Note: I don't run Paradox, but I wrote these. This particular short was written before there were a few things revealed about the Gentiman but to my pleasure, the story rather does fit into what was revealed.
The name for today was Lee Lefthand. He was left-handed anyway and he wore names like outfits; the fop had enough, he had stopped counting.
At this bar, none questioned his somewhat elaborate Realm Dynast-style headdress. In the Steel Lotus City of An-Teng, it got him smiling service most times, even over distaste or throttled resentment until they saw his tattoo-the Mnemon seal over a name never his. A slave marking, some assumed the headdress simply hid another-wrongly. The regulars recognized him, now. Sort of.
The man didn't exist anymore.
Not that being struck from fate precluded living well. A new musician, a beautiful woman performed that day; one of the upsides of Steel Lotus was that he didn't have to worry so much about Lunars.
Instead, he had other local theoreticals, like the occasional yozi servant. He had a neat solution for that: get extremely drunk. The music paired with drink and drugs well, providing a pleasant haze. It was a curious heaviness today's drug gave him; it gave away the game, even as it succeeded.
He raised his hand to meet the blow. "I am not a Dynast." He said succinctly.
The woman laughed. "My, you think that is my reason? Who's the slave I see before me?"
He didn't deny it. "Lee Lefthand." He sipped at his cup. "I am sure we can meet on more amicable grounds. A truce please, I think a bower shared would be more fun than a fight." He smiled as she laughed.
"You proposition all your assassins?" She said incredulously.
"Only the most beautiful and deadly. Death is such a beautiful thing but best not experienced oneself until the time is ripe." He smiled wryly. "And I hope to live a long life."
Interestingly, she kissed him at that and did much more after, privately. After, he heard music again, but was unable to move. He tried to speak and did, cheerily. "What is the name of that beautiful piece?"
"Escaping Samsara. If it was discordant, you would be dead already." The woman kept playing. "Why do you still suffer so, slave? You could stay here and instead be my lover. Have children. Be free."
She truly meant it. And it saddened him. "I can't do that. It isn't advisable for either of us. But you could come with me and live in my lovely manse. At least there, my particular slavery can provide a lovely home and the most astonishing sights a human can see outside Malfeas or the Wyld. And less things that want to kill us both."
She sat beside him and ran her hand down his inner thigh. "You really would do that?"
Why not? He thought groggily. "I would. If you call me Sweetsong instead of slave." He knew he was going to regret this-but he did it anyway.
The Gentiman smiled. "Time then for your calibration, Gardener." She raised a hand glowing with essence.
So much for that, he thought faintly before all went white.