Hope in a Strange Land
23—10—1560 WC
The ships groaned as they docked at the sprawling shipyard. The rescued people stumbled onto the cracked concrete, their eyes wide with a mix of relief and trepidation.
"Hey, you! Yeah, you—Eric, right?" A man in a crisp white naval uniform strode toward him. His voice was sharp, commanding, and carried an edge of impatience.
Eric nodded, his throat dry. "Yeah, that's me. Where the hell are we?"
The officer smirked, his teeth gleaming under the harsh sunlight. "Welcome to the Bernard Empire, kid. Never heard of it, I bet."
"Bernard Empire?" Eric's brow furrowed. "You're right. Never heard of it. What kind of backwater place is this?"
The officer's smirk didn't waver. "Backwater? That's rich, coming from a washed-up prince." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a growl. "Listen up, kid. You're in no position to be throwing around insults. Not here."