Inez watched as the docks drifted closer. Her unfamiliarity with sea travel told her they would run out of momentum before they reached the dock but the ship coasted on even without her sail. Two sailors holding thick coils of rope hoped to the wooden dock and whipped the line around in a complicated knot, completing the task seemingly at the same instant the lines went taut and the ship juddered to a halt, rocking slightly as her wake reflected against the dock. The smell of saltwater, spoiled fish, and rotting seaweed mingled with the smell of sewage, replacing the clean iodine scent she had come to think of as open sea. Even as they were tying up she saw armed men gathering at the end of the dock. They were dressed in mail and were forming a rough cordon across the top of the pier. This show of force wasn’t directed at them however. A mob of townsmen, perhaps fifty in all were marching down the cobbled road that ringed the peer. Each of them wore some scrap of blue, mostly bandanas, but a few vests. They were roaring some incomprehensible song that broke into shouts and jeers as they neared the soldiers. Inez tensed slightly as a wave of missiles, stones and crockery lofted at the troops, shattering or clattering away as they raised their heater shields. The abuse continued for several minutes with the soldiers neither attacking or retreating, merely crouching behind their shields with weapons to hand. Inez had seen mobs before, and this one wasn’t in a killing mood, nor was it big enough to overwhelm a dozen soldiers who were disciplined enough to stand against a rain of stones. She heard snatches of their cries. Mingled with the usual imprecations of parenthood and lewd acts to be performed with or by the soldiers mothers, came smattering of more detailed grievances.

 

“Death to the League!”

“No League Lackeys!”

“Yhesra for Yhesrans!”

 

“Potato eaters fuck off!”

 

Inez gave a bemused snort as Aldrik came up beside her. The crowd issued a final set of jeers and began retreating up the road, several baring their arses at both the soldiers and the ship. Inez eased a hand away from the sword she had unconsciously gripped.

 

“Looks like it might be an interesting visit,” she commented dryly. The commander of the soldiers, a pimple faced boy of perhaps eighteen summers whose uniform seemed of higher quality than his fellows trotted down the peer his face split in a grin.

“Sorry for the delay master merchant,” he piped in a high pitched voice that would have been a bit more ridiculous if he hadn’t just calmly faced off a mob without so much as breaking a sweat.

“You might have to hunt down the harbormaster, things have been a little tense the last few days.”