Post by YueFei on Jan 13, 2023 19:50:56 GMT
The Port of Sirule was within sight of the sprawling mass that was Sirule City, the seat of the Sirule Confederacy where the King Elect ruled from an ancient citadel. Unlike Sirule City, with its walls and order, the Port was a chaotic tangle of traders, Port Masters, ship captains and dock hands. Cargo was loaded and offloaded onto huge barges and a myriad of pusher ships lined up to take them away. These vessels varied in size and age, most were newer, constructed with twin paddle wheels for propulsion, each driven by slaves working their lives away below decks. In all of this, rather than all of that order, Karn Altarin was at home.
He stood on one of the docks, gesturing to dock workers to load his cargo carefully onto the great big and extraordinarily expensive Elarian Light one of those ancient single paddle wheel ships that plied the River Dumadin. There were precious few of the artifacts left and those at were left only took on special journeys or expensive cargo. Most would not be able to set foot on one, but for the fifth son of a minor noble, it wasn't really that difficult. The harder part had been finding a Captain of one desperate enough to travel where he wanted to go.
The ship had once been powered by some sort of great magical engine, but now, like all the others, it was powered by slaves. Human slaves usually, He`Draxi men didn't have the strength and He`Draxi tended to do poorly in hot conditions, and the decks below ship were indeed hot. He sighed as someone almost dropped one of his many chests. He considered shouting some expletive at the man, but it would just slow things down. Besides, dock hands were dock hands.
He stood out on the docks, wearing as he was the fine clothes of a noble, topped by a long grey cloak with blue filigree, the colors of his House. He wore an arming sword at his side, one he knew quite well how to use thank you. He was not one of those trumped up boys that could barely handle a sword, not like the Inheritor Elect. That boy, man now he supposed, couldn't cut bread with a sword. He laughed in imagining the attempt. Ah well. I suppose Inheritor Elects have other jobs to worry about than stabbing someone with a sword.
He was still watching the onloading when a man servant approached. It was one of his fathers. "My Lord," he said with a bow.
Taking in another deep breath filled with the scent of sweat and muddy river water he turned his back on the River Dumadin. The river was huge, impossible to see one bank from the other. Its waves moved like those of an ocean such were its depths. A man that ended up in those waters was dead, though probably by innocent drowning, rather than the horrors that awaited anyone stupid enough to set out on the sea.
"What?"
"Your wife is here my Lord."
He frowned. Did I bring one with me? I don't remember bringing one with me. "Care to be more specific?"
"Your new wife my Lord, the one your father arranged for in treaty with..." he waved him off. Right. That one. He didn't turn to look, he'd look at her when he got back.
"Tell her we'll consumate when I return. I'm awfully busy and..." he was cut off when someone, very loudly, suggested where someone else could put a crate. He frowned. "There's no civility on docks." That--almost more than any other reason, was why he'd always loved coming down here, even as a boy. His eyes were drawn to the commotion and skipped right past it, up the brick path leading back towards the city, where he was likely to spot his new wife. It was the only path here from the city, unless she'd decided to swim here. It was occurring to him that someone really stupid must have sent her down here to talk to him. Never send a woman to the docks. Might as well set a ship on fire now and be done with it as distracted as these men will get. The kind of women that went to docks were not often the kind of women with noble blood.
"Take a note. I need to fire the idiot that sent her here."
"That would be your father."
Of course.
He stood on one of the docks, gesturing to dock workers to load his cargo carefully onto the great big and extraordinarily expensive Elarian Light one of those ancient single paddle wheel ships that plied the River Dumadin. There were precious few of the artifacts left and those at were left only took on special journeys or expensive cargo. Most would not be able to set foot on one, but for the fifth son of a minor noble, it wasn't really that difficult. The harder part had been finding a Captain of one desperate enough to travel where he wanted to go.
The ship had once been powered by some sort of great magical engine, but now, like all the others, it was powered by slaves. Human slaves usually, He`Draxi men didn't have the strength and He`Draxi tended to do poorly in hot conditions, and the decks below ship were indeed hot. He sighed as someone almost dropped one of his many chests. He considered shouting some expletive at the man, but it would just slow things down. Besides, dock hands were dock hands.
He stood out on the docks, wearing as he was the fine clothes of a noble, topped by a long grey cloak with blue filigree, the colors of his House. He wore an arming sword at his side, one he knew quite well how to use thank you. He was not one of those trumped up boys that could barely handle a sword, not like the Inheritor Elect. That boy, man now he supposed, couldn't cut bread with a sword. He laughed in imagining the attempt. Ah well. I suppose Inheritor Elects have other jobs to worry about than stabbing someone with a sword.
He was still watching the onloading when a man servant approached. It was one of his fathers. "My Lord," he said with a bow.
Taking in another deep breath filled with the scent of sweat and muddy river water he turned his back on the River Dumadin. The river was huge, impossible to see one bank from the other. Its waves moved like those of an ocean such were its depths. A man that ended up in those waters was dead, though probably by innocent drowning, rather than the horrors that awaited anyone stupid enough to set out on the sea.
"What?"
"Your wife is here my Lord."
He frowned. Did I bring one with me? I don't remember bringing one with me. "Care to be more specific?"
"Your new wife my Lord, the one your father arranged for in treaty with..." he waved him off. Right. That one. He didn't turn to look, he'd look at her when he got back.
"Tell her we'll consumate when I return. I'm awfully busy and..." he was cut off when someone, very loudly, suggested where someone else could put a crate. He frowned. "There's no civility on docks." That--almost more than any other reason, was why he'd always loved coming down here, even as a boy. His eyes were drawn to the commotion and skipped right past it, up the brick path leading back towards the city, where he was likely to spot his new wife. It was the only path here from the city, unless she'd decided to swim here. It was occurring to him that someone really stupid must have sent her down here to talk to him. Never send a woman to the docks. Might as well set a ship on fire now and be done with it as distracted as these men will get. The kind of women that went to docks were not often the kind of women with noble blood.
"Take a note. I need to fire the idiot that sent her here."
"That would be your father."
Of course.
