“ My path is my own, and one of free choice, not punishment.” Fall-from-Grace     Third Clerk's Day of Mortis, 126 HR When Naghûl entered the Brothel for Slaking Intellectual Lusts, he was greeted by an atmosphere of quiet contemplation. Unlike most brothels, the entrance hall was not decorated with erotic paintings, but with abstract works of art that encouraged reflection. Dim light fell through intricately designed stained glass windows, bathing the room in a kaleidoscopic glow. Compared to the rest of the Festhall District, this place seemed almost reverent. The furniture was simple but comfortable, with upholstered armchairs and sofas inviting guests to linger. A large, open fireplace crackled quietly in a corner, its warm light dancing on the faces of the visitors. There was a gentle scent of old parchment, warm beeswax and a hint of incense in the air - a calming, almost sacred aroma. Instead of loud music, vulgar jokes or even more inappropriate ...