Yes. Single. Order of the All Seeing Eyes. (Spec: Divination. Restrict: Necromancy.) A Thrush. In The Capitol.

You are the epitome of the old aphorism "Apprentices may not marry, Journeymen may marry, Masters must marry, Grand Masters must have heirs." You have never known the intimate touch of a woman, or a man for that matter, other than yourself. Though you have been a Count for slightly over a week you have not had any other members of the aristocracy approach you with inquires if you will call upon their daughters, in part due to the fact that you are a jumped up peasant and in part because you are a wizard, who normaly are supposed to SERVE the nobility instead of be part of it. Furthermore, your Order is that of the 'All Seeing Eyes', a group of prognosticators and diviners who, while they are honorable and respected, are not in great favor at court and are seen as one of the 'poor cousins' among the magical orders.

Your familiar, a Song Thrush named Salvatore you rescued from another apprentice's cat when you were 15, is getting on in years but still quite the jovial fellow and a good conversationalist. He has mated many times and you would guess that about 1/4th of all the thrushes in the woods surrounding your Master's tower are his progeny or decedents, not to mention some number across the kingdom from your travels with Master Charles. You in a way have lived your sexual life up to this point vicariously through him, you have helped care for his young, digging up worms and insects for him to bring back to the nest, allowing him to be a fantastic provider compared to a normal thrush and help his mates bring off huge numbers of chicks successfully versus a normal mate. He, in recompense, tells you all about what it's like to mate and see his children grow, and through that lens you have been a surrogate father twenty or thirty times.

You have been a nobleman for less than 10 days. You were accorded the rank of Count in the Queen's Court just over a week ago and then turned loose on the town. This is done to see weather the new rank will go to your head, and so far it has not. You have not racked up immense debts, have not started wenching and swivening other men's wives, nor begun to warp people's minds with your magic, or any other such thing; all in all you have been a model member of the nobility. The capitol is a grand and glorious place, with towers that reach hundreds of feet into the skies, roofs made from polished bronze, and wide avenues and boulevards along which travel men and women in clothing dripping with pearls and white lace, for the current Queen looks fantastic in white and thus that color has been the hallmark of summer fashion for the past 20 years or so.

Truthanaw, the capitol of the Queensland of Lore, also has it's darker side. There are thieves aplenty in the capitol and areas of wretched squalor are sometimes separated by only a few streets from the townhouses and mansions of the upper class. There are whorehouses and brothels for every level of society or kink, and some whisper that the darker ones hide shrines paying homage to Anti-Helios, god of The Black Sun, who is patron of slavers, rapists, tyrants and all who exploit and **** others for their own advancement. Try as they might the paladins of Palore and Sarenrae cannot stamp out these wicked and corrupt institutions, which some claim are secretly backed by high ranking lords.

You have stayed well away from such things however: your goal is nothing less than wedded connubial bliss, not only will your wife be a virgin on her wedding night, so too will be the groom. This is not to say you will be a fumbling clumsy oaf about things: you are taking classes with the priests of Hesta, goddess of Marriage, the Hearth, and Homemakers, to be good at your task of pleasing your future wife, whomever she may be, but you are not going to actually do anything sexual until that night nor ever after with anyone but your properly wedded wife.