Locals claim the tavern was blessed by a petty sea spirit when the dock was raised — proof, they say, is the ever-full bilge barrel that once curiously refused to sink a single nail. Mariners tell darker whispers of a reef that moves to demand a toll; those who pay become 'blessed' with good weather for one voyage but owe a favor to the tides. The map table holds the most updated whispers: trade lanes, wreck sites, and the occasional ghost-ship sighting noted in a margin in Marta's shaky script.