Old Hank chewed on salt pork as he leaned against the rail of the merchant ship Seagull, enjoying a rare sunny afternoon in Omdur Harbor. The busiest port in the Kingdom of Bagnia was as noisy as ever, its forest of masts rising over bustling crowds, the air thick with the mingled smells of spices, salted fish, and tar.
Just as he narrowed his eyes to study an eastern spice ship unloading in the distance, the young helmsman Joseph suddenly sucked in a breath beside him and pointed toward the harbor entrance.
"Sun God above... Uncle Hank, look at that ship!"
Hank followed the young man's finger, and his cloudy old eyes narrowed at once.
A large armed merchant ship was creeping into the safe channel marked out by the harbor pilot boat, moving so slowly that it almost seemed to be struggling.
Its sails, which should have been billowing, hung in tatters, as though countless invisible hands had torn through them. Several great sheets of canvas drooped like dying banners.
The hull was an even more dreadful sight. Deep scratches and dents covered the dark wooden planking, along with broad stains that had blackened but still retained a faint, dark red hue... Those were certainly not seaweed or rust.
Its waterline was strange, though. It rode neither high nor low, but somewhere in between, as if the ship carried a substantial cargo without being fully loaded.
At the bow, an indistinct bird figurehead had lost half a wing, leaving jagged splinters exposed.
"It looks like it just crawled out of a sea monster's stomach..."
Joseph murmured.
Hank did not answer. He simply stared at the ship.
In thirty years at sea, he had seen all kinds of vessels that had escaped storms and pirates, but none had ever exuded