Sera

Sera keeps the fleet running. Every boat that launches from Solverde's harbor passes through her hands at some point, and she knows each hull by its creaks the way Cala knows the town by its appetite. A loose plank, a warped keel, a patch job that's holding but won't hold forever — she catalogues these the way other animals catalogue gossip.

The boatyard smells like salt and tar and sawdust, and the sound of tools never fully stops. Sera doesn't suffer fools, and she doesn't suffer neglected vessels, which in her mind is the same thing. A boat you don't maintain is a promise you're breaking to everyone who sails on it.

She trained under the previous boatwright, who trained under the one before that. The craft goes back further than anyone's kept count. The boats get better. The sea stays the same.