Prince Albert Piercing stepped gamely off of Ratatoskr’s deck and surveyed his surroundings.
Nothing. Nothing but plain concrete and the sound of waves greeted him- it seemed the Nuvastian population was thoroughly uninterested in their new leadership arriving. To be entirely fair, though, Albert supposed a functioning news service would have been required to inform the populace of the change in leadership at all. There would have been some passerby ogling the little squadron he’d arrived with, but the port at Trinizal was an industrial one, stretching kilometers out to sea, but he had seen no other ships on the way in, and the gantry cranes sat, unmoving. Containers sat in neat rows, and where there should have been workers moving busily there was instead an eerie silence. The Prince hoped that wasn’t usually the case.
Regardless, the task force had docked at the very end, and with no vehicles in sight Albert began to walk. There was much to do and little time to waste.
