NOVEL SIMPLE Beaten but not Broken
“You don’t seem too surprised to see me.” I cross my arms while taking in the strange sight of my foe. Pimpington is covered in an enormous amount of hickies from top to bottom. Sweat coats his face and makes his oily black hair and mustache all the oilier for it. His hands and limbs are still sloppy with juices from his various lovers, and his eyes have giant bags under them, which makes me think they've been doing this torture to him for several days straight.
“Naw, I knew you’d come. Sorry bout the indecency," Pimpington grumbles, looking down at his sorry state of undress. "It's not exactly somethin’ this pimp has any control over at this moment, ya feel me?”
“I’ll live. At least you got that belt of yours to shield my eyes from the horrors beneath.”
"Har fuckin' har." He laughs before letting out a weary sigh. “I'm glad you're here, Guild Master, but I wanna set something straight."
"By all means,” I extend my hand and smile, gesturing for him to continue.
"Don't expect to get shit from me." He says firmly while laughing off my mannerisms. "I like ya well enough, ya stuffy bastard, but ya know damn well that this pimp ain’t gonna sell out his friends or the Bossman, right?”
“Yes, I figured as much... I’m not really here for that, anyway."
"No? Then the fuck you here for, you mothafucka?" He chuckles, although it's clear he's enjoying having some company that isn't sexually torturing him.
"I think you know that already, Pimpington. Nothing would make me happier than for you to tell me all about your story, if you will." I summon up all the seriousness I can muster as I look him in the eyes. "During our dungeon raid, I kept telling myself not to get distracted by all the clues about your history that the girls found. By the time we got to you, though, even my curiosity was bursting at its seems. Then, we beat you. I couldn't take the lack of resolution- especially not after all those cryptic hints you dropped during the battle. I want to know how you ended up like this."
"Right," He groans and looks to the side, embarrassed. "This pimp figured this was comin'... I dunno how ya made that weird-ass dungeon of yours, Guild Master, but it's one hell of an invasion of this pimp's privacy, fo' real."
"I didn't make that dungeon," I smirk, but it's also not a lie. He clearly doesn't believe me, but it's not like he can prove it.
"Right, and I just had the most fulfilling orgasm of my life, ya know what I'm- AGH!" He rolls his eyes before clenching his teeth and shouting about another pang of pain from his blue balls
I frown as the mental image of myself going through the same thing returns. Once he recovers from the unpleasant lack of sexual gratification, I make light conversation to soften him up. "It’s a shame seeing you like this. Speaking of, how come your girls were taking part in your torture?”
“Cause they was offered a lighter sentence if they complied. Y’all know how it is.” His eyes grow defiant, telling me that this isn't the whole story.
Not surprising. I find it hard to believe his women sold him out over something like simple like that. No, not after witnessing how loyal they are to this over-the-top and larger-than-life pimp firsthand. "Come on. I don’t believe that for a second. Did they really betray you just like that?”
“Hells naw,” The wily pimp smiles wickedly, confirming what I thought all along. “I made ‘em take the offer. Told ‘em to talk and do whatever they can to make this easier on themselves. They’re good girls- all of em. They don’ deserve to be punished just cause they fell in with... a man like me.”
Damn, even in this situation, he's still putting his beloved girls before his own needs. “That's very noble of you," I tell him before remembering he might not enjoy my choice of words.
"Noble, huh? Is that some kinda joke?" He raises an eyebrow at the unintended comment I made toward his disgraced status.
"You know what I mean," I sigh at the man disowned by his own family. "More importantly, I wanted to ask what made you become ‘a man like you’, Chasteworthe?”
He hesitates and looks away. “...Our fight changed a lot in me, Guild Master, but I’d appreciate it if ya don’t go an’ call a pimp by that name anymore. Pimpington is my name, and I'm very adamant about that much. During our fight, ya used that name against me to rile me up, and it worked fo' the most part. But things are different now. I respect ya. So, I wanna ask fo' the same courtesy in return, ya feel me? The names ain’t interchangeable.”
Seems he really doesn’t ever intend on being Chasteworthe ever again. I’ll make a note of it. “Sure. I can respect that," I nod my head at him before shifting around the wording of my question. "So tell me then, what made you into Pimpington?”
The pimp sighs and hangs his head. Dodging the question deftly, he ignores me by asking, “Nevermind all that, what’d ya go and do with my sword?”
“It’s a phenomenal weapon- beautiful and powerful in equal measure. I’m keeping it around in case I ever end up with someone in my Guild who can put it to good use.”
"Someone like this pimp right here?" The villain laughs out loud, the thought almost too funny for himself to take remotely seriously.
"Well, if you didn’t go and kill your last Guild Master, then I’d offer to give it back as long as you took a job at my Guild. Assuming you ever get let out.”
“Hah..." Pimpington pauses, clearly thinking about what I have to say. He regains his composure soon after the idle fantasy passes him by. "Naw, man. A tempting offer, but this pimp is afraid he’s gonna have to decline. If ya hadn't already figured out, I ain't gonna be supporting the Association ever again, ya feel me?"
Pimpington smiles down from on high. "Still, I’m glad ya didn’ go an’ sell her. After everythin’ that went down, Rosenthorne was all I had from my old life. Would be a shame if she wasn't kept in good hands.” The defeated pimp smirks, obviously relieved that some merchant with grubby hands hasn't whisked away his treasured weapon.
"You have my word that I won't be selling her," Not like I'll be hurting for gold soon, anyway. Not if everything goes to plan. With that out of the way, I ask something that just took hold of my curiosity. "So everything comes down to the Association? If there was a Guild that wasn’t part of them, perchance..."
"Sure, ya set up a Guild that ain't connected to the Association of Adventurers, and this pimp'll be the first one to sign up." He laughs, knowing full well how it's impossible to create a wholly independent Guild. The Association has had a monopoly on the industry for fifteen hundred years, after all. A legal one backed by the King, no less. Guilds like mine where we don't have to follow the company template are outliers. I still don’t really know why my Guild has so much freedom from the Association, honestly. My grandfather isn’t around to answer such questions, so I’d probably have to ask someone higher up in the Association myself.
“I’ll keep you updated on that,” I tell him, which makes him laugh softly again. Things grow more serious as I move on, saying, “I also meant your situation as a whole. It isn’t just about the girl, is it? It’s the Association as a whole.”
The man in chains lowers his head as he remembers the girl in question. It obviously pains him, and he doesn't like what he recalls. After some more silence, he moves on and finally gives in. "She was part of it, sure. But you’re right. It wasn't all her fault. This pimp'll tell ya all about what happened if ya really wanna know, but it ain't exactly gonna get ya any usable intel on my boss or my comrades."
"Yes, yes. I understand. You don’t need to worry about me trying to interrogate you."
"I appreciate it, unlike our friend over there." Pimpington tilts his head toward the imposing Knight standing by the open cell door.
"You don't mind if I talk to him about this, do you?" I turn to Victor and ask if such a discussion is alright with him. I can't imagine the Marshal would be happy that we won't be gaining any actual intel out of this.
"I was told to let you talk with the prisoner. Whatever the topic is, it doesn't matter." The mighty knight says without even so much as a glance at either of us. Looking into his steely eyes, I see a flicker of interest spark up in them. I guess as hard as he tries to be stoic, Victor Kahnt is not above intrigue. That's a relief.
"Hmph." Pimpington seems to be upset. Maybe he hoped that Victor would have nipped this conversation in the bud. As a last means of defense, the Pimp frowns and asks, "Why do ya even wanna know so bad in the first place, man? I'm just a pimp at the end of my rope. Ain't like my story is all that unique in the grand scheme of things, fo' real."
"I ask because I'm interested in what could break a man so badly and so completely that he becomes a parody of himself. Especially if another member of my profession had something to do with it." I remember the painting that clearly showed the Imperalis Guild Master on the receiving end of Pimpington's wrath, Rosenthorne sending him to his final resting place either above or below.
The silence as Pimpington thinks to himself is almost unbearable. Eventually, he resolves himself and says, "Aight... that's good enough fo' this pimp, I guess... fo' context, what all do ya know about House Chasteworthe of Rhoivan? This pimp's story ain't gonna make much sense if we don't start from there, ya feel me?"
"Can't say that I know all that much. Hells, I don't even know much about the nobility of my own province, let alone the many noble families of Rhoivan." I do seem to recall a bit I learned from a couple of erotic novels in my collection, though. I've definitely heard the name Chasteworthe before in more than one of them. Although my memory is great, I've read so many erotic tomes that sometimes specifics escape me, or they bleed into one another...
Then, it comes back to me. "Didn't one of your ancestors have something to do with bringing down one of the Demon Lords?"
"More than that," He laughs. "Cynthia Chasteworth the 1st was the damn Hero of Light herself who offed the fourth Demon Lord, Zehesiel."
"No shit?" I blink at him, thinking about how I'm in the presence of one of my predecessor's descendants.
"Yup, the Lord of Lust himself," Pimpington smirks. "She was able to resist his powerful lewd magic because ol' Cynthia was a prude little lady who believed sex should only happen after marriage. Her morals were so strong, his powers had no effect on her. Fuckin' bizarre, right?"
"Extremely. Sexual compatibility is a serious thing when it comes to choosing a partner." I say as someone who has only bedded virgins, aware of the irony. Still, what an awfully backward tradition, in my opinion. “And to think she had such belief in it that it actually empowered her...”
"Right? The thing is after she killed the Demon Lord, the King of that era gave her the peerage and a good chunk of land. Ya know, the kinda shit Kings always do when someone saves their ass. And what did that bitch go and make the core tenet of her newly founded noble house? Mothafuckin' chastity and abstinence! Yeah, it's all right there in the family name, but that shouldn't mean we gotta fuckin' act on it, know what I'm saying? My stupid ass family drills it into all their kids that sex is fo' after marriage when they find 'the one'!"
My sympathy for the pimp is starting to wane as he whines on about how he couldn't get laid before marriage. Sure, it sucks, and I find the practice naive, but... no, I'm getting ahead of myself. That can't possibly be all there is to it. I need to see his story entirely through and not make assumptions. "You didn't really lose your temper and kill that Guild Master just because the girl you were in love with was cheating on you, right?"
"No!" Pimpington reacts with seething rage, banging his fists into the bed behind him. "No, damn it, this pimp is a better man than that! Do ya really think so low of me that somethin' so small and stupid like bein' 'cucked' would make me kill a man? I can take getting hurt. I can handle having my heartbroken. Hells, I wouldn't even have minded if she really did find someone else who made her happier... what this pimp can't take, though, is being lied to."
"What did that Guild Lady lie to you about?"
"It wasn't just her who did the lyin', man..." The Pimp's eyes waver as his gaze looks past me, past the cell, and past the present straight into the past. "It was everyone..."
As Pimpington finally begins to open up about his tragic experiences, Victor almost imperceptibly takes a step forward and leans his ear in.
