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Lyara learns more about being Dragonborn.

60.

Or so she thought. After comparing the house number with the address in the letter numerous times, she came to the conclusion that her unknown correspondent must have made a mistake, because the building in front of her was fairly obviously a brothel.

Not that she had anything against brothels. Houses of pleasure certainly were not a rarity here, and for many women it was just another way of escaping bitter poverty, but Eliza herself would rather not work at such a place, she decided. With a sigh, she eyed the entrance. Even if she was wrong here, maybe the... how do you say? Dames? Maybe they could at least help her or even know the mysterious Frau Sch__tz.

She entered, eyed curiously by the scantily clad and shivering young things, who stood at the entrance and smoked. Inside, there was a dimly lit foyer, draped over and over with thick curtains. A red carpet dampened her steps and it was noticeably quiet, only occasionally a distant laughter made it to her ears, from somewhere inside the house. A woman with a striped corset and short, frilly skirt came out from behind one of the curtains, but when she saw that Eliza probably was not a potential client, her fake smile immediately turned into an expression that looked, as if she just had swallowed a lemon.

"Excuse me," Eliza said shyly. "I... I must have gotten the wrong address, because I'm supposed to meet a Frau..." She fished the letter from her pocket and skimmed over it again. "Frau Kathleen Sch__tz. Might you know where I could find her, by any chance?"

The woman tilted her head, which gave her curls a slight bounce. "Well, come along then," she finally said nonchalantly and went straight to an archway, not waiting for Eliza to follow up.

They went down a dim corridor until they reached a staircase, which led upstairs to yet another corridor. Behind the doors on each side, Eliza could hear an occasional moan or giggle, but she hurried to keep up with her leader. Finally, they stood in front of the last door on the right side, at the end of the hallway. "There you go," the woman in the corset said and then went off again.

Eliza knocked and listened for an answer, when she suddenly heard a shrill scream coming from behind the door, which was preceded by a dull slap. Then again. And again. It sounded monotonous and almost unreal, and she began to wonder if it wasn't coming from somewhere else entirely. She knocked again, louder this time. The locality was bizarre enough to make her turn tail and run, under normal circumstances, but Eliza was desperate and ready to take on almost any work, as long as she was at least permitted to keep on her clothes.

Slap. Another scream. Slap. Then silence. Eliza counted her heartbeats, when the door suddenly got opened unexpectedly and she shrieked.

The woman standing in front of her was in a strange way imposing. Her short, fire-red hair was wild and unkempt and tousled around her face in wavy strains, her deep blue eyes unflinchingly looked at Eliza, staring straight into her soul. She wore a dark green suit with a white vest underneath, which gave her a masculine figure, but couldn't hide her feminine curves completely. In the dull light she looked as pale and white as her vest, only sprinkled with some freckles.

"Frau Spur," she suddenly said calmly. "Come in."

Eliza entered a room which was filled with bookshelves. A desk occupied the largest part of the remaining space, and in a corner by the window there were two red plush chairs, where another woman was sprawled out, who was completely naked to Eliza's surprise. "Please, have a seat," her host invited her, pointing at a chair by the desk, while walking around it and letting herself fall into one herself.

"So. You're a translator and typist?" the woman asked.

"Yes," Eliza answered, nodding. "I'm supposed to see Frau Sch__tz..."

"That's me," the redhead interrupted her.

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