Southern Seas
The ship creaked gently as it sailed through calm morning waters, sunlight glinting off the sea like scattered diamonds. Prince Eric leaned against the railing at the bow, wind tousling his dark hair. He breathed in the salt air, sharp and fresh, and let the sea's rhythm calm his thoughts.
Behind him, Grimsby approached with careful steps, his coat perfectly buttoned despite the humidity, his expression is one of mild exasperation and deeper concern.
"I must say, Your Highness," Grimsby began, folding his hands behind his back, "for a diplomatic voyage, this feels suspiciously like a gamble."
Eric chuckled softly without turning around. "Isn't that half the fun?"
Grimsby raised a brow. "Forgive me if I don't find unpredictable markets and pirate-infested waters quite as thrilling as you do."
Eric finally glanced back at him, his smile fading slightly. "I know it's not ideal, Grim. But we can't ignore what's happening in the Southern Isles. Every port I've visited is filled with rumors, talk of rising taxes, famine, power struggles. You've seen it too."
"Yes, yes," Grimsby sighed. "Civil unrest, rebellious whispers, rogue and exiled princes. What else is new in that part of the world? Let them settle their own affairs, I say."
"That would be fine if their affairs didn't already spill into ours," Eric said, more serious now. "They've been pressing into the Merlune Sea. Even harassing our ships. If a war breaks out between them, we'll be caught in the crossfire whether we like it or not."
Grimsby frowned. "And so your answer is to sneak off to the most dangerous auction house in the Northern Seas to... what? Buy a few shiny weapons?"
Eric gave him a sideways look. "Not just weapons. Opportunities. There's talk of rare materials that is created from the lava of a dragon, new inventions, and... other things."
"Other things?" Grimsby repeated dryly. "I don't like the sound of that."
"You never do," Eric teased, but his tone softened. "But I trust you'll keep me grounded, as always."
Grimsby adjusted his cravat. "Yes, well, someone has to. Though I must confess, I preferred it when your greatest risk was diving off the prow during storms."
Eric laughed. "You still bring that up?"
"You nearly cracked your skull open."
"I landed on the boat!"
"Barely."
Before Eric could respond, a sailor from the crow's nest shouted down, voice ringing across the deck: "Land ho! Northern Market ahead!"
Both men turned toward the horizon. Through the early mist, rising between jagged cliffs and winding piers, the faint shape of the market came into view tall masts, colorful sails, fluttering banners, and smoke curling from countless stalls and ships.
Eric's eyes lit up with wonder. "There it is…"
Grimsby, peering with a sigh, muttered, "Heaven help us."
_________
Northern Waters
Waves crashed gently against the sturdy hull of the Viking longship, its broad sail emblazoned with the interlocked bear crest of Clan DunBroch. The air was crisp, carrying the salty bite of the northern sea. Seagulls cried overhead, circling as the coastline crept closer on the horizon.
At the prow stood King Fergus, thick arms crossed over his chest, one eye squinting toward the distant outline of the Northern Market. His brows furrowed partly from thought and partly from the three small, redheaded terrors currently scaling him like a mountain goat.
"Are we there yet, Da?" Harris asked, tugging at his cloak.
"Is that it? Is that the place?" Hubert chimed, pointing enthusiastically.
"I smell pies!" Hamish declared, nose twitching hopefully.
"Aye! Settle down, you little beasties!" Fergus bellowed, half-laughing as he tried to pry them off. "We're almost there. You'll know when we arrive, your ears'll be ringing from all the hagglin' and shoutin'!"
"But if ye keep pestering me like a pack o' gnats, I'll toss ye overboard to swim the rest o' the way!"
The boys laughed and bolted across the deck, nearly knocking over a poor sailor balancing a basket of supplies.
On the starboard side, Merida stood quietly, her arms crossed over the rail as she gazed at the fog-shrouded sea. Her wild curls had been tamed slightly by the sea breeze, but the fiery hue still gleamed against the northern sun.
Merida wiped the sea spray from her cheek and walked up beside her father. "Dad... why are we even goin' to the Northern Market?"
Fergus chuckled, rubbing the back of his thick neck. "Ah, now there's a reason, lass. Tomorrow, there's to be an auction.. a special one. Word is… a dragon's to be sold."
That caught the attention of the triplets instantly.
"A dragon?" Harris gasped.
"Whoa!" Hubert added, eyes wide.
"I wanna see one!" Hamish shouted.
Merida, unimpressed, raised a brow. "Pfft. We've seen dragons before, Da'. What's so special about this one?"
"Aye," Fergus nodded. "But not just any dragon it's a Night Fury."
Merida's eyes narrowed. "A Night Fury?"
Fergus nodded solemnly. "Aye. The dragon trappers led by Viggo Grimborn himself have managed to capture one. Now they're gatherin' the wealthiest clans, warriors, and collectors from across the seas to bid on it."
"Whoa" Harris gasped.
"I wanna see it eat someone!" said Hamish.
"I wanna ride it!" added Hubert.
Fergus winced. "Let's not test our luck that far."
Merida scoffed. "And let me guess you're plannin' to place a bid? Mum's gonna murder you if she finds out."
Fergus flinched a little, turning his head to pretend to inspect a rope. "What? Me? Bid on a dragon? Hah! Don't be daft! We're just goin' to pick up some new weapons. You ken how the damn murlocs've been stirrin' up trouble again. Nasty wee fish-men they get bolder every winter."
Merida eyed him suspiciously. "Uh-huh. Sure. You're definitely not plannin' anythin' foolish."
Fergus gave her a grin that was equal parts charming and guilty. "Cross mah heart."
Fergus cleared his throat. "Anyway! Look sharp we're nearly there!"
_______
Farther south, where the ocean darkened beneath heavier clouds, another vessel approached the same destination, a modest passenger ship with no crest nor kingdom to claim it.
Its decks were quiet, the crew unusually tight-lipped, and the passengers even more so.
Near the bow, three cloaked figures stood together beneath the shade of the sail. Two of them were built like boulders, arms crossed, faces mostly hidden in shadow. Between them was a leaner man, draped in a faded green cloak, poring over a weatherworn map.
One of the larger men shifted with impatience, his deep voice gravelly and sharp. "You sure this is it?"
The map holder looked up, brushing a strand of dark hair from his face. His eyes sparkled with mischief even as he forced a reassuring smile. "Yes, yes. Trust me it's right there on the map. Northern Market, nestled between two rocky cliffs, same as the old trader said."
The man with the eyepatch narrowed his eye at him. "That better be true."
The lean man chuckled, though there was tension in his tone. "Come on, would I steer you wrong?"
A second burly figure snorted. "Often."
The man with the eyepatch stepped forward, lowering his voice to a growl. "If this turns out to be another goose chase... there won't be another chance, Flynn Rider."
Flynn blinked, his smirk flickering for just a second. "Easy there, Captain One-Eye. You wound me. Look once we dock, we'll find what we came for. Then we're out. Clean, simple, profitable."
The two towering figures didn't respond just exchanged a look before turning back toward the deck stairs, vanishing below with heavy steps.
Flynn remained at the railing a moment longer, his gaze lingering on the looming coastline ahead.
Colorful sails fluttered in the wind, distant smoke rose from cookfires and forges, and the voices of hundreds were already echoing faintly over the sea.
"The Northern Market," he murmured. "Let's hope it's worth it."
With one last glance at the horizon, he pulled his hood up and followed the others below deck, just three more shadows headed toward the storm.