Haha, no, I can do this. Thanks for the help. :)
In Victorian London, people were much more secretive than today. On the outside, everything was clean and rational. Women would go for strolls in the park in elaborate gowns, men would work hard every day and come home to a warm meal. The world was learning to tinker and create, and trains were helping cities become widespread. The world was simpler, in London town.
That is, on the outside.
Inside the city, it was a dark and violent time. Cops were immoral, the judicious system paid off to keep quiet on the big crimelords. The society was crumbling to evil and sin. Littering the streets were the drug addicts and cheap whores. There were opium rooms, brothels, and armories. The sky was gray with smoke, and ash got on your clothes when you left your home. Being mugged was commonplace, and there wasn't a moral soul in the works.
In the worst of the downtown abbeys and roads, lies a looming, gothic building. It once was a place of prayer, until that side of London became a stinking hellhole. It was the tallest building around, with multiple floors and an underground entrance. Of course, no one around would dare enter, considering how the place was guarded like a fortress. Children would say they held the real crown jewels there, and wives tales told of unmarried women walking in one day and coming out a drugged harlot the next.
At the top of the fifth floor was a balcony that looked out upon the city. Gargoyles were once on the railing, but some punks stole them before they turned it into a brothel. The prostitutes of highest-rating and regards lived on that floor, along with the madame, which had big, lavish rooms filled with expensive art and furniture. Below that floor were the men, who of course had nicer rooms than most of the others on the floors below. Taking the perilous walk down the spiral staircase was a walk through the levels of affluence, from kings to paupers. And at the underground level was where the real customers entered.
No man was to be seen in a brothel, if he valued his honor. They'd take an underground path that has been tread for years, and had entrances and exits all over the city. The royal castle had it's own private entrance, for instance. The people who lived there were some of their most cherished patrons, which meant no one dared investigate.
The place was shrouded in mystery, even for the prostitutes who worked there. Real government business went on in the courtyards and dining hall, and some of the women were allowed to be there and talk about their own ideas. But there was something even darker than that going on.
The king and nobles were up to something, and those who learned of it were never the same.