Unlike Petrous, PennyHarbor was without a shred of doubt a military base first then a city next. It was clear even before they saw the actual city, but when they laid their eyes on it, they couldn't possibly imagine anything else. As they made their way closer, the more small forts they could find to the left of their fleets. Each one had at the very least ten massive mana cannons as large if not larger than those that adorned the city of Petrous.
That was not mentioning the hundreds of soldiers that stood sentinel in each one without moving once. Always keeping an eye out for what could be a possibility of attack or invasion from the coast to their far right, beyond a week travel on the fastest ships.
And to top it all off, at the center of each fort was a massive tower that dwarfed everything around them except the mountains to the backdrop of it all. But, instead of the typical mage's tower with a cone for a top, it was an open and flat surface with a large bonfire already on fire. A warning system if Jonas was correct.
They knew he was coming from the looks of it. Otherwise, the bonfires would not have been set on fire to alert the forts after them and the city itself. They must have done all this to impress him just like how he had sent his own messenger with all the pomp and flair he could.
That might not have been the best choice, thinking about it now.
The military knights and mages were probably less impressed with the showing than anything else. It would have been smart to send someone they could appreciate for what they deem to be important. One of his own knights or a lieutenant. Maybe even one of his honor guards even if they would vehemently reject that proposition.
Now, they probably think him nothing more than a dandy on his way to steal their strength and destroy the organization and stability they had kept for as long as they could remember. Especially if he tried to reform their strategies and tactics in battle.
As he thought about it, his nightmares have been getting more vivid lately. Images of legions in red and pike formations with a cross of red on a white background that showed on bright screens filled much of his dreams. And worse of all, he clearly remembered a tale of some king who his own guards sold his seat of power.
How would that even happen? Did they not give oaths? If they had, are they not bound by their stringent holds? You'd expect they would strangle to death before they could assassinate their master then auction off the seat of power.
More importantly, if they had given an oath, how did they overcome its clutches? How did they break it without any consequences to speak of? He had to find out, or at least try to find a solution to it if it ever happens. He does not want to be remembered as the one who lost the lands of the empire to rebels and traitors due to incompetence.
"Young master, we are almost upon the city. The harbor is just beyond the horizon, not even an hour away. You need to freshen up and wear your best outfit. One that fits your station as the highest power on the lands and seas of this part of the empire. It would not due to leave a lacking impression," Frezar said.
The old butler had changed into the best robes of black and white he had. His long beard, trimmed to reach his chest, was combed and oiled beyond any common sense. It literally glistened and reflected the sun's light into Jonas's eyes. How he got it that shiny, he could not imagine. What did he do, pour an entire jug of oil on himself?
Jonas stretched, banishing the sleep from his body. He had been rereading the report Frezar had handed him a few weeks ago. He couldn't believe the extent of wealth he carried with his fleet. He didn't know figures as large as that existed, only thinking them a part of his fanciful nightmares and nothing more.
He had tens of millions in his homeland's currency. The sheer amount completely filled more than seven entire ships. Each coin neatly stacked within large chests and placed tightly next to one another to prevent any of them to be disorderly. Any space in between the stacks was filled with cloth.
To be truthful, this absolute need for order had not been apart of who he was before all this had happened. It was something he found more prevalent in his character the more vivid his nightmares became. But, it included his absolute joy in seeing the amount of wealth he had, so it wasn't that bad.
He was as rich as frickin Mansa Musa...err...whoever that was. All he could remember of that certain individual was that he dropped gold bars like they were pocket change. But, unlike Mansa Musa, he would never leave any gold behind him. They would be carried along with him to the ends of the world, every single coin of it.
"I think that would be wonderful. A hot bath before we have to deal with anyone pompous, greedy, and overly entitled would be wonderful. It would do miracles to loosen my muscles and mind for this exercise in futility." Jonas said as he got up from his seat. His body was sore from being seated for so long.
"Of course, young master. I-if you don't mind, master, you have forsaken your training ever since the incident. It would behoove you to start again, especially if you want to make a full breakthrough on your twenty-first birthday. It is paramount you succeed without quarter for speculation to your potential. A strong following must always be lead by a stronger ruler."
Jonas frowned. Now that he thought about it, he had gained a bit of fat on himself. That's what happens when you don't actively do anything for just about a year. His toned and well-muscles physique was not as prominent as he like to keep it. He could do nothing but sigh, those harsh and hopeful days were over. From the day he set sail to this very moment, the power he held corresponded with how well his life goes.
Then again, he had yet to choose his Path and as such he only learned the most basics of each weapon. How to swing, slash, and stab were his daily training against dummies and training partners. Hours upon hours of the same repetitive motions made his hands ache a phantom pain.
"My instructors did not come with me. They were my father's to command and he did not deem it necessary to send one with me. Hopefully, one of my honor guards could take that mantle, right?"
Frezar shook his head. "No, young master. That would not be ideal, not at all. They are not instructors and as such would only lead you down a straying Path to what would benefit you the most. Instead, it would be best we either hire or accept someone to your employ from PennyHarbor. It is a military harbor filled with knights and mages. There has to be one who has taken the mantle of instructor.
And most importantly, your father smuggled two different skill scrolls for you to learn from. They are...beyond anything I have witnessed. Their sheer presence could not be hidden without a dampener. I fear they might be too powerful for you to fully take advantage of."
Skill scroll? That sounded...awesome! Wonderful! Thrilling?
He'd have to find a more fitting word.
For now, though, that does not matter. Skill scrolls were things of legend. You'd only hear them in myths and fables. Even as the son of a duke of the empire, the very idea of attaining on had been beyond his imagination. The royal family hoarded them with a passion. Though they did not prevent the noble houses to store their own, anything as powerful as what Frezar had claimed those two to be would be highly coveted.
The royal crown would have done quite a bit to get their hands on it if they knew it existed. Guess there were benefits to him being exiled so far away from the homelands. Without anyone from the royal crown constantly breathing down his neck he could study it without worry for a while. At least until the tax collectors think it necessary to bleed the colony out.
"Alright, but that's for tomorrow. Now is the time for a soothing bath!"
Jonas walked out of the office with a mission.