Deras nodded as he watched the builders going about their trade. The storehouse was ahead of schedule, and he could let the Count know that his clients could start landing their goods early. The Count wanted a place where prying eyes couldn’t see, where the little birds of the Capitol couldn’t sing. Where curious minds wouldn’t search.
He had to hand it to his ancestors, they knew good ground when they saw it. The Ashalian Delta was flush with fish, forage, and game, but the Diamond Isle of Ashington had three things that the fringe towns and settlements did not: farmland, bog iron, and most importantly, location. Ashington was in the center of Curare, with Vinestead to the North, Redshore and El Mar to the South, it was the quiet little agrarian stop along the river, often passed by the river barges except for when they needed repairs, or a place to rest their head.
The perfect little place for a smuggler’s stop that caters to all kinds, while polishing that pristine veneer of Modestos and Harbos. The only place in Curare where the Dras locals were in the minority, and Deras held the keys…
A smirk began to creep across his face.
It was time for Ashington to start shaping the world.
