Agzor Brinechain

Agzor Brinechain treats harbours as throats and ships as lungs. He knows which pier feeds a fortress, which salt store keeps riders alive across dry country, and which chained prisoners will row hardest when the shore behind them has been made impossible. Drazakar's shadow lies across his methods: labour counted, escape itemised, disobedience made into an example visible from the quay. Surayan's road-memory gives his bargains their sharper edge, because he understands passage, toll, ransom, and escort as forms of power no less brutal than a blade. Agzor smells of brine, tar, rusted manacles, fish rot, wet hemp, and cheap oil smoking in harbour wind. He is never merely cruel for pleasure. That makes him worse. His cruelty has invoices, tide marks, and a place in the stores.