The massive ship carrying Tiriki finally entered the coastal waters of Nuri. But before they could even glimpse the dock, a colossal vessel bearing the flag of Nuri cut across their path. Its sails billowed with authority, its hull dark and imposing—its sheer size and pristine condition made it look more like a floating fortress than a re naval ship.
Gasps rippled across the deck of the rchant ship. Sailors and rchants alike gathered at the rails, their eyes wide with awe—and fear.
"Is that... a warship?" one whispered.
"It’s flying the Nuri flag," another murmured. "What now?"
Fawzi, the grizzled rchant leader, clicked his tongue in frustration and stomped toward Tiriki, who stood calmly at the bow.
"Hey!" Fawzi hissed. "We’ve got company. Probably the navy. Isn’t this your shipnt? How do you expect us to get past them, huh?"
Tiriki didn’t flinch. "Leave it to . I’ll handle the negotiations."
Fawzi scoffed. "You better. I didn’t co all this way to be sunk in sight of land."
As the Nuri warship pulled alongside them, the crew on both sides sprang into motion. Nuri soldiers—disciplined, ard, and dressed in navy-blue uniforms with golden trim—lined the deck, watching the rchant vessel like hawks. Their ship’s figurehead, shaped like a roaring lion with glowing eyes, seed to stare straight into the souls of those on board.
A gangplank was lowered.
Before stepping forward, Tiriki turned slightly to Fawzi. "Don’t do anything reckless. Stay calm, unload as told, and rember, this is not the place you are used to, one slip up and your heads will go flying."
Fawzi raised an eyebrow, his suspicion growing. "Who are you really, Tiriki?"
But Tiriki had already begun to board.
At the top of the plank stood a broad-shouldered captain with a sharp gaze and a hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "State your na and purpose. What are you doing in Nuri waters?"
Tiriki raised both hands peacefully and pulled a small folded flag from his pocket—Nuri’s emblem. Then he drew out a sealed letter, bearing Khisa’s sigil.
"My na is Tiriki. I serve Prince Khisa as part of the Shadow Guard," he said quietly. "This ship carries rescued slaves. These rchants aren’t allies—they’re opportunists. I need you to help smuggle the captives ashore discreetly, under the guise of trade. I will explain further once i et with the king. Make sure to watch them very carefully."
The captain’s eyes narrowed as he took the letter. Tiriki leaned in and whispered, "I must speak to King Lusweti imdiately. This concerns future operations."
The captain gave a subtle nod, understanding the gravity. "Very well. We’ll take control from here."
He straightened and turned to the rchant crew. "If you’ve co to trade, Nuri welcos you. Our protection is yours—provided you cause no trouble. You’ll dock at the secondary pier. From there, proceed to the rchant Association for further assistance. Don’t bother the locals, they get very skittish with new vessels appearing."
The sailors and rchants exhaled in relief, though so exchanged uneasy glances. Tiriki was led off toward the heart of the port.
Back on the ship, Fawzi scowled as he watched Tiriki walk away with the navy.
"Who is this guy, really?" one sailor muttered.
"He’s been quiet this whole trip, and now this?" another added.
"He’s got connections here. That much is clear," a third said grimly.
"The navy here must be very strict,"
Fawzi growled, "Listen up! Whatever secret deals he has going on, they’re not our concern. We still have palm oil, spices, silk, salt—all valuable goods. Unload them first. They pay well so don’t even think of ruining this deal."
He paused, surveying the bustling port of Malindi. It was unlike any place they’d ever docked. Clean stone walkways, organized stalls, and a strong military presence—but not oppressive. Instead of fear, the locals walked with purpose, pride, and even joy. There were no beggars lining the streets. No chained bodies slumped in corners. Slavery was absent—and its absence was loud.
"I’ll go find this rchant Association and register our goods," Fawzi said. "Don’t give the soldiers a reason to look twice. This deal could make us rich. I won’t let a single one of you ruin it. I will kill you myself if you do."
The sailors scattered through the port, taking in the surprising order and efficiency. So stared in disbelief at the locals—won in fine fabrics, children playing freely, rchants bartering openly in Swahili and other native tongues. A different world entirely.
Fawzi soon located the rchant Association, a bright stone building with engraved patterns and clean signage. Inside, a sharply dressed woman approached him with a welcoming smile.
"Karibu. How can I assist you, sir?" she asked in flawless Swahili.
"I—I am a rchant," Fawzi stamred, fumbling through his broken Swahili. "I just arrived. I was told to co here... to sell goods."
"Of course," she replied kindly. "Please list what you’ve brought. If you’d like a stall, we can provide one, or we can connect you with bulk buyers. If your goods are valuable to the governnt, we may purchase them directly. All transactions are conducted in Nuru coins. You may also exchange gold or minerals at the bank. I assure you, our services are fair. Please let know where you docked your ship and I will deal with it right away."
Fawzi blinked, taken aback by her professionalism and speed.
"We have... palm oil, silk, spices, salt," he said slowly.
"Excellent. I’ll send an agent to inspect and appraise your cargo. You’ll be compensated fairly."
Fawzi hesitated, then leaned in. "Is it true? That there’s... no more slave trade here?"
The woman’s warm expression turned firm. "Yes. It was abolished when the new king took power. Any person caught dealing in slaves will be executed imdiately. Freedom is sacred here, sir. Please respect our laws."
Fawzi stiffened. "Of course," he mumbled. He left the building with clenched teeth, muttering under his breath.
"Did this man bring us to our deaths? If they find those slaves—"
His face hardened.
"I need to find Tiriki. Now."
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