4135.235 · August 23, 1815 AD
Come What May
The Charlotte Anne drops anchor, carrying Sir William Harding and his household from England. The whole town buzzes with news of titled arrivals and handsome daughters. But when William reaches the Crown and Anchor, Silas barely acknowledges the gossip. There's something different about him today—a tension in his posture, a restlessness in his hands. He wants to walk, he says. Wants to show William something. Away from listening ears. The rain is falling, but Silas is already reaching for his coat.
I'm terrified, Silas admits, his back to the salt-filmed window. Of what I'm asking. Of what it might cost us both.
He's bought a warehouse. He's offering capital, partnership, the chance to build a trading company that bears William's name. When Hartley's collapses—and it will, within the year—William could step into the void with something legitimate. Something clean. Something that isn't built on shadow ledgers and midnight transactions.
Why? William asks. What do you get from this?
I believe in you. The words come fierce, almost angry. I've never met anyone who made me want to take this kind of chance.
William feels something break open in his chest. No one has ever looked at what he is and seen something worth this kind of faith. Not his family. Not the men he worked beside in chains. Not even—
He cannot say her name. Not here. Not now.
What if I fail you?
Then we'll be wrecked together. Silas grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt. Partners and brothers. Come what may.
William takes the key.
Come what may.
