Episode 8

The salt spray, once a stinging rebuke, now kissed Konz's weathered cheeks with a familiar warmth. Sydney Cove, a patchwork of canvas and timber, bustled with a life that had been unimaginable just a few seasons prior. Haven, his Haven, was no longer a desperate gamble but a burgeoning reality, its fields a tapestry of green against the ochre earth, its storehouses groaning with the fruits of their labour. Yet, as Konz stood on the wharf, watching a new ship disgorge its anxious cargo of faces, a familiar unease settled in his gut. Success, he was learning, was a more complex beast than failure.

Eliza, her hands perpetually stained with ink and the scent of herbs, joined him, her gaze following his. "They look so young," she murmured, her voice a soft counterpoint to the raucous cries of the gulls.

"We were younger," Konz replied, a wry twist to his lips. "And perhaps a good deal more foolish." He gestured towards the arriving vessel. "More mouths to feed, more hands to work, more lives to steer through this wild place."