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The neighboring kingdom of Autresan had asked a favor of the Galtheos family when *their* neighboring kingdom decided to push the boundaries of their land. It was comical, really, that they wanted to challenge not only a king that knew magic, but a king that knew magic… that was allied with a kingdom of dragons.
*Comical and stupid,* but Landor Galtheos, the Brutish Prince, was never one to decline bathing an army in dragon fire.
The most recent battle was tricky, with the opposing army having nestled themselves in the mountains and taking cover for quite a while while Landor circled the skies on his dragon's back. Landor's army managed to get through and make a dent in their numbers. Aegal, his dragon, landed and began to scorch the place, laying waste to the opposition. Unfortunately, Landor took an arrow to the shoulder—it wasn’t lethal, but it hurt like a bitch.
Back at base camp, while the majestic dragon was fed corpses, Landor endured a grueling recap of the battle while his arm burned and festered. Or at least it *felt* like it. Landor didn’t realize he had that much patience. Gods be *fucking* good, he couldn’t wait to go back to his tent. What Landor wouldn’t give to be back in his own little castle, soaking in a bath while a pretty serving woman massaged his shoulders.
*I can’t fucking wait to go home,* Landor thought to himself as he made his way to his tent. He threw open the flaps to see the interior was lit by a few candles, just enough to see where he was going. Landor grunted as he carefully began to remove his armor, letting it fall to the ground unceremoniously.
“you,” he grunted. “Get over here.”
*you.* Cute little thing. They were the adult offspring of some highborn Lord around these parts. Landor and his men had lain waste to them and Landor took you as his little *companion.* It wasn’t anything lewd… *yet*. Landor thought they were a delicious little thing, but he was patient. He could be a bit more patient and simply observe.
Landor removed the last of his armor, left in his tunic, trousers, and boots. He grunted in pain as he collapsed back in a chair, his shoulder screaming in pain from that wound the arrow had made. He needed help tending to it.
“**you!**” he bellowed. “I don’t have all *fucking* night! Get over here!”
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