It had been more than a few days since the city of Lys had been put in a state of lockdown. The entire city felt as if it had been abandoned. The usually bustling streets were devoid of any men, women, or children.
However, amidst that sea of forced calmness sat a particular mansion, almost in the centre of the city, that was bustling with activity and chaos.
More than a few dozen guards had been stationed both inside and outside the property. A secure perimeter had been established surrounding the mansion, and all the men guarding it were freemen. Not a single slave, whether for the purpose of cleaning, cooking, prostitution or any other labor was allowed inside. Only free people were permitted.
The occupants of the mansion could not afford the risk of slaves rising in revolt and betraying their masters. It was not that freemen were incapable of revolting, but the chances of them doing so were far lower compared to the slaves. At least, they would not fall for gaining freedom and liberty.
This mansion served as the base for the city's Magisters and the military commanders overseeing the defense against the impending invasion. All plans, strategies, problems, and solutions were discussed within these walls. The place was a constant hive of activity, and even during the night, the intensity subsided only slightly.
In one of the halls of the mansion, a small group of people was involved in yet another intense discussion.
"What news of their navy?" one of the magisters questioned. He was swirling a goblet of wine in his hand, his facial expression weary, with dark circles beneath his eyes that showcased his sleep deprivation over the past few days.
He was one of those Magisters personally involved in the strategic planning of the city's defense and was leading the charge himself.
"As per the latest report," replied a man standing some distance away, dressed in military attire. "Their ships are headed in the direction of our city. They have been maintaining a moderate pace, neither too fast nor too slow. If they continue traveling at their current pace, they will reach Lys in a matter of two or three days."
The magister nodded, taking another gulp of wine from his goblet.
A couple of days had passed since the navy of Lord Aeos had set in motion. Of the one hundred and ten ships, sixty-four ships were headed toward Lys. These sixty-four ships on them were carrying around eight thousand and five hundred men.
Since then, using a combination of merchant ships for camouflage and faster, smaller boats to transmit messages, Lys had been constantly tracking the movement of the enemy fleet.
"And news from the shore?" the magister asked.
A few days prior, on the same day the navy had sprung into action, the contingent of seven thousand men led by General Sylvia had also reached the shore of the mainland. They were a couple of days away from the Lys. A couple of days away on ship, which they did not have.
"No," the man replied. "It is the same as before. No man is able to breach their security perimeter. We have no idea what is happening there, what they are thinking, or what they are planning."
"The closest we have been able to get to them is by ship," he continued. "A couple of vessels are permanently deployed in those waters, and they are keeping an eye on whatever is happening on the shore."
"But," he added, "There is not much information a ship could collect without being able to even dock on the land. They are hardly able to get any information."
"It does not matter," the Magister waved his hand. "As long as that army remains on the shore itself, it does not matter. They will only come into the picture if they have the means to reach the coast of Lys."
"But Magister," another magister sitting not far away interjected. "I am sure they have some plan to reach our coast. We must keep in mind that the general of their army, Sylvia herself, is on that shore. She will surely come with her army."
"Maybe they will send a single ship to bring only the important people," someone added, but no one responded. No one could be sure of anything.
At that moment, a servant knocked on the door as he entered.
"Lords," he said, bowing his head. "The shipper Salac is here to meet you all."
"The shipper Salac?" the weary magister questioned.
"The one whom we hire to transport our goods," another magister interjected. "He sent a request stating that he wanted to meet us regarding something important."
"Oh!" The weary magister nodded. "Send him in."
A few moments later, a portly, middle-aged, and balding man entered the room. He bowed his head in greeting to all the magisters and was asked to take a seat directly in front of the weary magister, who was the key decision-maker and held the most authority.
"Salac," the magister began. "You wanted to meet us?"
"Yes, Magister," Salac replied. "There is something important for which I need special permission."
"Regarding what?"
"My ships," he replied. "Twenty-one of my ships are stranded out at sea. I want permission for them to dock at the port of Lys."
The magister narrowed his eyes.
"What is in those ships that is so vital they cannot wait for the war to end?" He questioned.
Salac shook his head.
"My ships do not carry anything of great importance," he replied. "They carry grain, and while it might prove useful during a siege, I have another reason for wanting them back."
"And this purpose brings me to my second request," he added.
"What is it?" the magister questioned.
"I believe you all know something of my story," he said, his eyes gazing over the magisters.
A few of them nodded in agreement. His story was so legendary and widespread that almost everyone had heard it. What they did not know was that Lord Aeos's spies had played a significant hand in spreading Salac's tale so far that it had been whispered even into the ears of the magisters.
"I know that Lys is in a difficult position," he continued. "And even though twenty-three ships are not a lot, they can prove to be very useful."
"I am here to offer all my ships, myself, and my entire crew to the service of Lys," he said. "I want revenge against Lord Aeos, and I am willing to do everything I can, even if I can only hurt him a little bit."
"Oh!" the magister remarked, a look of slight surprise crossing his face. Of all the things he had expected, this was the last thing he would have anticipated. "Interesting."
Salac remained silent, and the magisters did the same.
"Wait for a couple of hours," the weary magister finally spoke. "We will inform you of our decision after we have had a brief discussion."
Salac nodded, rising from his seat and leaving the room, while the weary magister turned toward his colleagues to discuss the matter.
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