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Durgans hideout in the castle dungeons couldn't compare with the more hospitable whore house in the slums, but here he had to earn his stay. While the women were taking care of the customers, Durgan did those household chores the women were too weak to handle. Fetching water from the well wasn't what the people seeing him told him was a mans job, but Durgan wasn't a man. He was a wimp.

"...and what do YOU think, goddess?", Durgan said, looking at her while struggling with the weight of the buckets. "Is this my true lot in life?"
"Your heart may be elsewhere, fighting for your lost honor, but your body is carrying water.", his mistress replied. "I eat miserable dreamers like you at a young age. Why do you think I follow you around so closely?", she added with a warm smile of razorsharp teeth.

Durgan staggered onward, people stopping to point and laugh at the sight of him. He wasn't dead just yet.