By Carl Beacker
A cacophony of noise rose through the floorboards below; the sounds of crashing music, grunts, and women’s laughter, as well as the occasional moan. Elpis Cindrow hitched up his pants and buckled his belt, pausing as he turned to throw a handful of tiks at the bed behind him. He walked to the landing that overlooked the common area as a man was cast into the street beyond, laughing. Just the sort of thing Elpis looked for in a brothel.
He made his way down the stairs, picking his way between the debauchers that hadn’t made it to a private room, and the hooting onlookers. He pursed his nose at the smell of stale sweat and cheap booze that pervaded the place and nodded at the mistress behind the bar. Draining his flask, he picked his way carefully to the door, lest he should fall. It would not do to have Leesian citizens such as these see a man of his position stumble.