There are those who say Kaenor is the finest city in the world. Certainly, there is nowhere where more cultures mix, where more peoples and races and secrets can be found. Much of this is due to its location, on a peninsula that makes the northern half of the Straight of Swords, which separates two great seas. To the west is the Endless Ocean, stretching out to strange lands beyond the horizon. When the wind blows from this cold, deep sea, the city is beset by storms or shrouded in thick fogs which are proverbial across half the world.
On the other side is the warmer Gulf of Sighs, said to be named because, in ancient days, mermaids frolicked in its azure waters, making love with each other until their moans echoed across the waters. Beyond the Gulf is the Inner sea, stretching out east and south. North of the small coastal plain where the city lies are towering mountains, filled with hidden valleys and strange creatures. Passes wind through them, leading to the Greatlands and other places beyond.
It is to this location, a gateway between different parts of the world, that traders flock, seeking prices for an almost endless variety of strange wares. From the Endless Ocean they come from Tharos and Meilgar and the Island of Seven Stones. From the Inner Sea they come from Danshon and Nius and Poseidonopolis, and the distant Sultanate beyond. And through the northern passes, traders come from the Kingdoms of the Greatlands and the Shadow Empire beyond it.
All gather at Kaenor, filling the city with the sound of strange tongues and with strange scents, of incense and spices and a thousand other things. Is it any wonder then that Kaenor is a city of magic and mystery and secrets. Thieves and assassins from the Five Guilds stalk its streets, priests lurk in their temples, holding secret rites that the uninitiated can only speculate on. The Mages of the Seven Orders dwell in their great towers of grey stone, topped with red glass minarets that hang high above the city like flames, and only mingle with the common folk when they want something.
There are many places in the city that might interest a discerning guest, but perhaps the one closest to my heart is ‘The Dragon’s Lover’, arguably the greatest brothel in the world. It is named for a legend that is very popular in Kaenor. The story goes that once the great dragon Ryzorl threatened the city with a horde of evil creatures. While the armies of the realm cowered behind the walls a single docklands whore, young and beautiful, went out to face the horde. After laying her way through the dark army, she finally reached the dragon and seduced him, keeping him occupied with her pliant body until the barbarian hero Torash arrived to slay the wyrm and claim her as his concubine.
The building is not placed on the main streets, amidst the temples and other famous places. Rather it is placed in the back alleys, forcing those who wish to seek its pleasures to work to find it. It is barely noticeable as different from the houses that surround it, distinguished only by the sign that hangs outside. Said to be carved from dragon’s tooth, the white sculpture depicts a beautiful girl entwined in the coils of a serpentine drake. It is so breathtakingly realistic and artfully made that at any moment you expect her erect nipples to flush pink in contrast to her ivory skin, and a moan to issue from her lips as her eyes roll back.
Inside one first comes to the reception desk, always staffed by a beautiful young girl. She will direct you to the bar, a fine smoky hall echoing with the murmur of conversation and the clink of glasses. Many long term customers come there to drink even if they aren’t planning to visit a girl. The place only goes silent when the curtains at one end part and one of the women comes onto the stage to give a performance of one kind or another. Then the room goes silent, as each man watches breathlessly and wonders if he can afford the beauty on display.
After a wait in the bar, a customer will be collected by a servant and shown deeper into the brothel. Regulars are shown straight to the woman of their choice, but those who are new or who wish for something different are taken to speak with the Madam about their preferences. She will then collect a group of girls to fit his tastes, and help him choose between them. Once a customer has his selection, he is led to one of the house’s many rooms to consummate his choice. The interior of the building is a tangled labyrinth that seems far bigger than the outside would allow. There are many rooms, opulent bedrooms and other chambers laid out for every fantasy or desire. There are said, in its depths, to be secrets that even the house’s mistress doesn’t know.
That mistress, Lady Zemithar, is a mystery herself. Nothing is known of her before she founded ‘The Dragon’s Lover’ a century ago and became its madam, and even now no two people can agree on her appearance, although all agree she is beautiful and sensual. Some say she is an exiled elven noblewoman, or a blood mage, or a vampire. Others claim she is the same whore who once seduced the dragon Ryzorl and gave the brothel its name, granted immortality by the amount of draconic seed she took into herself. And darker rumours say that she has made a pact with a demon or dark god – or that she is such an entity herself.
There are larger brothels than ‘The Dragon’s Lover’ – one might speak of the Harem of the Fallen Sheik deep in the Sultanate, whore 1001 nubile women serve any who will pay in fulfilment of an ancient oath, or the Rutting Pits beneath the orc city of Nazarag, where women are sold like meat and one may buy a slave of any description for an hour or a lifetime. There are more expensive and prestigious organisation – I could tell tales of the Veiled Courtesans of T’nar in the Empire of Shadows, who sell themselves for a king’s ransom or for political favours that can plunge a nation into war and chaos, or of the near-mythical Midnight Sisterhood, who charge an immortal soul for a night a passion, a price those who have experienced their charms consider cheap. There are brothels which cater to desires so perverse that Zemithar will not allow them to be served in her establishment, such as the slave-whores of Elohin or the mysterious Black Rooms which are said to exist outside this plane and serve the wishes of the alien, the monstrous and the demonic.
But ‘The Dragon’s Lover’ stands above them in one key respect – no brothel has as many whores who have attracted renown and legends to themselves. Destiny seems to seek out the women who work there, marking them for strange roles in the scheme of fate, bother glorious and terrible. Perhaps this has something to do with the ancient bronze statue of the great god Pan, lord of passion and chaos, which stands in the reception hall, his proud manhood pointing towards the pole star as it is caressed by two marble nymphs. Perhaps it is some ancient curse from the long dead Ryzorl, laid against those who would take his name in vain. Or perhaps it is simply because Madam Zemithar selects only those who are exceptional to work in her brothel – not just exceptional in the erotic arts (although she tests those at length), but exceptional in other skills, in strength of character, and most especially in potential. Thus, there is truly no whore quite like those who work there.
Now, if someone will see to it my glass is refilled, will restock my pipe, and will pay that lovely young lady over there to tend to my manhood with those fine lips of hers, I will tell you some tales of the women from that fine establishment, and the wondrous and decadent adventures they have undergone… |