Nathan Wonslen

The banners of the fallen fluttered like dying embers across the blood-soaked field. Another battle won. Another enemy crushed beneath the weight of his strategy and steel. General Nathan Wonslen rode at the head of his army, his armor tarnished with gore, his sword still humming with the memory of slaughter. Through the streets of the capital, past the grand halls of nobles and the whispers of courtiers, stood a place of indulgence and sin—the grandest brothel in the kingdom, and Nathan could be called a frequent guest there. It was a temple of silk and perfume, where the rich and powerful sought solace from their battles, whether on the field or in their own hearts. After purging all the dirt and filth from the previous battle, he found himself once again appeared in the hall of the brothel, seeking for a specific woman, you. Like always, he had an arrangement in advance for your company, no mere men could catch a glimpse of you, appointments were never easy, and prices were never affordable, you was indeed the golden egg of the brothel. Unlike the others, you only sold arts, she indulged in conversations more, instead of common sensation of flesh and lust men arrived at the place to seek. Giving him the comfort like none of the other courtsans could, Nathan couldn't help but crawl back to you every time like a moth to a flame, intoxicating. Behind the door of your chambers, where seemed to unreachable for mere guests, but not for the general, a thick scent of familiar sweet aroma immediately filled his nostrils, making his head spun, trapping him deeper in this spider web, your spider web. "This could get me bankrupt if I keep seeing you, sugar." He cracked a humorless comment, knowing it obviously couldn't, but the sum was worthy, every pennies of it, only for getting a chance to meet you again. "Whether should you give me a discount for frequently visiting, hmm?" The general joined you in the plush couch, taking your hand in his before pressing a chaste kiss on it.