The cog finally reached its berth.
Ropes were thrown down to the waiting dockworkers, the hull struck the pier with a heavy bump, and a broad boarding plank was secured between the ship and shore. Once the cargo crews were ready, the passengers were called forward in groups.
Lily descended with Robin close behind her, while the four brothers and Whimsy Warbler followed. The Fat Man kept hold of the rope attached to Lily's collar, though he concealed it beneath the folds of Art's black cloak.
They had barely stepped onto the quay when a customs officer waved them aside.
He was a well-fed, severe-looking man wearing a dark wool coat trimmed with black fur. Two armed men, apparently called the Blackfin guards stood beside him in darkened mail, shark-marked tabards, and metal helmets that concealed much of their faces.
The officer addressed them in a harsh, clipped language Lily could not understand.
The Short Man stepped forward and answered in broken phrases. His pronunciation sounded painful, but the official understood enough to become impatient rather than confused.
Noticing Lily's and Robin's expressions, the Archer quietly translated.
"He wants our names, where we came from, why we are here, and how long we intend to remain."
"What language they speak?" Lily whispered.
"High Imperial. The most common tongue upon the mainland." He glanced toward her and Robin. "You two had better learn some if we remain in Tiefland for long."
Nearby, another group spoke in a quicker, smoother language. Lily hesitated before gathering the courage to ask another question.
"And that language?"
The Archer raised an eyebrow.
"Franconian. The second most common tongue upon the mainland."
High Imperial reminded Lily vaguely of German, while Franconian carried the softer rhythm she associated with French. She had never properly learned either language in her previous life, but both sounded strangely familiar.
They were truly far from Albion now.
The customs officer opened a large leather-bound ledger and dipped his quill into a pot of black ink.
One by one, the brothers gave their names.
The Archer was apparently called Malrec. The Short Man was Verrik. The Fat Man possessed the appropriately harsh name of Goram, while the broad, Muscular Man was called Draeven.
Lily repeated each name silently and committed them to memory.
It was the first time she had heard any of them properly introduced. Among themselves, they used little more than brother, little brother, big brother, or whichever insult came most naturally.
Whimsy Warbler gave his name next. Then Robin. Finally, the official's amber coloured eyes settled upon Lily, and the sight of her made him pause for a moment.
Even wrapped in an oversized black cloak, she looked unlike anyone else upon the quay. Loose strands of platinum hair framed her pale face beneath the hood, while her enormous violet eyes watched him with open suspicion. Her bare feet, unusual forest clothing, and clear, healthy appearance only made her seem stranger among the weathered travelers around her.
The official studied her with the cold appreciation of a merchant examining an unusually rare piece of cargo.
Then he asked her name.
"Lily the Shining Star," she answered proudly.
The clerk's eyes rose from the ledger.
The Archer's expression hardened.
"Just Lily," he corrected.
The officer wrote it down and continued questioning them.
This time, he pointed toward Lily's collar, then Robin's. After several rapid questions, the Archer translated.
"He wants to know their offenses and why they are collared."
The Short Man answered before either prisoner could speak. He described Lily as a clever little thief and Robin as the foolish boy who had helped her escape punishment.
Lily frowned.
The customs officer did not ask whether she or Robin agreed with the story.
For one hopeful moment, Lily wondered whether she might explain what had truly happened. Perhaps this official possessed enough authority to help them.
Then the man's mouth curled into a sly smile.
He drew out a small purse and loosened its mouth just enough for the shine of gold and silver to show. His gaze moved toward Lily, then returned to the Short Man.
The Short Man stiffened.
Before he could answer, the Archer stepped forward and refused the offer.
The official appeared disappointed. He gave Lily another lingering, calculating look, closed the purse, and returned to his work.
He motioned for Lily and Robin to approach.
The guards examined their collars as though checking seals upon barrels. They inspected the rings, leather, reinforcing strips, and the marks left upon their shoulders before allowing them to step back.
The officer then prepared temporary entry passes for the group. Each was a smooth wooden tablet marked with a traveler's name, place of origin, distinguishing features, legal status, and permission to remain within Haaienmond.
Dark wax bearing the white shark of House van Hael sealed every tablet.
The brothers paid several copper coins apiece for registration. Whimsy paid slightly less because he was an unarmed entertainer.
Lily and Robin cost only one copper each. Because apparently, registering property was cheaper than registering a person.
By the time the process ended, most of the group's loose copper had disappeared. Their single silver coin remained hidden in the Short Man's pouch, reserved for food and lodging.
The official handed over the final tablets and waved them onward.
"Keep these with you," the Short Man translated. "District guards may demand to see them. Lose one, and we pay again—or spend the night in a holding cell until someone confirms who we are."
Only after they had left the pier did Lily learn what the customs officer had offered.
"Ten gold coins," the Fat Man said with an astonished laugh. "And a fine pile of silver besides."
"For Lily?" Robin asked sharply.
The brothers found the entire thing amusing.
The official had apparently considered her a rare northern curiosity—stranger in appearance than even an elf in this part of the continent. He had wanted to purchase her for his private household, where he could display her unusual talents and keep her close under his personal control.
Lily shuddered beneath the cloak.
The brothers also joked that the man had assumed they were northern barbarians.
That caught Lily's attention.
According to the Archer, the mainland people considered Albion's inhabitants rough descendants of northern settlers. Their ancestors had migrated into Albion less than a century earlier beneath the protection of the Mittelhaid Empire.
Now that Lily looked around, the difference was difficult to miss.
Pale hair, blue or grey eyes, and tall northern bodies had been common around Albion from what she had seen. Tieflanders tended to be shorter and more compact, with chestnut, russet, and dark-brown hair that often curled or waved around their faces. Hazel and brown eyes dominated the crowds.
True blond hair was rare.
Even in patched clothing, the brothers stood out. All four were taller and broader than most local men. Robin and Whimsy also possessed the pale coloring and straighter hair common in Albion.
Together, they resembled the sort of northern warriors Bruce's old world would have called Vikings.
Lily stood out most of all.
People repeatedly turned toward the small hooded girl whose platinum hair escaped around her face. Some whispered. Others crossed themselves. A few watched her with the same calculating interest she had seen outside the slave warehouse.
Lily pulled the hood lower.
As they moved deeper into the harbor district, the noise steadily grew.
Porters forced carts through crowds of pedestrians. Sailors gathered around tavern doors. Merchants argued beneath painted awnings while apprentices shouted offers for armor, weapons, cloth, food, lodging, river passage, and hired protection.
A bald man, that was apparently a warrior-priest stood upon a raised wooden platform near one of the market crossings. His pale robes hung over a broad, trained body, and a heavy hammer rested beside him as he read from a sheet of parchment.
He called upon the faithful to gather whatever coin, weapons, or supplies they could spare. Their brothers and sisters in Mittelhaid were supposedly under attack from savage northern tribes, and a Second Northern Crusade was being prepared.
The brothers listened only briefly.
The priest began listing burned villages, desecrated shrines, stolen livestock, murdered children, and other crimes blamed upon northern raiders. Several people in the gathering crowd began glancing suspiciously toward the tall, pale Albion group standing nearby.
The brothers quickly moved on.
Lost in thought and overwhelmed by everything around her, Lily barely noticed where she was being led until the concealed rope drew her toward an enormous stone wall separating the docks from the city proper.
Only one great gatehouse pierced the wall. A raised iron portcullis hung beneath its arch, while twelve guards inspected travelers, carts, documents, and cargo moving in both directions. Archers patrolled the towers and wall above.
Black banners bearing the white shark hung on either side of the entrance.
The Short Man presented their new tablets.
A guard checked the wax seals, studied the group's weapons, and glanced briefly at Lily's and Robin's collars before stepping aside.
They passed beneath the gatehouse with the crowd. And then Haaienmond swallowed them, it's sounds striking Lily like a physical force.
Bells rang from distant towers. Wooden wheels rattled across stone streets. Hammers echoed from workshops. Merchants shouted over one another while musicians played beside fountains, shrines, and street corners.
High Imperial and Franconian merged into one endless roar.
Then came the drums.
A column of soldiers marched down the broad avenue beneath the banner of a golden stag. Their steel armor had been polished and decorated with thin layers of bronze and gold until it gleamed beneath the morning sun.
Spearmen carrying large shields advanced in disciplined ranks. Behind them came archers, swordsmen with smaller kite shields, and several mounted officers riding well-groomed horses.
Recruiters walked beside the formation, calling promises to the young men gathered along the street.
Good pay, regular meals, weapons and training. Silver sent home to their families. Glory, adventure, and foreign service.
A second company followed beneath a white banner bearing a black crow. Behind them marched black-cloaked rangers carrying longbows and heavy knives. To Lily, they looked like an entire order of medieval assassins.
Whenever a volunteer stepped from the crowd, a clerk recorded his name and directed him toward the rear of the company.
Lily watched them join.
Some looked excited. Others simply looked hungry and desperate for something better.
From what she could see, Tiefland did not merely trade grain, iron, cloth, ships, and spices.
It traded soldiers.
Merchant houses trained private armies, then sold their service to nobles, wealthy merchants, cities, and distant kingdoms willing to pay. A poor young man could surrender several years of his life and perhaps return with enough silver to purchase land and begin a family. Or he might return maimed, or never return at all.
The brothers watched with open admiration.
The Muscular Man studied the armored infantry. The Fat Man stared at the supply carts loaded with food and equipment. The Archer examined every bow, formation, and mounted officer they passed.
The Short Man watched the clerks, contracts, and merchants financing everything.
Robin looked inspired enough to join immediately.
Whimsy merely enjoyed the drums.
When the final company had passed, leaving fading music and several dozen new recruits behind, the Archer surveyed Haaienmond with a slow smile.
"This," he declared, "is where we finally become rich."
The Short Man checked their nearly empty coin pouch.
"First, we find somewhere cheap enough to sleep."
He pointed toward a narrow street descending from the grand avenue.
"This way."