Western Coast of Japan, Designated Trade Port.
Late November 1836.
The first few days passed without incident.
That alone felt strange.
The French stayed within the boundaries given to them. Their movements were steady, their work organized, and their behavior matched the terms agreed upon. Crates were unloaded, structures went up, and the enclosed space slowly took shape under their hands.
The Japanese watched from the outside.
They did not interfere unless they had to. Guards stood at every entry point and along the perimeter, always present, always alert. Officials came at regular intervals, observing, taking notes, making sure nothing went beyond what had been allowed.
Everything was under control.
But control did not mean ease.
The tension had not settled. It lingered in the background, quiet but constant.
It showed in small things.
