Part XIV: Scrolling Through History
Chapter 5: The House of Happy Delights
Timeline: AO 296-AO318
The fates were not kind to the children of Hacktor and Hecla. Perhaps I had something to do with them, perhaps it was the Balkeryz themselves, or mayhap it was just bad luck. But in the end, it didn’t pay to be the offspring of The Ghastwielder and his queen…
Garl – murdered in the game of the elites.
Alf – lost to the abuse of The Faith.
Uria – thrust too soon into court life and the burdens of being an heir – his doom was inevitable.
Jini – too young to know the horrors that awaited her.
But none of the of them suffered the highs and lows of Hacktor and Hecla’s firstborn — Livy.
Back in A0 296 – before Hacktor became king, before the twins married, and before the endless wars – when Baldur the Bold was the Kon-Herr, the golden halls of Rhokki Pass were once filled with the whispers of court, though none dared speak too loudly of the news that had spread like wildfire: Hecla Derkillez had given birth to her first child, a daughter. The father was obvious to all – none other than Helca’s twin – the royal heir Hacktor.
Their child, Livy, was born in secret, her very existence veiled under the shadow of political ambitions. Though Livy’s beauty was radiant even as a newborn—her delicate face echoing Hecla’s own striking features—it was understood that the baby was a child born out of wedlock, and thus, no matter how loved, Livy would never bear the full status of royalty. Yet back then, before all the burdens of being king and queen fell upon them, Hacktor and Hecla didn’t care about Livy’s future – they were too busy loving her.
In those early years, Livy was a joy to both her parents. Hacktor, not yet the king, often held the child in his arms with a tenderness that betrayed the harshness he would later adopt as a warrior. In those private moments, whenever she watched her lover cradle his daughter, the firelight often dancing across the innocent face of their child, Hecla held a fleeting hope that life might be peaceful for them.
But such hopes were as fragile as the scrum that fell from the interior mountain cliffs surrounding Rhokki Pass, and as life unfolded and the seasons passed, the happy home that Hecla had dreamed about for her family never materialized. Their father Baldur was murdered in the fall of the Twin Towers (in a conspiracy by the elites that Hecla herself played a part in), Hacktor subsequently became king, and war soon followed.
The so-called “War of the Ghast” was unfortunately not the quick or glorious affair that Hacktor and Hecla both envisioned it would be. Instead the king was called away to war more and more, leaving Hecla to manage the kingdom alone. And though Hecla loved Livy deeply, more children, more responsibilities, and the many distractions of court life slowly caused a distance to grow between mother and daughter.
By the time Livy was eight, she was no longer the center of Hecla’s world. Her parents had married officially, Hacktor was busy with war, Helca with managing the kingdom, and then there were the heirs – the princes Uria and Garf – who also demanded their attention. Livy was thus left to wander the grand halls of the palace on her own – her beautiful face often catching the eye of many, but her lack of formal recognition from the court left her in a strange limbo. She was a princess without the title for she had all the luxuries of royalty, but none of the privileges that came with it, and as she grew older and began to understand her situation, a darkness began to fester in her heart.
By the time Livy reached her ‘tween’ years, the disillusionment of her station had fully taken hold. She had watched as her father left for war after war, and her mother threw herself into the duties of the crown, all while the court buzzed with talk of alliances, marriages, and the future of the Derkillez line. But unlike her younger brothers, Livy had no place in that future. She was beautiful, like her mother, perhaps even more so, but beauty alone was not enough to secure her a position in society and it frustrated her.
She had tried, in those early days, to gain her mother’s attention, to show her that she too could be worthy of respect. But Hecla, burdened by her own scars from the past—memories of the vile Baldur and the dark abuse she had suffered at the hands of her father—could not look at Livy without feeling a painful echo of her own trauma. The more Livy blossomed into a stunning young woman, the more Hecla felt afraid for her – yet the queen never offered advice to her daughter that may have helped her for she was too embarrassed and embittered to talk about her past.
And so Livy turned to the only source of power she could find: her beauty. She became a coquette – learning how to use the power of her eyes to capture the attention of the countless weak-willed courtiers that ever roamed the palace. Since most of those Drokka men were two, three, or four times her age, Livy became drunk on the power she realized she could wield over those who desired her. However, for all her flirtations, the alluring yet still innocent Drokkina never allowed matters to advance beyond a suggestive look or a sly word whispered at the dance. The thrill of the chase was enough for her and she basked in the attention her beauty provided.
But then her brother Garl’s unexpected ‘death’ happened in AO 309 and Livy’s mental health took a drastic turn for the worse – making her ripe for someone to take advantage of her. That someone was Monty Redstone.
Livy’s ‘talents’ had long since caught the eye of The Coinmaster, a cunning lecher himself who had pined for Livy’s mother for more than a decade. Monty saw in Livy what he couldn’t (yet) grasp in Hecla. Yet Monty was smart enough to know he couldn’t simply ‘enjoy’ Livy’s delights right there in the palace under the roof of her parents. Luckily for him, Monty had a slew of other locations that might serve his purposes if he could but maneuver Livy towards them.
Years ago The Coinmaster had provided the secret financial backing to create a haven for the bored idlers of Rhokki Pass’s elite: The House of Happy Delights. Hidden in the underground outskirts of the city, Monty’s pleasure palace catered to the darkest desires of the wealthy and powerful, all while he lined his pockets with their gold. The House was a place of excess, a den of sin where the elite came to escape the pressures of their station. There was always music, laughter, and the intoxicating scent of wine, perfume, and other…delights.
By the time she was thirteen Livy was long since free to roam the city – so long as she was escorted by her personal guards. Given that Monty controlled the purse strings of those guards – and that he’d often provided them with ‘complimentary’ services at The House of Happy Delights – it didn’t take much effort for the Coinmaster to convince them to steer Livy towards The House one fateful day.
As soon as the vulnerable girl saw The House, Livy fell in love with it – and The House loved her back. Oh, her first visit was innocent enough – a sip of wine, a bit of music, and the excitement of feasting her eyes upon the unabashed wantonness of the place. Yet Monty had given strict orders to the House madam to make sure the girl left before anything advanced beyond that. When the guards finished partaking of their own enjoyment and then followed the orders of the madam to return Livy to the palace, the girl was thus left wanting more.
Livy quickly returned The House – again and again and again. Eventually, over time, she partook in the establishment’s other delights – which Monty himself was all too happy to provide. And so the girl was despoiled – yet she relished the thrill of it all – and wanted more.
Given her beauty, her charm, and her royal connections, it didn’t take long for Livy’s reputation to bring a certain cache to that underground haven – and her hunger to experience ALL that the House offered, soon made her a legend among its denizens – much to Monty’s own delight.
Yet even as she basked in her newfound freedom, Livy’s heart grew hollow. She became like a queen of Monty’s little haven, but what she didn’t realize was that all those fleeting pleasures that left her emptier with each passing day. Still, she had nothing else in her life that brought her happiness, and so Monty’s House soon became her world.
News of Livy’s behavior eventually reached the queen – causing distress between mother and daughter – yet Livy would not be controlled and Hecla didn’t have the energy to fight her. The king, when he was briefly home, also heard whispers about his daughter’s ‘reputation’ – but in the beginning he left the matter to Hecla to handle, calling it women’s’ business.
This continued until the year AO 313 – that’s when Hacktor returned to discover that Livy had moved her residence to The House of Happy Delights. And that’s when the king’s cup of tolerance overflowed.
Although his return that year should have been spent in celebrating another triumph given the further expansion of the Drokka territories in The World Above, upon his arrival back at Rhokki Pass, the talk of Livy’s debauchery was everywhere – each tale more grotesque than the last. His daughter, it seemed, had not just experimented with a minor teenage thrills, but instead had apparently set herself up as The A #1 Mistress of Vice.
Embarrassed and enraged, the king took his guards on a mission to find Livy, bring her back to the palace, and end her little charade. Perhaps a part of Hacktor hoped to reclaim the little girl he had once held in his arms, the innocent child who had looked up at him with such love and trust so long ago. Yet that naive dream was quickly shattered when the king and his men arrived at the infamous house.
In the outskirts of Rhokki Pass, where the city’s towering stone walls gave way to the more shadowy underbelly of society, seemingly hidden beneath the weight of the mountain itself, The House of Happy Delights huddled like a secret kept too long. From the outside, it was deceptively humble—little more than a dimly lit building carved into the rock face, its entrance marked by thick blackwood doors, polished smooth from years of hidden traffic. The alleyway leading to it was lined with flickering torches that barely illuminated the path, casting jagged shadows that danced like wraiths along the narrow passage.
Inside, the contrast was striking. Hacktor was immediately met with the warmth of a fire throwing an amber glow across the room. The heady scent of perfume, mixed with desire, hung thick in the air, nearly choking him. Plush velvet drapes adorned the walls, muffling the laughter and whispered promises that echoed through the crowded chambers. Low couches lined the room, draped in silks and cushions, where the city’s elite lounged in varying states of debauchery, their faces flushed from wine and pleasure. On a raised platform, dancers moved slowly, their movements more suggestive than graceful, casting long, sinuous shadows. Above it all, the ceiling arched in dark stone, closing in on the revelers like the belly of a beast. Hacktor’s eyes narrowed as he searched the room, the garish displays of wealth and indulgence fueling his anger as he sought his wayward daughter amidst the haze.
Frustrated that nobody in a position of authority appeared to greet him, Hacktor and his men moved deeper into The House, their steps echoing against the stone floor, barely heard over the din of laughter, moaning, and clinking goblets. Dim lanterns hung from the low ceilings, their flickering light casting eerie, shifting shadows that made the space feel almost alive. The air was thick with smoke, a heady blend of burning herbs, swirling in lazy tendrils that dulled the senses of those within. Here, time seemed to stretch and blur, as if the outside world no longer mattered. Dark corners offered privacy for whispered conversations and secret trysts, while alcoves carved into the walls cradled couples in decadent, intimate abandon.
His ire rising the longer he searched, Hacktor’s sharp gaze caught the glint of gilded mirrors hanging sporadically along the walls, each reflecting a distorted image of the debauchery unfolding below. Music played softly from an unseen source, its seductive, slow rhythm only heightening the atmosphere of indulgence. Rich fabrics—velvet, silk, and brocade—covered every surface, from the couches and cushions to the patrons themselves, their skin barely concealed beneath layers of finery designed to be discarded. The patrons, nobles and merchants alike, seemed lost in their own worlds, draped over one another in careless abandon, their faces slack with pleasure or clouded by intoxication. And still nobody ventured out to greet him, question him, or help him. Hacktor clenched his fists, his disgust mounting with every step. This was not a house of joy; it was a pit of decay, a hollow cavern where the souls of the highborn came to rot in luxury.
The further he ventured, the more the place closed in around him, the ceilings lowering, the walls narrowing as if the mountain itself wished to swallow this wretched den. Hacktor’s heart pounded with fury and dread, his mind racing with thoughts of what he might find. Every figure he passed, draped in indulgence, seemed to mock him, their hollow laughter a twisted reflection of what his daughter had become. He had once built a legacy of strength and honor, yet here, within these oppressive walls, his bloodline was being smeared with filth.
Hacktor finally found Livy in the heart of her pleasure palace, seated upon a velvet throne, draped in silks and surrounded by the most decadent indulgences the city had to offer – including more than a few older Drokka’s kneeling at her feet. The girl’s long hair fell carelessly over one bare shoulder, and she wore little other clothing to cover her. When the king entered the room, the patrons who had been worshiping Livy recoiled, backing away in terror as they attempted to flee toward side doors. Meanwhile Livy rose slowly from her cushion as her father stormed toward her, a lazy smirk playing on her lips as if daring him to act.
“What have you become?” Hacktor growled, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped into the Livy’s throne room.
“I’ve become what you never let me be, Father,” Livy replied, her voice sharp. “Free. Powerful. In control of my own fate.”
“In control?” Hacktor’s eyes darkened. “You’re a puppet, dancing for coin. This… this filth, it isn’t power. It’s a cage. You’re nothing but a slave to those who use you.”
Livy’s face twisted in anger. “And what was I supposed to be, Father? A bastard with no title? The daughter you never claimed, who mother abandoned? At least here, I’m someone.”
“You’re still my daughter,” Hacktor snapped, his rage barely contained. “And you’re coming home. Now.”
But Livy stood firm. “No. I’m done living in your shadow, waiting for your scraps. This is my life. And I won’t go back.”
“Livy!” Hacktor’s voice thundered, echoing against the stone walls. “Your disgrace ends now.”
The smirk faded from Livy’s face as her father grabbed her arm roughly, dragging her away from the cushions and the makeshift throne. The girl struggled, but Hacktor’s grip was iron, his rage giving him strength far beyond what her slight frame could resist.
“You have no right!” Livy spat, her voice laced with venom, but there was a flicker of fear in her eyes now.
“I am your father. I have every right,” Hacktor growled, pulling her closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “You are coming with me.”
Livy’s protests turned to a scream as one of Hacktor’s guards grabbed her other arm. Together, they hoisted her between them as if she weighed nothing, the few wisps of her silken garments ripping as she kicked and thrashed, while the guards struggled to cover her with blankets they tore away from nearby couches.
News of the king’s assault spread like wildfire through The House and patrons, frozen with fear, watched in silence, not daring to move or speak, as the king and his men passed them by with their captive. The angry king led the way through the house, pushing aside anyone who dared step in his path. Meanwhile Livy’s struggles grew weaker, her voice hoarse from screaming as she succumbed to her fate.
When they finally exited the house, the cool night air hit Livy’s tear-streaked face. She gave one last defiant shout as Hacktor dragged her toward the waiting carriage. The king threw her inside, slamming the door shut behind her. Without a word, Hacktor mounted his ony and rode beside the carriage as it sped back toward the palace, leaving The House of Happy Delights in the distance, soon to be nothing but a memory.
Unbeknownst to Livy, the king’s men returned to The House the following morning. No fanfare, no warning, just the cold, grim precision of soldiers following orders. A dozen torches flickered in their hands, casting long shadows across the rocky terrain outside infamous house. The guards approached the entrance, their faces hard and emotionless, while the few patrons still inside were either passed out from the night before or too groggy to understand the danger approaching.
The captain of the guard, a thick-set Drokka with a scar running down his cheek, gave the signal. Without hesitation, the men spread out around the perimeter of the building, their torches igniting the dry wood beams with a sickening hiss. Flames licked up the sides of the building, hungrily devouring the silken draperies and wooden supports. The once grand and luxurious pleasure house was rapidly turning into a blazing inferno.
Inside, panicked screams began to rise as the fire spread. The patrons and workers scrambled, half-dressed and frantic, pounding on locked doors, trying to escape the flames. But the guards had sealed the exits, just as Hacktor had ordered. No one was to be spared. This place—this den of sin and decay—was to be wiped from existence. It was a place where his bloodline had been tainted, and Hacktor’s wrath was to be absolute.
The guards stood like silent sentinels, watching as the fire consumed everything, the flames roaring louder and louder, drowning out the desperate cries from within. Some of the more agile patrons tried to escape through windows, but the guards were ready, axes drawn, cutting down any who made it past the flames.
By midday, the entire structure had collapsed into a heap of smoldering ruins and stone. Thick black smoke curled upwards into the cavern, visible throughout the city. There was nothing left but ash and charred remnants of what had once been a place of opulence and depravity. The guards, their task complete, turned on their heels and marched back toward the palace. No words were exchanged, and no remorse lingered in their hearts. They had carried out their king’s will, and The House of Happy Delights was no more.
Unfortunately for Hacktor and Hecla, the destruction of Livy’s little getaway did little to stop the girl’s uncontrolled behavior. Although she’d remained in relative control (often because she was kept locked in her room) whilst Hacktor was home during the winter, as soon as her father left, the girl found ways to escape her prison and reappear at court – where she then disgraced herself and her family many times over.
Thus when Hacktor returned back home in the fall of AO 314 – barely had the king returned back to the palace before his problems arose. So bad was Livy’s depraved behavior that the king had been forced to hear about it on the journey home – which only incensed him further. Livy had fallen even further into disgrace and Hacktor knew he could no longer ignore the problem she had become – drastic action had to be taken.
He strode directly toward the queen’s chambers, his face a mask of barely contained anger. Servants and guards hurried to clear the way, sensing the storm that was about to break. Inside the chambers, Hecla was waiting for him, her face pale and drawn with frustration. She turned as the doors burst open, her eyes meeting Hacktor’s.
“She’s out of control, Hacktor,” Hecla said before he could even speak, her voice trembling. “The moment you left for war, she returned to her old ways. It’s worse now… it’s as if she’s trying to ruin us.”
Hacktor scowled, pacing the room like a caged animal. “What do you mean worse? I had her under guard. How could this happen?”
“She’s using them against us,” Hecla continued, her voice rising. “Seduction, manipulation—she’s turned our own household guards into pawns. The things happening under our roof…” Her voice faltered as she struggled to find the words to describe Livy’s debauchery. “The court talks of nothing else. Livy has made a mockery of everything. The parties, the men she brings into her rooms—it’s shameful, Hacktor.”
Hacktor’s fists clenched, knuckles turning white as he fought back the urge to shout. “And you did nothing?” he barked. “Letting her run wild?”
Hecla’s eyes flared with fury. “Do you think I haven’t tried? I’ve begged, I’ve threatened, I’ve pleaded with her. But she doesn’t listen, Hacktor! I’m not enough for her anymore. She needs discipline, a father’s hand, but you… you’re never here!”
Hacktor’s heart hammered in his chest. The truth of her words hit like a dagger, and he could feel the guilt rise alongside his anger. He had been gone—lost to the endless campaigns and wars that kept him from his family. But Livy was a stain on his name, a disgrace that could no longer be ignored.
“What do you suggest we do, then?” Hacktor asked, his voice a low growl.
Hecla crossed her arms, her gaze hardening. “We must banish her, Hacktor. She’s a lost cause. I won’t let her destroy the rest of our children.”
Hacktor paused, he’d already come to the same conclusion on the journey home, but he’d feared to give it words. After all, he had already brought Livy back from the depths of shame once when he and his men destroyed The House of Happy Delights. But to cast her out completely felt like a death sentence – as a father, he hesitated. Yet Hecla’s eyes were resolute—there was no doubt in her heart that it was the only solution left.
“We can’t have her here,” she added quietly. “Not in Rhokki Pass. But somewhere far away… where she’ll have no choice but to start anew.”
Hacktor grunted, feeling the weight of the decision settle over him like a cloak. “Then where?”
Later that evening, Monty Redstone stood before the king and queen, his demeanor as polished as ever. The room was dimly lit by flickering torches, casting long shadows across the polished stone floor. The Coinmaster’s sharp eyes gleamed with barely contained excitement as he listened to Hacktor and Hecla’s plight. [Naturally Monty knew all about Livy’s evil ways – since he’d helped to foster them, but as the king and queen had no idea about their advisor’s despicable involvement, Monty was gleefully in the clear].
“You’ve done the right thing in bringing this to me,” Monty said, the red mop of his hair jiggling as he nodding sagely. “There’s no doubt Livy’s behavior has become… untenable.”
Hacktor paced back and forth, his agitation barely restrained. “We’re considering exile. But we need a place far from here—somewhere where she can’t continue this disgrace. Somewhere she can rethink her life without… temptation.”
Monty pressed his fat, bejeweled fingers together thoughtfully. “I understand your concerns, Your Majesty. Livy’s presence here, under such influence, will only continue to feed her waywardness. But if I may suggest an option, a place that might serve both your needs and hers.”
He paused dramatically, watching Hacktor’s eyes narrow. Hecla leaned forward, intrigued but wary.
“Gaza,” Monty said smoothly. “The former seat of the Boma Clan. It lies far to the east, along the River Zor. It’s a borderland town, rebuilt after your cleansing of the elites from that once powerful clan. There’s little there now—no opulence, no debauchery like what she has known. It’s isolated but still within your dominion. A place where she could… reflect on her past.”
Hacktor’s brow furrowed, considering the idea. Gaza had once been a stronghold of corruption under the displaced Kon-Herr Byryk Boma, but after his men had purged the Bomas clan and brought the region under control, it had become a quiet backwater—far from the court and its temptations.
“Would she be safe there?” Hacktor asked.
Monty smiled. “Absolutely, Your Majesty. I can personally see to it that she is placed in good hands—perhaps even under the watchful eye of a trusted steward. There would be no distractions, no chance for her to return to her… previous ways.”
Hacktor exchanged a glance with Hecla, who nodded slightly. It seemed like the perfect solution—a place far from Rhokki Pass where Livy could no longer sully their name.
“Very well,” Hacktor said, his voice heavy with finality. “She will be sent to Gaza. Make the arrangements, Monty. Ensure she has what she needs, but no more than that.”
Monty bowed low, hiding the glint of triumph in his eyes. “Of course, Your Majesty. You can rest easy knowing that Livy will be far from temptation.”
But as Monty left the room, a twisted grin played on his lips. Gaza, far from being Livy’s redemption, was about to become her playground. With the king and queen’s blessing, he would rebuild what had been lost. The House of Happy Delights would rise again, only this time, in a place where no one would ever know—least of all Hacktor and Hecla.
And so it was that Livy found refuge in Gaza – far from the watchful eyes of her father. She left without fanfare – without even saying goodbye to her parents or the man suitors that secretly pined for her. She left to find freedom – she found that, and far more.
The city of Gaza had always been a place on the edge of things—a border town nestled on the side of the western mountains, half of its structures below ground, half of them opening out onto the vast plains and rivers that led to the lands of the Derkka and beyond. Once a bustling stronghold under the Boma Clan [a traitorous Drokka family who loved the Derkka more than their own people], Gaza had become a ghost town after Hacktor’s Cleansing of the Elites, its streets mostly empty, its buildings hollowed by time and neglect. Or so it seemed.
In reality, Monty Redstone had scooped up the land for Drokkettes on the Drokkma during the chaos of its fall. The saavy Coinmaster had led the royals to believe that the region had been taken back under The Crown’s control, but in reality, Monty and the Rustinz clan had carved up the region for themselves. These fellow conspirators been hoping for years that Hacktor would perish in war so they could then openly proclaim their ownership rights and redevelop the area – there was even talk by Lord Thane of moving the Drokka capital to Gaza and bringing his son Aric back from far away Akka to become the new Kon-Herr who would in turn begin the formal process of reuniting the Drokka and the Derkka populations under the banner of one shared government. Yet Hacktor’s stubborn refusal to die in battle had continued to delay those plans.
Fortunately Monty had a backup idea – and Livy’s ‘banishment’ provided him a new opportunity for riches. With the blessing of the Ruks (who were still the most powerful clan on TerrVerde and thus Monty’s puppet masters), The Coinmaster secretly diverted resources to rebuild Gaza.
It didn’t happen overnight, but it did happen – and over time Gaza was reborn. The city had once been half inside the mountains, with towering tunnels and grand halls carved into the rock, while the other half spilled out onto the plains. This natural divide had once made Gaza a fortress for the Bomas clan, but now it was the perfect setup for a city of dual identities. The half inside the mountain became the private quarters, where patrons could enjoy their pleasures in secrecy, while the half outside catered to travelers, merchants, and curious onlookers.
As the money flowed in, the streets of the city were soon bustling again, with inns, taverns, and brothels springing up to serve those who came in search of Gaza’s newfound reputation as the City of Delights. Although less than a quarter of the customers were Drokka, the rivers that connected Gaza to Gor and Ramos allowed a constant stream of better paying patrons from foreign lands. Merchants and nobles from all corners of the realm visited Gaza under the pretense of business, only to lose themselves in the pleasures Livy offered.
And at the heart of this Sin City stood the new House of Happier Delights – where Hacktor and Hecla’s daughter Livy held court.
From the outside, the House was an architectural marvel that seemed both ancient and new. Its foundations were carved directly into the mountain’s western face, with the upper levels open to the peak facing Gor. Stone arches rose high, forming terraces draped with silken banners in shades of crimson and gold. The building seemed to shimmer in the twilight, its windows flickering with the warm glow of lanterns and braziers. Ivy crawled up its sides, entwined with exotic flowers that Monty had imported from distant lands, their sweet scent wafting through the air and drawing wealthy patrons who had the resources enough to be invited inside like moths to a flame.
The Happier House’s entrance was framed by two massive pillars, each one adorned with intricate carvings that told tales of old Drokka kings and their conquests—a subtle reminder of Gaza’s violent past, now repurposed as a kind of humorous lure for the elites seeking to indulge their most secret desires. Inside, the House was a palace of decadence. The main hall was expansive, with a ceiling that soared above in a mosaic of stained glass, casting rainbow hues across the floor. Soft music played from unseen musicians, their melodies echoing off marble walls adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of indulgence and excess. Low tables made from the finest blackwood were scattered throughout, surrounded by plush cushions in deep reds and purples, inviting guests to lounge and partake in the pleasures offered. At the far end of the hall was a grand staircase that spiraled upwards, leading to private rooms where only the wealthiest patrons could buy seclusion and personalized services.
The House of Happier Delights was not a place for redemption, nor a place for virtue. It was a kingdom of desire, where gods, devils, and mortals alike came to forget the world outside and indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, the mind, and the soul. And under Livy’s reign, it thrived.
In fact, as the years went by, Livy ruled over her new empire with a grace and charisma that belied the debauchery that thrived within its walls and inside the woman herself. Now an adult, Livy had taken what she learned from her experience at the first House and perfected it here in Gaza. No longer the naïve girl trying to escape her past, she was now a queen of vice, a mistress of indulgence who commanded both respect and desire from her patrons. Clad in flowing gowns of black and gold, Livy moved through the House like a shadow, her presence felt in every corner. Her beauty, inherited from her mother Hecla, had only grown more intoxicating over the years, and her allure was the foundation upon which her business thrived.
But Livy was more than just a pretty face. She had learned the art of manipulation from Monty, her secret benefactor, and she wielded it with precision. Every patron who entered her House left poorer, either from their lustful indulgences or from the subtle ways Livy’s minions siphoned their wealth. The new House of Happier Delights was thus a place where the elite came to lose themselves—both in pleasure and in fortune.
Not surprisingly Livy’s reputation spread quickly. And if those rumors were ignored by her parents (who didn’t have the time or desire to deal with them), word of the House of Happier Delights reached the ears of some of the other most powerful and notorious figures in the lands, and over the years, many came to sample of Livy’s forbidden fruits.
One of the first to visit was Garrick of the Golden Hand – by then reestablished as the Marduk of the Derkka – and still Hacktor’s greatest rival. Shortly after he lost his second wife Thirza, Garrick had heard whispers of Livy’s beauty and her new establishment in Gaza, and though he despised her father, the allure of coupling with the daughter of his enemy was too tempting to resist. The beautiful Babelonian king came in secret, disguised and guarded, but once inside the House, he openly reveled in the luxury and indulgence Livy provided. For Livy, it was another way to hurt her father, another way to distance herself from the family that had never fully accepted her. And although the Drokkina’s skills could never compare with the delights Garrick had enjoyed with the goddess Sindra, still they were enough to cause him to be a repeat customer of Livy’s establishment.
Another noteworthy visitor to The House was none other than Sindra herself – the infamous Goddess of Lust. Sindra graced Livy with her presence in private – offering the Drokkina the pretense of diplomacy and the gift of divine pleasures herself. Livy learned much from Sindra, and in return, Sindra gained yet another foothold in the realm of her rivals.
Yet of all her patrons, none were more loyal than Monty Redstone himself. He was the architect of Livy’s success, the man who had pulled the strings behind the scenes to ensure that Gaza flourished. Monty visited the House not only as its secret benefactor but as its patron. He reveled in the empire he had built through Livy, and though he knew Livy never fully trusted him, it mattered not to Monty – he enjoyed the fruits of Livy’s labor as well as the girl herself – many times over.
It wasn’t always easy for Monty to get away from Rhokki Pass and make the long trip through the Byways to Gaza, but given that the king was gone more than half the year in war, and the queen was often distracted with her own problems, The Coinmaster found opportunity enough to escape to the Sin City.
It was early in the year AO 318 – Hacktor had just left for a new campaign and Monty managed to take another trip to Gaza. He was especially eager on this occassion because he’d secured even more capital from The Rukstinz to use in further building out Gaza and he was eager to see the results of his investments.
Over the years he’d developed the habit exiting the mountains just north of the city in order to be able to approach Gaza from the Gor side so that he could take in the full panorama of the empire he’d built. Thus it was that the sun was setting over The House of Happier Delights as Monty’s small party approached. He could see song shadows across the city’s sprawling market squares and towering buildings, while in the distance, the golden palace of the House of Happier Delights shimmered, perched atop the big hill like a decadent crown overlooking the land. Its banners fluttered in the warm evening breeze, crimson and gold against the softening sky. The music of flutes and drums echoed faintly from within. Inside those grand walls, the world seemed to stop—no wars, no rivalries, no burdens of leadership or wealth. Only pleasure.
Monty Redstone, seated in his luxurious carriage, smirked as the palace came into full view. “Look at it, Tollo,” he mused to his attendant, a wiry Derkka with quick eyes who always met him in Gor whenever The Coinmaster came this way. “A jewel in the desert, bought with coin and a dream. Livy was worth every Drokkma, wasn’t she?”
Tollo grinned in agreement. “Aye, master. They come from all corners of TerraVerde to bask in her light.”
The carriage creaked to a halt, and the two friends descended, stepping onto the polished stone walkway leading to the entrance. Monty smoothed his unruly red hair and straightened his velvet vest as they approached. Before them, the towering arches welcomed them into the heart of Gaza’s playground for the elites.
Inside, the scent of exotic incense immediately overtook their senses. Flickering candlelight danced across the polished marble floors, casting long shadows on the lush tapestries draped across the walls. Rich laughter and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air. Courtesans glided past, their soft silks and jeweled attire catching the light.
Monty paused in the new grand atrium, gazing up at the high dais where Livy herself lounged like a queen. Draped in sheer silver fabric and adorned with jewels that sparkled like stars, she was a vision of sensual authority. Her now golden curls cascaded down her shoulders, framing a face that seemed carved by the gods themselves.
She noticed Monty’s arrival and beckoned him forward with a subtle flick of her wrist. He ascended the dais, his boots clicking against the polished stone. “My queen,” he said, bowing low. “The new house is thriving, I see.”
Livy smiled, her red lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “It is more than thriving, Monty. It is alive.” Her voice was a purr, as soft as velvet. “The people of TerrVerde crave release from their woes, and we have given them the key.”
Monty chuckled. “And what a key it is. Tell me, has the new gaming hall opened yet?”
Livy waved her hand dismissively. “Of course. They’re already losing fortunes like never before. But that’s not what draws them in, Monty. They come for the promises of the flesh, the mind, and… their souls.” Her gaze drifted to the various corners of the palace where the pleasures of the House unfolded.
As Monty and Tollo made their way through the halls, they passed room after room of indulgence. They could both see that Monty’s infusion of capital had been put to good use.
In one chamber, filled with silken cushions and soft lighting, patrons reclined on couches while courtesans attended to them. Laughter and moans of pleasure filled the air. The scent of perfumes, mingling with incense and the sweet smell of old-world herbs, was intoxicating. A woman from Ramos, with eyes painted in gold, offered Monty a sip from her chalice. “Mushroom tea, sir? It’s said to bring visions of the divine.”
Monty declined with a wave, though Tollo eagerly took a sip. The small goblin’s eyes glazed over almost instantly, his grin widening as he wandered deeper into the House, leaving Monty alone.
The next hall opened into the gaming quarters—an opulent old world casino filled with the elite of Gaza, their faces alight with excitement and greed. Monty was especially excited to see those wealthy patrons bet their coin on ancient games of chance, dice tumbling across the polished tables, cards shuffling in quick, rhythmic motions. Coins clinked, and the sound of laughter and raised voices filled the room.
A wealthy merchant shouted in triumph as his cards hit a winning hand. Across the room, another gambler cursed as his fortune dwindled. Attendants in elegant attire moved smoothly between tables, refilling drinks, offering advice, or providing comfort to the losers.
“The House always wins,” Monty murmured to himself with a smile, watching the spectacle. But he moved on, leaving behind the noise of the gaming tables.
Deeper into the palace, Monty passed the first of the small temples. These hidden sanctuaries were some of the newest offerings of The House – scattered throughout the palace, they offered more than just physical release—they promised transcendence of the soul – for a price of course.
The temple of Rhokki, the Drokka god of strength, stood stark and imposing, though Monty noted that few ventured inside. Taking a peek himself, he saw that the temple’s stone walls were bare, save for the giant carving of Rhokki’s muscular form. A lone warrior sat on his knees in silent meditation, eyes closed as if seeking inner strength. Yet Rhokki’s followers were few here, their thirst for discipline out of place in a palace of indulgence, and Monty himself lingered only for a moment before moving on—for he knew there were more interesting gods to visit.
The temple of Kalypzo, mother of the earth, was a different world entirely. It was lush and verdant, the scent of fresh herbs and flowers filling the air. Soft green vines curled up the walls, and candles flickered gently in every corner. Women dressed in flowing robes offered healing rituals to those in need of solace. Kalypzo’s followers were peaceful, seeking balance and restoration after the House’s wilder indulgences. Monty smiled at the irony—those who sought to heal after a night of sin came here to mend their souls and bodies.
But it was the temple of Sindra, goddess of lust, that truly drew the crowds. The moment Monty stepped inside, he was hit by a wave of heat and heady perfume. The walls were lined with erotic tapestries, and courtesans, dressed in the sheerest of silks, performed rites in honor of Sindra. The patrons here were many, their eyes wide with desire as they watched the rituals unfold. Here, physical pleasure became divine, with devotees offering their bodies in worship, losing themselves in the ecstasy that Sindra’s disciples promised.
One of the priestesses, a woman with dark, knowing eyes, caught Monty’s gaze. “Do you wish to offer yourself to Sindra, sir?” The Ramos women asked with a teasing smile. “The goddess rewards her followers with the deepest pleasures.”
Monty merely smiled. “Another time, perhaps. I’m only here to observe tonight.”
Some time later he came to the temple of Shedu Mazai – the god of death – and Monty was surprised to see that it was even more popular than Sindra’s. Its atmosphere was darker, more somber, yet somehow…thrilling. The walls were lined with skulls, and dark-robed priests conducted shadowy rituals by candlelight. Here, patrons came to face their fears, to contemplate mortality and the afterlife. Some offered blood sacrifices in the hopes of glimpsing the mysteries of death itself.
Monty was careful to stay near the entrance, yet he watched as a young noble, trembling with fear, knelt before the altar and offered a drop of his own blood. The priests chanted in low, guttural voices, and the room seemed to grow colder, shadows lengthening as if death himself hovered nearby. It was thrilling, terrifying even, and yet many were lured by the darkness. Yet for the cautious Coinmaster it not his cup of tea and he moved on.
And finally, there was the temple of Baal, the evil god of the Derkka. Unlike the others, this temple was less about indulgence and more about power. Its entrance was guarded by hulking figures, and inside, the air was thick with the smell of burning incense and the crackle of fire. The walls were adorned with ancient symbols of destruction and chaos. Only the most ambitious, or desperate, dared to worship here, seeking Baal’s favor to gain forbidden knowledge or power. Monty didn’t even attempt to enter —this was a place of darker secrets, one that even he, with all his ambition, wasn’t quite ready to explore.
Eventually Monty made his way back to the grand atrium, where Livy awaited him, her eyes glittering in the firelight. “Well, Monty?” she asked, reclining on her throne. “What do you think of our little paradise?”
Monty chuckled. “It’s not paradise, Livy. But it’s close enough for the likes of us.”
She raised her goblet in a silent toast. “Close enough indeed.”
And yet for all her commercial success, as the years passed, Livy’s soul grew darker. The pleasures that had once thrilled eventually left her feeling cold and empty. She had everything she had ever wanted—wealth, power, and independence—yet she felt more lost than ever.
And so, in the end, Livy existed, but she did not truly live. The daughter of Hacktor and Hecla, who had once been a bright and beautiful girl, full of promise, was now nothing more than a hollow shell, a ghost haunting the outskirts of society, seeking validation in all the wrong places. And no matter how many of the elites she ‘interacted’ with the emptiness inside her only grew.
Yet something else also grew within Livy – knowledge of the secrets of the rich and famous. So vast did her treasure trove of infamous information grow that Livy eventually knew nearly every dark secret on the continent. The only question was – what would she do with all that power?
The Apocrypha of Azazel 