Displaced

Chapter 126

To say that Vura Nimilow Esmae was in a foulmood was the understatement of a lifetime. The last few days had been stressful, painful, and exhausting beyondwords. She'd been shot at, hunted, attacked by metal monsters, and practically run into the ground... all for what? All those nights of planning, all those days spent worrying that they would be discovered before they were ready... had there even been a point to any of it?

If she were to be honest, Vura had never wanted to leave Drayhadal—no sane Drayhadan would. Everyone knew that the barbaric societies that populated the lands outside their haven were filled with bloodthirsty savages lacking even a semblance of culture or refinement. What even was there to see? Streets covered in the filth of animals? Laughable attempts at farmland? Or perhaps, the crude stone castles they were supposedly so proud of that they attacked each other for the right to control them? Who would want to go and see that, especially since you were as likely to end up gutted on the street by a random passerby as you were to make it to your destination? No, there was little reason to leave Drayhadal, in her opinion.

Her opinion, however, mattered little. As nice and civilized as a life with the Casm or Kechou would have been—not the Astr; far too dirty for her or her Madam—it was not her role to choose. Her Madam wanted to see the world, and that was that. Vura's role was to follow, to assist, and to serve. This was something she'd known and accepted from the moment she'd agreed to Madam Mizuko's offer, and she did not regret her choice.

Vura's life had fallen to pieces well before her Madam had even arrived on this world. Born the third daughter of a local patrician, she'd spent her studying the arts, beautifying herself, attending local parties and salons, and other activities meant to make her as appealing a bride as possible. Apparently, she'd done a little too well.

She'd never forget that terrible day. Her head had been in the clouds all morning, ever since she'd heard rumors that the son of the region's administrator—considered by most to be the most desired prospect available—fancied her and was considering courtship. Still a naive young woman, she'd never considered what that rumor might push her competition to do until the hired thugs were holding her down, their instruments of brutality gleaming in the moonlight.

Everything had crumbled to dust from that point. No longer able to conceive a child, her prospects of marriage were now zero. Gone were the dreams of high-status matrimony; not even a pauper would court her now. Her utility destroyed, she found herself deemed by her father as nothing more than a disappointing failure and a burden upon the family's finances and reputation. Soon after her body had fully healed, he cast her out on her own with only a small pouch of coin to her name.

Vura still did not know which party or parties had hired the attackers. In some ways, it didn't matter; all the possible families were too crafty to leave enough evidence to build a case and too well-connected to face consequences even if she somehow did find something incriminating. In other ways, Vura didn't care who did it. Having a name to blame wouldn't make her whole again. It wouldn't take away the sting of knowing that she'd been seen by her own family more as a bargaining chip than a person worth loving. The damage was already done, her life and future destroyed.

The following few years had been a steady spiral downward, deeper and deeper into a bottomless pit of despair. Lacking employable skills, financial support, and a place to live, life had been harsh and she'd suffered immensely. The things she'd had to do and have done to her just to survive were, well... she preferred not to think about that any more than necessary.

Then, one day while washing her clothes far outside the latest town she'd wandered to, her fateful meeting with her Madam had occurred, and everything had changed. Vura hadn't even recognized her Madam as a human at first, thinking it some sort of small, wrinkled, hunched-over gremlin. Only after thinking about it when going to report her sighting did she realize that the figure had been a person. Within a day or two, all thoughts of the old woman had left her mind. Life was hard and she had real problems to worry about, like finding a place safe enough for her to sleep at night.