Vitti Vinicci looked at the face looking back at her from the polished surface above her washing basin. It wasn't a bad face, all things considered. Even as she approached her thirty-fifth birthday, it was still a pretty face. There were care lines and weathering that hadn't been there seventeen years ago, when a young idealistic Vitti first arrived in the city with hopes and dreams. But the older, wiser Vitti could still turn the heads of potential clients away from the younger women at the brothel she worked at.
Used to work at, Vitti corrected herself, as she turned to look out her bedroom window at the garden behind her cottage. Her cottage, Vitti told herself with a smile.
A couple of weeks ago, a customer...a very attractive customer...entered the brothel and headed straight toward Vitti. He told Vitti he was willing to pay Vitti an exorbitant fee, enough to make her dreams come true, if only she would do something a little odd for him.
Vitti's initial reaction was to say no and not even bother hearing the customer's request. Certain customers offered Vitti extra money for a sex act that (in Vitti's mind) indicated the customer wanted to be with a small boy rather than a grown woman. Vitti had never let a customer have access to her butt for sexual purposes, and never would.
Something about the handsome customer made Vitti decide to hear his request before turning it down.
Vitti had worked in a brothel for more than fifteen years, and thought she had heard everything.
She was wrong.
"You want what?" Vitti asked incredulously.
"Two drops of your blood," the client replied. "Preferably harvested by making a small prick to the tip of one of your fingers. And I won't use it for anything carnal," the client assured her. He pulled a vial hanging on a chain around his neck from out beneath his tunic. "I'm an alchemist, doing research. I'm gathering blood from certain specific archetypes, which is why I'm willing to spend good gold for it."
Vitti really didn't understand all the talk about archetypes, but the gold was good, and giving up two drops of blood wasn't the weirdest thing she had ever done.
Two weeks later, Vitti was living in a small but comfortable cottage on the edge of the city. The cottage had its own flower and vegetable garden, along with a well providing cool, clear water. The stranger had left more gold in the local counting house, as well as a share of the profit of a local silversmith's operation. Vitti would not want for anything for the rest of her life.
At this point, we can continue the story from the viewpoint of Vitti, or the employer of the mysterious stranger.
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