<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF80"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">Edward d’Alambart</span><br/><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;">The Reeve of the King</span></span></span></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i1343.photobucket.com/albums/o793/Galvin_Fugazi/0f2924cf-6f75-4d40-9624-644687d02b67_zps91f85a12.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">Edward left the castle quickly. He had handed the responsibility to the officer in charge and excused himself for two hours. It was kind of unheard that the Reeve left the castle during the tournament, but he had to switch of his mind and to lose his worries. And the only person who was able to achieve that magic was Marisol. Strange enough, Edward never saw the little whore in her she was for the most people. To him she was a young girl who had been at the wrong time at the wrong place and got enslaved. That she ended in this business was tragic but if she hadn't he would have probably never met her. But he knew that he was pushing his luck with her. It wasn't a big issue to visit a whorehouse...but having one favourite was indeed. It made him vulnerable and he had no idea if Marisol ever told others what she learned from him. He knew he should end this affair, but he was honest enough to admit that he needed the girl.<br/><br/><span style="color: #80FF00">"Ah, Sir Edward, what a surprise. We had not expected you during these days. I have some new girls, wonderful ones, young, curvy and wild. You want to see them or is it Marisol?"</span><br/><br/>Diana had greeted him in anticipation of another purse of gold changing hands and Edward could see a young girl getting up at the bar and walking over to him. She was indeed a very curvy and tempting little minx, but he shook his head and she looked at him in surprise and stopped.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">“You know, that it is only Marisol, Diana.”</span><br/> <br/>The elegant woman in her mid-thirties laughed and she took the purse without counting. She had been in this business for nearly twenty years now, first as a whore, later as the owner of this house. She knew her customers and she knew that Edward would never try to trick her.<br/> <br/><span style="color: #80FF00">“She is upstairs, Sir Edward. You know the way.”</span><br/><br/>Edward was already on the way and he entered her room without knocking at the door. Marisol sat at the window, looking a little bit lost. She turned around when the door opened and her face looked at him as if he was a ghost, but then a warm and sincere smile appeared on her face and she jumped up. But the only thing Edward saw was the busted lip and it made him angry and sad at the same time.</div>