Minas Tirith Port, the dock district.
Several cargo ships, sitting low in the water, were undergoing final loading and reinforcement.
Hemp ropes were cinched tight over waterproof tarps. Beneath them lay the spoils of war: preliminarily processed chitinous shells, the tough hides of Deep Sea Giant Beasts, and several large barrels of pearls and coral dredged from the seafloor.
These alchemical components and raw materials for luxury goods, rarely seen inland, were now piled up haphazardly like common cargo.
Baron Kroo stood on the pier, his cloak whipping in the sea breeze.
His face was ruddy and beaming as he directed his personal soldiers to haul the last wooden crate onto the ship.
The corner of the crate bumped against the gangplank with a dull thud, sounding as if it were filled with heavy coins.
