Blake stood atop the mast of his flagship, wind tugging at his hair and cloak as he looked down upon the sea of masts that bristled like a forest of spears. Forty-two ships answered his call, their sails furled but their hulls heavy with men and steel, ready to cast off from the port of Harmway.
Six thousand and two hundred Free-men, blades at their belts and hunger in their bellies, ready to embark one of the greatest raids the world had seen in a century.
"What a time to be alive!" he roared, the cry rolling from his chest like thunder, carrying over the docks and the restless crews.
The middle sea had once groaned under the shadow of two giants, Romelia and Azania, but both had toppled, crushed beneath their own weight. Their empires splintered, their crowns cracked, and their legacies left bleeding in the sand and oil. Where there had once been two immovable walls, there was now only an open horizon, waiting for a man bold enough to seize it.
