Their eyes met briefly as she approached the carriage—a fleeting moment of recognition quickly subsumed by the reality of their stations. Jaygon bowed his head respectfully, focusing on the reins in his hands as Halford helped the family into the carriage.
"To Harborside Mansion," the baron commanded from within. "And be quick about it, Thatch. The tide waits for no man, and neither does opportunity."
With a gentle flick of the reins, Jaygon set the horses in motion, guiding them down the long, tree-lined driveway that separated the manor from the town below. The rhythmic clop of hooves against cobblestone marked their progress as they descended from the cliff-top estate toward Blackwater Bay.
The port town spread before them as they rounded the final bend—a sprawling tapestry of slate roofs and narrow streets that tumbled down to the bustling harbor. Ships from all corners of the known world crowded the deep natural bay that had made Blackwater the jewel of the kingdom's coastal trade. Tall merchant vessels with billowing sails jostled for space alongside squat fishing boats and sleek naval cutters, their flags snapping in the salt-laden breeze.
As the carriage rattled through the upper town, past the homes of wealthy merchants and minor nobility, Jaygon could feel the weight of curious stares. It wasn't every day that Baron Blackwood's carriage made its way through town, and rumors of the royal inspector's arrival had spread like wildfire through Blackwater's crowded taverns and marketplaces.
The narrow streets widened as they approached the harbor district, where warehouses and counting houses lined the waterfront. Sailors and dockworkers paused in their labors to watch the gleaming carriage pass, some bowing hurriedly, others merely staring with undisguised curiosity or resentment.
Harborside Mansion rose above the surrounding buildings—a relatively new construction of pale stone and large windows that faced the sea. Unlike the old-world grandeur of Windcliff Manor, the mansion embraced a more modern architectural style, with clean lines and expansive terraces that overlooked the bay. It had been built by a merchant prince who had made his fortune in the spice trade before losing it all to poor investments and poorer judgment. The crown had seized the property in lieu of unpaid taxes, and it now served as a residence for visiting officials.
A small contingent of royal guards stood at attention before the mansion's iron gates, their blue uniforms and polished breastplates gleaming in the midday sun. Jaygon guided the carriage to a smooth stop before the entrance, where a red carpet had been laid out in anticipation of the baron's arrival.
"Wait here," Halford instructed as he opened the carriage door and lowered the steps. "The baron may require a swift departure if things don't proceed as planned."
Jaygon nodded silently, watching as the family was greeted by a thin man in the elaborate attire of a royal steward. His voice carried on the breeze as he bowed deeply before the baron.
"My lord Baron Blackwood, Lady Margarethe, Lady Eloise—Inspector Holloway awaits your presence in the grand salon. If you would be so kind as to follow me."
The baron straightened his jacket and offered his arm to his wife, while Eloise followed a step behind, her face composed but her eyes darting about, taking in the details of the mansion and its surroundings. As they disappeared through the ornate double doors, Jaygon released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
Hours passed slowly for Jaygon as he waited with the carriage. The harbor bells marked the passage of time—one, then two, then three tolls echoing across the water. Sailors and merchants moved about their business, ships arrived and departed with the changing tide, and still, he waited, occasionally speaking softly to the horses to keep them calm amid the unfamiliar bustle of the harbor district.
It was during the fourth bell that the mansion's doors finally opened, and the baron emerged with his family. Even from a distance, Jaygon could read the satisfaction in the baron's strutting gait, the pleased smile that stretched across his ruddy face. Lady Margarethe walked beside him, her posture a fraction less rigid than usual, while Eloise followed more slowly, her earlier curiosity replaced by a carefully neutral expression that Jaygon had seen many times before—the mask she wore when navigating her father's ambitions.
"To the shipyard," the baron announced as he climbed into the carriage, sounding positively jovial. "Inspector Holloway wishes to see the new clipper before dinner."
Jaygon nodded, flicking the reins to guide the horses toward the eastern edge of the harbor, where the kingdom's largest shipyard stretched along the coast. The massive skeletal frames of ships under construction loomed against the sky like the ribcages of great sea beasts, surrounded by the constant clamor of hammers and saws.
As they approached the shipyard gates, Jaygon noticed a solitary figure waiting—a tall, slender man dressed in the blue and gold uniform of a royal inspector. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, his posture military-straight, his face handsome in a severe sort of way. This, then, was Inspector Holloway—the man the baron hoped would become his son-in-law.