Well, now that the dust from my transition to Adeluna has settled, I suppose it's an apt time to settle the accounts. I can hardly remember what I am owed anymore, given the circumstances.
It's unfortunate, really, but I should have known there was a limit on my time in Vilpamolan. Once your name is known in all the right – or, as it were, wrong – corners of that haven, there are truly only two paths: up, or out. I had no need to establish my own district, my little fiefdom to compete with all the others. Such obsession with a finite amount of power seemed like an exercise in futility, a waste of my resources. Yet I could. And that apparently scared some of my former clients. Having long since run my competitors into the ground, I was the single point of failure or success in so much of the… illicit trade in and out of that coast.
For awhile, this was not an issue, as I was essentially viewed as an unavoidable vulnerability by all who hired me. I investigated all my clients thoroughly–a prudent protective measure. I had to know if they could afford me before I risked anything on their behalf. And they knew it, too. So long as I was useful to the haven, however, and had a head full of compromising information on those who had sought my services, I thought I was untouchable.
My special talents are perhaps why, despite my background, I haven't been rounded up by Adeluna's law enforcement yet. Surely they must know I am here now, and not simply on a business visit. But the Empire seemed content to ignore Vilpamolan, so long as its undesirable elements never ruffled high-handed Empire feathers. Vilpamolan's role as a trading nexus between the continents is a necessary evil. The trade is quiet, but it is vast. I specialized in keeping it quiet, efficient, and if necessary – clean. And not in the conventional sense. I had mastered tying up loose ends without choosing sides. A careful balance I toed in every transaction.
But this shipment Darus was anxiously awaiting, constantly badgering me about… even I knew it was unconscionable. He knew I did as well. In all my years facilitating these types of… transactions, nothing good ever came out of the mists of Koschei. Nothing. It was a long, expensive journey, and it was only done for the worst this world has to offer: things that can be found nowhere else in this mortal realm. For that reason alone, any contracts of this type came with an automatic premium. But this was beyond what I could allow, despite my personal code to never get involved in Vilpamolan's petty, piratical politicking.
We fought, of course. Initially, not in a violent sense, though it seems to be the only sort of communication he and his ilk understand. I tried to return the payment (with interest, for his inconvenience), once I knew what he intended to bring to our shores. Brawls amongst the various district lords were hardly new, and each of them always sought the latest and greatest in weaponry. But this was beyond reason. And so too, was he.
I did not sell him out to the rest, though I should have. He played it against me. The others had no idea what started our spat. My reputation as an honorable businesswoman – or at least, honorable by Vilpamolan standards – initially kept the court of public opinion on my side. Other pirate lords attempted to shame Darus back into acceptable behavior; why was he harassing the last reliable smuggler in town? Didn't he know what could happen, if I was angered?
Unfortunately, Darus knew better than most what would happen. It's a silly thing, my temper… so desperately had I tried to control it, over the years, after a few horrific experiences. I'd kept its true nature hidden as best I could. Yet somehow Darus had found out, and he baited me. Instincts overrode whatever control I had. Suddenly, all of the docks were ablaze before I could even stop to wonder what happen.
They said I was in a rage, spraying fire at all in my path indiscriminately. I never seem to remember what precedes these outbursts, only that my very existence felt threatened, and then nothing more until the aftermath. The pirate lords collectively asked me to leave, or rather – their forces unceremoniously escorted me to the edge of the city. Darus thought the punishment too lenient, however, and issued a death sentence to his district, with a bounty for its fulfillment amongst his own clans.
In addition to offering a rather hefty reward, Darus declared anyone who brought him "that fiery wench's head" would be considered a close personal friend, a rare opening for some mid-level conniver to catapult up the ranks. In this moment, I became so grateful to my past self, who – in a flash of paranoia – had prepared for an eventual hasty escape, setting much in order that allowed me to live through this tumultuous period. I escaped the pursuing horde of opportunistic bounty hunters and lost them in the mountains, though not an easy feat by any stretch of the imagination. I had my doubts I would even succeed. They gave me up for dead in the snows, and I am lucky that somehow that did not come true; though there were occasions of despair when I thought, truly, they would be right in their assumptions.
It was a dark time, one that I can now look back on objectively and recognize that an odd combination of terror and fury seemed to power me through the worst of it. I have to wonder if my affinity for fire magic in the most provocative moments has something to do with all this, but I have no way of divining this connection at this point. Perhaps it is a theory I will pursue in calmer times.
It's an unease truce for now, it seems. Those who wanted me dead seemed somewhat mollified that I am at least out of sight. The contacts I have left tell me that typical pirate lethargy has sunk in, now that the initial uproar has died down, and there doesn't seem to be much effort to renew the search… though the price remains on my head, apparently, just in case the mountains' work was unfinished. Gods bless that pirate inattention and laziness, that lack of focus easily lured by the next shiny object. For it has surely saved me. Two of the lords have restarted their perennial war anew, and it appears the Captain's declaration for my head is all but forgotten. For now.
We shall see what the winds bring when their boredom resumes, perhaps when the snow melts in the spring. Darus has already taken to hassling anything coming out of Vilpamolan attached to my name, contracts that had already been set in motion before my expulsion. I think he suspects I still live and thrive. Clearly, I underestimated his ability to ferret out closely-held information, such as my uncontrollable, scorching rage. And though there are a few left who would rise to defend my property in my absence, I fear their resolve dwindles every day. Eventually, I will have to create new, stealthier avenues to facilitate my business.
What's the old saying… the tallest nail is hammered the hardest, eh? I am sure there is now a fight in the vacuum my organization left behind… perhaps my old business adversaries have slunk out of the shadows to reclaim what was theirs. Or perhaps new traders and facilitators, bright-eyed and still not too jaded about the world and how it works, have tried clawing to the top of the hill. It is of no matter to me; they won't soon leave Vilpamolan, same as I won't soon return. Plenty of financial opportunities abound here, I need only to settle in and seize them. Those that want to follow me may soon find their way here, too, as they discover my survival, and for that I shall reward them. I did have a rather good crew, even if it was the motley sort. Though I trusted none fully, I did have my favorites. I respect whatever decision they make in my absence, however, as life does go on.
The rest may attempt to fill my shoes with the knowledge they think I imparted to them, and for that I must pause to relish the hilarity. They only think I taught them anything, but that would have been foolish. A few drops here and there, perhaps, too keep them loyal and obedient in the hopes of more. And they are all fools, to think they can manage what I did. I say to them, good luck and godspeed!
Adeluna is not terrible, though it's perhaps a touch too… presumptuous for my tastes. I'm not entirely convinced this city has earned such airs, but time will tell. I suppose I should explore a bit more, give it a fair chance. Quite frankly, though, it's refreshing not to be recognized out on the street, to wonder if a stare that's a beat too long is concerning. Even so, I've mostly kept my smoky auburn locks under my hood, as it seemed easy to pick me out of the crowd in my old haunt. How funny, the four short walls of this rented room would have felt like a cell this time last year, but now they feel… safe. I might want to enjoy this period of relative anonymity, it may not last long. Not in this business, in any case. How else will I rebuild my network of – ah, shall we say – select clientele without word of mouth?
Thankfully, I still have some acquisitions contracts here and in Egjora, for those customers who'd been willing to pay a premium… Diversifying business outside of Vilpamolan seemed like a reasonable progression at the time, but those deals are now crucial to staying afloat. How lucky I was to acquire them on a whim, not knowing I'd need the lifeline out of that obscene, wild, lawless mess of a pirate hold.
It was getting tiresome, regardless. Somehow I feel as if I'd almost outgrown it before they chased me out. These dukes and counts of the proper cities are quite self-satisfied, but their coin is as good as any other, and their lofty aspirations are not so dissimilar from pirate lords attempting to retain their little slivers of influence. I will learn their rules, same as I did before. And they will learn mine.
The hour is late; how easily I was sidetracked tonight! I must still be affected by the utter exhaustion of the mountains. Traveling is tiring enough without the constant unease of being hunted through most inhospitable terrain. Tomorrow, then, I shall tally the invoices with fresh eyes.
