Calling out loudly for help is behavior deemed inappropriate for such a social interaction. It implies an inability to control the situation, signaling incompetence. As the young man in front of her slowly approached, Falia felt her blood rushing to her ears. Was she going to suffer a loss today?
"Ahem."
Just as the young man was licking his lips and closing in, a light cough interrupted his next move. Falia let out a sigh of relief.
"Lady Falia, our meeting time is almost over today," came the voice of Asha, Falia's maid.
The young man paused, his heart filled with resentment, but he dared not make any further moves. Causing a scene could bring trouble to his house unless the other party was willing to submit.
"Beauty is not a sin. I apologize for my rudeness. I am truly sorry. Please forgive me, Lady Falia."
Falia calmed herself and responded softly, "You are too kind. In a certain light, this is also my honor."
She breathed heavily after the young man left her cabin. These "professional courtesans" were just ordinary girls. They might be outstanding in appearance and temperament, but they lacked the means to protect themselves.
Asha entered, her dark almond-shaped eyes full of worry. "Lady Falia, are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
Asha, with her Dothraki blood, almond-shaped eyes, and long braids, looked wilder than the ordinary Braavos girls. Her body had more impressive curves, and if anything serious happened, she would have to stand up for her master. For instance, if the noble young man hadn't relented, Asha might have had to offer herself to appease him. Fortunately, they had escaped unscathed.
After the master and servant had calmed down, Asha tentatively said, "Lady, Morel would like to introduce you to someone. His name is Viserys Targaryen."
Despite the unsettling encounter, business had to go on. "Viserys?" Falia couldn't immediately recall Viserys' identity.
"The Beggar King."
As Falia's personal maid, Asha knew a little about the important people in Braavos and even the Free Cities. Even she knew about someone like the original Viserys.
"What does he want with me?"
After the maid's reminder, Falia remembered who the Beggar King was. But she couldn't understand why Viserys was seeking her out. She didn't have an army, and although she had a few swordsmen, they were merely her bodyguards.
"He said he wanted to talk to you about a good business opportunity."
'I thought he was going to ask for something else,' Falia thought to herself. It seemed the Beggar King wasn't aiming to restore his kingdom but to amass a fortune first.
She was wary of getting entangled with the descendants of a fallen kingdom. Viserys was constantly under threat of assassination, and any association with him could make her a target, especially if Robert suspected she and Viserys shared some untold secret. Falia preferred to avoid the so-called "good business."
Just as she was about to refuse outright, she reconsidered. Such a direct refusal might not be appropriate, especially since Viserys had met the Sealord. No matter her status, it couldn't surpass that of the Sealord.
Falia thought for a moment and said, "Just say that I'm not feeling well and it's inconvenient. If there's anything important, Ranche can handle it."
Ranche was Falia's housekeeper and manager.
"Understood," Asha replied and left the cabin, leaving Falia alone.
Reflecting on her situation, Falia realized she might have fallen into a conspiracy. The winner of the 10-day celebration beauty pageant would not only gain a title and a reward but also have the chance to elevate their status. They would get the opportunity to enter the high walls of Braavos's three great houses, potentially merging their lives and bloodlines with them.
Even if they failed to achieve this ultimate goal, as winners of the triennial beauty pageant, they would become a symbol of Braavos, the "bastard daughter of Valyria." They might even enter diplomatic circles, gaining influence far beyond their current reach.
This was the dream of every socialite. But to become the champion, or even to participate in the beauty pageant, there was a stringent prerequisite—virginity. Braavos might be Valyria's bastard daughter, but it wasn't Valyria's little whore. The requirements for participation were exceedingly strict.
But now Falia faced another pressing problem. If she couldn't keep Morel's workshop running, she might fall behind in promotion by the time the 10-Day Festival arrived. If her workshop turned into a theater, it would be a serious blow to her reputation as Moonshadow.
She was in a dilemma. If she committed to the young man, she might lose her chance to participate in the beauty contest. On the other hand, her life would be in his hands.
Even if she managed to enter the competition by other means, she would be vulnerable to his future demands, which she might be reluctant to accept. On the other hand, if she chose to remain chaste, she would be at a great disadvantage and likely to lose. According to an unwritten rule, once a courtesan wins a competition, she tends to ruthlessly suppress her former rivals.
The best Falia could hope for in such a scenario would be to escape Braavos. However, for a maiden of sixteen or seventeen, leaving Braavos meant becoming vulnerable and losing all her influence and security.
She suddenly empathized with the situation of Viserys and his sister. She now had two formidable opponents: the "Poetess" and the "Nightingale." The Nightingale had already announced plans to build a new theater in Greenwater Town, making it clear who was behind her predicament.
'We must save the workshop,' Falia resolved. She decided to instruct Ranche to contact Morel again to assess the workshop's situation. If it was truly dire, she would have to intervene to save it.
Despite the seemingly luxurious lifestyle of a courtesan, maintaining such a life required considerable expenses. Maids, servants, and numerous relatives depended on her for their livelihood. Falia might even have to consider selling some of her property or jewelry to keep the workshop running.
However, she had no idea how badly was Morel's workshop was losing money.