The island of Harmway had undergone a dramatic transformation over the past two decades under Imperial rule. Once a barren, wind-swept outpost in the Confederation's sphere of influence, it had served little more than as a military base. Back then, Harmway was a place for weary naval crews to dock, fill their casks with fresh water, and make hasty repairs before resuming their journeys across the vast seas to more raiding.
However, when the Empire extended its reach over the island, everything changed.
Now, Harmway had blossod into a bustling hub of comrce, one of the most vital trade islands in the region. What had once been little more than a military garrison and rocky shores had been transford by Imperial architects and traders into a thriving port city. Stone docks stretched out into the sea, wide enough to accommodate the growing numbers of rchant ships that arrived daily.
Warehouses lined the waterfront, their sturdy structures filled with goods from all corners of the Empire—spices from the east, timber from the northern forests, silks from the west and more. (Map of the story)
Where before the island had been neglected, its new role under the Empire had breathed life into every corner. Traders who once feared stopping at Harmway now found it an essential destination if they wanted to go for deeper voyage on the open sea.
The once-forgotten island had beco a haven for long-distance voyages, a place where ships could dock, repair their hulls, and replenish their stores of food, fresh water, and other necessities.
The Confederation had used it solely for strategic military purposes, keeping Harmway barren and unwelcoming for civilian traders. But under Imperial governance, the island's natural advantages—its central position along major trade routes, its vast natural harbor—had been fully exploited.
The population of Harmway had surged dramatically over the past two decades , increasing by nearly half due to the steady influx of traders and most importantly, of their rchandise, human lives.
Alongside the legitimate traders ca slave drivers, n who sailed across the turbulent seas in search of fresh captives. They raided unsuspecting villages on states hostile to Rolia, capturing their inhabitants and transporting them back to Harmway to be sold into slavery.Much similar to how the free lords did.
The slave market in Harmway beca notorious, a place where the cries of captured n and won echoed alongside the sounds of bargaining rchants. Slave drivers displayed their captives in pens along the waterfront, where potential buyers could inspect them like livestock. People desperate for labor, whether for households, ships, or the growing number of warehouses, flocked to these markets, knowing there was always a ready supply of bodies to fill the gaps in their workforce.
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A large rchant ship sailed into the bustling harbor of Harmway, its weathered hull creaking as it slowed to a stop at the docks. The sails, ragged from countless voyages, flapped in the sea breeze, while dockworkers hurriedly secured the ship's ropes. The sun glistened off the waters, casting a golden hue across the harbor, which was busy with ships coming and going. Yet, as the rchant vessel pulled in, a group of soldiers stationed at the harbor's edge imdiately took notice.
Clad in the imperial uniforms of Harmway's garrison, the soldiers, with their swords at their sides, strode toward the vessel with purpose. They had seen this routine a hundred tis before—ships coming to trade, many laden with goods, and so, though less openly discussed, carrying slaves. But all were subject to the sa procedure: inspection.
The mont the ship docked, one of the soldiers raised a hand, signaling for the others to fan out around the ship, keeping a watchful eye on the crew and any passengers. The lead soldier, a grizzled man with a thick beard, approached the gangplank as a lean man with short brown hair descended to et him.
The rchant was thin and wiry, his face tanned from years at sea, with sharp eyes that scanned the harbor as if assessing his surroundings. He wore simple but practical clothing—a long, weathered coat, boots that had seen better days, and a belt with a small pouch jingling at his side. He nodded curtly to the soldiers, knowing the drill well.
"Na and cargo," the bearded soldier barked, his tone formal and gruff.
"Erath," the rchant replied smoothly, his voice low and steady. "I'm carrying textiles, dried fish, and... other goods. You'll find everything in order."
''We will be the one to check that,step back''
The soldiers were not about to take his word for it. Without another word, two of them marched past him up the gangplank and onto the ship, boots thudding against the wooden planks. Erath, though outwardly calm, followed them closely, knowing full well they were about to rummage through everything he had on board.
As the soldiers descended from the ship's gangplank, one of them glanced back at the hold, noting the sparse amount of goods stored inside. The crates of textiles and barrels of dried fish were few, far fewer than they were used to seeing from rchant ships that docked in Harmway's bustling port.
The bearded soldier exchanged a glance with his companion before muttering, "Not much cargo for a rchant ship of this size, don't you think?"
The other soldier, a younger man with a scar across his cheek, frowned and gave a curt nod. "Barely enough to fill a few stalls at the market."
Inside the ship's hold, the soldiers began pulling open crates and barrels, checking the contents. One pried open a large wooden crate, revealing bolts of finely woven cloth, neatly packed. Another opened a barrel, slling the strong scent of salted fish that wafted up.
They then walked up to the rchant, who stood near the dock, his hands clasped behind his back. Erath's face remained composed, but a flicker of tension crossed his eyes as the soldiers approached.
The bearded soldier narrowed his eyes. "What's going on here? Your ship's nearly empty."
Erath quickly bowed his head in a show of deference, his voice calm but a bit too eager as he responded. "Business has been bad lately, sirs. The markets aren't what they used to be. Hard tis for a humble trader like myself."
The soldiers exchanged a skeptical glance, clearly not convinced by the rchant's explanation. The younger one took a step closer, folding his arms as he stared at Erath, who suddenly looked more uncomfortable.
"I an—" Erath stamred, quickly realizing he needed to salvage the situation. "It's not so bad that I couldn't offer... so small gifts to the right people, of course. A gesture of goodwill, you understand."
As he spoke, Erath fumbled in the pouch at his side, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulled out several small silverii coins. He stepped forward, holding out his hand, and discreetly dropped the coins into the soldiers' open palms.
The bearded soldier inspected the coins for a mont, weighing them in his hand. His expression softened as he gave an approving nod. "Hm. Thoughtful of you."
The younger soldier pocketed the coins and smirked. "But let's not forget," he said, his tone shifting to a more official stance, "there's still the matter of the harbor tax. Forty silverii, to be precise."
Erath quickly nodded, forcing a smile onto his face. "Of course, of course. Forty silverii it is."
With another swift movent, Erath counted out the coins from his pouch and handed them over, one by one, trying not to let his growing unease show. The bearded soldier counted the money with a practiced eye before nodding once more.
"Pleasure doing business," the soldier said, his tone almost friendly now. He gestured for the crew to begin unloading, and without another word, the soldiers turned and walked away, satisfied.
Erath watched them leave, his body relaxing slightly as they moved out of sight.
''Dumbasses'' he muttered as he followed them outside.
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Blake stood in complete darkness, his eyes wide open but unable to see anything around him. The air was thick and heavy in the cramped space, the walls of the hidden compartnt pressing in from all sides. In the stillness, the only sound was the almost imperceptible breathing of the n around him, huddled just as silently in the black void.
Suddenly, a knock ca from above—three solid raps on the wooden planks covering their hidden space. The dull thud of the signal echoed in the confined area, and almost imdiately, a crack of light appeared as the plank above them was lifted.
Blake squinted as the sudden brightness hit his eyes, and the fresh, salty air of the harbor rushed in, replacing the stale, suffocating atmosphere they had endured.
One by one, more than fifty n began erging from the hidden compartnt, climbing out into the open. All of them wearing armor and ard to the teeth.
The n were silent but resolute, their eyes focused, expressions hardened for the task ahead.
Blake, tall and broad-shouldered, cracked his neck, the sound of bones snapping back into place breaking the tension that hung in the air. He grinned, his voice low and rough. "About ti," he muttered under his breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline starting to build.
He took the lead, stepping out from the shadows, the wooden floor of the ship creaking beneath his weight. His boots hit the deck with a dull thud as he straightened, his hand resting casually on the hilt of the sword at his side. Turning to his n, he gave a curt nod, signaling them to follow.
As Blake stepped off the ship and onto the bustling harbor, the scale of the operation began to unfold around him. From nearly twenty ships docked at the harbor, more n—clad in similar armor and bristling with weapons—poured out in disciplined silence. The ships had been disguised as harmless rchant vessels, but now the hidden forces were erging like a well-rehearsed secret coming to light.
Blake looked around, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. The sight of hundreds of n, all equipped and ready for battle, moving with quiet precision along the harbor filled him with a sense of pride. This was his plan—his stroke of genius.
He turned to the other captains, their faces illuminated in the dim light of dawn as they gathered around him. Blake raised his hand slightly, urging them all to remain quiet. His voice, was as faint as a whisper.
"Keep it as silent as possible," Blake ordered, glancing between the captains. "We don't want to raise any alarms until it's too late for them to stop us. Let this island rember who their real master is."
And so that night the garrison on the island of Harmway did not know what had hit them.(Map in the comnts)
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