May 1827
Brand stood on the deck of the ship as it approached the port, the salty sea breeze ruffling his long hair. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the water and the bustling docks. Seagulls took flight as the ship neared, only to settle on other waiting vessels and the rocks at the edge of the port.
As the ship drew closer to land, he could see the figures of dockworkers, merchants, and other people acquainted with the port moving with practised efficiency. They were unloading cargo and preparing for the day ahead. The view was a well-orchestrated dance of labour that welcomed him at all times.
Brand inhaled deeply, and exhaled as greatly, the salty smell tingling his senses. When the wind blew again, his hair responded, whipping around his face. He quickly bound it at the back of his head. Alexander would have a fit over how long it had gotten. The thought made him smile.
