Chapter 366: The Brothel Had Better Parking Than the Hospital

Three days after the diner tried selling my death, Lukas found a brothel with guarded parking and announced that we had finally reached somewhere with sensible priorities.

Rattlewash sat around a freight junction where the Salt Road divided between the quarry routes and Jawbone Cut. Shade roofs covered most of the main street, catching pale grit in gutters while water carriers filled the public tanks beneath them.

The town smelled of engine oil, grilled onions and whatever happened when several hundred tired workers agreed that washing could wait until after payday.

We needed the crawler inspected. Its front wheel had developed a complaint on the second day, and neither of us wanted to discover how far a rental company’s sympathy extended beyond a working relay.

The brothel’s sign promised private rooms, hot water and secure vehicle storage. Beneath those promises, a smaller board advertised a workshop run by someone who apparently understood why travelers might arrive with several different kinds of mechanical disappointment.

"I refuse to believe this is the only repair place in town."

"It isn’t," Lukas said. "The other one wanted us to sleep beside the engine parts, and you complained about sharing a pillow with a brake pad."

[System: He’s got you there, mate. You wanted soft bedding and personal attention, and the spider found a building that advertised both in letters big enough for an idiot to trust.]

We parked beneath a metal awning while the mechanic checked the wheel. A thick-necked woman at reception quoted three hundred sixty credits for two rooms over two nights, with hot water included and any private services arranged separately.

The inspection deposit added another hundred twenty. I paid both from my own money, then asked whether the guarded parking actually involved guards instead of an optimistic sign.

She pointed through the window at a bored man sitting beside the only vehicle gate. His chair stood beneath a clear view of the yard, and a working alarm panel rested within reach.

"He stays awake, the cameras record, and nobody removes a vehicle without the repair token. You’re welcome to check the gate before paying for anything else."

I checked. It worked, which immediately placed the establishment above our previous hospitality experience. The mechanic found a worn bearing and kept the crawler in the locked repair bay for replacement the following morning.

Inside, the common room held mismatched couches, a small stage and a bar where freight drivers argued over an old race recording. The workers chose their own customers and schedules, according to the reception board, while anyone who ignored a refusal lost the right to remain in the building.

That arrangement seemed straightforward enough for everyone except the man already being escorted outside without his drink.

Lukas noticed an older woman carrying a tray and forgot the wheel inspection existed.

She had silver threaded through dark hair, strong arms and the patient expression of somebody who had heard every opening line before breakfast. When he offered to help with the tray, she handed it over and continued walking.

"Table beside the window, sweetheart, and try not to mistake unpaid labor for progress."

He delivered the drinks with the solemn care of a man transporting an opportunity.

"You should ask whether the position includes training, mate, because your enthusiasm seems ahead of your qualifications."

Lukas told me to find a decorative bowl and behave like the expensive ornament I resembled.

The woman laughed, then asked whether he always traveled with a red curtain tie that talked back. I liked her immediately, despite the obvious attack on my dignity.

I moved my tail out of the aisle before a customer tripped over it.

[System: Good thinking, you velvet VIP barrier rope. Charging entry is the club’s job, not something your backside needs to freelance.]

A notice above the bar offered discounted drinks to Rex’s Roadside Wonders staff. I asked the keeper how often they visited, keeping the stolen recording device out of sight until I knew whether the question made anyone uncomfortable.

"Whenever their trucks stop here," she said. "Drivers complain about routes, camera crews complain about wages, and cage handlers complain about everything while dropping mud on my floors."

She knew them because they were customers, not because she secretly controlled every road beyond Ami. The distinction made her answer more useful.

I showed her the company logo from the diner recording. Her expression changed when she saw the release timer, and she asked whether anyone had been hurt.

"The customers got out, and the owner discovered that wrists weren’t part of his safety glass."

She watched the clip without laughing, then pointed toward a courtyard beyond the common room.

Rex’s local crew had rented it for a drinking promotion. They claimed the animal outside was trained, the equipment inspected and the entire event harmless.

I had heard enough variations of those words to begin missing the honest violence of people who simply tried hitting me.

Old Mate climbed onto his private bar and examined the room through my attention with the interest of a koala who had never once improved a situation by supervising it.

This could count as research for Udder the Sea.

[System: You bought a room with a mirrored ceiling, you shameless bastard. Finding reception isn’t a dungeon clear, and I’m not giving you EXP because your mate got distracted by a woman carrying three beers.]

I had been thinking about the parking arrangements.

[System: Of course you were, mate, and I’m a wildlife charity with a healthy relationship to rum.]

There was no quest panel or surprise reward. I still had ten thousand EXP and four hundred eighty IP, which the local drinks menu seemed determined to make irrelevant.

Outside, laughter rose around a broad six-horned beetle wearing a parade saddle. A bright board promised free drinks to anyone who could remain seated through its demonstration circuit.

Lukas read the offer while the older worker watched him over her glass.

He asked whether the prize included the large drinks, and I realized the crawler wasn’t the only thing we needed inspected.