Chapter 17 – Fire in the Port
The night was heavy and damp at the harbor. The stench of fish, blood, and smoke hung thick beneath a sky soaked with clouds. The wind whipped at the dancing tongues of flame inside the tavern now known as the "House of Freedom." At its center, a pit dug into the earth held a crude stone hearth, surrounded by a rusty iron fence enclosing the blaze.
Adam crouched near the fire, turning a glowing ember with an iron stick, watching the men, women, and children around him. His eyes studied them in a long, silent gaze.
> "Iron rusts. Fire gives it new life. This fire belongs to all of us—but it devours anyone who approaches it without understanding."
It wasn't just a fire for warmth. It was a symbol, a calculated center of gravity for a loyalty hard-won. To sit here meant knowing there was no free safety—only a pact with no return.
---
In those days, signs of order crept into the market:
Adam's men sold firewood at low prices, fixed boats, gave out interest-free loans to the poor, and claimed it was the money of the "House of Freedom" protecting the people from greedy merchants. But by night, they had another face: training to walk silently through alleys, to silence voices without blood, to carry coded messages, to shoot in the shadows.
---
Weeks earlier, when he began planting his feet firmly in the port, Adam gathered three of the sharpest tongues and hands around him.
He found Organ in an illegal fighting pit, beating his opponent unconscious. Adam stepped in and stopped the kill, saying simply:
> "You hit well. Come hit for something we're building."
Organ agreed. He saw in Adam the hand that stopped him from becoming just another beast.
Serana, he found negotiating a smuggled shipment with sailors. He caught her in a simple trap and offered her protection and a stable market in exchange for measured loyalty. She was cautious but accepted, seeing the profit and power.
Rick the scribe was copying debt papers for loan sharks in a dark corner. He knew every secret of the market. Adam noticed his notebook and said:
> "Write what you want—but write it for me."
Rick understood it was his chance to become a witness and a force in a new system. He joined without much protest.
---
In the war room, Adam met with Organ the tough fighter, Serana the sharp-minded girl, and Rick the cautious scribe. The wooden table between them was worn, at its center a torn map.
Adam pointed at it:
> "The market's here. The port's here. This is the smuggling route. We plant eyes everywhere."
Organ slapped the table:
> "My men are training well—but it won't be enough alone."
Adam nodded slowly.
> "Luckily, I've trained a group of boys for days like these. They're still young, but they grow under my hand. They know what I want before I say it. I won't leave them in the streets. They'll become pillars here."
He didn't say it as a sign of distrust—but as a cold, calculated plan. He only granted his full loyalty to those he shaped himself.
---
Serana stared at the map:
> "People talk about us. Some call our men 'Fire Dogs' because they show up when there's trouble and feed the people after the market crashes."
She smirked:
> "But they fear us too."
Rick added while scribbling notes:
> "We let them say whatever they want for now. In the end, the word we'll leave in their mouths is order. That earns loyalty more than fear."
Adam stared at him for a moment, then nodded.
---
In the market, Adam's boys watched merchants raise prices on the hungry. The House of Freedom's men stepped in cautiously, forcing prices down when needed, threatening greedy fat cats with whispers that "the fire never sleeps."
Stories about "Adam" spread—how he devoured the port. Some said he was like a beast swallowing everything. Others whispered:
> "He's like the nobles of the capital—but instead of taxing us, he robs us with fear and bread."
---
In the old city, gang leaders met in a hideout.
A brash young man shouted:
> "We need to hit him now, before he gets too strong!"
His older boss, bald with a savage neck tattoo, slammed the table:
> "Fool. This man crushed the strongest gang we had—with just two men and their leader. Now? He has dozens. Anyone who attacks him burns like rats in oil."
Then he added in a low, cunning voice:
> "Let him grow. Let him rule the market. We'll profit under the table. But attack him? Only if you want your head nailed to his door."
---
At the governor's palace, an old man in silk read a report:
> "Sells firewood cheap. Fixes boats. Gives loans without interest. Feeds the poor. But his men assault guards in the shadows. Vanish like smoke. Threaten the elite. And the people love him..."
He stirred his drink:
> "They love him because he fills their stomachs. I see just another noble, hungry like those in the capital. But nobles who can't control their hunger... they swallow more than they can chew. And choke on it."
He told his aide:
> "Inform the Navy. Tell them he controls the market like he's devouring it. Have them watch him. Understand his nature. Suggest a title fitting of him… The Sin of Gluttony."
---
In a modest naval office near the island, the Navy commander read the letter. He raised an eyebrow, then set it down.
> "The Sin of Gluttony, huh? Seems the governor knows how to reduce a man to a single word."
He looked at another officer, a young man with a grim face and an old scar:
> "I want you. You lived under a noble who crushed your village, didn't you?"
The officer nodded.
> "I know the type. Feeds you with one hand, strangles you with the other."
The commander said:
> "That's why I chose you. You'll know how to hunt him."
Then he wrote on an official document:
> "Deployment Team:
1. Garo – Urban warfare specialist
2. Kent – Sniper
3. Lota – Investigations officer"
> "Send these names to HQ. Tell them I'm sending the best for this type of rat. We're ready to move on command."
---
And so, while the fire crackled at the heart of the House of Freedom, Adam stared at its flames in silence. He knew the market's walls whispered his name, that tongues repeated his deeds.
> "This fire… will burn
anyone who forgets themselves in it. And I'll be the first to remind them."
He raised his scarred metal hand.
He said nothing more.
He knew the real war hadn't even begun.
End of Chapter 17