Dominic y'Nobe

Dominic y'Nobe

When we found Majere dead, my first thought was not for the murdered man or the weeping, blood-spattered whore, but whether this problem would delay my plans for dinner that night.

I know I sound heartless, but Majere brought this on himself, truly. He had always been one to stir up trouble no matter what the consequences.

I know this particular prostitute, but not in the vulgar way you might assume. You could say that she was an employee of mine, I suppose. It's true, I will confess now that I am an owner of a brothel.

A whore came to me years ago, distressed that another whore was ill; not going to live through the night. In her final minutes the woman wanted to have confession and receive last rites.

To be honest, I did not want to go; I thought it a poor thing to live a life so full of lust and depravity, to regret it only with your last breath. But it was not my place to judge, and I went to the brothel.

The woman gave her confession and died. I wanted very badly to quit that wretched place as quickly as possible, but then, I saw how young and sick the whores were and how filthy the establishment was. To my surprise, I found myself asking how I could help them.

The brothel made quite a bit of money, as you can imagine, but the whores had no adequate shelter, clothing, food or medical attention. I gave my own money to provide these basic necessities.

A few months later I stopped by again—just to see if our arrangements were successful, and was appalled to see it was just as dirty and squalid as it had been before. Angered, I demanded to speak to the owner.

I implored the man to allow me to help ease the suffering of these poor women by at least letting them receive medical treatment and nourishing meals. He contended that these whores were less than human, and he had no moral obligation to treat them well.

A few months ago I would have agreed, and to my shame I had also neglected the spiritual needs of these women for years. But after spending time with them, I had come to see them as people who were trying to do the best they could with life.

After haggling he agreed to sell me a portion of the brothel, and I would be able to have some influence as to the welfare of the whores. A short time later my co-owner was beaten and killed in an alley close to his house. Poor soul. I assumed sole ownership then, and I made sure every bit of money went to the well being of the whores or to the Church itself.

Majere knew this about me and no doubt sought to exploit the knowledge for his own personal gains. He hinted this to me in a recent conversations we shared. While I have no shame in what I have done to help those poor women, I do understand that my standing in the Church and society would be deeply affected by these revelations.

I fear now that this whore Crynne may have acted rashly and sought to silence Majere before something happened to me, and the brothel was turned over once again to a ruthless thug. I hope that we can be swift and merciful in our punishment of this crime, and I also accept the responsibility that I may have had in this most tragic of nights.