Bombardment of Restol

Below is the fourth in a series of reports to Emperor Vesper Zuilkaarme on the strange happenings that occurred throughout Lucardia around the time of Prince Koen the Gray’s disappearance. You can read more about that disappearance here.

To His Imperial Majesty, Lord of Lucardia, Keeper of the Twelve Thrones, and Steward of the Sword and Sun

It is with profound concern and unshaken loyalty that I lay before Your Imperial Majesty the particulars of a grave and unsettling incident in the southwestern provinces—an event that has left Restol in ashes and its famed vintners in disarray.

Three nights past, a Royal Galleass of uncertain allegiance entered the harbor of Restol under fair weather and with no formal entry in the port ledgers. As Your Imperial Majesty knows, such omission is forbidden under maritime law, and the harbormaster, whose purse now outweighs his conscience, has confessed to receiving a pouch of coin from the ship’s officers in exchange for silence. His arrest is already ordered, and I await Your Imperial Majesty’s pleasure regarding his punishment. If I may be so bold, I suggest a trip to the gallows is in order.

The vessel, though bearing no flag, was described by witnesses as magnificent and ominous: a black-hulled galleass with gilt trim along its upper deck and a figurehead shaped as a lion whose eyes shone faintly in the torchlight. The name upon her stern was obscured, though sailors report an outline consistent with the curved script used on ships of the old Battenborne fleet, an ominous piece of information if true.

For a full day, she lay idle in the outer harbor, making no contact with dock officials. Then, at an exceedingly late hour—when the moon had sunk below the hills and only the shore lamps flickered—a flurry of movement was seen at the lower piers. Several wagons from the fish market district, long suspected of harboring smugglers, drew up beside the galleass. Provisions were passed aboard by torchlight. The exchange appeared hurried and ill-guarded, though the poor visibility of the hour made a complete account impossible. Those few who witnessed it speak of goods being transferred in exchange for objects well hidden by canvas, but clearly of weight. One witness swore they saw the glint of gold, but none can swear for sure what was taken or delivered.

Restol, as Your Majesty well knows, has struggled to purge its docks of corruption. Yet the brazenness of this act suggests a degree of collusion far beyond petty smuggling.

At dawn the following day, Lord Laurentino Borelli, governor of Restol and master of the Borelli vineyards, was found dead in his bed. The scene was appalling. His skull had been caved in by repeated blows from a cudgel taken from the very guards protecting him, who were also slain. Nothing was stolen. An alarm was raised, and the evil doers were pursued by the city watch but were lost in the twists of the city street.

They apparently made it back to their ship, and the bombardment began without warning. Cannon fire tore through the quays and warehouses, igniting stores of pitch, and thousands of casks of Restolvian Red were lost. Witnesses describe the harbor burning “as though the sea itself bled.” The ship’s guns struck the fort twice before she turned to open waters, vanishing to the west towards the Phlegyas Strait and the open ocean beyond under full sail.

By dawn, half the port was destroyed. The wharves are gone. Thousands of barrels of wine destined for noble estates, including hundreds of barrels for Your Imperial Majesty’s own cellars, were lost. The vineyards remain untouched inland, but the infrastructure that sustained their trade lies in ruin, and the genius, albeit a troublesome one, behind the realm’s most exquisite elixir is dead.

Your Imperial Majesty will recall that Lord Laurentino, though ever a vexation to the throne, presided over an enterprise of great practical benefit. The Borelli estates produced Restolvian Red, the most prized vintage in all Lucardia—rich, dark, and slow to spoil. Its flavor is the measure of refinement among the great houses, poured at Your Majesty’s coronation and at every banquet since.

The destruction of the port thus endangers not only the coffers of the merchants but the spirits of the realm itself. With Laurentino dead and without a direct heir, his holdings now pass to his cousin, Dario Borelli—a man of known dissipation and ill repute. He is said to spend his nights in taverns and his days in recovery. The vineyard stewards already complain of missed payments and confusion among the presses. Should this continue, the next pressing will suffer, and the quality of Restolvian Red may decline.

The ramifications are clear: the nobles, already restless in prosperity, will interpret the loss of their favored indulgence as a sign of imperial misfortune. The court, deprived of its elixir, may soon indulge in rumor instead. Moreover, Your Imperial Majesty’s own cellars—so graciously stocked each year by Laurentino’s tribute—will no longer be replenished without charge. The Borelli’s self-interest, though cloaked in arrogance, spared the treasury a modest burden. Now that, too, is gone.

In light of these developments, I have taken the following measures:

1. Restoration of Oversight: The vineyards of Restol are to be placed under provisional supervision by agents of the Bureau of Commodities. Dario Borelli has been informed that his inheritance is conditional upon faithful service to the realm and maintenance of quality befitting Your Imperial Majesty’s seal.
2. Maritime Inquiry: The coastal watch has been ordered to report all sightings of galleasses bearing foreign design or absent registry.
3. Fortification of Trade Routes: Merchant fleets along the Zandore Coast will sail under guard until the rogue vessel’s allegiance is determined.

As to the identity of the ship itself, opinions remain divided. Some assert it to be a remnant of the old royal privateers—those ships of mixed loyalty that once plied between Lucardia and the Western Reach, taking coin from both sides when it suited them. If this is true, then the hand behind this act is neither wholly foreign nor wholly domestic, but something far more insidious: a faction that profits by destabilization.

I cannot, in conscience, rule out that the murder of Lord Laurentino and the destruction of his port were not orchestrated to destabilize the region and bring shame to the throne. Whoever directed this plot has struck not only at a man but at an artery of the realm’s commerce.

I remain, as ever, Your Majesty’s obedient servant, confident that through Your divine wisdom and steadfast hand, order will again be drawn from the sea’s chaos. The vines of Lucardia endure, as does Your light.

By my seal and oath of service,
Sir Hadren of Vale
Envoy Extraordinary to the Western Provinces
Servant of His Imperial Majesty and Uniter of Lucardia.

For those who have read Koen: Quills from the Raven’s Nest, the mystery behind this note is known. For those who haven’t yet delved into the pages of my newest novel, here is a crumb.

Cheers!