Ever since the country had been restored back to its natural greatness things had gotten progressively easier for the modern day laborer of Camelot. Things had even managed to become easier for the pickpockets and street sponges of Thieves Landing, in the province of Little Whinding.
Little Whinding was not a rich province, as a matter of fact, it could probably be considered as one of the poorest in the country. Two lords ruled the province, and were under the impression that if they continued to show the King support, both socially and financially, then their smoke screen would continue and their wonderful little lives would to be uninterrupted by any good-doing.
The soil in Little Whinding was poor quality, so it was not the farmers that struck big when it came to wealth. No, it was the artists, the craftsmen, the musicians, the entertainers. Even your average-day whore made a prettier penny than a farmer.
Thieves Landing was the prime example of what happened when thieves and brigands climbed the ladder of political power. The town was topsy turvy with injustices and crime. Those who couldn't fend for themselves were either killed or were sold. If you couldn't protect yourself the town would swallow you whole, and your fate was left to chance, or on a bright day, luck. So naturally, Thieves Landing developed a reputation for being a tough town. Even the most desperate and hungry of wanderers wouldn't venture there, fearful for their lives and their pockets. Even the prestigious teachings and influences of Camelot could not touch Thieves Landing.
Those who welcomed the dank alleys and cold cobblestone streets as their home were a different breed of people. They were killers, con-artists, bandits, desperadoes by heart. But you might be mistaken if you think all the inhabitants of Thieves Landing are deplorable. You had your entrepreneurs, survivors, marauders... and that was exactly what Semone thought she was, an entrepreneur... of sex.
It was late afternoon, around the time Semone and Demona usually took their afternoon strolls. Their cloaks wrapped against their firm and shapely bodies, the heavy hoods weighing on their heads to shelter the sides of their faces from the cold. Even some prostitutes worked in the rain. If you weren't advertising your services, you didn't get paid. If you didn't get paid, you didn't eat. Both Semone and Demona knew what that was like when they were younger. There had been nights where both of them had gone hungry. But those days were far behind them now. But this wasn't an advertising walk, as you can imagine. If it was they would be wearing their best dresses and clothing, looking for a dry corner to huddle in to display what they were selling.
Now that Semone and Demona were older they were experienced, precious commodities that men purposefully sought out, especially Semone. She had a reputation for being the most beautiful woman in Thieves Landing, her beauty rivaling royalty in the King's court in Camelot. So naturally men sought her out. Because Semone was deemed so precious by the public eye she could afford to be a little choosy with her clientele if she so chose. But at the end of the day, money was money and Semone considered herself a proud opportunist if anything.
Both women were beautiful, in their own way, being proud products of their natural environments. Semone was fair skinned, with golden waves that traveled to the small of her back. Her hair was almost always in a braid. She didn't like bangs or hair in her face, the feeling annoyed her greatly. She wanted people to see all of her; rounded high-set cheeks, pouty pink lips, a thin pointed nose, and big doe-like green eyes, that could challenge and put any man in the palm of her hand.
"Look at those two-bit whores," Demona spat cackling, leaning her head toward the opening of Semone's hood, gesturing to a couple of scantily clothed girls striking up a negotiation with a merchant. "Remember those days where we would have to street walk, day in and day out?" Demona stretched her arms over her head lazily, "glad we... well, glad I kicked the habit." Demona looked to her companion a bit skeptically, to which Semone only smirked from under the shelter of her hood.
"You're far too proud for being Persian, isn't your race enslaved?" Semone prodded playfully, finding Demona's pride both annoying and admirable.
"I would love to see you say that to any other Persian not brought to this white-devil country of yours," Demona stated curtly, not finding Semone's playful tone any less insulting, "Your head would fall of your shoulders by your last word. I will have you know that-."
"We Persians are fierce warriors and are conquerors at heart, yes, yes," Semone finished, having heard this particular rant before. The two women approached the front of a whorehouse, ironically one of the tallest buildings in Thieves Landing. It was run by Brother Michael, a wayward priest gone twisted for evil, who not only made it a point to rule all the whores of Thieves Landing, but made a point to rule the men who came and visited them. Brother Michael liked being very buddy-buddy with all the men who came to his fine established buisness to visit his women. Semone guessed his philosophy was you never knew when you might need to take advantage of somebodies else's services.
Semone found him disgusting, while Brother Michael found Semone, like the many other men who saw her, to be a precious commodity. He bribed and bartered and harassed and even threatened Semone to join his gaggle of girls, but the courtesan was unyielding and delivered the same answer to him day after day.
"Well, well, well. It isn't a everyday when Semone, the precious courtesan of Thieve Landing greets us with her presence." barked a woman with bright orange hair, pulling up a tattered sleeve that kept falling from her shoulder. A few women behind her cackled in agreement, some laughing just because they too loathed Semone.
Demona yanked down her hood, bright cyan eyes lit with fury, "Do you wish to participate in combat, Raquel? Because I can do just that."
"I'll have none of Semone's entourage." the woman snarled, her lip raised in a sneer.
Semone held her tongue, knowing it tortured Demona to be compared to her or to be thought lesser than her. It wasn't fair.
Demona grabbed her hood and tossed it back over her head, "I'll be at the tavern in the square, I'll be seeing you, birdy," the dark skinned woman uttered between trembling lips. Semone wasn't sure if Demona was shaking out of fury or if she was shaking out of sadness. When her friend did take her leave, Semone removed her hood and smiled beautifully at Raquel.
"Dear Raquel, don't beat yourself up too much. If I had a dick I probably wouldn't want to stick it in you either."
Raquel looked aghast, as did the other women behind her. "Is that a challenge, dear?"
"I wouldn't want to challenge a street sponge, sweetheart. You're hardly worth my weight in terms of competition."
Raquel stumbled off the stone steps of the whorehouse and got in Semone's face, who seemed to be indifferent with the closeness.
"I bury you in the numbers of men that come to visit me," Raquel spat, droplets of saliva spattering on Semone's nose and mouth.
"Say it don't spray it, dear," Semone took a moment to wipe the wetness away with the tips of her fingers, "If my rates were as low as yours, then yes I suppose you do bury me in numbers." Semone smiled at Raquel's fury. "After all, anybody can buy a whore, but only a man of wealth can afford a courtesan." Semone relished in Raquel's anger once more, admiring the way her whole face became red, her eyes narrowing.
"Then you wouldn't be threatened by the prospect of a bet then, would you, dear?"
Semone took a step back and placed a finger along the outline of her face, looking thoughtful, "I'm listening."
"The Red Knight, Sir Ruber, an exiled knight of King Arthur's court is said to be visiting Thieves Landing. He and his men have been spreading fear into the countryside." Semone listened more, but was starting to loose interest. "I hear that he is a great and powerful man, and shamelessly wealthy from all the villages he and his men have pillaged and sacked." Semone's eyes instantly brightened, when Raquel mentioned the words 'wealthy' and 'shamelessly', but was silent still.
"I bet I can lure Sir Ruber into my bed before he even gets a chance to look at you."
At this Semone burst out into a fit of shrill laughter.
"What!? Come now! It isn't that impossible."
"Alright, alright," Semone removed her hood, the light leaving the sky reflected off her golden braid. She began to undo her cloak, button by button. Each button she undid, the more horrified Raquel's expression became. The cloak dropped, and underneath it Semone wore a rich colored green corset, with a dark skirt that clung to her hips, flaring out once the fabric went past her arse, accentuating her figure even more. The slippers she had on were made of the finest fabric, glimmering with each step she took. She reached behind her, every arch and motion she made was fluid and graceful. Even Raquel seemed mesmerized as she watched Semone undo her braid, letting the golden waves run freely down her partially exposed back. Semone took her fingertips and fluffed out her bangs, attempting to make them cooperate. She hated her bangs, but she couldn't deny she looked good with them.
"You're wearing... that."
"I know it is short notice but it is going to have to do for now," Semone stated, smiling at Raquel's bewilderment. The plain Jane beside her had already lost the bet, but Semone was going to humor her, and crush her spirits. "So what happens if I win?" Semone asked, quirking a neatly preened brow curiously, "The competition is so stiff, after all," she teased.
"If I win, I get your earnings for this whole month... and if you win, you get the same." Raquel quipped, looking determined. She began to preen and straighten herself out right there. She walked back up the stone steps to the large oak doors of the whorehouse. She knew what she was wearing now, compared to Semone, wouldn't get her anywhere in comparison. That was something you constantly had to do in the business. Compare yourself to other women. You had to make yourself out to be as beautiful as humanly possible to a wide audience of men who varied in tastes.
"Deal, I could always use the extra pocket change," Semone yelled after Raquel, watching her run back into the whorehouse with her proverbial tail between her legs. Semone's chest swelled with pride. When Raquel came back outside she was wearing her own best clothing, to attempt and rival Semone. Raquel reached and pulled her frizzy red hair into a ponytail, trying to straighten out the wayward curls and strands to make herself look more preventable.
"Oh you look lovely, dear," Semone stated, in a tone that confused and angered Raquel even further. She couldn't tell if the tone was supposed to be condescending or truthful
Raquel cleared her throat and placed her knuckles on her wide-set hips matter of factly, "They should be making their way through this part of town any minute now. If they're creatures of habit they'll come by around the same time they did last night."
Semone smiled at this and leaned against some wooden railing that encompassed the building. Already there was no mistaking a woman of superior wealth compared to the whores that flaunted themselves in front of the whore house.
