Sir Gregory Abeodan was a tall man, handsome and pleasing to the eye. A man in which others easily confided in. He was an upstanding man. A man of goodwill towards others, and had a gracious purse. But underneath his righteous facade the ever-persistent and most charismatic twirl to his pencil mustache was a clear show to his theoretical purpose - to sow his line amongst as many ladies-in-waiting as he could. Popular, Sir Gregory, he was. And more numerous his children played forgotten in the streets of Lake Town. Most notably his seed would slither and slide from the grime of the docks, completely oblivious to their own liege, the sire and cause of their lives. Inevitably, sovereign to their sad destiny. For most of his children would be bastards, frowned upon and denied. Cursed and beaten, his entertainment would desert in confused uncertainty. His women, promised the moon and stars, fool-heartedly fell upon his words, impaling themselves, oblivious, like feebleminded pheasants skewered by his rich and unbelievable, clock-work lies. For once again, they were simple women, believed to quietly sit in the corner and listen, and easily fooled into the dream of a hidden mistress. Thrilled by the quick nights behind locked doors. Though, good and upstanding Sir Gregory held little interest for the consequences of his evening promiscuity, and would soon let his ladies-in-waiting not wait around much longer when they start to show. A bag of gold in their palms, a well meant, though thorough, threat, and off they went.
Sir Gregory Abeodan was a good man; a shrewd man, a man which had business-sense. Sir Abeodan was also seen upon the docks of that thriving town, busy with dealings less talked about. Dealings done also behind locked doors. Also, yet again, his promises would bide and serve own his purse. The rich lord was wealthy because of one thing alone: the capitalistic greed found in the trade of flesh and bone. Lives. Slaves was his commodity in which he traded, be they in his bedroom or business. For Sir Abeodan only dealt with slaves, was his peculiar seeing of life - he had the strange belief all things below his ambiguous, indifferent, nose was a tool to further his own wants. And Sir Gregory wanted nothing with more enthusiasm than he does gold.
Yes, Gorlen thought, his father was a pompous bastard, my mother his fancy, and now I would be a father soon, but not the same.
