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Journal entry
- Alexander Hoe walked down the long corridor, delighted that the sounds of debauchery pouring out of the rooms drowned out the sound of his footsteps. The long-neglected brothel floor creaked and moaned, as though the wood regretted being witness to the lecherous scenes fed to it by this house of ill-repute standing in the very center of the pride of the Northern cities. Hoe had been generously remunerated for this visit by the wife of a silk merchant. She had long suspected her husband of dabbling with loose women during his working hours. The case had seemed simple enough, banal, even. A cheating husband. How many similar affairs had he unraveled?
- The worst was that his employers never truly wanted him to bring irrefutable proof of their husbands' guilt. On the contrary, in their heart of hearts they always hoped his investigations would prove their husbands model citizens, and their suspicions wholly unfounded. This time, it truly did turn out that the woman's husband was no whoremonger, despite the fact that his trail led Alexander to a place in which fleshly pleasures were bought and sold.
- The door in front of which he stopped, following the instructions he had received from the gnome at the entrance, had a small plaque with the number sixteen on it. Unlike the other rooms, this one was enveloped in an unsettling calm. Hoe turned the door knob and pushed the door open – and what he saw behind it far exceeded his worst expectations...