The Port of Harrier

"The east isn't like the north, where a bunch of strong warriors clumped into the barren steppes, forever trained by fighting against the bloodlusting barbarians. Nor is it like the west, united by one banner, the duke's banner, to solve any external conflicts that threaten the land," Lareon's voice spread through the room, his fist clenched, resting atop the table beside an empty mug of ale.

Hubert listened carefully, he had made his case, and he had proposed a plan for the conquest. Only to be proven wrong in every single thought of his.

The watchmen were strong, but not anymore, a thing of the past, fallen from grace. Nor were the minor lords interested in helping defend the innocents.

"The east is different. The nobles made of merchants, and merchants made of nobles. Money is the strongest currency here, not just for trading, but for loyalty and strength," Lareon added.