<em>Once upon a time, in the country of Ivore, there was a little brothel called <strong>The Teahouse.</strong></em><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/ee/Teahouseicon.png)</div><br/><br/>In its buzzing, busy, crowded capital city, a street could be found like there were many. Many a courier, on duty to bring messages from one building to another, or even from one end of the district to the other, sped by. Pedestrians strolled casually along, enjoying the sun of a new spring. Carriages would either ride through the street, or, now and then, stop at shops, houses and a very specific building that was only known as the Teahouse.<br/>If one knew this specific building held a brothel, and there were plenty who knew, one wouldn't be surprised of what came out of such carriages. And how often.<br/>The rich, the famous, the bored. Those were who visited this place. Those who either didn't care who saw them or cared maybe a bit too much to be seen.<br/><br/>As spring had started and had decorated many a tree with pinks, purples and fragile whites, so had the clientèle and cash-flow of the brothel bloomed. Ryan Valentine, keeper, Master and protector of the Teahouse had nothing at all to worry about for once. Life was good. Not that he relaxed. Afterall, things could, and probably would, change at the drop of a hat.<br/>Reclining, quite casually, in the common room, sipping his tea while thumbing through last years numbers, this near giant of a man did at least appear to be relaxed.<br/>Only now and then would he allow his concentration to be broken to look around and view his surroundings, pondering somewhat about these people he both cared for, protected and used.<br/>