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# Waverider Expedition - Twin Cities

Severin showing his diplomatic skills

The Twin Cities rose from the dust like two clenched fists, facing each other across the harbor. From the deck of the Waverider, they looked almost identical, two walls of sun-bleached stone, each crowned by towers and banners, each claiming to be the true city. Between them, the bridge shimmered with heat and tension.

The harbor below the southern gate was chaos and noise. Slave barges unloaded their human cargo beneath fluttering awnings while merchants bickered over coin. Chains clinked in rhythm with the gulls. The air smelled of salt, sweat, and iron.

When the Waverider anchored, the crowd parted as though a leviathan had surfaced. It was not every day the largest ship in the world cast its shadow on the Twin Cities.

Captain Virellus watched in silence as officials from both sides hurried to greet them-each draped in silks that couldn't quite hide their fear of being outdone.

From the east came Chancellor Dorrin, tall and sharp-eyed, his robes trimmed with gold dust, speaking for Lord Varcan Deyr of East. From the west, Lady Mara, representative of Lady Serrana Volkar, veiled against the sun but smiling with the precision of a knife. Both claimed authority. Both demanded trade.

It fell to Severin Valerius to untangle the mess.

He met them in a shaded pavilion between the cities, where servants poured watered wine and fanned away the flies. Outside, the cries of the slave market drifted in like an unwanted chorus, merchants shouting prices, chains rattling, overseers laughing at some cruel jest. Severin smiled through it all, plump fingers resting lightly on his cup.

"My good friends," he began, his voice soft as oil, "surely two cities so rich in spirit can find a way to prosper together. The Waverider trades only with those who understand cooperation."

Lady Mara's fan stilled. Chancellor Dorrin's jaw tightened.

As the talks stretched into the afternoon, servants scurried back and forth with documents and fruit, while outside, unseen hands worked their own negotiations. A crate of the Waverider's supplies caught fire. Ulfar's men found the moorings cut loose. Two sailors were attacked in an alley by masked men who vanished into the crowd.

Severin noticed none of this, or pretended not to. His attention remained on his hosts, playing them with compliments and contradictions, letting each believe he leaned their way. By evening, both sides had signed the same agreement under different seals, each convinced they'd outwitted the other.

When he finally returned to the ship, sweat-drenched but smiling, Virellus met him at the gangplank.

"Well?" the captain asked.

"We've got our grain, our cloth, and our iron," Severin said, tugging off his gloves. "Both sides believe we favored them. By the time they realize it's fair, they'll already be at each other's throats as usual."

"Good," Virellus said. "And the rest?"

Severin's smile faded a little as a scream rose from the harbor, the sharp, wordless cry of a man under the whip. He looked toward the market, where the torches were being lit, and the chains gleamed red in the firelight.

"The rest," he said quietly, "is the cost of doing business here."

The captain turned toward the river, where the wind tugged at the ship's rigging.

"Then let's pay it and be gone."

By dawn, the Waverider slipped back into the current, its sails catching the first pale light. Behind them, the Twin Cities woke to their endless feud, the smoke, the shouts, and the clatter of coins over blood.

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