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“Do you understand what they’re saying?” Vur asked and tilted his head. A towel was wrapped around his waist. The group of fishmen were still standing around on the border between the sand and the grass, pointing at Vur and Tafel as they ate. Vur had taken fragments of the broken table and set them ablaze, creating a bonfire to cook the leviathan.
Tafel shook her head. “They’re scared of the giant fish you dragged in,” she said before pausing. “Or, now that I think about it, they’re scared of you. They could speak human, but it’s a bit strange.”
Two fishmen, Carl and George, approached the chatting couple. “H-hello,” George said. He was talking to Vur, but his gaze was plastered on the monstrous fish beside him. Although the image he saw in the water was dark and hard to discern, he knew that this was the leviathan he encountered earlier. Was it already dead at the time? He swallowed and forced himself to look away. “You understand?”
Vur nodded, refusing to speak while chewing.
“Who are you?” Carl asked, his scaled brow furrowing. His webbed feet curled and uncurled, leaving deep lines in the sand.
“I’m Vur,” Vur said. “She’s Tafel, my wife.”
Carl scratched his head. He guessed that was an appropriate response to the question he asked even though it wasn’t what he was looking for. Before he could say anything else, George blurted out, “Did you kill this holy leviathan?”
Tafel sighed, wanting to bury her face into her hands, but she was holding a piece of cooked flesh. Of course Vur would kill a creature that the indigenous population worshipped. She shouldn’t have expected any less from him. Vur nodded and glanced at the corpse. “It’s very big,” he said and tore off another piece of meat, “but it only knew one spell, so it died pretty fast. Do you want some?”
“C-can we?” Carl whispered to George in fishman language.
George swallowed his saliva. “It’s already dead, yeah? It would be disrespectful to let its corpse decompose on a beach, right?” he asked and rubbed his hands together. He stepped forward and accepted the flesh, biting into it even though it was raw. His eyes widened, and he chewed faster, eating up the piece before Carl could even say anything. “It’s amazing!”
“Invite your people over,” Vur said, gesturing towards the fishmen on the bank. He grinned. “I’m a generous king.”
Tafel rolled her eyes. Her husband was too generous of a king. If she didn’t keep a close watch on his coffers, it’d empty from all the food and luxuries he’d buy for the people. Not that it was a bad thing—the people loved him. Grimmy was a bit disappointed in Vur’s lack of hoarding, but Sera, Leila, Prika, and Vernon approved. “You’re not upset about its death?” she asked Carl.
The black-scaled fishman shook his head as he accepted a chunk of meat from Vur. “We may worship these great beasts, but that’s all,” he said. “They’re too powerful for us to hunt, but if a dead one comes on shore, I’m sure there aren’t many people who’d have qualms about eating it.”
Tafel nodded. “What language are you speaking by the way?” she asked. George was scrambling up the beach to report to the tribe, and Carl was scarfing down the meat, so she had to wait.
“Mainland human,” Carl said, licking his webbed fingers when he was done. “Isn’t that where you’re from? Your accent is a bit strange. Are you from further south? I heard they spoke differently.”
“I’m not sure,” Tafel said and scratched her head. “I performed a pretty large teleportation, but someone’s”—she glared at Vur—“grandpa screwed it up. I think we’re probably from across the ocean.”
Carl’s mouth dropped open. He blinked three times before shaking his head. “That’s impossible. Only creatures from myths come from beyond the ocean,” he said. Loud sizzling noises reached his ears as Vur hummed and threw more slabs of flesh onto the makeshift bonfire. The fishman glanced at the dead leviathan and scratched his head. “Actually….”
“Forget about it,” Vur said and yawned. He was fine with eating the flesh raw, but Tafel liked her food cooked. “Did we interrupt something? Why was a table here?”
Carl frowned. “Today was the day of the national hunt. All the tribes along the coast come out and compete with each other to see who can bring back the biggest catch,” he said. “Afterwards, we celebrate with a feast to build camaraderie amongst one another. This year, I won.” His chest puffed up when he spoke the last sentence. The red pearl necklace glinted in the fire’s light. “I won this necklace as a prize.”
Vur blinked. “Was it bigger than this?” he asked and gestured towards the leviathan.
“Was what bigger?”
“Your catch.”
Carl scratched his head. “No?”
“Then don’t I win?” Vur asked. He held out his hand, palm up.
“Vur…,” Tafel said, her lips stretching into a line.
“What?” Vur asked. “You heard the rules. Biggest catch wins.” He pointed at the leviathan before looking at Carl. “Biggest.”
A hollow laugh resounded through the air as Carl took off his necklace. “You’re right,” he said and nodded before placing the pearls onto Vur’s outstretched palm. He wasn’t going to argue with someone who killed a leviathan. Besides, Vur offered to share the leviathan with the fishmen. A pearl necklace was more than a fair trade. “By the rules, you won.”
“Giving up your prize?” George asked. He had returned with the judges and elders in tow. “I guess it’s fair.” The fishman turned towards Vur. “These are the elders of our tribe. I tried to explain the situation to them, but it is a bit unbelievable.” A few curious children appeared from behind the elders’ skirts.
“You caught this?” one child asked.
“That’s right,” Vur said as he leaned over to the side and draped the necklace of pearls over Tafel’s neck. He reached into the fire and tossed a roasted slab of meat that was bigger than the child’s body towards the kid. “Have some.”
“We thank you for your generosity,” one of the elders said as the kids swarmed the leviathan meat. The fishmen who were still hesitating saw the sight and headed towards the shore as well. “Is there anything we can do for you?”
Vur paused and tilted his head. “You could tell me stories. I like stories.”