The Final Telling of Valesh Fartraveler, Part 1

Perchance you have read some of my tales before. Stories of my travels. Stories of adventure and intrigue, of fine dining and romance. Stories of wonders beyond belief, treasures gained and lost, of narrow escapes, and of horrors that even the palest retelling of risks inducing madness in the reader.

What you hold in your hands, my dear reader, is the last tale I will ever tell. It is a story that—under pain of death—I had sworn a solemn oath to never tell. But, now that I have reached the very end of my life, I find I must tell. It is a story from my youth, in Athkalta, the capitol city of Amn. A story from a time before I wore the name Vaelish Fartraveler and traveled the world in search of adventure.

You may be asking yourself now, “is what I’m about to read true?” I know that there are many who view my writings as nothing more than outlandish fantasies, designed to entertain or deceive. To you, my esteemed reader, I can only tell you this; believe it or not as you will. I will only say that I know it to be true, at least to the best recollection of an old and dying man.

When I was but a young man, content to earn a decent living, and partaking of the comforts of the city of my birth, Alkatha, I had obtained a job with the city watch, serving as an assistant to the watch’s chief inspector, Garrick Roensil (I beg your indulgence, most honored reader, in dissembling in the matter of names in this tale. I have used apellations for the chief inspector and myself other than we used at that time, in order to protect the privacy and reputations of our families.)

If you are not familiar with the laws and customs of the nation of Amn, I will tell you, dear reader, that the investigation and punishment of lawbreakers in Amn is quite different than that in other countries in Faerun. The overriding concern in the governance of Amn is to—to the extent possible—allow for the free exercise of trade and commerce. In this interest, all but a few crimes—the exceptions being the unlicensed practice of arcane magic, or any infraction that negatively affects the interests of one of the great trade houses—are not punished by imprisonment or other physical punishment, but instead by a monetary fine of sufficient size to compensate the victim for their financial loss.

Indeed, the position of Chief Inspector, Assistant Chief Inspector, Inspector, et cetera are all considered to be plum jobs, in that the performance of the said position’s duties—other than a certain level of diligence doing the necessary arithmetic—required little in the way of danger, discomfort--or to be completely candid--difficult labor of any sort. In point of fact, these appointments were considered quite desirable by members of great trade houses—which were generally family affairs—who desired a life of comfort and leisure more than the assiduous life of a shrewd merchant. In truth, I counted myself most fortunate to have attained the position of Assistant Chief Inspector, since I came from a much less fortunate background than those who typically hold the post.