After sunset, the last orange-red glow on the sea was swallowed completely by the night.
An iron grill had been set up on the main deck of the Hispaniola. Charcoal glowed red inside it, and now and then, fat dripped onto the coals with a sizzle, sending up a thin wisp of fragrant white smoke.
The grilled meat that had once been piled high on the wire rack had been devoured, leaving only a few ribs picked clean and scattered scallop shells.
Renato held a tailbone from the Plesiosaur's tail. Its joints were thick, and he had stripped the meat from its surface with his teeth and a small knife, leaving only a length of greasy, gray-white vertebrae.
He picked the last shred of meat from a gap between the bones with his knife and put it into his mouth. After chewing it a couple of times and swallowing, he lifted the wineglass beside him and drained its deep red contents.
The wine carried a fragrance as it slid down his throat, followed by a refreshing sweetness at the back of his tongue that washed away the faint gamey taste left by the Plesiosaur meat.
Savoring the wine's finish, Renato marveled inwardly.
Just what I'd expect from De Leon's private collection. Wine from Constantis was renowned throughout the continent. Even table wine aged in barrels for around eighteen months could sell for over thirty Silver Crowns a bottle in the northern lands.
Tonight's wine, however, had a deep, rich color and thick legs. Its aroma unfolded in layers once poured into the glass, and its quality far surpassed that of ordinary table wine.
Judging by its taste, and recalling the captain's pained expression when he retrieved it from the bottom of the hold, Renato reckoned the wine he was now