"You're really gonna set sail, huh, my dear Dulmi?"
Across from Dulmi sat a pretty average-looking middle-aged dude. He was staring at Dulmi, all worried and stuff.
But Dulmi just nodded, answering seriously like he had the last few times he'd been asked: "Yeah, Uncle Benjamin. I wanna sail out, I wanna... go to Fogland."
Benjamin let out a sigh at that.
He silently gazed at the young guy across from him. Man, he thought, three years had flown by without him even noticing.
It was three years ago when he'd rolled into this city called Nightingale.
Dulmi's parents were old buddies of his. Three years back, the couple died in a freak accident, leaving their 15-year-old kid all alone in Nightingale.
As soon as Benjamin heard about it, he hauled ass to Nightingale. For the past three years, he'd been looking after Dulmi, watching this kid grow from a bummed-out teen into a bright, determined young man.
Nightingale hadn't changed a bit in three years, but Dulmi had grown up. Grown up enough to want to explore the world outside.
Nightingale was a port city. Even though its harbor wasn't as huge and buzzing as the big cities down south, it was enough to plant dreams of the sea in the minds of Nightingale's kids.
But Benjamin wondered if this was the destiny of all Nightingale's kids, or just Dulmi's.
"...Alright then, go," Benjamin finally caved. "Go check out Fogland."
A hint of a relieved smile crossed Dulmi's face. "Thanks, Uncle Benjamin."
Benjamin looked like he was still mulling over something. During this brief silence, Dulmi glanced around, bored out of his mind.
Benjamin had settled in Nightingale for three years, buying a standalone house not far from Dulmi's place. He lived on the second floor and ran this quaint, messy antique shop on the first floor.
Over the past three years, Dulmi had wondered more than once if his Uncle Benjamin could actually make any money from this antique shop.
This antique shop was wild.
It had all sorts of random stuff—sketchy-looking fangs, rusty daggers, fancy mermaid models, and watches that stopped ticking ages ago. Sure, it was all old, but none looked like it'd fetch any real cash.
In the dim light, all this stuff was just on the shelves, dust was making everything look even more old and beat up.
Dulmi's eyes wandered to the window, and he frowned a bit. Sunset was coming.
He looked back at Benjamin and whined, kinda, "Uncle Benjamin, I'm starving to death here."
Benjamin snapped out of it, glanced outside, and facepalmed. "Damn, it's that late already?" He thought for a sec, then said, "Listen, Dulmi. If you're serious about sailing, you gotta find yourself a solid ship and a captain you can trust."
"Got anyone in mind?" Dulmi asked.
Benjamin finally cracked a smile. "Yeah, actually. There's this captain named Julian Dunmore. He's over in Livingston."
Livingston was that big city south of Nightingale.
Three hundred years back, this weird fog wall that had been chilling over the Shenlo Sea for like, forever, just vanished out of nowhere. Some gutsy sailors decided to yolo it across the sea and found a whole new continent on the other side.
This new place was nothing like their home, Sheran. They called it "Fogland," 'cause it was like, across the fog from Sheran.
The Sheran folks wasted no time setting up trade with Fogland. A bunch of port cities blew up thanks to all this ocean trade.
Livingston lucked out with its location and went from being this overlooked backwater to a loaded coastal hub. It started flexing hard in the Kingdom of Augustus.
Places like Nightingale, which had decent ports but were too close to Livingston, just got sucked into Livingston's massive trade zone.
In Livingston's trade zone, it was non-stop action. Every day, tons of ships were heading out, coming back loaded with goods - and yeah, plenty were going down too.