The Life and Memoirs of Lawler Miranos

	Lawler Miranos was a bit of an oddity in many ways; he was a person of much debate and speculation amongst his peers, most of whom could never really decide whether to hate him for being lower than them or for being higher than them. The general consensus seemed to be, however; that he was different, and that irked them to no end. He had bearing of a merchant or a sailor- and a tongue to match- however he lacked nothing in the way of courtesy and social decorum when the need arose. In truth, behind his serpentine and often obsessive facade, he was a man of few hopes or aspirations but of great heart.
	The truths and trials of his past are known to only two individuals who he could trust completely, and I had the honor of being one.
	Born to an extremely powerful and prosperous fishing family, Lawler had opportunities in life that neither the noble nor the poor could ever have. Spending his youth in the streets of Petaeat Lae, Lawler became unpredictably skilled in both the role of the leader and the fighter, heading a small gang of children who called themselves the Whalespawn Marchers. Though his time with them was brief, the childish scrapes and tussles of the Petaeat Lae’s back alleys would eventually shape the man he would grow to be.
	His parents eventually came to realize that he needed more attention than they could provide if he was ever to shape himself to be the head of the Miranos Merchant House and invested in a live-in tutor from one of the most infamous and influential noble houses in the city: House Agape.

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	I remember when I first met her. She was beautiful, all curves and ruby-lipped smiles, but something about her features hinted at something else; something far less sweet and soft. She wore a soft pink, gauzy dress under a shimmering gold-embroidered jacket, open in the front; the fashion of the era. The high waist drew your eyes from her ample bosom down over her long frame and made her seem even taller than she was. Her hair was dyed a striking red and kept short, with only a few ringlets hanging down over her milky white skin. High cheekbones and a small, elegant nose offset her full lips and I couldn't help but stare as her tongue ran over them, her sharp hazel eyes affixed on me.
	Her name was Áinfean Agape, first daughter of the noble Agape’s, my new tutor.
	My parents, for all their love, had hired her at a high price to help mold me into the future head of the Miranos Merchant House, a future that at the time I wanted no part of, but even as a boy of 12 this elegantly tempting woman was beginning to change my mind. She was 31 at the time and "tragically barren" as my mother had explained it, and since her family would gain nothing from marrying her off, they instead pushed her into the life of a tutor and future spinster.
	She was a harsh woman, fiery and passionate, be it simple things such as geography and mathematics, or more complex ones such as politics and economics she would give no slack and no respite during lessons. Had that been the all of it I would likely have forgotten her beautiful face with time, but there were other lessons, much darker and explicit ones, that she taught to me in the darkness of my family’s mansion when my mother and father where away on business.
	It had started innocently enough, a soft kiss upon my cheek the first day I had finished my studies without drawing her ire, I can still remember the warm, hot air on my skin. The next day, she invited me to sit on her lap, her hand set high upon my thigh as she drilled me on various kings in lands long since conquered. With each correct answer, she would glide her fingers slowly upwards, and even if I didn’t know what I was feeling, I knew it felt good. When I had finished she leaned close to my ear, whispering to me how proud she was, and that tomorrow I would get a special surprise.
	That morning I was awoken by the press of cold steel to my throat. Áinfean stood at the edge of my bed, a blunted saber tracing the distance from her hand to my neck, and she seemed to hold a second in her other hand. The surprise of it made it take much longer than normal to notice her attire, or lack there-of. There she stood, glaring down at my prone form with nothing but the air around her. Her pale, plumb breasts slowly rose and fell with her breathing, nipples firm in the cool pre-dawn air. Her curving frame slimmed to an elegant waist before widening into hips that would easily bear children, if only she could. The rest was hidden from me by the edge of my tall bed, but her stern voice called my attention regardless.
	"Every man must learn the blade if he wishes to call himself a man." Those were her words, and she refused to give me even time to don trousers before she began her assault, as soon as my feet hit the floor she began, dull steel bruising my then soft skin, stopping only when I fell over. "A man on his back is a corpse, and unworthy of the blade." That was my first lesson. After that she tossed the blunt tool to me, switching the other to her right hand. Before righting myself I took time to examine her while I had the chance.
	Her cruelly matronly hips slid smoothly into creamy thighs, a small gap revealing two pink lips, above which a small patch of neatly trimmed copper hair stood out on her blushing skin. If she had any sense of shame she did not show it.
	Coming to my feet, her weapon was already moving to me before I could even bring the weapon to bare, managing only to punch away the blade with the knuckle guard of my sword. Not even pausing she whipped the blade around to assail my left side and with a careful flick of her wrist she drew a small line on my skin with the tip. It did not hurt at first, but as I brought my saber to parry I felt a keen spike of pain, and as I knocked her attack aside I looked down a moment to assess the damage.
	It became clear then, as red beads began to well on the wound, that her blade was very much sharp. As her ruby lips curled into a dark smirk, she beat aside my weapon, dropping to her knees beside me, one hand restraining my arm, the other dipping to my crotch. As her silky fingers rolled over me, she kissed her first mark on my skin and she looked up into my eyes. "Now you belong to me", were her only words.