The sea was calm as glass when the Waverider reached the southern coast of Zverilov. The morning light fell pale across the deck, and mist drifted low over the water like breath on cold glass. From the crow’s nest came a shout: “Dolphin off the port bow!”
At first it was only a splash, then a silver shape breaking the surface, keeping pace with the ship as though guiding her. A moment later, an eagle appeared, circling high above the mast, its cry sharp and clean. The crew watched in silence as the two creatures moved with strange harmony, one cutting through the waves, the other through the clouds.
“An omen?” Selene wondered aloud.
“Or a welcome,” Venera said, shading her eyes.
The captain said nothing. He only watched, his face unreadable, as the coast of Zverilov took shape through the mist, a scatter of stone houses, the faint outline of a small port, and beyond it, dark pine forests that seemed to stretch forever.
They anchored in the bay, and the dolphin vanished beneath the hull, the eagle flying inland with a cry that echoed over the water. The town’s people gathered on the pier, fishermen, traders, a handful of soldiers. None came close at first. When they finally did, they bowed awkwardly and spoke in the broken trade tongue of the coast. Their eyes kept darting to the ship’s masts, the strange foreigners standing watch on deck.
Trade was slow but fair. Barrels of smoked fish, salt, furs, and thick northern ale went up in exchange for spices, iron tools, and cloth. The locals were polite, but stiff, too careful with their words, their smiles too quick to fade. A few crew whispered about how the town seemed tense, but Phaedros shrugged it off.
“They’ve never seen anything like her,” he said, tapping the rail. “The Waverider is larger than their town square.”
By dusk, the deals were done, and the crew returned aboard with their goods. The next morning, on the outgoing tide, the locals waved halfhearted farewells as the ship drifted out to sea again, the great sails caught the wind.
Then someone pointed.
“There! The dolphin again!”
It leapt beside the hull, sleek and bright in the fading light. And above it, as if summoned, the eagle reappeared, gliding in wide circles over the ship. The crew laughed and cheered, the sound carrying across the open water.
“Seems they like us,” Ulfar said, grinning.
“Or they’re making sure we leave,” Phaedros muttered.
Virellus watched both until they faded into the horizon, the bird rising toward the clouds, the dolphin vanishing into the deep.
He turned away at last, the ghost of a smile on his face.
“Either way,” he said softly, “it’s a fine farewell.”
