The sun was already beginning to rise again. The troops were exhausted from their thorough search. At this point, they'd lost count of how many they'd looked through already.
Elaide's royal guard took station just outside the final brothel. Marix looked it up and down.
Its paint was chipping, the tin roof was rusted, one wooden pillar looked to be eaten through by termites, and the railing of its stairs was full of wood rot.
One of the windows had shattered glass on the floor outside of it and was boarded up with mismatched pieces of wood that varied in shape and size.
A royal guard approached and opened the door. The hinges let out an ear shattering screech and the floor creaked loudly underneath him as he entered inside.
The rest of the Elaide guard followed along with Marix and his troops.
Inside, it smelt rancid. A combination of smoke, sex, alcohol and rot. A few of the soldiers covered their noses.
