The carriage ride south took two days, which was two days of Brynn talking about her new personal best for shovelfuls per minute, Vessa reading a book on advanced formation theory, and Katarina staring out the window running scenarios for a negotiation she didn't have enough information to plan yet.
Coppara announced itself to the party with the smell of fish and tar about a mile before the buildings came into view.
It was a working port. That was obvious the moment the carriage went over the hill. No terraced vineyards, no canyon views, no charming harbor road with vendors selling fruit. Coppara was docks, warehouses, fishing boats, and the kind of architecture that happened when people built for function and never got around to aesthetics. The buildings were squat, salt-weathered, and packed tight against the waterfront like they were trying to shoulder each other into the sea.
