February 12, 15th Century
Kingdom of Esbania, Port of Arigande City
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The sun was high on the sky as ships docked along the coast of Esbania's western sea. A flock of seagulls flew across the horizon as ships' horns blasted across the port. The sounds served as a simple salutation to other ships.
Dockworkers rushed on the gangways as they carried out boxes and barrels of goods. Among them was a young man wearing a dirty-white shirt tucked in his coarse black trousers, and a brown flat cap. Sweat was trickling down his tanned skin as he lifted up a wooden box filled with jewels.
"Hurry up, hurry up! Unload faster!" The supervisor yelled at them with a scowl. He was sweating just as much as the workers. His stout and obese body felt extremely uncomfortable at the prolonged exposure to the sun's heat. It was exactly at noon when they arrived and he was itching to get out of the dock already. He badly wants to just eat and have some fun.
Atlas Grayson, an orphaned dockworker, raised his golden eyes to stare at the supervisor. When their eyes accidentally met, he casually shifted his gaze back on his feet. He continued carrying the box of jewels down the gangway before he finally dropped it together with the other boxes. He then stepped aside as the supervisor's assistant inspected the goods.
"Hmp. Here's your pay," the assistant inserted a hand in his pocket before placing two coins of peca, of which can only be used to buy a slice of bread, on top of Atlas' open hand. "Now, go!" He shooed him away with a wave of his hand, a frown in his face as he continued handing out coins to the other workers.
Atlas stared at the coins in his palm with a blank expression. He then cupped the right pocket of his trousers. Feeling the slight bulge of the coins he collected for the day, he heaved a deep sigh before he walked away from the dock.
Merchants and nobles were waiting by the sidelines as they watched boxes and barrels of goods being unloaded. Among them was Oswald Whitlock, who happened to be King Ferdinand VII's right hand man. He caressed his beard as he stared at the sea's horizon.
"My lord, what are you thinking?" His attendant asked politely with a smile on his face.
Oswald sighed as he gently placed his hand over his bulging stomach. "I'm feeling nostalgic of the old days."
"Ah, right. You were once a naval officer," the attendant replied, nodding his head in understanding. "