The patter of shoeless feet pounded through the elegant hallway, accompanied by a barely stifled giggle.  Ordinarily the luxurious chateau exuded an air of comfort and quiet sophistication.  This night, however, the muted firelight of brass lanterns flickered slightly, the shadows dancing among the finery at the passing of two small shapes racing their way through the still air.  This night, the tension was palpable as the mischievous pair of girls darted in and out between shallow alcoves and the marble statuary they harbored.

“Look at this one,” the younger of them said, coming to a halt before one particular marble statue. 

“Wow, you can almost see her nipple!” her elder replied, the comment causing the smaller girl to snigger loudly.  “Shush!  You want the Matron to hear?”

“Sorry!  I’m sorry!” The first girl lowered her voice, glancing about.  “I can’t help it.”

“Well, you better!”

“Quit talking about marble nipples, then!”

“Hey, I’m just saying, it’s right there!”

The younger girl bit her lip, shaking her head to keep the bout of giddy laughter under control—precarious as it was.  Kessla always had this effect on her whenever she was around.  Even in class, the older, more experienced girl never failed to make her crack up over some wild antic or witticism in the course of the day.  To say it caused no end of trouble was an understatement, but quite honestly that’s what made being with Kess so appealing.  She lent a certain edginess to the otherwise mundane, work-a-day life at the Order of the Lily.

The all-female boarding school was, to put it simply, an institution for higher education in Antonica.  To put it richly, however, the word “elitist” wouldn’t do it justice.  The secluded, respectably-sized chateau tucked away in the nether regions of what was once Misty Thicket boasted a flawless record of instilling its initiates with knowledge and social grace the likes of which were unsurpassed on Norrath.  Young girls from all corners of the known world came to study in the lavish, well-to-do environs of the chateau—high elves, wood elves, half-elves, a few gnomes and halflings, most manner of humans, and even the occasional dark elf would gather from the outside world to indulge their scholarly pursuits in isolation.

This in itself wasn’t wholly remarkable, considering the quality alternatives to be found in such affluent cities as Qeynos, Freeport, and other cultural centers of Norrath.  What truly set the Order apart from its academic peers was how the chateau rarely, if ever, accepted initiates of high social standing.  Money seemed of no interest to the sisters at the chateau—only character.  Initiates compensated for their education by performing regular chores.  In this way, they gleaned a solid work ethic by earning their keep, as well as using their own hands to maintain a traditionally higher standard of life. 

Such was the way of things at the chateau, and it was expected that the students value their education by behaving appropriately.  They did so, for the most part.

There was, of course, the odd exception.

The young girl’s newfound mentor added a certain rebellious flavor to the otherwise pristine environment.  For all her romps of mischief and clandestine games, Kessla was a positive hoot to be with.  It seemed like there wasn’t anything that happened at the chateau that Kess wasn’t involved in, or at least knew about.  While there was nothing malicious or destructive about her behavior, the girl’s habits did have a way of making life hectic for the sisters in residence.  And though the girl’s skill at avoiding detection and punishment was unscrupulously adept, the law of averages always managed to catch up with her in the end.  Eventually the sisters at large would catch her in some wild scheme thought to be pointless or reckless, always resulting in the inevitable query, “Why?”

The perennial question was a valid one.  Sometimes it seemed like Kessla wanted to get into trouble.  Especially when she said things like…

“Dare you to touch it.”

“What?” the younger girl blinked.

“Go on.”

“Are you crazy?  This statue’s at least three hundred years old.”

“So what?  You scared of touching a woman’s bosom?”

“It’s just a rock for goodness’ sake.”

“Uh huh.  I think it’s because you’re scared.”

“Am not!”

“Prove it, then.”

“If the Matron finds out, we’re both dead.”

“We’re dead anyway, she finds us here.  Just touch it!  You know you want to.”

“You’re a loon!”

“Ah ha, I knew you were scared.”

“I’m not scared of anything!”

“Anything except a piece of rock carved in the shape of…”

“Fine.  Fine!  I’ll do it…”

Challenge reluctantly accepted, the younger girl repeated her glance in both directions down the hallway to make sure no one was about who might see.  Licking her lips nervously, she crept forward to approach the towering sculpture, her hand outreaching toward the object of her elder’s belligerent dare.  Stretching up as far as she could on her toes, the girl’s fingertips brushed the statue’s bosom before darting back as though grazing open flame.

“Oh, you didn’t touch it!” Kessla jibed.

“Did so!”

“You barely brushed her robe.  That doesn’t count!”

“Does too, and I did touch it right above the hemline right there.”

“You lying sack o’ troll snot!“

“Wait… you hear something?” the younger girl cocked her head.

“Yeah, I hear some scrud-munch trying to weasel-“

“Hush!  I think someone’s coming!”

The unmistakable sound of a door opening came from down the hall.  Looking to her elder, the young girl’s eyes opened wide in panic, terrified of being caught roaming the halls after curfew.  The decisive older girl took her by the shoulders, pushing her forcibly into the shadowy alcove surrounding the statue before them.  Hunching low, the surrounding shadows their only savior, the two remained silent as the grave, barely daring to breathe lest they be discovered.  The delicate sound of whispering footsteps against the fulsome carpet grew louder as one of the sisters marched toward them.

“She’s coming this w-!” the younger girl whispered, cut short by the other’s hand clamping over her mouth.

Still the sister approached, clad in light beige nightclothes made of shimmering satin.  A terrycloth bathrobe lay draped over one arm.  In her grip rested a small glass bottle containing a pure, clear liquid that she tilted back and forth in time with her intent stride.  A lilting tune reached their ears as the sister closed in, her mellow voice a sheer contrast to the dread anxiety felt at her passing by the two hidden girls.

Twisting around to peer the other direction, they both watched from behind as the sister continued her steady course, apparently having detected neither of them.  At the sound of another door opening, a voice could be heard speaking in an amiable tone—presumably the sister’s—before the door closed again.

Both girls breathed easier, Kessla’s hand falling at last from her cohort’s mouth.

“That was close,” she said, still peering down the empty hall.

“We better get back to the dorms,” the younger one replied.  “If we get caught out here in this part of the chateau…”

“Wait.” Tearing her gaze from the hall, she looked her protégé in the face mischievously.  “I have a better idea.”

“What on Norrath are we doing in here?” the young girl asked, crawling on her hands and knees behind her friend.

“Will you keep it down?” Kessla hissed back.  “Voices echo a lot through the steam tunnels, I told you before.”

“But it’s all dusty and dirty in here, and it smells like something died.  Why’s it so hard to breathe?”

“It’s the moisture.  You’ll get used to it,” the instigator assured her cohort as she crawled ahead, leading the way. 

“But what’s in here?”

“You remember back when you first came to the school?  I showed you that big gnome thing in the basement, right?”

“That huge stove?  Sure, why?”

“Well, back before the Shattering dried up the springs, it used to send tons of steam up through these tunnels.”

“How do you know?”

“Remember Gina?  She told me before she graduated.  She said she actually saw it work.  Dunno of I believe her, though.”

“Great, but what’s in here to see now that it’s broken?”

“Relax, we’re almost there.”

“Almost where?  I can hardly see.”

“Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

The girls continued their cramped journey through the bowels of the chateau.  Her manner quick and decisive, Kessla didn’t stop even once to ponder their course through the labyrinthine network of tunnels and ducts.  Afraid she wouldn’t be able to find her way back if she tried, the younger girl faithfully continued following her mentor through the twisting passages, curious at what their final destination might be.  Was there a hideout in here someplace?  If so, that would be fantastic to have.  Or maybe it was a secret stash?  As neat as the thought was, it seemed an awful lot of fuss to go through just to keep something safe from prying eyes, though.

Or maybe she was being led on a wild goose chase just for the heck of it.  Such stunts were certainly not above her brazen cohort.  Either way, she figured it was good for a laugh.  Kess always was.  Ever since arriving at the chateau to study for her higher education, she’d discovered a whole wide spectrum of ways to get into trouble, and most of them she learned from her newfound friend.  She quickly became a willing participant in these larks, partly because she drew confidence from them in these strange and unfamiliar surroundings, but mostly because she discovered she really liked being a sneak.  It was a feeling of empowerment she’d never known before, and the heady rush of adrenaline was always worth the risk of getting caught.

Still, the young initiate did tend toward the conservative side compared to her mentor.  Kess’s mastery of the subversive was nothing short of genius, and this lent her no small amount of awe in the eyes of her charge.

Kessla stopped suddenly, forcing the younger girl to do the same, lest she charge headlong into her mentor’s rump looming ahead.

“What’s the matter?”

Twisting around to whisper almost inaudibly, Kess answered.

“We’re almost there.  Not a word once we’re around the bend.  And move very slow.  Understand?”

The younger girl nodded, her lips pressed together.

Satisfied at the response she got, Kessla turned back to creep inch by inch toward what appeared to be a soft yellow light up ahead.  Like the hallway, the radiance wavered gently as if coming from a lantern or candle of some sort—many several, judging by its brightness. 

Rounding the bend, the two spies came to a small iron grate in the tunnel wall, leading into a room the younger girl had never seen before.  Like everything in the chateau, it was lavishly decorated with elaborate trim and wood paneling.  Elegant statuary graced the tables, and the furniture was rich and comfortable.  The only difference was that instead of hardwood or carpeting, the floor was made of stone tile.

Everything else appeared normal at first, until a quiet moan reached the young girl’s ears.  Cocking her head, she listened closely to identify what could possibly be making that sound, when Kessla, her eyes gleaming in the firelight, pointed down toward the room’s floor just beneath the opening.

The sound of water splashing could be heard as the young girl carefully crawled closer to the vent, craning her neck to see what transpired below.  There she discovered a large, recessed bathtub filled with water, and occupied by one of the sisters who lived in the chateau.  What made the young girl’s jaw drop, however, was the fact that the sister wasn’t alone—she kept the company of some unknown human male, similarly undressed, and rather involved in enjoying the pleasures of the flesh the sister had to offer.

Drawing a quick breath, the startled young girl pulled back, her mouth opening as if to say something, when her elder tugged gently on her sleeve.  Glancing over, the girl discovered Kess’s glaring face, an index finger pressed to her lips in silent rebuke to keep quiet.

This was all most perplexing.  Boys were strictly forbidden in the chateau.  Everybody knew that!  The Order kept a firm policy on only accepting girls as initiates—probably to keep them from doing what that sister was doing in that very room with that very man down there!  What she just saw went against everything she was taught her first day at the chateau.  What in the world was going on?  Didn’t the sister down there realize she was breaking the rules?  She must have.  The evidence was irrefutable!  Still, it didn’t seem right that an actual Sister of the Lily would go against guild law so blatantly like this.  Granted, there were rules and there were rules, but this rule was…

Another moan wafted its way up to the steam tunnel, making the confused young girl blink.  This time it was more strident in its delivery, and obviously came from the sister.  Her eyes turned questioningly over to Kess, who merely tossed her head down at the sight below, silently urging her protégé to take advantage of this presumably rare opportunity.

Again the sister intoned an expression of pleasure, followed shortly by the company she kept.  The amorous sounds captivated her, even though every inch of her skin tingled with an odd sensation like her foot going to sleep.  The moist air seemed filled with electric tension—her breaths coming even more labored as she reluctantly gave in to curiosity’s compulsion. 

Biting her lip, the young girl crept slowly forward, her face closing on the iron grate to regain her vantage point.  Once again, the image of the sister and her lover hove into view, their movements more urgent now.  Fighting to control her breaths, lest they be heard, the young initiate watched in sheer fascination alongside her mentor as the scene unfolded in the frothy waters below. 

Her lips parted ever so slightly, her eyes affixed as she observed.  She’d never seen anything like it, or so much as dared ponder any matter that even approached what she witnessed that moment.  Her heart raced, her jaw clenching in the fiery midst of passion’s gradual ascent, and in a fleeting moment as the spectacle reached its final peak, a tear crept from the corner of young girl’s unblinking eye.  It was a moment of pure and lucid perfection displayed before her amid the soft candlelight—a thing of flawless beauty that drove into her heart as neatly as would any dagger, rendering her just as helpless.

She suddenly realized she’d stopped breathing.  Swallowing the curious pool of saliva that had formed at the bottom of her mouth, the girl drew a delicate breath as she quickly swiped at the tear that threatened to course down her cheek.  It was an act of aversion—the last thing she needed was to give Kessla ammunition to jibe her with.

Before her fixated eyes, the sister and her ill-invited guest emerged from the water.  The man courteously helped the sister gain her footing on the tile floor, his manner generous as she turned to retrieve a terrycloth robe hanging on the wall nearby.  Her own manner mirroring his, she spread the garment wide, draping it around the man’s shoulders in an overt display of willingness.  The conversation between them was light, as if finishing off nothing more than a casual lunch together on a breezy afternoon.  So engrossed were they, in fact, that neither of them even considered checking for eavesdroppers, much to the young girl’s relief.

In the end, the two stepped their way across the room, leaving a trail of watery footprints as they casually made for an exit on the far side.  The sound of a door closing could be heard shortly after losing sight of them.

“Told you it’d be worth it,” Kessla purred once it was safe to speak.

“That was just… I can’t believe…” the young girl breathed in response.  Blinking, she turned to confront her friend.  “How’d you know they were in there?”

“You didn’t recognize her?” Kessla replied.  “That was the sister who passed us in the hall.”

“So?”

“So…she’s courtesan,” the older girl replied, shrugging as if that explained everything.

Her statement was met by a blank stare.

“She’s who?”

Thinking her protégé was joking, Kessla let out a half-chuckle before realizing the younger girl was in earnest.

“Are you kidding?” she asked with a disbelieving smile.  “You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“This is how the Order finances the school,” the older girl explained.  “The Courtesans of the Lily offer their ‘services’ for the good of the chateau, the sisters, and the initiates that study here.  What you just saw?  He’s paying her for it, and the money goes to the chateau and the school.  Well, some of it…”

“Oh, go on,” the younger girl scoffed.

“It’s true, I swear!”

“We pay for school by the chores we do.  Everyone works hard to clean the chateau, fixing it up when it needs it, running errands, tending the livestock and harvesting the garden for meals and stuff.  Everybody knows that.”

“That’s only part of it,” Kessla corrected.  “There’s plenty more we need that we can’t make ourselves—things like books and writing tools for the school, dishes and cutlery for the kitchen, new carpeting when it wears out, lamp oil and dozens more things.  All of that has to be brought in from the outside.  Where do you think they get the money to pay for all that?”

Hesitating in any response she might have made, the younger girl blinked and looked back down to the recessed tub in the floor—its once turbulent waters now still.

“This is the way it’s been from the start,” Kessla continued.  “You’re still pretty young, which is probably why they haven’t taught you this yet, but it’s a tradition that comes from the earliest days before the Order of the Lily was founded. 

“The wars that took place centuries ago ravaged the countryside, laying waste to the small Antonica town where the first Matron lived.  Many of the children were orphaned by the carnage, leaving them with no place to turn for survival.  The first Matron—Ophelia—was a wealthy and educated woman who also lost kin during the wars.  When she saw the children’s plight, she took them under her wing, providing what food and shelter her estate could afford in those hard times.  Once her coffers ran dry, she sought help from the authorities still in power, but they turned her away, saying the war effort did not afford them the luxury of harboring refugees at that time.

“The days wore on, and her children grew hungrier.  Times turned grim.  Faced with the wailing cries of her starving children, Ophelia finally decided it was time for desperate measures.  So one day, she put on her most expensive dress, fixed her hair in the most elaborate style, and walked proudly into the night.  When she returned the next morning, she brought with her enough coin to feed her children for a week.  Not only that, but it afforded her the chance to educate them as well.  All this she did for sake of her adopted children.  She sold herself so they could live.

“In time, her children grew.  Armed with everything she’d taught them, they followed her example and banded together to give refuge to other children who were without a home or family.  By the time Ophelia herself gave in to age, the females among her children had matured to young adults, and carried on with the tradition in her honor.  In this way, the Order of the Lily was established and managed to flourish under her legacy.  Even during the harsh times in the decades to come, the Order was a place of refuge and high social standing, all because of the first Matron’s example.  By continuing that example, the sisters have remained strong and unified through the centuries.  Even the Shattering has left us mostly untouched here at the chateau.”

The young initiate seemed lost among her mentor’s words, her eyes still dazedly glued to the room below.  She’d known none of this.  The Sisters of the Lily were icons of social propriety and learned knowledge.  She had no idea of the sacrifice they made for sake of the initiates learning under the chateau’s roof.  In truth, she’d always judged many of them to be affected to a greater degree—demanding levels of respect that didn’t seem their due for simply having completed their schooling.  Now she understood why.

They were courtesan, and as such they earned the respect of those whose livelihood depended on the spoils of their trade.

Reaching out, the young girl placed a delicate hand to the iron grate, her fingers curling to grasp gently at the crisscrossed bars that made up its open mesh.

“Are all sisters courtesan?” she asked quietly, her manner thoughtful and pensive.

Kessla guessed at what was on her protégé’s mind—the true source of her question.  Smiling, the older girl made her winsome reply.

“No.  Becoming courtesan is a unique calling each sister must decide to pursue, or not, for herself.  There’s no demand made of it once you graduate and become a sister.  It’s all done by choice.”

“Will you become one, Kess?” the girl asked, turning to face her friend anxiously.

Kessla’s smile widened.

“I can’t,” she said, glancing down through the grate herself.  “I’m not sufficient of elven blood.”

“What?  You have to be an elf?”

“Or half-elven,” Kessla shrugged.  “Since I’m human, I don’t qualify, thank the gods.”

The young girl chuckled slightly, her mirth obviously a mask for sake of her friend.  The deliberate smile she wore vanished a little too quickly, her gaze returning back down to the room below.

“Oh, but don’t worry,” Kessla urged, sensing her friend’s discomfort.  “Just because you’re elf kin doesn’t mean the sisters will pressure you to turn courtesan yourself.  Like I said, it’s completely voluntary.  By guild law, even.”

The young initiate closed her eyes, sighing quietly at her mentor’s assurances.  She didn’t know.  Kess literally thought she was frightened by what she saw.  The thought came as a marked, if cautious, relief.  Kess was so different from her in many ways, but none more so than this.  Should she reveal her true feelings on the matter?  Would her friend understand?  Could she? 

Probably not.

Placing her forehead fretfully against the bars of the iron grate, the young girl played the role of the nervous initiate—the role Kessla mistakenly expected of her.  The steadfast truth hidden behind closed lips, she let herself be comforted by her friend, outwardly accepting that no matter what happened, nothing would ever force her down the path of the courtesan.  Inwardly her heart pounded with anticipation, the sound of each strident beat ringing in her pointed ears.

Part II

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