The Beetle was a large rock formation that bore a passing resemblance to the insect, and it marked the entrance to the freeport of Avarice. As though sensing something was amiss, the Captain emerged from his cabin and onto the quarterdeck before it was sighted where his first mate brought him up to speed.
“Last chance to turn around,” Raimala breathed as the rocks loomed large off the Vesper’s port bow. It was evening, and up ahead, it appeared as though the sun was sinking into the sea.
“We haven’t done anything wrong,” Firch replied.
“That’s never stopped the Imperial Navy from stringing people up,” Tash remarked.
“No doubt about that, and we will avoid them if we can,” the Captain shrugged. “But if they ask, we’re just a crew of honest merchants, coming back from a legitimate salvage job, so the lot of you need to stop looking like you’ve done something wrong.”
“You heard the Captain,” Inder snarled. “Get to work, we’ll be in port soon and we don’t want the Imperial Navy to discover that this ship is crewed by the laziest sods this side of the Western Ocean.”
“Might not be such a bad thing,” Bardrick remarked as he leaned over a gunwale. “They’re a long way from home and might need to replace crew. Don’t want to be pressed now, do we?”
The first mate’s face turned red with rage. “You’ll be docked half your earnings the next time you talk back to me or the Captain.”
Bardrick shook his head and made his way over to the anchor locker at the prow. On the quarterdeck, Tash spun the wheel as the Vesper passed the Beetle, and the freeport of Avarice came into view.
“Isn’t that a sight for sore eyes?” Marsel breathed.
Located in a vast deepwater bay that could provide safe anchorage for hundreds of ships from the storms that often swept out of the south and west, Avarice had once been a quiet fishing village. When silver and valuable spices were discovered in the nearby islands, the bay quickly became one of the Viridian Sea’s most important ports, a place where sailors congregated before setting out in search of fortune or adventure.
Numerous wooden jetties extended from the rocky beach out into the deep waters of the bay. The factories, warehouses, and workshops that serviced the ships were built close to the shore. On the northern end of the bay, a pair of ships had been beached and now lay on their sides while teams of workers scraped barnacles and other marine growth from her hull.
Further inland, the village that was once known as New Thirlind had grown into the burgeoning town of Avarice that now covered the entire width of the bay. Buildings sprouted up haphazardly next to one another. Vast mansions of brick and stone sporting frescoed walls stood shoulder to shoulder with dilapidated wooden shacks. Up on a cliff overlooking the bay was the governor’s mansion. He had come from a family of humble local fishermen to become the governor of the richest port south of Darvigan.
However, despite having spent a month away, the port wasn’t what caught Duglin’s eye. Instead, the boy was staring at a huge three masted brig that was moored close to the harbour’s mouth. A crimson flag fluttered proudly from the top of her mainmast. It was emblazoned with a gold eagle in flight, the emblem of the Huldarian Empire. Her name was the Darvigan Spirit, and she was using her crane to position a strange pyramidal structure on a pylon that rose from the sea. The structure was made from some sort of polished metal and measured six meters across at the base and four tall.
“What on earth is that?” the boy breathed.
“Trouble, that’s what,” Inder breathed when he saw it.
“Didn’t see one in Darvigan when last we were there,” Firch observed.
“Doesn’t make sense for Avarice to get one before them,” Inder remarked.
“What is it, though?” Marsel ventured. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Now, all the crew were staring at the strange contraption as it was lowered onto the platform. It was topped by a white crystal the size of a man’s fist that gave Duglin a sense of unease when he looked at it directly.
“Say your goodbyes once we dock, ladies and gentlemen,” Firch said. “I don’t expect we’ll be coming back anytime soon once our business is done.”
“But Skip,” Raimala began.
“No, the Captain’s right,” Tash warned. “The Empire is trouble and so are those devices.”
As though on cue, a frigate came charging out of the harbour at full sail flying the Imperial Eagle. She was sleek, just under a hundred feet long and painted black with lines of gold. Cannons gleamed from their gunports and her decks were lined with sailors wearing white shirts, white hats and black trousers. Among them were the officers, wearing elaborate hats and crimson jackets despite the tropical heat. The name Relentless was written proudly on her prow and her figurehead was an armoured woman armed with a sword and shield.
“Drop sails, and make sure your hands are visible,” Firch ordered.
“You heard the Captain!” Inder hissed. “Don’t want them getting the wrong idea about us.”
“Or the right one,” Raimala muttered.
The first mate then turned to the Captain. “Think they know?”
“There’s no way that other Imperial ship outran us back here,” Raimala protested.
“No, they didn’t,” Firch agreed.
“Avast there, Vesper!” came a voice over a loudspeaker as the Relentless came to a stop abeam of the Vesper. “State your business!”
“Good evening, Relentless,” Firch called back good naturedly as the gunners on board the larger vessel trained their guns on his ship. “We are just traders, on our way back from the Bathries with a cargo of iron in our holds.”
“Tell that to the dock agent,” came the curt reply. “You are not to come within a thousand yards of the Spirit, or we will blow you out of the water.”
“Understood, Relentless,” Firch replied.
He then turned to Inder and shrugged. “Friendly people, the Imperial Navy. One wonders why they aren’t well liked in these waters.”
“One of the mysteries of the world, Captain,” Inder replied dryly.
The Captain smirked before turning to Raimala. “Get us under way, as far from that hulk as you can.”
“With pleasure, Skip,” the pilot replied.
“Doctor?” Firch called.
“Yes?”If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
“Could you go below decks and forge a cargo manifest of a hundred tons of iron from the Bathries?” he asked.
Elran nodded. “Of course.”
“Good, get to it,” the Captain ordered before turning to Inder. “See? I told you it was worthwhile to buy that forged seal.”
As they pulled into port, they found only a handful of vessels, none larger than a hundred tons moored to the piers. They were in the low season, which meant that most of the larger vessels that called the Viridian Sea home were off riding the trade winds as they transported goods across the Western Ocean. Those that remained were either not capable of making the arduous voyage or were unable to tap into that lucrative market and only had odd jobs to perform until the great ships returned, heavily laden with exotic goods they could help distribute across the many islands of the Viridian Sea.
“This sure is a lonely place at this time of the year,” Raimala remarked as she guided the Vesper into an open berth.
Inder barked orders as the Vesper approached the pier, mostly at Duglin. The others had performed this dance many times before and could complete their roles with their eyes closed.
“How is the lad?” Firch asked as the boy hastily tossed bumpers over the gunwale.
Inder snorted. “A damn sight better than you were when we first set out, I can tell you that.”
A wry smile crossed the Captain’s lips. “Ah, good times. I have fond memories.”
The first mate arched an eyebrow as he gave his Captain an incredulous look. “Were they? Perhaps one of us is misremembering your first time out.”
“Maybe I’m just getting nostalgic in my old age, Inder,” Firch said as he pulled his tricorne hat off and ran a hand through his short brown hair.
Inder shook his head. “If you’re old, what does that make me?”
“A decrepit old man, Inder,” Firch laughed as he clapped his first mate on the shoulder. “A decrepit old man.”
“Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that,” Inder grunted.
Soon, lines were tied, the sails were furled, and the Vesper was safely docked. Inder and Firch double checked that everything was secure before gathering the crew before the quarterdeck. However, before the Captain could speak, a slender man sporting a smart black coat began climbing the gangplank followed by half a dozen soldiers armed with muskets and wearing smart, deep blue long coats.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to come aboard, Sir,” Firch said sharply as Fultern positioned himself at the head of the gangway, blocking off access to the ship.
The man came to an abrupt halt when Fultern would not make way for him and frowned at Firch. “Are you the Master of this vessel?”
“I am,” Firch nodded. “And who might you be?”
“Imperial Port Agent,” came the haughty reply.
Firch arched an eyebrow. “I was not aware I was sailing into an Imperial Port.”
“It isn’t, yet.” The man said. “But it soon will be, and as you know, there will be a retroactive tax going back six months once the paperwork is signed. I was just giving you the opportunity to get a head start on paying your duties.”
Inder cursed under his breath, but Firch managed a polite smile. “Thank you for your kind offer, but I will pay when everything is official and not a moment before.”
The man shrugged and held up an official looking document. “As this port is now an Imperial Protectorate, we have the right to demand your ship’s registration and your manifest. Where was your last port of call and what is your cargo?”
Fultern took the document from the man and handed it to Firch, who studied it for a moment before handing it back. “We’re hauling iron in from the Bathries. I can have the paperwork brought up.”
“By the way, Captain,” the agent said. “We received word this afternoon of carrion scavenging an Imperial wreck around eighty or so miles south of here.”
Firch raised an eyebrow. “Did you now?”
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” he asked.
“No, sir,” Firch said, sounding surprised. “As I said, we’ve come in from the Bathries and we’re carrying a shipment of iron, and our route brought us in from the west.”
“Will you permit my men and I on board for a cursory inspection?” the man asked. “It could help eliminate you as suspects when we launch an official investigation. I assure you it will be better if you let me search your ship than a magistrate.”
Firch smiled thinly. “I’m afraid my ship’s a bit of a mess at the moment. I simply can’t let anyone see it. I just might die of embarrassment.”
“I will be the head agent of this port, and you would be wise to get in my good graces,” the Agent said. “There could be Imperial contracts in it for you.”
“A kind offer, but I’m afraid it really is quite a mess down there, shocking really,” Firch said, smiling sweetly. “They say I should flog my men more, but my arm does get tired.”
The agent frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t leave without seeing your papers.”
“And you will. I will send a man to fetch them for you forthwith,” Firch said. “Besides, it’s not as if we can make a run for it with your mighty warship out in the bay, is it?”
The agent shrugged. “Suit yourself. By the way, if you’ve heard anything about illegal salvage, the commodore is offering a substantial reward for any information…”
“I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I think of anything,” Firch replied.
The agent turned around to leave, and when he and his men cleared the gangplank, a swarthy, barrel chested man stepped out from behind a stack of crates and approached the Vesper.
“Ahoy there, is this a good time, Seager?” he asked.
“As good a time as any, Darnall,” the Captain sighed. “Do you want to come aboard?”
The careener gave the Imperial soldiers a sideways glance before shaking his head. “No, here is fine. I was just coming over to see if you had my payment ready.”
“We’ve just finished a job and were about to see our client,” Firch said. “I’ll send you our first instalment personally as soon as we’re paid.”
“That’s wonderful,” Darnall Bodger began. He paused and licked his lips nervously before continuing. “I don’t suppose I can collect full payment tomorrow?”
Firch frowned. “That’s not what our contract says.”
The swarthy man gave the Imperial soldiers another wary look. “Well, the thing is, with the new management in town, I’m closing up shop.”
“That’s a shame,” Firch remarked. “But we have a contract and I’m sticking to it.”
“You realize that if you continue to dally, any Imperial taxes we have to pay will be at your expense?” there was a sharp tone to Darnall’s voice now, and the careener’s eyes hardened.
“I am aware,” Firch said.
“When are you seeing your client?” Darnall asked.
“As I said, right away.”
Darnall nodded. “I’ll be back later tonight, then.”
Firch shrugged nonchalantly. “Suit yourself.”
“What on earth is the governor thinking, letting the Empire in?” Inder growled as Darnall walked away.
“I don’t know,” Firch replied absently as he watched the careener leave.
After a moment, Firch turned back to his crew, who were still gathered in front of him, looking at their Captain expectantly.
“Crew, there has been a change of plans,” he began. “We’ll be leaving as soon as we get paid and settle our debts.”
Tash was the first to speak. “Can’t say I’m surprised, Captain. Disappointed, but not surprised.”
“Tash, I want you to secure provisions for around a week,” Firch said.
“With what money, Captain?” Tash asked. “It’s unlikely anyone will give us anything on credit with them in town.”
“Well, place orders and we’ll pay after we get paid,” Firch replied. “Meanwhile, Bardrick and I will go pay Thuley a visit. Tell him his salvage has arrived.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to take Fultern with you?” Inder ventured.
Firch shook his head. “Everyone else is to stay on the ship. My nose tells me there could be trouble brewing.”
Inder grunted. “Never seen Darnall act so polite. He will be back. As for Thuley, normally for a job this big, he’d have his goons waiting for us on the docks as soon as he saw us round the Beetle.”
“But they are nowhere to be seen,” Raimala sighed. “Figures. What I don’t understand is how Imperials got word about us before we arrived. There’s no way that ship beat us here.”
“They must have had a witch on board,” the Captain said flippantly.
Raimala’s eyebrows shot up. “I was under the impression that even joking about such things was frowned upon.”
“Sorry, it was just a lapse,” Firch began.
“The Imperial Navy being here has caught us all off balance,” Inder added quickly.
After an awkward silence, Elran spoke. “Captain, our medical provisions are low as well. I would like to…”
“We can secure those elsewhere,” Firch said. “I want us off this island as quickly as possible.”
“Besides, no merchant will entertain you with that beard of yours, and we need every spare hand here, getting us ready for departure,” Inder pointed out.
Elran rubbed his beard defensively. “It is a sign of manhood amongst my people.”
“He’s not criticizing your choice, doctor,” Firch said. “He’s just laying out the facts of the matter.”
“Say, Captain, are you sure you don’t want to take Fultern with you to see Thuley?” Inder pressed. “Nothing about this smells right.”
“No, Bardrick is the better choice,” Firch said. “Bardrick’s more intimidating, but Fultern’s handy if a fight actually breaks out.”
“Hey,” Bardrick protested.
“Do you think you can best Fultern in a fight?” Inder asked.
Bardrick shrugged. “Maybe if I get the drop on him.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Marsel remarked.
“Perhaps you should take the boy with you as well,” Fultern suggested. “If your read is correct, Captain, the ship could be more dangerous than Thuley’s den.”
Firch thought about it for a moment before shrugging. “You have a point. It’s about time the boy met our client.”
He then grinned at Duglin. “Think you’re up for it?”
The boy bobbed his head eagerly.
“Alright, let’s go,” the Captain ordered. “Doctor, fetch the paperwork for our esteemed friend over there, and as for the rest of you, get to work. I’ll feel a lot better once that cargo is off my ship and this island is in our wake.”