Try talking first

"Shhh" You raised your left forefinger to your lip, while at the same time your right hand palmed a folded packet of silk that you had carefully wrapped around a mixture of black pepper and fire spice. The girl was just on the outside the ideal range for the packet, but if she started to yell a flick of your wrist would fill the air around her face with a powder that would hopefully turn her cries for help into a mixture of sneezes and gasps.

"Who are you?" Her words were a relief, she still had all the nervousness of a street dog being offered a scrap, but at least she wasn't screaming. Taking half a pace towards her you whisper quietly the first reassuring words that come to you.

"I'm here to help." Leaving the packet of pepper in its secret pocket you spread both your hands showing her your empty palms.

"Did Quint send you?" Her words took you by surprise. Rather than try to cover the initial gaff with a lie, you decided to stick closer to the truth.

"No. Who's Quint?" The girl looked around the room and into the chamber beyond.

"Quintus Trevian? He's one of my father's guards. We were supposed to meet here tonight." Your mind turned over the possibilities, but settled pretty quickly on the most cynical choice. Why else would the teenaged daughter of a wealthy merchant want to meet with one of her father's guards in a empty room in the darkest hours of the night.

"He's your lover." Your voice is calm, it really wasn't any of your business what this girl was doing with a guard, goddess knows you had slept with handfuls of men by the time you were her age.

"It's not like that." He voice rose a little in denial but quickly dropped to the former hushed tone. "He's not my lover, he loves me..." and after the slightest hesitation she added boldly "...and I love him." Dear gods above, a naive rich girl who thinks she's in love with the hired help. You are close enough now to drop her without a sound, but with a subtle shake of your head you take pity on the pretty girl.

"How old are you?" You ask her quietly as you take her hand in yours and lead her to the seat.

"Eighteen, this spring." She explains like it resolves the problem.

"And how old is Quint?" You ask her gently.

"Oh, he's older, he'll be twenty-four in a few months, and he's smart. After we're married he can work for father as his head of security." The stupid girl had no clue about men. Maybe it was time to educate the poor thing.

"Do you know why he's not where he's supposed to be luv?" The girl's eyes were wide with wonder as she shook her head. "He's in the guardroom banging your father's courtesan with the rest of his pals." She tried to jump to her feet, but you were too quick for her. One hand clamped over her mouth and the other pinned her to the seat.

"He doesn't love you, he's using you." The words were cold, but truth usually was. The words that warmed your heart were the lies told by poets, lovers and con artists; the ones that you really needed to hear were usually the offhand remarks from strangers who didn't give a damn about you.

It took a almost a minute for the rich girl to understand that she wasn't going to free herself from your grasp. When she stopped struggling you let your grip relax just a little.

"If I take my hand off your mouth will you let me prove what I'm saying." When she nodded you carefully lifted your palm from her soft lips. You're not even sure why you are bothering, in a day or two this delightful little creature was going to be in chains, the captive of some soldier in the invading armies. If she was lucky her captor would be a decent sort and not some sadistic slob. Either way, at least she'd know what she was in for, there would at least be some of honesty in that relationship.

"Do you really want me to prove it?" Maybe she'd say no, maybe she'd prefer to live the last day or two of this reality in her happy dream land of naive stupidity.

"Show me!" She was angry, but you aren't sure if she's mad at you or Quintus.

It took a few minutes to move through the ornate household areas and into the plain areas occupied by the servants and guards. You could hear the sounds of sex as you neared the common room set aside for the guards, the girl could hear them too, but didn't seem to recognize them for what they were. Goddess she was ignorant! Any eight year old from the streets would recognize the slap of bare flesh against flesh and the gurgle of a cock being mouthed at the same time.

The sight through the door was pretty much what you expected. Your companion though was clearly shocked by the sight of Bren-Freya being fucked by four or five different men. You guess the curly haired young man ramming his cock down the courtesan's throat was about the right age to be Quintus. The men were in good spirits as they shared the expensive courtesan and laughed about how good it felt to finally get a piece of the merchant's goods. From the shared banter it was pretty clear that none of the men would be at their posts in the morning. It was Quintus himself that put the final nail in his own coffin, when a veteran asked him about his high-born sweetheart upstairs.

"She's a tasty tumble, but she's not worth dying for." Iola gasps loudly and you pull the trembling girl back from the gap in the doorway and lead her away from the guards before she starts bawling like a new apprentice. To your surprise she did little more than sniffle once or twice before her hand squeezed yours tightly in hers and she stopped you in the dark hallway.

"Thank-you." The words were simple, but it was not often that you were thanked for ruining someone's dreams. "Thank you for showing me who he really is." You walk together in silence as you led her back upstairs. "He was lying." You have no idea what she was talking about, but as she stammers her explanation you start to understand. "I was going to ... you know, I was going to let him have me tonight... I didn't tell him, I wanted it to be a surprise." You wonder if Quintus would have waited for her if he had known? Who cares.

"I'll let you go back to work now." Were you going to trust her to keep her mouth shut once she was out of your sight? Your gut told you you could believe her, but all your years of experience screamed at you to deal with her. You didn't have to kill her, but a sharp blow to her head, or binding and gagging her would be prudent.