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[sub][h3][b]Dibella's House of Common Pleasures[/b][/h3][/sub] 
[sub][h3][color=gray][s]2100,[/s][/color] [b]Last Seed 21[/b][color=gray][s], 4E 205[/s][/color][/h3][/sub] 
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The sun had set, the curfew had taken effect. Yet in the premiere brothel of Wayrest, the night has just begun. Citizens and occupying soldiers flocked to the "entertainment" district alike, and the latter were more than happy to let their orders slide. Not all who came to one particular brothel, commonly called the House of Commons, came for the bodily pleasures. It was a large three story building of many rooms; many of them housed former pirates trapped between rock and a hard place, while other were occupied by opportunists hoping to pilfer the legendary treasures of the Corsairs.

One such individual was Ander. He had rented a small room three days ago, never requiring any services and never returning until dark. Tonight, he was carried in by a band of mercenaries. Ander was unconscious, but in stable condition. He was soaked liked the mercenaries, though thankfully, only in water. They had emerged from a manhole, guided by receipts in Ander's pocket and Alim's directions.

Overlooking the bustling lobby, where red lights glazed across dark leather, were the premium guest rooms. These weren't the rooms for pirates and scavengers; only the richest (and often the anonymous) could afford them. Sounds of pleasure and pain seeped through the cracks of mostly sound-proof doors. One such room was taken by Relyssa an hour ago. Another was where a Breton man in an ash gray cloak had emerged. This man wore leather armor under his cloak, and partly concealed under his hood was a silver circlet and messy black hair. His relaxed shoulders showed his ease, yet a faint frown made it clear he was not happy. His right hand hovered around his waist, as if protecting an invisible object attached to his belt. The Breton man took out a pipe, lit it with a spark spell and watched the scene below.

"S'toth trusts you were satisfied with his services?" Came a sultry purr from the same room. The Khajiit was a busy one tonight, for his barbed appendages were coveted by curious lords and ladies alike.

"Most enjoyable." The Breton man nodded absentmindedly. Without turning to acknowledge the prostitute, he offered a handful of coins. "Here's your tips."

As S'toth left, the Breton man focused on the newcomers below. He watched Gustav rent a premium room for himself, and cheaper options for his employees. He watched Xenia Richton, madam of the house, chide them for leaving a wet mess (on this already wet mess of an establishment), and redirecting Ander to the nearest clinic. He watched some soldiers cast suspicious glances at the mercenaries (but none of them did anything, since they weren't supposed to be there in the first place). He watched mercenaries from other companies, who were hired by the armies, size up their newest competitors. Finally, he watched the lonesome Nibenese sailor trailing after them.

The Breton man smiled to himself. He made his way downstairs, brushing past the mercenaries and not acknowledging them. He weaved through the sweaty, drunk and aroused mass of people, almost unnoticed, until he was in front of the Nibenese lad.

"You there, come." He gestured. "I have a job for you."
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