The Laws of Kurel An’Diel
There are three things you did not do with Kurel:
You did not threaten his freedom.
You did not threaten his people.
You did not threaten Sunspire.
They were simple rules to adhere by. Simple, respectable laws that could excuse you from almost any other form of wrong doing. Covens of a free man, in a free world, for a free life. He lived them. Breathed them and sacrificed everything for them.
In one week his name and that of Sunspire’s had been plastered from one free port to the next with an enticing promise of coin with it. He had been arrested, charged and fined for ludicrous crimes committed and some-not-quite committed. Had lost Sunspire’s strongest internal defense. Compromised his state of health to a handful of people. Witnessed the swift dissolve of a near month’s worth of hard work, started to build one new bridge, had been forced to set fire to another, and was left with the despair that the time it would take the acquire what he needed for The Queen’s Gambit had just grown indefinitely longer.
There were always new contracts to be gained. New alliances to forge, but losing one. Losing any, was not done lightly.
The worst part about it all was that he couldn’t go home. Not to Sunspire. Not yet. He was stuck in that hotel room in Silvermoon City with nothing but those thoughts. He had ended his accord with the Scion’s of Antiquity and Demytrya Wintersong on principle of belief and fervent display that no one, no matter their relation to him, was above these three laws.
Sitting on the small sofa in the room for what felt like hours, until the warm rays of the morning sun breached the window seal to caress his arm, he brooded. His entire operation, months of careful navigation and tedious work was rewarded with only a small sacrificial dagger that was not even enough to give his dead ship a pulse.
“Dahk!” His voice finally loosed the Tanari curse. A foot lifted and kicked out, launching the short table ahead of him across the room with a clatter of sound that disrupted the neighboring room.
Yesterday had indeed been... sub-optimal and Kurel An’Diel gave no second chances.
