It cost seven silver pieces to spend a night at the Layflower.

The building was tall and handsome—if a little world-worn around the edges—squeezed into the space between Madame Bellavue’s Bathhouse and the old Prudent Pestle apothecary shop. The Layflower towered over the cobblestone streets with three storeys, made of dark wood and hewn stones that bore well the passage of time, overlooking the piers and innumerable ships and skiffs bobbing with the tide of the Jewel Sea.

While the Layflower was certainly not the newest building in the dock ward, and was currently under management of its fourth owner, business remained the much same. With its reasonable prices, the rooms were kept full, and its kitchen and staff kept busy. Busiest of all, perhaps, were the women that served the inn’s customers; both on the tavern floor, and in privacy.

An additional five silver pieces for an hour could afford the weary traveller a woman's company in their room.

One such woman was Ardent.

She was some of the younger women employed by the inn, shy of two-and-twenty, and Ardent had been a fixture at the Layflower since she was sixteen. From simply waiting tables and keeping the tavern clean and doing its dishes, she was now paid in room and board to keep the inn’s customers happy and satisfied with her body, ever since she came of age at eighteen.

The inn kept a varied assortment of women offering this particular service; Ardent herself was a tiefling, horned and tailed, with deep ruby red skin, and glossy purple-dark hair that spilled down her back like ink from the inkpot. Twin horns sprouted from the sides of her head, curling towards her cheeks from underneath her pointed ears, not unlike that of a ram; and adorned with shiny brass rings and dangling chains attached to small bells, so that with every step there was a musical little chime.

Ardent was voluptuous, and wore clothes that only seemed to emphasize her body. The tight corsets she wore, with her slitted dresses, drew the eye to soft thighs and wide hips; then to the narrow pass of her waist, and finally to her ripe breasts threatening to spill out from the top of her dress. Ardent was happy to continue to dress as she did, not one to shy away from the generous coin that found their way into her pockets on the account of the bare skin she revealed unashamedly.

And if there was any time to fill her pockets with coin, it was tonight.

The Layflower was packed to the gills, with adventurers, soldiers and sailors, and locals alike. The air was hot and sweet, carrying the scent of appetizing food; and the mead and ale flowed freely from the casks behind the bar. There was noise enough that anything lower than a shout would go unheard, drowned out by merrymaking, and the musical performance of the bards from their little raised dais in the center of the space.

The night was young; if two customers left, five more arrived through the front door, and the barmaids were kept busy, going to-and-fro from kitchen to table, and occasionally disappearing for an hour at a time on the arm of eager looking customers. Ardent herself had done a few of these clandestine trysts into the spare rooms of the Layflower, and while her knees were a little more bruised than she would like, she had enough silver in her pocket to not be too bothered.

The tiefling tottered through the tavern with her hands full: four tankards of ale in one, and a roasted bird in the other. She had an easy smile ready for anyone that called for her attention, her dark eyes trained to spot a raised hand and the like of a customer looking to ask for more food, more drink, or to take her to their rooms for the night.

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