Chapter 198: Dockside conversation
The sun beat down on the port quarter like a lash, bringing the scent of salt, sweat, and seaweed to the surface in waves. Allen stood at the edge of the old harbor plaza, eyes scanning the tangled streets, the crooked balconies, the sails flapping like flags of surrender in the wind. Behind him trailed a quiet procession—priestesses, acolytes, even a few temple guards in nothing but flowing wraps and inked symbols on their bare skin. The corruption that had bloomed in the temple had started to spill outward, and the port was the first place he’d chosen to let it take root.
Rinni walked beside him, practically bouncing with each step. "This place smells like fish and whore sweat. I love it."
Fina rolled her eyes but smirked. "You’d love anything that smells like sin."
Allen didn’t respond. His gaze was locked ahead, where a squat stone warehouse had been converted into a kind of unofficial brothel and tavern. A banner hung over the door, frayed at the edges, marked with the sigil of House Jekal—a minor noble family that handled most of the city’s merchant fleet. He could already hear the music from inside, the uneven laughter, the sound of boots on wood and hips on hips.
He pushed the door open without knocking.
The inside was dim, loud, and thick with the scent of cheap ale and cheaper perfume. Men crowded the long tables, some half-dressed, others already with their hands under skirts or cupping tits in the open. Women moved between them—dock girls, smugglers, tavern wenches—each painted with the messy charm of someone who knew exactly how to get what she wanted.
Allen didn’t pause. He walked straight through the main floor and toward the far dais where a girl in red leaned against the railing, sipping from a goblet like she owned the room. She didn’t flinch when he approached—just looked him over with an arched brow, her thigh casually draped over the arm of her seat.
"Didn’t think you’d come in person," she said. Her voice was a low, husky thing, smoke wrapped in silk. "Thought you’d send one of your painted sluts."
Allen’s smile was slow, dangerous. "Why send a priestess when the god himself is here?"
She smirked, leaning in just slightly. Her hair was wine-dark and her skin sun-kissed, freckles scattered across her nose and chest like spilled sugar. "Big talk. Got anything to back that up, temple boy?"
Fina stepped forward before Allen could speak, her eyes glittering. "He flipped the entire high temple in one night," she said. "Turned a holy altar into a breeding shrine. Your little den here doesn’t scare us."
Rinni plopped herself into the nearest chair, helping herself to a half-finished drink. "We’re here to spread a new gospel. And we brought lube."