The stench of shit was enough for Richmond to wretch up his breakfast. Half-digested kippers spilled out of his mouth and onto the shit-stained streets of Muse's slums. He spat out the remaining bits of fish and wiped his mouth and then began regretting the previous evening intake of wine. Worth it at the time? Yes, thrice over. The three bottles of Three Sister's Claret (circa SY 426), given to him after a successful case for a wealthy widow, was the perfect accompaniment to the tomahawk steak he devoured. How far he'd fallen from grace in such a short period of time.
'Hey, Mister. Are you okay?' A child's voice snapped him from his reminiscing.
Richmond looked around to see a small boy. His pasty face was matted with mud and his clothes looked like they'd been stitched from cloth sacks. The long blonde hair that drooped down over his scrawny shoulders was caked in filth that it almost looked dark.
'Scram, kid. Can't you see I'm chucking up last night?' The boy looked to him with doe like eyes, a wounded one at that. Richmond took pity. 'Ugh, here.' He fished a coin from the pocket of his beloved leather duster and flicked it towards the boy, who reached so fast and snatched the coin before running off.
Richmond felt queasy again as he watched the boy splash through the river of human excrement in his bare feet.
He hated this side of town, but the visit was essential for the new case he had taken on: another wealthy Muse nobleman suspected of playing away with a much younger mistress. Muse was certainly not short of randy noblemen and, thankfully, it kept a good steady flow of Golden Beryls in his pockets. It would be routine, but meeting with the Queen of the Slums would help greatly. Most of the shady business that went down in the city, the Queen would know of it. Her little rats infested the city gathering every bit of information, small or large, for her. He felt uneasy about the meeting. The last time they had met, they had slept together and he had ducked out while she slept.
Richmond finally made his way to The Nag's Head, one of the roughest watering holes in the city. He ensured the dagger up his sleeve was ready in event of any trouble. Despite the early hour, there would still be the hardcore boozers in there from the previous evening.
The wooden doors swung open and let the only natural light enter the foul smelling bar. A few of the clientele swung around, covering their eyes.
'Shut the bloody door, boy!' The voice was gritty, befitting one who probably smoked countless tobacco leaves, Richmond noted as he swiftly closed the doors.
'My apologies, gentlemen,' He bowed his head and made his way over the bar, gesturing to the small carafe on the shelf. 'Your good stuff, I presume?' The barman grunted. 'Indeed. And a drink for your esteemed clientele, barkeep.' All four highly inebriated men slurred thanks to him, and he sat on the stool with a sense of relief that he had won the room over.
The barkeep slammed the carafe down and red liquid slopped over the counter, which he didn't bother wiping up. Richmond nodded in thanks but the man ignored him. He reached into one of the many pockets of his coat and pulled out his smoking pipe, using one of the candles to light it.
'So, gentlemen. Who here can grant me an audience with the Queen?' Richmond said as cloud of strong tobacco smoke filled the air around him.
'Who's asking?'
The female voice made him smile as he took another puff of his pipe. Turning he saw a tall, slender woman emerge from the shadows of the dank room.
'Ah, your majesty.' He said, dipping his head. 'How long has it—'
Before he could finish, a small ornate curved blade was at his throat. The Queen had moved like a viper, like he remembered. He could feel the cold sharpness of it cut the skin.
'This seems familiar.' He smiled confidently.
'If I remember correctly, Detective, I threatened to cut your balls off if I ever seen you again.' Her spindly fingers reached down to his crotch and gripped firmly around his package.
'You wouldn't harm your favourite Detective now, my Queen.' Her grip tightened. 'Admittedly, the manner of my exit was not very gentlemanly. Forgive me, your majesty.'
Her cold blue eyes searched his. The pain was excruciating, but he put on a brave face. Her grip loosened to his relief and the knife eased off his neck. No one else in the room had moved an inch, nor did they bother paying attention when there was fresh drinks to be drunk.
'What am I to do with you, Dicky?' She kissed him deeply. The taste of wine was heavy on her lips. 'Come now, we have some catching up to do.'
She kissed him again and headed towards the crudely built stairway. He emptied his pipe and picked up the carafe of wine, before following on, bracing himself for what was to come.
