The late August breeze blowing across Harbor Gate carried no trace of sulfur or burnt sea-coal. It smelled of wet granite, dry timber, and the crisp, salted air of an open ocean.
Down on the deep-water piers, three dozen heavy merchant vessels—flying the flags of London, Amsterdam, Hamburg, and the free harbors of the Levant—sat riding low in the blue water. Their wooden holds were stuffed with northern wheat, iron ingots, refined paraffin, and kiln-dried oak timber. On the stone quays below, hundreds of union dockworkers worked beneath the rhythmic thrum of steam cranes, loading cargo in steady, unhurried cadence.
Every transaction was recorded on thick, physical ledger sheets bound in coarse linen, stamped in violet ink with the three-railed crest of the Sovereign Assembly.
