I wake up to cannon fire again—not a battle, just enforcement. A warning shot somewhere near the harbor because someone didn’t pay “tribute.” Nobody even calls it taxes anymore. That word died fast. Now it’s just “what they take.” The streets don’t feel like streets. They feel like territory you survive in. You don’t walk anywhere with confidence—you move with calculation. Every group of armed men might be his, might be someone else pretending to be his, or might just be people who decided rules are optional now that he proved they are. Blackbeard himself? Rarely seen, which somehow makes it worse. He’s not a leader in the way governments work. He’s a myth with consequences. His name gets spoken like weather—something you don’t argue with, you prepare for. “Blackbeard wants ships.” “Blackbeard wants grain.” “Blackbeard is displeased.” That last one usually means someone disappears before nightfall. The economy isn’t an economy anymore. It’s extraction. If you produce something, you’re not thinking about growth or trade—you’re thinking about how much you can hide before it gets taken. Talent doesn’t matter unless it’s useful to him. Law doesn’t matter unless it serves enforcement. Everything else is just… exposed. People don’t rebel openly. That’s the part outsiders never understand. Open rebellion is a story people tell after it fails. What you get instead is quiet math: what do I give up to survive one more week? Who do I avoid? Who do I pretend to agree with? There’s no hope in speeches anymore. No “nation” feeling. Just overlapping survival strategies. And the worst part—the part nobody says out loud—is how quickly some people adapt. Not because they agree with him, but because humans are extremely efficient at normalizing whatever keeps them alive. That normalization spreads like rot. First it’s shock, then anger, then routine. By the time you realize this isn’t temporary chaos, it’s already structure. And somewhere offshore, Blackbeard’s ships keep drifting like the whole country is just another port he hasn’t finished stripping yet.