Elias led Veylin and Tristan through the bustling crowd and towering stacks of cargo crates. He walked faster than usual, mud spattering the hem of his gray True Source Sect robe.
Beneath a temporary wooden shelter at the harbor office, two figures stood quietly, out of place amid the bustle.
An old man and a young man.
They wore Coarse Hemp Clothes, plain but well tailored, clearly chosen for a long journey. Though travel-worn, with fatigue etched into their faces, they stood straight.
The old man's hair and beard were gray, the deep wrinkles on his face like dry riverbeds. His eyes were calm as he watched a crane unloading cargo.
The young man was surveying the entire harbor. His gaze swept from the rails laid along the docks to the embankment under construction in the distance, finally settling on the laborers of different skin colors, all dressed in matching work clothes. His eyes were full of wonder.
"Lord Veylin." Elias stepped forward, looking nervously at him.
The old man and the young man turned together, their gazes converging on Veylin. When he saw how young Veylin was, surprise flickered in the young man's eyes, while the old man merely studied him calmly.
"This is Count Weilin Klein," Elias introduced him. "These two are fellow believers of mine who have traveled here from the Empire. This is Brother Matteo, and this is Brother Silas."
"Your Excellency." The elderly monk, Matteo, bowed slightly. His Common carried the distinctive curled consonants and drawn-out sounds of the Empire's southern frontier, quite unlike the speech customary in Sea Land.
"Seeing it in person surpasses anything I have heard. This harbor is a remarkable achievement."
"This isn't a suitable place to talk." Veylin acknowledged his praise with a smile. "Please follow me."
He turned and