When the royal frigate arrived off the coast of Port Oakhaven, the scene was one of haunting, suffocating silence. The busy commercial quays, which normally bustled with fishing sloops, timber barges, and shouting dockworkers, were completely deserted. Yellow quarantine pennants fluttered from every mast and church spire, and spirals of bitter sulfur smoke rose from public squares where municipal workers were burning infected bedding and tar barrels to purify the…
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