Chapter 10: Paradise Island

The Breakwind was approaching a dock that was clearly not the main port; this was a cargo dock specifically designed for small to medium-sized merchant ships.

Ian watched with interest as Captain Homan directed the crew to lower the sails, stow them, and secure the rigging. The ship glided toward the dock, dropped anchor, and threw the mooring lines. Dock workers then assisted with the ropes, and the sailboat was finally secured in place.

He was sure that one day he would have his own ship—and it would definitely be a large one. It was a good idea to learn the ropes now.

Once the ship was docked, the first mate shouted orders to the restless crew, already starting to organize shifts.

In reality, most of the sailors weren't allowed to go ashore on their own; they had to be escorted in groups by higher-ranking officers. There was no freedom of movement during shore leave, and overnight stays on land were generally prohibited.

Going to a bar or other leisure spots was a privilege reserved for senior crew members.

Understanding the origins and conditions of these sailors made it clear why such measures were necessary. Sailors came from various backgrounds: prisoners of war from naval battles, enslaved crew members bought or traded, deserters from military ships, or even volunteers, although the latter were rare.

The pay was low, the living conditions harsh, and wage arrears or even intentional non-payment were common.

Adventurer ships, hunting vessels, and pirate ships often had a profit-sharing scheme, but the actual distribution depended on the captain's conscience.

Therefore, runaway sailors were a common occurrence. If they were given too much freedom to go ashore, there was a high chance they'd never return.

Even being escorted ashore in small groups, under close supervision, was a rare treat for the sailors.

Ian was contemplating whether he should bid farewell to Captain Homan when he turned around and saw the captain approaching.

"I was just thinking about saying goodbye to you, Captain Homan," Ian said.

As soon as they docked, Captain Homan seemed to relax considerably.

"Paradise Harbor is a city that never sleeps. I'm sure it won't disappoint you, Mr. Trist."

"I have to meet with the head of the Hanseatic Trade Company. Unfortunately, I won't be able to see you off," he added, a touch of regret in his voice. "After unloading, the Breakwind will head to the Moon Bay shipyard up north for repairs. If you need me, you can find me there."

Ian thanked Captain Homan for his care during the journey and hoped they would meet again someday.

"Oh, by the way, I was thinking of having Mirtha act as my guide for a while. Do you mind?" Ian asked.

"Not at all. Anything I can do to help," the captain replied, giving a nod.

Ian said his goodbyes, grabbed his coin pouch and short sword, and quickly hopped off the ship.

Mirtha, carrying a small bag, was already waiting by the dock.

"Let's go. We'll find the best inn, change clothes, and have a good meal," Ian said.

"Sir, the best inn is said to be on Central Street. I haven't been inside, but the finest place near the docks is the tall white stone building over there. It's called The Breath of the Ocean—I heard it's run by a whale-hunting crew."

Mirtha excitedly pointed to a glowing, six-story white stone building about thirty meters tall.

"That sounds perfect," Ian said.

They walked ahead, with the recently freed slaves trailing behind at a safe distance, hesitant to approach but seeking some sense of security in this unfamiliar place.

Ian stopped briefly to give Mirtha some instructions. She nodded and went to talk to the group of slaves, while Ian waited.

As Mirtha approached, the group stirred with excitement.

She didn't acknowledge them directly but began giving them advice on the cheapest inns, where to rent rooms, the best places to buy black bread, and where to find work. She ended with a reminder about Mr. Trist's generosity, and without waiting for their response, turned to rush back.

Ian could tell that Mirtha wasn't looking down on the slaves, but rather, it seemed more like she was experiencing a bit of social anxiety.

The group of slaves was unlikely to follow Ian to his destination, so he had Mirtha provide them with useful information—it cost him nothing, and it was a small kindness.

The white stone building wasn't particularly close—about two to three miles away—but because the surrounding buildings were mostly low wooden structures, it stood out starkly.

As they walked, Mirtha gave Ian a tour of the area's streets and shops. Ian, staying quiet, silently observed and memorized any details that might be useful later.

The architecture in Paradise Harbor was mostly wood, with occasional stone buildings. Although the structures varied in height and age, it was clear that the area had been planned simply, with noticeable roads and basic drainage ditches.

The sanitation, however, left much to be desired. Although the roads had been somewhat paved, they were still muddy, especially near the docks. The air was filled with unpleasant smells: fish, rot, and human waste, making for an uncomfortable walk.

Fortunately, as they reached the main street leading to the white stone building, the conditions improved dramatically. The roads became cleaner, and the atmosphere seemed much more pleasant.

By the time they reached the white stone building, Ian had already sensed several strong spiritual signatures from people they passed along the way. Many of them didn't seem to be trying to hide their spiritual energy, perhaps because in the Sea of Miracles, it was a necessary precaution to avoid trouble.

Sometimes, pretending to be weak might backfire—if you weren't careful, you might end up the prey instead of the predator. After all, even extraordinary beings couldn't move mountains, and low-level powers weren't invincible. They couldn't withstand poison or surprise attacks.

Ian decided not to hide his own spiritual presence either, to avoid unnecessary complications.

The white stone building was impressive from a distance, and up close, it was even more striking.

Made of large blocks of off-white stone, the building's rough, unrefined exterior gave it a raw, almost primal feel. The structure was a massive square, with flat roofs and high ceilings—each floor was at least five meters tall.

The design was simple but exuded a rugged, untamed aesthetic. The main entrance had a simple archway, with a large stone plaque above it, inscribed with the words "Breath of the Ocean" in the common tongue of the East Continent.

Ian and a nervous Mirtha stepped through the doorway, and the wind chimes above jingled softly.

This was a magical device designed to detect spiritual fluctuations, signaling that a distinguished guest had arrived.

"Welcome, honored guest!" a well-dressed servant, wearing gray clothes and a black vest, quickly approached Ian.

The first-floor hall was large and divided into several sections. To the left of the entrance were large bulletin boards, and to the right was a bustling restaurant.

Next to the restaurant was a counter, facing the entrance, while deeper inside were more private dining areas.

"Sir, please follow me. Are you here to dine or to stay?"

"Both," Ian replied.

"We have dormitories, shared rooms, single rooms, and luxury suites, where you can stay with family and servants."

Ian chose a higher-end single room on the fifth floor. It cost two silver coins per day—over seven gold coins for a whole year. The prices were absurd.

He paid for a week's stay in advance.

"Your room is 509. Please follow me."

Ian asked Mirtha to wait downstairs, and he followed the servant to inspect the room. It was spacious enough, with a large bed, a desk, a dining table, and chairs. In one corner, there was a partitioned area for the privy, which would be cleaned periodically by the staff.

Overall, he was quite satisfied.