You call us thieves. That’s rich, coming from the Houses. You steal with laws; we steal with hands. At least we’re honest.
You call us smugglers—we prefer Free Traders. We trade because it’s the only freedom left. You drown in contracts and debts; we breathe our own air. The Emperor calls us outlaws—we shrug. The Guild calls us invisible—we smile. Better invisible than owned.
We don’t worship coin or spice—we worship the deal. Fair if we can, profitable if not. Burn a thousand of us and the trade won’t die—it only goes deeper.