The ships were wrong.
That was the first thing Dockmaster Sellen noticed — not the Korthane trade flags, not the three-mast configuration, not the delegation standing at the prow of the lead vessel. The ships themselves were wrong. Their hulls gleamed with a dark, mineral sheen that Dominion timber didn't produce. The planking joints were invisible — every seam sealed with something that made the hull look like a single piece of shaped wood rather than constructed lumber. The rigging used cables of a material he'd never seen: thin, dark, flexible, holding tension across the yards with a tautness that would have snapped any hemp or flax rope.
Domain-enhanced materials. Casual. Routine. Applied to rope.
Sellen had supervised the Ashenveil harbor for nineteen years. He'd seen Dominion warships, Thalessa fishing boats, and the occasional smuggler's skiff running contraband from the far coast. He'd never seen a ship that made his entire dock look like a child's raft.
