"My daughter!! My one and only daughter!! I'm losing her to some delinquent!!"
Roswell slammed his large wooden mug down onto the scarred table with a heavy thud. The froth inside his beer sloshed, as droplets managed to spill out slightly.
"The world is ending I tell you! We're all doomed!"
A moment later, he let out a long, unapologetic burp that echoed throughout the pub.
His face was flushed a deep, blotchy red, heat rising from his cheeks to the tops of his ears as a sheen of sweat clung to his brow, catching the dim yellow light overhead. When he blinked, it was slow and uneven, his eyes struggling to settle on any one point as the room seemed to turn ever so slightly around him.
He had only come to eat breakfast, but after what had happened this morning, he found himself drinking... As well as catching up wth a few friends.
On the otherside of the table, what could only appear to be a much older, worn down man shouted as he waved his hand in the air.
"Waiter! More drinks for my deadbeat friend here!"
At the same time, Roswell felt someone's palm pat his back gently, providing him with gentle stimulation to help reorganize his thoughts. Albeit quite slowly, the room seemed to grow more stable, and his mind gradually stopped spinning.
That same person then shouted at the man on the opposing end of the table.
"Seriously?? More drinks?? Do you want to kill him?? He's already on the verge of passing out!"
Letting out a weak laugh, Roswell muttered just under his breath,
"Ryder.. you underestimate me.."
He sharply rose out of his seat, the legs of the chair scraping loudly across the wooden floor. For a split second he swayed, the room pitching sideways, but he planted his boots wide and steadied himself against the table.
His flushed face burned brighter, his eyes blazing with stubborn pride.
"Pass out? What do you mean pass out? Do you know who I am?"
In the pub, a few heads turned in his direction at the commotion he was causing.
"I am the conqueror of one hundred cups! No man can out drink me, I have a gut of steel! You think this weak alcohol can take me out??"
He thumped a fist against his chest for emphasis, nearly missing and having to correct mid-swing. The mugs on the table rattled again as he leaned forward, pointing vaguely in his direction.
"I've wrestled storms fiercer than this ale! This is all but a mere warm up!"
Before he could carry on anymore, Ryder forcefully dragged him back down to his seat. Bringing the drunk awakened back down was easier said than done.
'What on earth is in this brew that's got him acting like this? Was it always this bad??'
"All right that's enough with you. Let's finish what we were talking about."
Roswell slumped forwards as his entire body fell on the upper half of the table, pushing away all of the empty mugs to the floor.
Crying out, he suddenly began to sob,
"AHH..! My daughter! My sweet and lovely daughter! She's being led astray by that ape!"
And just as quickly as he fell into sadness, he was suddenly swallowed by a sudden, blazing fury as a deeper colour surged in his already flushed face.
"I should kill him right now!!"
With a guttural shout, he slammed his fist down against the table, even breaking it in two with his brute strength. At the same time, many more heads turned in his direction out of concern, with the pub attendant even slowly moving his hand under his table.
Noticing all the strange looks, Ryder panicked.
'Please calm down! Please calm down!'
He had to quickly calm him down before they got kicked out. After thinking for a short moment, he gave his own opinion on the matter.
"Perhaps she's just growing up? Any other girl would start being interested in boys at that age. Maybe it's just her time."
The words barely left Ryder's mouth before something abruptly changed in Roswell.
It was as if something had snapped within him, as the hazy blur that clouded his mind vanished at once. The lazy posture he held locked solid, and his breathing quickly steadied and sharpened.
He turned, both slowly and deliberately towards Ryder.
All traces of his drunken state had vanished at once, even the red flush had disappeared. He seemed carved from stone, his jaw tight enough to show the muscle jumping beneath his skin.
But most importantly, he seemed seriously pissed.
"Is that right."
Ryder felt the weight of that single word press down on him like a physical thing. His light smile faltered at first, before falling open in shock.
He had calmed down alright. Just in the way that he'd liked.
'I don't wanna die!'
His voice cracked as he cried out,
"It was a joke! A joke.. yes! Just a joke! What I meant to say was.. that blonde haired bastard is gonna get what's coming to him real soon!!"
For several long seconds, Roswell simply stared at him. The intensity in his eyes sharp enough to cut straight through him in two, yet dealing no physical wound.
And then.. Roswell finally blinked.
The hard edge in his gaze dulled, as though someone had wiped a blade clean of its shine. His focus drifted away once more, as his shoulders loosened and the tight line on his mouth twitched.
A wide loose grin spread slowly across his face, as it flushed red once more.
In a matter of moments, he had quickly become drunk once again.
"Is that so~ I knew I could count on you, Ryder. Unlike that half dead grandpa over there!"
The old mans eyes glowed with amusement, as he let out a low chuckle. A minute later, a waiter come towards them, holding a tray with a single hand with three more wooden beer cups filled to the brim with ale.
Noticing that he had nowhere to put them down, the old man reach down and picked up the broken half of the table with just one hand, carefully lining it against it's separated half as he simply held it in place. After a moment or two, he let go. And somehow the table reminded in tact, the broken seams vanishing without a trace.
It was as if it had never even broken in the first place.
Immediately grabbing one of the beer mugs, he began to chug it down in one gulp, before wiping a small amount of froth that had gotten left around his lips.
Sighing in satisfaction, he said,
"Do you guys want to see something else quite amusing?"
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a thin piece of printed paper before slamming it down on the table, causing it to tremble slightly. Ryder and Roswell leaned over to view it, to which they all had different reactions.
Ryder became completely fear stricken, while Roswell on the other hand, seemed to grow even more angry than before.
Right there, written in bright red ink were the following words:
[War Empire needs you!]
"I snagged it the moment those bastards put it up, they don't even check often enough to know it's gone!"
Seizing another mug and knocking it back in one furious motion, Roswell drank it down immediately as ale spilled from the corner of his mouth. Slamming the empty vessel back down, he growled,
"Those bastards!! Those bastards!!!"
His face burned crimson again, his fingers tightening around the mug until his knuckles turned white.
"They're shooting down every bloody ship that even glances in the direction of one of their fortresses! My shipping vessels have to take entire detours just to avoid them! It's bloody annoying!"
It was only recently that the war empire began to make advances in the storm gods realm, claiming territory and then building their fortresses here. The issue though, was that these territories would occasionally block the more minor trade routes, causing inconvenience to people like Roswell and his company who often used them.
Of course, these fortresses would get shot down regularly by the navy, but just as quickly as they were destroyed, they would also be rebuilt and fortified. Sometimes installed with even more powerful forces to resist with.
But still, they were struggling to maintain a foothold in the twilight sea, and it was for one simple reason.
'We possess the advantage.'
By nature, the people of war were used to fighting on land, where battle on solid ground was second nature to them. However, here in the twilight sea where they were surrounded by almost nothing but water, combat quickly changed. Naval combat was more dominant.
Rough seas, harsh weather and the force created by clashes between awakened could cause boats to tip and overturn. Even if you were able to survive that chaos, fighting under the waves was another matter on its own. The common weapons that they used would even become useless, or lose most of their effectiveness in that scenario.
And then when aspects that could control the seas and storms came into the mix, there was nothing they could really do. They were basically like sitting ducks, and getting rid of them would be a matter of swatting flies out of the air.
And yet...
"When the hell are the navy going to get rid of them??!"
They were strangely absent minded, despite how much conflict they had caused within the other mortal and divine realms alike. It was only a matter of time before the chaos they'd bring would infect these seas too, and yet, the Navy didn't seem to care all that much.
They would cull their numbers down occasionally, but never would they remove them entirely. As a result, they were able to enter neutral territories like these, and as long as they didn't cause too much trouble, the neighbouring kingdoms wouldn't be forced to get involved.
This gave them the free reign to recruit people for their cause. If they couldn't fight back effectively, they would simply pay other more experienced sailors to fight for them. Why do the hard work, when they could convince others for a small sum?
"I've lost so much money to them already, they've costed me far too much.. and your telling those scumbags are down at the docks.. recruiting people to join their bloody crusade???"
It was bonkers. Not only was their little scheme even failing, regardless of whether the scarce amount of awakened here even glanced at the job advert of theirs, they continued to do it anyway. It was as if those people were blinded by a strange delusion, with only their sheer ego pushing them forwards.
"In fact.."
Suddenly rising out of his seat, Roswell declared.
"I'll do something about them right now!"
He was just about to spring to action once again, but then he felt something strong tug at his shoulder, as he was dragged back down to his seat once more.
"Do you want to die that badly?? Did you already forget about Drewey?!"
The name hit harder than any fist. Instantly, his hatred had switched back onto that unforgivable punk.
"And besides...if it's money that's the issue.. I think I could help with that."
Roswell's gaze lowered slowly, suspicion sharpening his features. When he looked at Ryder though, he was already handing him a jet black card.