A Short Blonde with Big Boobs and Loose Morals
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Flexible Morals Ch. 03 free porn video
The slip of paper didn’t offer much to go on. That was to be expected, given what it said.
Hardened folk of flexible morals needed in Fissure. Proceed to The Vouiareli Nest.
Malik guessed that the place would turn out to be a seedy alehouse somewhere in the tangled back alleys of the town. Why did folk have such a problem with doing their dirty work somewhere cleaner? Did they feel that the perceived similarities in filth meant that the location had to fit the job? In his experience, it wasn’t necessary. He folded the paper up and slipped it into his jacket pocket, then peered around the establishment from the relative privacy of his booth.
Hendrick’s Door was the sort of location where a respectable mercenary knew to do business. There was a code in place here, not like those lawless spots that The Vouiareli Nest would likely be. Here, the room was silent and efficient. If you were alone, nobody bothered you. If you were in a group, nobody dared to listen in. The tables away from the walls were only for show or to expose the folk who didn’t belong here. There were no waitresses or anything like that either, nobody with a reason to pass by your table whenever they wished. If you wanted anything, you went to the bar. That was where the paper had been waiting for him, as per the unwritten code that had existed long before he came around.
Malik would follow the lead on this paper. When you were offered the chance for a job, you at least saw it through insofar as learning the full extent of what was being asked. Otherwise the offers would stop coming. He lifted the mug on his table and took a thoughtful sip of the orange Ember that rolled around within. The acrid drink scorched his tongue at first but soon fell away to its sweeter, more refreshing, aftertaste. Something about the paper gave him the sense that this client was a bit higher brow than usual. Perhaps it was the term ‘flexible morals’ that gave it away.
Another sip of his drink saw it finished and he stood to leave. No point in delaying things. He would travel to Fissure this very night.
===
Theirs was a cozy, well-off sort of home. Miners were paid well in Fissure to compensate for the long, exhausting hours of potentially dangerous work. The living room’s floor was layered with so many rugs that Phyre’s feet barely made a sound as she walked through and sank onto a padded chair in the corner. She let her voice wander around and take in everything there was to see. A table in front of her, a low one for sharing snacks with guests. Around it were several other seats and a comfy-looking sofa that had a deerskin draped across the back. Its antlers were hanging on the wall opposite her, accompanied by a shelf on either side that housed other sorts of household trinkets. There was a pearly white horn on a little wooden stand that propped up one end of a line of books. On the shelf beneath it stood a stone figurine of a bear standing on its hindlegs and roaring.
On the wall behind her, between two windows whose glass Phyre couldn’t help but wonder if she had had a hand in making, was a painting. She couldn’t quite discern what it was about. It was always rather difficult to get one’s voice to see past the rifts, valleys and ranges that paint made on canvas. She much preferred Vocal artworks. Those she could understand, their design suited more for seeing by sound rather than light. Phyre thought back to the one that had been in their house, positioned to be seen as soon as you came in the front door. It was of a sunrise coming over a forest, the lines of color and form stretching out from the canvas’ center to create a depth to the work that none but a Vocal could achieve. That painting had been lost to the blaze along with everything else.
Hatra reappeared from the kitchen with a plate of bread slices, each smeared with a different spread. She set it down on the table then sat opposite Phyre and gestured for her to take what she wanted. Phyre reached for one that was spread with a bright strawberry jam and took a single, reserved bite.
Hatra shook her head. ‘No, don’t you worry about being polite. You must be starved, they’re all for you. And don’t you dare think about trying to find somewhere else to stay, you can sleep here as long as you need.’
Phyre nodded and took another taste of the bread. She hadn’t eaten anything since the night before and that hadn’t been particularly filling. Now Hatra seemed intent on giving out everything she had to offer. She had been that way since Phyre told her the story of the fire on their way over here. Meanwhile, Drop had retreated into the sleeve of her robe to avoid being seen. The frog had told her that it was best not to reveal himself as a wishing frog to anyone else lest they try to steal the wish. It was a thought that Phyre could respect, so she had let him take up residence inside her clothes despite the occasional touch of his somewhat slimy body.
‘And you’ve no idea who those men were?’ Hatra’s words brought back the present.
‘No. I’ve never seen them.’ Phyre reached for another slice of bread, this one covered in a grayish paste that, after some consideration, she recognised as mushroom meal mixed with a bit of water. It wasn’t something that normally appealed but hunger was in charge for now.
‘By Dawn, what’s the world coming to?’ Hatra asked. She’d been asking it a lot since Phyre had told the story, as though the Eternal Empress had something to do with all this or could help in some way. Maybe she could, but it was silly to rely on such a thing. They were much too far away from the Empire’s capital. ‘We’ll see these men brought to justice, don’t you worry about that. Soon as Niptri gets home I’ll send him out again to fetch one of the garrison and we’ll pass on the word to them. Once Mr. Gilbride learns that there are brigands running about his town, oh he won’t give himself a moment’s rest, let me tell you. Those rogues’ll get the noose, don’t you fret.’
Phyre thought about the man to whom Hatra was referring. Mr. Winston Gilbride, the Patab of Fissure and owner of the iron mine. He lived in a big house up on the hill towards the northern end of town. Phyre hadn’t ever met the man in person but, from what she had heard, he sounded rather nice. Thoughts of justice hadn’t really entered her mind yet. Now that Hatra had brought it up, she could feel the embers building. Those men had burned everything and walked away. Something had to be done about it.
‘But what if they’re gone?’ asked Phyre. Two of the men had been Skytouched, they could have gotten anywhere by now if they so desired.
Hatra waved the thought off. ‘Pah, they’ll be tracked down sure enough. What goes around comes around, just you wait.’
What goes around comes around, Phyre repeated. The thought gave her a small comfort.
‘Anyway, tomorrow we’ll see about getting you some fresh clothes. I can smell the days on you, girl, no offense meant. Here, have you finished with those? That should tide you over till dinnertime, hmm?’ Hatra reached forwards and retrieved the tray that now held a single lonesome slice of bread topped with a carrot paste that Phyre didn’t like. The woman started back in the direction of the kitchen.
‘Thank you,’ Phyre said quietly as Hatra left.
‘Think nothing of it, deary. Your parents were good folk. There’s only one type of person who deserves a fate like theirs and that’s the type who did this. If I could just get my hands on those…’ Her voice trailed off as she went out of the room. Soon the sound was replaced by a clatter from the kitchen, followed by a curse. A few seconds later, Hatra poked her head back into the living room. ‘You go and set yourself up in the guest room and I’ll be round in a minute with some fresh linens.’
Phyre nodded, stood and headed towards the hall. Her voice crept out and located the guest room behind the door nearest her. She opened it and again looked inside just to be sure. It was a colde
r room than the others she could see, no sense of people spending a lot of time in it. The decor was rather plain compared to the rest of the house. Just a bed, a dresser and another unreadable picture on the wall. Not even a window. Then again, considering the house’s position, a window would probably only lookout on the house behind this one. This place wasn’t nearly as comforting as her own bedroom had been. With a soft breath of sadness, she sat down on the bed that was currently stripped bare.
‘Well, if anything, it’s certainly a step up from where we slept last night,’ said Drop from inside her sleeve. She had felt the slightly discomforting sensation of him crawling towards the end to peer out. Now, when Hatra returned, he would have to slither back down. They definitely needed a better solution to this. Drop gave a croak and shuffled further towards the end of her sleeve until he was right on the cuff. ‘Mind, it could do with a bit of sprucing up. I remember our rooms at the academy had quite a bit of flavor to them. The frog I was living with had a way with furniture, I can’t recall his name at the moment but—’
‘Shh,’ Phyre cut him off. It was meant as a warning about Hatra’s approach, something she was rather grateful for. With her voice, Phyre could see the Skytouched moving from the kitchen with an armful of bedclothes.
‘She’s coming?’ Drop gave a mighty leap back into the depths of her sleeve. She felt a bump as he bounced against her arm.
‘Here you are, deary. Why don’t you hop up and I’ll get this sorted for you, hmm?’
Phyre stood aside while Hatra covered the straw mattress in a plain sheet, then dressed the bed with a blanket and pillow. As soon as she had finished, she left the room again with a brief smile. Phyre shut the door, sank back onto the bed and waited for Drop to emerge. He didn’t take long.
‘So, have you thought about your wish much more?’ he asked.
Phyre shook her head. It was such a big decision, one that she could hardly hope to make until she was completely at ease. ‘There’s too much to think about.’
Drop made an agreeing croak. ‘That there is, my lady.’
‘Do you know what other people have wished for?’ she asked.
‘Can’t say I do. They only really taught us how to give the wishes and how to be tough enough to ensure that we got to.’
‘How do you give a wish?’ asked Phyre, suddenly interested in the process.
Drop looked up at her. ‘I’m afraid that’s a trade secret.’
‘Oh.’ She searched for something else to ask. ‘Do you know what will happen when I make my wish?’
For a few moments there was only silence. Phyre looked at the frog to find him staring off into space, his throat pulsing with thought. After a little while he looked back up at her. ‘I don’t really know. Never gave it much thought, to be perfectly honest. We each only have a single wish to give… What’s going to happen when I give mine? Am I still a wishing frog?’
It sounded as though those questions were the kind to direct to oneself rather than the kind that received answers. Still, Phyre thought about them and, for a moment, felt a sort of worry that her taking her wish might do something bad to Drop. Would he turn into a regular frog? ‘I’m sure it’ll be okay,’ she said to reassure herself as much as him.
Drop ribbeted and bobbed his head. ‘Yes, yes of course it will be. I’m just worrying for no reason.’
===
‘Why don’t we go straight to Mr. Gilbride’s manor instead?’ asked Phyre as she trailed along behind Hatra. Despite the woman’s certainty when she had first made the plan, her husband had proven reluctant to go traipsing around town after a day spent in the mine. A brief argument later and Mrs. Lanis conceded to fetching the guards herself, and Phyre had decided to join her, eager to ensure that justice went as it should. Yet there were no guards to be found. They had searched street after street to no avail. The evening was entering full swing so that may have had something to do with it — a transition to the night watch as the daytime patrol went home. Phyre pointed into the distance in the direction that she knew the Patab’s estate to be. She couldn’t see the actual house but she could see the cobbled path that led to it as it wound up the shallow hillside. ‘It’s right up there. Besides, there’s bound—’
‘Oh look,’ Hatra cut her off and paused to voice her thoughts ‘We’re right by Mr. Gilbride’s manor. I suppose we could take the matter right to him rather than bustling around in search of the nightwatch.’ With that decision sorted, the Skytouched started off again, seemingly oblivious to Phyre’s presence, though she continued to chatter to herself as she headed towards the manor’s own road. ‘Mind, Mr. Gilbride doesn’t normally take visitors without an appointment, and certainly not at this time of night. But I’m sure he will set the time aside to hear you out, seeing as how it’s such an important matter and all.’ Hatra looked back and gave the girl a smile.
For a moment, Phyre felt a flush of anger at the woman. That smile, as if it made everything all better. As if any of this, any sort of justice, could make things better. No matter what happened, her parents would never be coming back. There would be no more singing at breakfast or thanking Dawn together for the dinners that they had. No glass working with her father or sewing blankets with her mother. All of it was gone, never to return. Her throat threatened to clamp shut at those thoughts and she forced herself to look to the present. Hatra, despite her occasional tactlessness, was doing quite a charity here. There was no reason to be mad.
There was a somewhat subtle transition from the Fissure’s street to that of Mr. Gilbride’s manor. Weeds growing between the outtermost cobblestones became a rarity until they finally disappeared altogether. The grass, too, had a neater look about it, trimmed down with a gardening whip, no doubt. As the drive continued, little shrubs with carefully groomed foliage began to line the sides. The bushes grew larger as they neared the manor’s towering walls and front gate. A calculated form began to develop in some. That one, a deer’s head. Another, a stone column with a ball on top. Phyre couldn’t remember another time when she had seen such careful gardening. A number of the houses in Fissure kept little window boxes and some of the bigger ones had a small patch of green out front but none were anything like this. Even her house in the forest, despite the acres of land to themselves, had had little more than a patch of vegetables to be tended when the season was right. Contending with so much nature seemed a fruitless effort unless fruit really was the product of such work. Here, all the greenery seemed largely for show.
The outer walls of the manor stood tall and firm with wrought iron spikes topping the stone. There was a heavy wooden gate separating them from the interior of the walls. Beside it stood two of the Patab’s personal guards. Hatra strode towards them, encouraging them to quit leaning against the wall that they protected and to come to attention. Both looked to be Skytouched and each carried a spear.
‘Declare your intent,’ commanded the one on the right, once Phyre and Mrs. Lanis had drawn nearer.
Hatra regarded the man with a flash of a glare before speaking. ‘We’re here to see Mr. Gilbride.’
‘The Patab doesn’t take unscheduled visitors at this hour nor any other. Now begone.’ He waved his free hand towards the town.
‘You go tell the Patab that this regards the matter of a murder and that he will want to see us at once.’ Hatra folded her arms insistently on the final word.
The man on the left spoke then as he stepped forwards. ‘A murder’s a job for the nightwatch. Nothing to trouble the Patab with.’
‘It’s the nature of the murder. The town’s amok with brigands, killing whomever they please.’
‘Oh,’ the right said with a condescending grin. ‘And where are these ‘brigand
s’.’
‘Well, goodness knows where they’ve gotten to now, but they certainly aren’t hanging by their necks on market street as one should expect. Makes one wonder what the watch is doing with themselves if a trio of murderers are given free roam of the town. Why, myself and my neighbors have started to wonder that very thing. What’ve all our taxes been going to? A whole garrison of no-good layabouts who wouldn’t know one end of a sword from the other? Three days it’s been since these brigands did their killing and looting and we’ve not seen hide nor hair of any since, nor any wheels of justice in rotation, for that matter. I tell you, Fissure’s going to the wolves.’
Had Phyre any eyes, she would have blinked as the guards just did. The two men were silent for a moment and she grew worried that they would emerge angry at this ruthlessly blunt woman in front of them. Instead, they started to look a bit flustered.
‘Brigands you say?’ asked the left.
‘That’s right. Running all over the roads without a care in the world.’
The men exchanged a look and seemed to undergo some silent deliberation. After a few moments, the one on the right spoke. ‘Seeing as how it’s such an important matter, you may enter. You’re to go up to the house and find Raleek, he’s the butler. He’ll take your story to the Patab and then it’ll be decided whether you meet him in person or not.’
‘Ah, finally some understanding.’ Hatra looked back at Phyre and gave her another smile. This time it felt more welcome as there was actually something to smile about.
The guard on the left hammered a fist against the wooden gate. ‘Open up. Visitors coming in,’ he commanded.
Her voice cast over and around, Phyre could see several guards hurrying about behind the wall as they undid locks and worked mechanisms. The result saw the two heavy doors start to move and groan as they swung slowly outwards. Soon enough, Phyre and Hatra were waved inside. The cobbled road continued a short ways beyond the gate until it widened and looped around itself. At the center of this was a pond which looked so perfectly circular that it had to be made by man. Even the reeds growing at its edges looked as though they had been placed there with some design in mind. Off to the left was a big, wooden structure that Phyre had to guess was a stable, judging by the carriage and pile of hay bales outside it. She couldn’t see any horses nearby and didn’t want to raise her voice any louder to do so.
As they rounded the pond, a building that she quickly decided had to be Mr. Gilbride’s home came into view. It stood tall and wide with loads of windows, each lit from within by an oil lamp or a fifrey plant perhaps, though the latter grew much better further south and the light looked a bit too yellow anyway. Ivy crawled the mansion walls in some places, and this too appeared intentional as it climbed along these wooden frames, each painted white. That struck her as rather odd. In the forest, you would never give ivy a chance to take root in your home. Its presence damaged the wood and eventually made holes through which all manner of insects could get in. Then again, Mr. Gilbride’s mansion was made of stone so perhaps it wasn’t so much of a problem. An entirely stone house, now that was a sight. Yes, there were bits of wood here and there but the vast majority of the building was rock. What’s more, Phyre realized, the mansion had three floors. Three. Most houses in Fissure only had so many as two floors and some not even that. Yet here was one with three, plainly visible by the sets of windows proving it so. She suddenly felt a burning desire to go inside. If the exterior was this impressive, what would the interior be like?
‘Drop, you have to see this,’ Phyre whispered into her sleeve. She pointed her arm towards the house, careful to hide that action from Hatra, and felt the slimy rummaging of the frog crawling up for a look.
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