Erik calmly ordered the oarsmen to stop rowing and the sails to be slackened. In the face of at least 50 cannons it would be sheer stupidity to ignore the Fluyts.

Taking another look at the ships from Marienburg, Erik now noticed they were actually quite a bit smaller than his own vessel. The Fluyts were slightly lower on the water and less wide. If the Norscan ships sat mostly on the water and glided over it, the Southerner ships cut through the water as they sailed.

Another notable difference was the propulsion of the ships. Erik relied on three huge, square sails and three layers of oars to make speed. Meanwhile the Fluyts did not have any oars, maybe a single row down near the water’s edge, and relied only on their multitude of sails. Square sails hung from their two masts with smaller sails opening up further up the mast. And triangular sails were strung from mast to mast and mast to prow, making it possible for these ships to sail almost against the wind, if at a snail’s pace.

‘I guess I’ll want to make some modifications to my ship then? Oars are fine, they keep the men fit and occupied, but the square sails make us to dependant on lucky winds. And while rowing is fine, if we have to rely solely on rowing and we find ourselves in a battle… the men will be tired before the fighting starts!’ – The differences between the ships were obvious to Erik at a glance and he immediately desired to make improvements. Cannons were out of the question though. No Norscan would ever follow him again if he put those ‘cowardly’ weapons anywhere near his ship.

Upon seeing the Norscan behemoth comply with their demands, a small boat was lowered into the water and openly approached the vessel to begin the conversation.

A couple of minutes later, the skiff’s crew were hoisted to the Dragonship’s deck and brought before Erik.

Erik was the only one seated on a stool with an empty stool in front of him clearly intended for the Marienburg negotiator. This surprised the spokesman since Erik was flanked by far senior and more experienced warriors exuding a strong pressure.

‘This youngster must either be some chieftain’s favourite son or he is one of their heretical ‘Champions’. I hope it’s the former, but if it’s the latter… Let’s just hope he isn’t devoted to the God of Blood or has any unhealthy interests in torture…’

“Hail Nauvarch! What brings you to these waters?” – The negotiator spoke in broken Norscan. The languages of the Empire and Norsca were related and could somewhat understand one another, but Marienburg spoke yet another dialect of the Imperial language so the gap widened considerably.

Lucky for them, Erik had already exchanged for the set of Imperial Languages, allowing him to fluently speak all dialects of the tongue.

“Well met, man of Marienburg! As you see, we are men of the far North on our way to your city to enact and participate in peaceful trade. Our prow is bare and our weapons aimed only for self-defence. Undoubtedly you have heard reports about our approach from other vessels, who can no doubt vouch for our peaceful journey so far?”

Clearly surprised at Erik’s fluent speech in his own tongue, the man paused before answering.

“Yes, that is correct. We have received no news of ships going missing or unlicensed piracy.”

“Good to hear! Now, since we find ourselves like this, how about introductions before we get down to business?

My name is Erik, Thane of the Skaeling affiliated Frost Wolf Tribe and the leader of this expedition.”

‘Ah, so he is a Thane at such a young age? Seems like it’s the latter after all…’

“Ehum, well met Thane Erik! My name is Henk Bakkerson and I am an officer & translator in the Marienburg Navy, currently attached to De Eenhoorn, Fluyt class ship.

As for our business… You already stated your intent to trade in the grand and opulent markets of our great city of Marienburg. Foreigners are required by the City Council to pay taxes before entering into the harbour and additional taxes are applied depending on the sort and amount of goods you intend to trade.

The entry tax can be paid now, just a few silvers for each member of your crew. The trade tax will require the aid of the harbourmaster’s office and clerks to count and value the goods you wish to trade or sell.”

There was no skirting around the topic with this man it seemed, he went directly from a nice greeting to ‘give me 5.000 silver’. There was no way Erik was going to pay that much silver for basically no return whatsoever.

Thus the two haggled for what seemed like a very long time but in reality only took half an hour. The initial price of 5 silver per crewmember was eventually cut down to a single silver, in part due to Erik handing Henk a hefty purse of gold. Of course, Erik refused to pay the one silver for every crewmember, so he claimed to only have a skeleton crew of 200 men on-board.

Henk of course didn’t buy it, not with a ship the size of small hamlet, but the gold weighed heavy in his pockets so he decided it wasn’t worth pursuing.

When the talks were over and Erik asked about a few things to make his entry into the city a little easier, Henk took his men back to the waiting Fluyts.

Erik had asked after simple things like how to recognise the harbourmaster’s office, a place to procure food for the men and where to find a decent place to have a drink for the few crew Erik decided to bring out of the harbour.

Henk even made an additional comment Erik hadn’t thought about but Henk assured him would be both convenient and inevitable.

“When you enter, you’ll need to wait off-shore for a couple of days as a form of quarantine. But you shouldn’t be bored since the waterfront prostitutes will no doubt paddle out to you and offer their wares.

It’ll be more expensive than when you go find them onshore in the harbour, but they make the quarantine period more bearable for crews coming home after long days or weeks out at sea with nothing but the odd siren as the only female in sight.

Hmm… Not sure what your view is on sickness and disease, but the majority of those girls should be clean and checked regularly, as stipulated by Laws of Lace & Perfume.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Having sent off the Burger, exchanging a couple hundred silvers for a small piece of paper that should grant them access to the city, Erik’s Warband continued on its way and soon the splendorous sight of Marienburg came into view.

A veritable forest of ship masts pointed out the harbour while an equally dense forest lay moored around a small island some distance before it, undoubtedly the quarantine zone.

Brick bridges, houses, pillars and canals stretched out beyond the wood buildings at the waterfront and mighty temples and cathedrals to numerous gods and deities from across the world reached for the sky.

Sainte Denise had been a culture shock to the new Marauders due to its massive stone buildings, walls and the incredible density of the population. It was nothing like the wide, sprawling mass of mostly single story huts and small halls protected by cliffs, mountains and an ever expanding palisade.

Marienburg was simply on an entirely different scale all together. Surrounded by marshlands, swamps and bogs this seemingly floating city housed well over a million citizens within the borders of its walls and canals. Possibly up to two million people total when counting foreigners (visiting for trade or semi-permanent residents), servants and slaves.

Erik was not unfamiliar with such a sight, but the memories from those times were slowly fading over time as he fused deeper and deeper into this new world. His knowledge and intellect remained intact though and Erik had already used it on multiple occasions to improve the Norscan’s combat efficiency and to train his men, but there was no doubt in his mind there would be many more opportunities to use his learning.

As soon as the ship came into sight of the harbour, another small boat came out to greet them. And after presenting the costly paper slip, Erik was then guided to a place to anchor for the next week at the quarantine island, Pampus.

“Yes, the papers are in order. The spots on Pampus are rotational, so when the ships moored to the wharf on your right leave for port, you will be allowed into Marienburg 6 hours later. If you wish, you may leave your spot at any time to return to sea but the entry fee will not be returned. If you do not wish to wait before trading, there are people on Pampus to help you catalogue your inventory and merchants to trade with. I wish you a profitable stay and will take my leave.”

The Burger rattled off the greetings and formalities in a boring monotone voice as if reading it from a paper, wholly intent on getting the interruption over and done with so he could return to whatever he was doing before having to go and greet another new arrival.

Pampus itself was unassuming, little more than a bare rock covered in densely packed wooden buildings from which raucous laughter could be heard accompanied by the sound of singing and musical instruments.

‘What’s the use of quarantining every foreign ship here for a week if the crew from old and new arrivals mingle here and cross-contaminate each other?’ – Erik asked himself. He was honestly baffled by the oddity of it, but he soon found an answer when he spoke to a rather drunk captain staggering his way over to one of the ships nearby:

“Wh-ii-y those frog-friuggers pu us ‘ere for da weeeek? ‘Cus time izz money for tra-haders and a lut uf us dun wanna waiht that long suo wez give up un trade our stufffe at the still-profitable buhut unfair prices on Pampus.”

After listening to the man ramble on a bit more and stringing it together in coherent sentences, Erik came up with the following translation:

“Why those frog-fuckers put us here for an entire week? Because to merchants, time is money and wasting and entire week here is not in a merchant’s best interest. Ships belonging to the people of Marienburg itself don’t have to wait an entire week in ‘quarantine’. It’s just an excuse to annoy foreigners and force us to sell our stuff at a lower price or buy at a higher price than what we’d get in the actual markets.

Those willing to wait can get better prices but the difference is small enough that in the end its more profitable to make another trip to somewhere close than to wait the entire week here. So unless you want something specific and can’t get it from the leeches here on Pampus, people tend to just go along with it. In the end, profits are profits even if they’re less than you’d hoped.”

It seemed like a form of protectionism for the city’s own merchants. This way the city could control the price of goods, keeping it affordable to the commoners while also allowing their own merchants to rake in higher profits. Not to mention that the merchants operating from Pampus didn’t even need to leave on their ships to make profit. They simply bought products at a reduced price from hasty foreigners and then pocket the difference as profit when they send their own ship from Pampus to Marienburg.

‘It’s a good thing I don’t mind waiting then… Though I hope the men don’t stir up too much trouble by causing fights or spend all their silver on drink and company…’

By now the skies began to darken and as if on cue many coloured lamps lit up across Pampus and the Marienburg harbour. Most were the general yellow/orange from torches and oil lamps while the more well-off establishments used expensive concoctions for their lamps to create different colours like blue or green.

Most notable however were the red lights. Lanterns made from red paper or lamps of red glass singled out a particular kind of establishment: brothels. And there were a lot of them. A veritable sea of red lights lit up the night’s sky and covered close to half of Pampus and the nearby harbour in playful and enticing scarlet.

And new arrivals must be popular because a small fleet of red-lantern carrying vessels approached the wharf Erik’s ship lay anchored at. Small skiffs and rowing boats but also large floating platforms carrying brightly lit and decorated structures all descended upon the lonely sailors who received them with open arms and heavy purses.

The railing of Erik’s ship too was packed with catcalling Marauders craning their necks. Seeing this, Erik worriedly turned towards Sven.

“I just hope our guys don’t get ripped off too much with the prices…”

Then, upon seeing the not-understanding look on Sven’s face, Erik felt a slight fear tangle his heart.

“You do know those women expect to be paid for sex, right? They’re not some communal thralls sent out to entertain us as a show of goodwill!

Oh fuck! Time for an emergency meeting!

Scaldar! Why didn’t you or any of your men take a moment to explain how prostitution works to the new-bloods!”