Theo Fastrada scannedthe docks of Duncaster, casting glances at the various ships with darting eyes as his hand wrapped tightly around his dagger still sheathed at his side. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked with each merchant, crewmen, or fishermen who passed along the docks, wafting the pungent odor of sailors who’d been at sea for far too long.
A bark grabbed his attention. A captain of a small schooner shouted his commands to his sailors as they ran through the docks with grins on their ruddy faces. They might have been late for their departure time, but they didn’t seem to care with the waistbands of their trousers still loose and their shirts untucked.
Theo snorted and shifted his gaze to the galleon beginning its offloading. He watched carefully for the markings on the casks to identify their supplier. A barb-tailed ancient rugamon with its leather wings came into view. The markings of the famous kusu merchant from the nation of Jintaishu were a pleasant sight among the various ships coming to port from the Black Sea. Not only for their allegiance with the kingdomof Godwin but also the divine fermented beverage Theo would’ve given anything for a glass of at the moment.
He ran a hand through the black strands of his hair and turned to head toward the Trade House, running into a tall frame with a sinful smirk and wine-red hair. Theo’s cousin eyed a Jin sailor winding her sleek-dark strands into a bun and slipping on her boots to begin her trek down the docks. A few snaps in Esaias’s face turned his attention once again to Theo.
“Find anything menacing or out of the ordinary?” Esaias asked, his gaze once more lingering on the ivory-skinned woman helping her fellow sailors remove the casks. “Or even desirable?”
Theo slapped him on the back of the head as they made their way through the busy docks of Duncaster to the Trade House, where the rest of his squad resided. “Start thinking with this head instead of your other one.”
“I merely meant precious and desirable cargo.” Esaias flared his green eyes, a hallmark of the Burchard family, and dodged as Theo went to give him another smack.
“No, nothing out of the ordinary. A few grizzled-looking fishermen and eager merchants, but no one with sticky fingers or looking to pick a fight.”
Theo hadn’t expected to find proof of thievery on the docks or to spot suspicious activity, but he’d hoped for something other than normal operations. They’d been sent by his father to investigate the uptick in thievery and several fights bordering on riots breaking out within the streets.
As Duncaster was one of the largest cities in his father’s province of Luana, it was vital they investigated the governor’s extensive missives on the issues plaguing the city. He wrote of fights and protests over the tariff the King of Godwin imposed last year to help pay for the costs of the war. Theo had personally experienced the devastating effects of the short funds when he stood on the front lines for seasons, eating rations and scraps, but he hadn’t anticipated having to deal with the aftermath upon returning home.
He’d been home for as little as three weeks before his father sent him on the journey to Duncaster, along with Chief Bennet, the leader ofLuana’s forces. He hadn’t worked under Bennet since Theo had left to fight in the Trade War three years ago, but their recent nights of meetings with his father and the five days journeying through the intense heat of Sunreign reminded Theo immediately that he was back under Bennet’s command, not his own.
The bustling noise of the streets and shouting of merchants grew closer as they reached the end of the docks where the Trade House, run by a wealthy family in Duncaster, stood and housed several marketable goods within its warehouse. The Veduco family were the most influential investors in Duncaster’s economy, and therefore Luana’s, organizing shipments from the various islands, kingdoms, and nations located in the Black Sea and finding buyers throughout Godwin.
“Maybe the governor exaggerated the issues and this is nothing more than a fool’s errand,” Esaias muttered as he rolled up the sleeves of his taupe military coat. He’d already undone the brass buttons, opening his uniform to reveal the standard white shirt underneath. Esaias was never one to care about starched creases or displaying a neat presentation. No, he preferred the rugged appearance of a soldier, enticing to any women catching his eye.
Theo found himself wanting to do the same as the rising temperatures beaded his back with sweat, but instead he only tugged at his collar. “We can only hope.” Theo couldn’t afford to hope. He’d spent too many hours planning assaults, secret missions, and battle strategies to let himself hold on to the belief that all was well in the city.
He sensed the energy change. It was a lurking shadow he couldn’t put his finger on. When he’d last visited Duncaster at twenty years of age, it’d been a boisterous and profitable trade city. Now, five years later, he recognized the shift in the atmosphere, the hesitant glances, and the watchful eyes, but saw nothing to warrant such behavior.
“Took you two long enough.” Gris stood with her legs squared, arms crossed and a scowl lining her small lips. Her quiver of arrows peeked over her head, and her bow hung from her shoulder.
“We walked the entire length of the docks without a scuffle, while you stood in the shade all morning.” Esaias wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and flung it at her.
“Remind me why your species exists?” Gris swatted him and wrinkled her thin eyebrows at Esaias, drawing her hazel eyes to narrow slits.
Not a single line of sweat dripped from her brow. It baffled Theo how she was able to wear the stuffy layers of their military uniform without ever showing any effects from the scorching sun.
“My species?” Esaias cut her a glare before turning to gain support from Alan standing beside Gris.
Alan raised a hand with a small wooden carving grasped within it to guard his light-blue eyes from the sun as he sent a smirk toward Esaias. His other hand flipped one of his long daggers he’d been using to whittle and returned it to the sheath at his thigh.
“Men,” Gris lectured, throwing back her blonde hair with the sides braided back into a long ponytail. “While you spent your morning strolling by the water, we observed the trade dealings and spoke with the merchants. All we’ve got are people who apparently don’t wish to keep their jobs. The man at the counter said he’s lost three runners in the last two weeks. Said the boys didn’t report back. Probably because he couldn’t afford to pay them a living wage.”
“That appears to be a theme around here,” Alan jumped in. “A shopkeeper I spoke with said his best employee left without a word. She closed the shop one night and didn’t return the next.”
“And people are not happy with this tariff,” Gris added.
As if her words commanded the realm of Magoria, a shouting match began at the nearby counter. Theo straightened his back and made his way through the crowd gathering with their papers and manifests in hand. A permeating smell of ocean water and fish was the odor Theo focused on instead of the unwashed bodies as he passed through the crowd.
“Outrage! Last year two percent, now five?”
Theo took in the burly man with dark skin and raven hair pulled into a leather tie. His common tongue of Akaric was broken, but Theo couldn’t exactly place his accent over the shouting between him and the merchant at the counter.
“It’s by order of King Edward. If you don’t pay the five-percent tariff, then you’ll have to find some other kingdom to do business with.” The merchant at the counter ran a hand through his sweat-slicked and graying strands and flared his yellowing eyes at the sailor. “No pay fee, no sell goods!”
That was harsh.Theo stood beside the sailor and passed a glance to the old merchant behind the counter, who wasn’t at all thrilled to be approached by another man double his size. “Can I be of service?”
Both faced Theo, and an unsettling feeling sharpened in his gut, one he’d get when he was close to drawing his sword. His hand twitched where it hung from his belt, but he forced his fingers around the hilt of his dagger instead. He dragged his thumb along the crest embedded in the metal: a crescent bay surrounding a fish with a sword piercing its heart. It’d become a nervous habit of his in the last few years, grasping to a single part of him that felt like home.
