Of course, potatoes from El Island were also essential. Just give them a quick wash, cut them into wedges or fries, and deep-fry them. Served as a side for the fish and a filling staple, they provided plenty of carbs, protein, and oil for laborers and clerks getting off work. If you could also provide a special sauce for the fish and chips—made with mayonnaise, diced pickles, diced onions, vinegar, lemon juice, minced herbs, and crushed spices—now *that* would be truly authentic.
However, as the Istani Kingdom's demand for Arctic Fish exploded, the Dwarves, who had always fished using traditional methods, couldn't take it anymore. They protested daily about overfishing, violations of their territorial waters, cruelty to small animals...
And especially that battering and frying! It completely ruined the fish's natural flavor. Only the nouveau riche would eat it that way!
They sent so many letters of protest that the Istani Foreign Minister no longer needed to buy paper to wipe his ass.
The Dwarves claimed the fish were a gift from the Dwarf King to his people, lest they lack food crops in the deep of winter. The Istanis countered that they were clearly a gift from the great Is God to them.
As the saying goes, diplomacy before war. To resolve the issue of which god had gifted the Arctic Fish fishing grounds to whom, the Istani Kingdom even sent a tour... a diplomatic mission.
The Istanis made a point of asking the Dwarves how they ate the fish. A Dwarf chuckled slyly and pulled out a piece of air-dried fish jerky, tapping the rock-hard thing against his hand. The Istanis, thinking it was some kind of weapon, warily took a step back. Just then, a hospitable Dwarf matron dug out some aged, fermented Arctic Fish. The sour, rancid smell instantly knocked out the Queen's Special Envoy, while the other Istanis fled, clutching their noses and screaming about a bioweapon attack.
Now, they had arranged another showdown to settle the score once and for all—to determine the victor, the vanquished, the male, female, neuter... (90 other genders omitted)... attack helicopter—right on the fishing grounds that produced the very best Arctic Fish.
The commander of the Istani Kingdom's North Sea Fleet was leading his officers and men in a pre-expedition oath. He accepted the ceremonial saber bestowed upon him by Her Majesty the Queen and made a solemn pledge:
"All the officers and men of the North Sea Fleet offer you our undying loyalty! We swear in the name of the Great Knights that we will defend the glory of Istani and its fish and chips!"
"Potato wedges," the Queen corrected.
"I recommend you try the fries, Your Majesty."
"I know. Now get out of here."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Meanwhile, a legend about a treasure in the North Sea began to spread through all of Istani's harbors.
The news first came from the Adventurer's Guild in Stormwind City. A few days ago, a drunk, bearded Dwarf had apparently burst into the guild, waving an old treasure map and shouting about commissioning a treasure hunt, which naturally caught everyone's attention.
The rumor spread far and wide, with the details becoming more and more elaborate. At first, some speculated it was a Dragon's hoard. Later, others claimed it was the Dwarf King's secret treasure. In the end, the most widely accepted theory was that it was the secret treasure from the shipwreck of the first great Pirate King, Dill Roger.
Wealth, fame, power... The man who had acquired everything in this world, the Pirate King Dill Roger, had once suddenly vanished, ceding the vast oceans to Istani's invincible armada.
Now, his last words before his death have surfaced, sending people flocking to the sea.
"You want my treasure? You can have it all. Go and find it! I left everything I own in that one place."
And so, all the men set sail for the grand sea routes to chase their dreams. The Istani Kingdom began to welcome the dawn of the Second Great Pirate Era!
Fortunately, the treasure was located in the northern Atlas Sea, right on the Kingdom's doorstep. There was no need to cross some East, West, North, or South Sea, nor the planet-girdling Red Earth Continent.
Of course, it wouldn't be that easy to get. His final words included a little tip: only on the first day of May (the day the Istani North Sea Fleet and the Dwarves were scheduled to fight), and under the leadership of the Pure White Elf Prince, would the gates to the deep-sea treasure open:
"Giant black stone pillars will emerge from the deep sea, and a palace belonging to no mortal race will present an incredible treasure and an unimaginable path to Heaven..."
"Did you make all this up? Who is this 'Dill Roger'? Is this 'Pure White Elf Prince' supposed to be me? And what's this about stone pillars and palaces in the sea...? Cut the crap! There's nothing but fish out there! My fish!"
Singrev scratched his head. "I found a bard in a tavern to write it. That gloomy, long-faced lad did seem a bit unhinged. I probably paid him too much, so he went a little overboard."
Singrev was an honest Dwarf; the more funding he received, the more he paid for outsourced work.
"And this... is this the ship you rented?"
A massive armed merchantman, comparable in size to a sailing warship, was moored proudly in the harbor. It was painted completely white, and across its sails were the words: "Legendary Pure White Elf Prince."
"It's more eye-catching this way." Can't be helped, the budget was just that big.
Also cruising around the harbor and bay were numerous other armed merchant ships and Adventurers' vessels. They had all been drawn in by the legend and had a plan: let the *Legendary Pure White Elf Prince* lead the way, and once the treasure appeared, it would be every man for himself—and for their respective 9-, 12-, 18-, 24-, and 32-pounder cannons.
An armed merchantman was a legitimate trader when it had cargo on board. But if it was empty or returning after unloading, it might encounter another vessel and instantly transform: "Halt! This is a r-r-r-r-robbery!"
"It's about time." The director of the Otherworld's live-action *Pirate King*, Singrev, glanced at his Pocket Watch and ordered the *Legendary Pure White Elf Prince* to set sail. In an instant, the other ships followed suit, all leaving the port together. A thousand sails raced across the water—what a spectacular sight!
...
"Sir, the weather's turning foul. You don't think those shorties will stand us up, do you?" "Shorties" was the Istanis' derogatory term for Dwarves. The fleet contained both humans and Elves, who found a rare sense of unity only when looking down on the folk who barely reached their chests.