted more, but he would not go seek it out. Perhaps when he returned their dishes to the scullery, he would check in with his needs.

"Well, I am comfortable with my life here," he said. "I've been helping Madame Lunaria for years now. Some come here with illusions about what it will be like; they either adapt or leave. As I said, though, she takes care of her own. We have some who move up to work here, and the situations presented lower in the city are often much worse. She isn't predatory. She doesn't exact huge debts for people to pay off before they can change employment if this life isn't for them. It can be exciting. It can be exhausting." He rubbed his jaw ruefully, his auburn grizzle hiding a two-day-old bruise. "It can be dangerous. But I'm one of the people tasked with keeping things running smoothly. I'm the one who will water your wine when you have too much, or get some food in you to slow your roll. I'm the one who will talk two men down before they start throwing punches and furniture. Sometimes I'm the one who takes it on the chin so someone else doesn't have to.

"But I hear good stories. I have good stories. People smile when they see me coming. It's gratifying to be able to ensure people are enjoying themselves. There's enough wrong with the world that the sins we entertain here seem hardly sin at all. I have a little cottage to myself, and even if I'm not married, I don't have to cook all my meals or darn all my socks. I can focus on what I'm good at."

Pausing, he found it was relaxing to be entirely honest with someone. He wasn't so much a liar as a spinner of the truth. Anyway, lies were less effective than the strategic use of the truth.

"I'm heartened to hear that you have found a good place for yourself. I didn't have one when I was your age." Then his smirk returned, his gentle mocking. "And don't worry about experience. You can learn cards. You can fill your lungs with hypnotic smokes and your belly with spirits. You can enjoy intimacy with another person... or persons. It's not a race, not a competition. I mean, it can be if you're the competitive type, but..." His smile sweetened, though again, even his smiles looked like smirks. He just had one of those faces.

Before she sent me away, he had said, and now, before he sent me away. Aurin read a fear of abandonment, a fear of displeasing. That could be as harmful as physical violence. Torin was a man grown, but he remained sheltered. He was grown, but time and experience would mature him. In his eyes, Aurin could see the little boy who missed his mother. In his eyes, he could see the man who missed his old master, a father figure. Perhaps his new master would ease into that void, or perhaps he would guide Torin into a proper adulthood, a proper emotional maturity. Then again, who was Aurin to judge? He had said it wasn't a competition, but he himself was always in competition with himself. His own mother had tried to teach him that emotional attachment was a weakness, and now, when he competed with himself, sometimes it felt like he was still trying to impress her or, worse, competing with her.

He laughed.

"A story for a meal?" he mused. "I'm no bard, but I suppose that's a fair deal. I ought to get out of this place more often, eh? My next evening free is Thioras. Or, I suppose, if you prefer a daytime meeting, just let me know. I don't imagine apprentices have a great deal of free time. Perhaps Eikaeus if their master is pious."

Still smirking, still amused, he continued, "As for trying things out, I said can. You don't have to try anything. Anyone who tries to force you isn't worth your time at best, or should be punched in the face... or worse... at worst." He had thrown a few punches here, though he tried to avoid it. There was a reason most of his sharp objects were left at home, however. Things could get heated and even he, with his notoriously cool head, knew he was not exempt from that truth. Torin seemed a calm, steady type, but still waters ran deep, and that likely only meant he would be all the worse were his rage inspired.

Best avoid that.

He looked down in time to see a white fluff swish around Torin's leg curiously, then butt her head against his ankle. Leaning down, he helped her up onto his lap, where she began to circle, then avail herself of the seat. Immediately, she began to purr and make biscuits upon his leg.

"Torin, meet Pascal. Pascal, my new friend Torin." She glanced at Torin, but seemed unimpressed in the way of cats. "Has her Majesty emerged?"

"I suspect so," he said with an overly dramatic, put-upon sigh. It was quickly replaced by his half-smile. It was sincere in the moment, though he had been known to lie through his teeth or strike without warning when the situation called for it. Then, perhaps it was a baring of teeth as an animal giving warning, though one would have to know him well or people in general very well to tell the difference on that face. Uncoiling, he eased Pascal up, but she just climbed up onto his shoulder, looking down on Torin and her domain from on high.

Stacking their plates and mugs to take back to the scullery, he nodded toward the doors that led to the foyer and the front of the pagoda.

"The front will be more convenient. You can see what's in repertory at the Golden Peacock or get a massage at the Jade Crane. Theirs are generally better than ours... except for the ending. Try to look exhausted but smile as though the world has done you every possible favor. You never know. It might drum up more business for us." He winked. He grinned. He balanced their dishes on one hand with the surety of one who had waited tables before.

"Do come back later if you feel so inclined. You won't have my undivided attention, but I can introduce you to nice people or just show you good places to lurk where you'll have your back to a wall and can bloom, a proper wallflower, and enjoy the view. As for future plans, feel free to send a note to Aurin. A-U-R-I-N. Or address it to that ginger bastard and it will surely get to me. We can figure out a time and place to meet and I will know a few places nearby to expand your horizons. Kalzasi is an interesting place. You might as well see what it has to offer outside the freedom of the forge."