“You are doing quite well,” Virgil acknowledged. “Do you have enough staff?”
“Thank you. And yes, with your help, we’re now able to cover our bases.”
A place like this could never have too much help. Each person there was integral to keeping everything running smoothly.
The director bowed his head to Virgil. “However, I can’t say with confidence that we’ve been able to gather the necessary input from the female refugees.”
That certainly was a problem. The officials approaching the refugees for feedback were generally men, and it was hard to believe that they were sensitive enough to understand what the women really wanted and needed. Brothels were in a similar situation. Men were usually the ones appointed to important positions, and they didn’t prioritize the same things courtesans did. Thankfully, Flower Bed’s Mirage (often referred to as Mom by the other courtesans) had bridged that gap by speaking on behalf of the other women.
“I’ll see what I can find out from the women,” Claudia offered.
Virgil nodded approvingly. “That would be best. There are things women only feel comfortable discussing with one another. We men can only do so much.” He spoke with the wisdom of someone who had experienced this himself.
While Claudia could help today, she wouldn’t be able to act as an earpiece for the women forever. “I think it may be best to select some women among the refugees to represent them in the future,” she said.
Mothers were especially skilled at gathering information to keep their children safe. It might not be readily apparent to the director and his people, but the women probably had formed their own little communities already. And where people gathered, leaders emerged—though not all of them had impeccable character.
“For the moment, I wouldn’t give them any formal authority. Simply have the women present the concerns and requests of their peers. Keeping it unofficial will prevent potential squabbles.”
“Interesting,” said the director. “Yes, I’ll inform my subordinates immediately so we can act on your idea.”
“I’ll feel the women out and see who might be good representatives,” said Claudia.
Of paramount importance was finding women who wouldn’t prioritize their own self-interests over those of the rest of the refugees. By selecting representatives and coming to a consensus on their needs, the women would be able to communicate more effectively—even if the person they were communicating with was a man ignorant of women’s needs. The women would trust the regional administration more if their concerns were answered.
The director promised to have more female officials positioned at the facility as well.
“Good,” Claudia said. “We need to take steps toward earning their trust.”
“Of course. I shall strive to do better.”
“Goodness, I’m sorry!” Claudia quickly added when she realized he’d misunderstood her. “I was actually talking to myself there.”
The director was doing more than enough to accommodate the refugees. Through the inspection, Claudia was reminded of the importance of trust, which was as necessary with the native population in their region as it was with these refugees. Without trust, nothing she said would matter, no matter how eloquent her words.
“Not at all,” said the director. “What you said applies just as much to me, my lady.”
“Indeed,” agreed Virgil. “We all must keep it in mind. Perhaps we should make that our slogan.”
“I will have it written out, framed, and hung on a wall.”
Claudia pulled a face. “Aren’t you being a bit too dramatic, sir? Please don’t tease me!”
The director stared blankly back at her. He was serious.
“I meant what I said,” Virgil threw in as well, which made her even more uncomfortable. They made her feel like she was the one poking fun instead of the other way around.
“Well,” she hedged, “if you think it will be an effective slogan, then I suppose I don’t mind.”
Claudia added that maybe they should take a quote from the deacon instead of her, but the director and Virgil disregarded that suggestion.
The moment they stepped into the facility, Claudia’s heart thudded with unease. The racket of construction from outside echoed in the halls. It was the only sound in the otherwise silent building. Given how many people were staying there, dirt often got tracked in. The staff cleaned the floors regularly, and they did a thorough enough job. So why did Claudia feel so unsteady on her feet?
She spotted a child down one of the long corridors they passed. “Do you have people patrolling the halls?”
“Yes, every night without fail,” answered the director.
She shook her head. “You need to make sure they patrol during the day too. Especially in areas where there are women who can’t leave their rooms.”
“Of course, my lady.”
People could be beasts at times. Thankfully, the director understood her concerns without her being direct and immediately agreed. Age didn’t matter where assault was concerned. It was always the most vulnerable who were targeted.
Claudia added, “Could you also warn the women against walking around on their own?”
Better to prevent them from being isolated and targeted. The refugees had only just escaped to safety and started settling in. Perhaps not everyone felt entirely comfortable, but they were relaxed enough to let their children run around, at least. The director had also mentioned assigning work to some. Others would be more exposed to potential danger when their guardians were off to work.
The quiet stillness in the halls reminded her of the brothel somehow. Perhaps it was all the unoccupied rooms and deserted areas. If someone got dragged into any of those spots, no one would be around to hear their cries. There was nothing to stop it from happening either. On top of that, outsiders were commuting there to help with the construction of temporary housing. They were prohibited from approaching the facility, but that could only be enforced with actual security keeping watch.
Perhaps it’s for the best that most are huddled together outside. She glanced out a window at the refugees assembled in the plaza. At least out there, they didn’t have to worry about being attacked.
“Prohibit all of them from sex work,” Claudia ordered. “And implement punishments for those who pay for such services.”
Those without finances of their own would resort to selling their own bodies first. Without any guarantees about their future, they would be desperate for money. Thankfully, the director had discussed his plans to integrate them into the local culture and then offer career training. Claudia wanted the refugees to know they didn’t have to sell themselves for coin. Her family and the administration had a duty to ensure the need never arose.
“Warn the refugees against anyone who would use their circumstances and vulnerability to take advantage of them,” she said.
“Yes. I will make sure they’re adequately forewarned.”
Many of the refugees were women. It was possible that unsavory businesses would approach them with promises of well-paid work. She and the rest of the leadership couldn’t let their guard down, not even once the refugees were fully settled.
The Lindsays’ region had its fair share of brothels in the city, same as anywhere else. Much like the ones in the capital, they were maintained by the regional administration. Even so, prostitution often came with its fair share of crime. No matter how proud the courtesans were of their work, the average person looked down on the sex industry. It didn’t help that there were still brothels out there being run by syndicates. Regardless of Claudia’s efforts, it wasn’t easy to change the public’s mind about the social position of sex workers.
There was also the fact that they were keeping the refugees separate from the natural citizens. If even one refugee became a sex worker, it would negatively impact the reputation of the entire group. People wouldn’t judge the individual. They would judge all refugees. The resulting animosity toward the group could lead them to dehumanizing the refugees instead of seeing them as the people in need that the saint insisted they were. Claudia wanted to avoid discrimination against them if at all possible.