[Envinyatar]

It was not a long a long way to the palace, but it took some time, urging the horses up the winding path to the top of the rise, their wagons filled with the large crates. The Minister of Trade’s secretary, an officious, bobbing little man met them at the front gates and bade the guards admit them and their merchandise with all haste. The Minister was eager to greet his new southern contacts, and wished to show them every courtesy. The wagons were brought close to the palace front steps and the crates unloaded.

‘Be careful!’ urged Yr Saldan as the crates were stacked singly on the ground. ‘There is precious cargo within!’ the Minister, who had come to the top of the stairs to greet them, admonished his men to unload carefully. He did not want any of the goods to be damaged. His eyes glinted with pleasure at the size of the crates. This was indeed going to be an incredible coup on his part. He could not wait for the Prince to return to see how well he’d done.

Yr Saldan and the four captains ascended the steps to the palace. The guards had been dismissed for the night. There had been no need for them with the Prince gone and the five merchants posed no threat. Only two of them stood watch at the door to the throne room as was custom. The minister, his assistant, and the secretary led them into a small hall set up for the meeting. There was a large table placed in the middle of it for the negotiations, and smaller tables along the wall filled with drink and food, a small fire in the fireplace gave off a cheerful light. Several servants moved quietly among the group, seeing to the needs of the company.

The talked for a while, then ate and drank. No one noticed that the merchants only picked at their food, and drank sparingly of the wine offered. The Minister and his two assistants enjoyed the pleasures of the table and ate much of the delicacies provided, washing them down with copious wine.

Yr Saldan urged them to come outside with him and see the treasures they had brought for Dol Amroth. The Ministers eyes gleamed and, laughing he led the way to the crates himself. Yr Saldan gathered them near, and drew out his sword as if to pry open the wooden side of the first crate. He tapped three quick times on it and stepped back repeating the taps on the second crate, as his four captains drew their swords and tapped on the remaining crates. The minister and his assistants thought this an odd Southern custom and smiled at the merchants.

With a loud yell and a boom, the sides of each crate were flung down from within, and out rushed ten armed men from inside each. The overpowered the unarmed Minister and his secretaries and would have killed them save the Yr Saldan thought they might prove useful later, and had them locked in one of the small windowless rooms on the second floor. The two guards at the door to the throne room fought bravely, but they too soon met their end.
‘Secure the gates and the grounds, he yelled to two of the captains. They and twenty of the men fanned out on the grounds and covered any entrances leading to the palace. The other fifty men secured the entrances to the palace itself, and the second floor.

Yr Saldan took one of the small branches destined for the fireplace and lit it. He had spied the stairs to the top of the observation tower and now ran up them quickly with his burning brand. He walked out onto the parapet along the top walk of the tower and leaned over the edge facing the harbor and the market place. Waving the burning brand in a large arc, he grinned, imagining the men bursting from their crates, to rampage through the heart of the city, bringing it to its knees, and under his control, at last.

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The captains of the three ships anchored out in the harbor saw the signal blazing bright in the sky. They hauled up their anchors and glided quickly near the guard ships of the prince. Dol Amroth’s navy was manned by few sailors and the most of these had already gone below to sleep or play cards and drink.

Yr Saldan’s ships fired their small catapults, filled with burning pitch toward the furled sails, catching them and the main masts on fire. Then, as the sailors streamed upstairs, hearing the snap and crackle of the flames as they whooshed heavenward, the corsairs threw grappling hooks across the other ship’s railings and pulling them close, boarded them. The hacked and slashed their way to the helm of each ship, and took control. The dead bodies of the sailors were dumped into the harbor, and the waters ran red with the spilled blood.