The salty sea air tickled Solomon's nose. It filled him with a sense of warm nostalgia.
He always liked the ocean. His old home used to have a perfect view of it.
Its beauty and power were incontestable. Solomon thought that such a thing was to be admired.
As he stared out into the watery distance, it was easy to see that his mood was elevated.
He hummed to himself subtly as he closed his eyes
No one on board heard him, though. The men on board were all busy singing a crude shanty with Raizel, and thus they couldn't have cared less about Solomon's polite little humming.
"THE SEA IS A LADY BOTH CRUEL AND KIND, SHE'LL SPREAD HER LEGS AND ROB YOU BLIND!
BUT I CAME ACROSS A MISTRESS SO FAIR AND FINE I COULDN'T RESIST THE ALLURE OF ONE NIGHT!
WITH RUM ON HER LIPS AND THOSE WONDERFUL HIPS, ONE SWING OF HER BUTT COULD TURN EVEN SHIPS!
WHEN I TOUCHED HER THIGH, SHE SAID IT WAS HER TIME AND EXPECTED ME TO CURL UP AND WHINE!
BUT SHE DIDN'T KNOW I WAS A MAN OF THE SEA AND A MAN OF THE SEA DOESN'T RUN FROM RED, I SHOWED HER MY SWORD AND TOOK HER TO BED!
TWO HOURS GO BY AND WE'RE SLICK WITH SWEAT AND SHE'S PLEADING WITH ME TO WED HER NEXT WEEK!
BUT I KISSED HER CHEEK AND TOLD HER IT COULDN'T BE BECAUSE I ALREADY BELONGED TO THE SEA! TO THE LADY OF THE SEAAAA!"
Solomon had listened the first couple of times, but after the fifth encore, he had begun to tune the men out. They were currently on the twelfth.
He was kind of used to things like this happening by now. Raizel, in contrast with his tenacious work ethic, was an avid celebrator. He tended to cause scenes similar to this everywhere he went.
His personality just compelled people to lower their inhibitions and laugh. It was a skill Solomon was often envious of.
All he knew how to do was be off-putting.
"Oh, no, brother, not on my watch!"
Raizel suddenly swooped in and gave Solomon a shove.
"No brother of mine is going to stand around looking somber on his 20th day of living! You're a knight, not a tavern bouncer!"
A wry smile slipped onto Solomon's lips.
"Appreciate the offer, but I'd rather you just tell me why we're on the ocean now."
Raizel huffed. "Think of it like paying our dues. We're just making sure nothing unsavory crosses the waters of our fair home before we leave."
"We hate this place."
"Well then, we're not going to do a very good job at searching for contraband."
Solomon narrowed his eyes. Raizel pouted slightly.
"….You're not gonna sing, are you-"
"No, I'm not going to sing."
"I think it's because you can't."
"I don't give a damn what you think."
Raizel stared at his brother expectantly.
He slowly started tapping his foot on the ground rhythmically, an evil smile forming on his face.
Solomon ignored him, but the rhythmic tapping became louder and more infectious.
It chipped away at his stoic demeanor, beat by beat, rhythm by rhythm.
"…" Solomon finally opened his mouth to speak.
"CONTACT!"
One of the shipmates suddenly yelled out to capture the attention of the men on board.
Several miles out, a large white ship was sailing smoothly toward the west.
It was the very definition of extravagant.
White and gold sails bolstered the emblem of five radiant figures casting lengthy shadows over the world.
Out of the corner of his eye, Solomon noticed Raizel's lip twitch several times in a row, almost as if he was suppressing a smile.
Whenever his brother did that, it was a sure indication that they were about to walk into a visceral shit storm.
-
The Olethros have unusually strict territorial policies.
Any ship that crosses their waters is subject to search, and if contraband is found, seizure.
Because of this, few will travel along their coasts unless they absolutely have to.
Or unless they want to seem like they have nothing to hide.
"Welcome, welcome! Please, come aboard and lay down your arms, mighty men. You will find only friends here."
Solomon found himself straining his neck to look upward.
The man in front of him was truly enormous in both size and stature.
He must have been at least twelve feet tall. With a bulbous body covered by splendid red robes bearing the same insignia as the flag above their heads.
His face was marred by deep red blemishes that looked terribly itchy. He bore a shiny bald head that reflected the radiance of the sun back to the heavens.
It was clear he had not slept in some time. His green eyes were bloodshot and bore dark, heavy bags.
Despite what presented as a clear lack of energy, the giant did not hesitate to meet the boarding party with a smile brimming with short, pointed teeth.
"Glory to the Athanatoi, brothers. What brings you on board our…" The large man's face slowly contorted into a symbol of confusion. "Are you alright?"
Solomon turned his head slightly and found his brother staring up at the man with glitter in his eyes.
He smacked Raizel over the head hard just to make him stop.
"Please excuse my brother… our island has no inhumans so he's a bit starstruck." Solomon apologized.
The giant blinked the skepticism out of his eyes. "Oh… oh, I see. So that must make me something of a celebrity then! How kind of you! Hahahahaha!!!"
The giant's deep, powerful laughter shook the ship like a righteous storm.
Solomon could have sworn that he even heard the floorboards creaking.
The giant wiped his eyes of running tears and smiled at the young men earnestly.
"I am Archbishop Byrn of the Church of The Formless. May I know your names, swordsmen?"
Recovered from his moment of stupor, Raizel pointed to himself, then Solomon.
"Raizel. Solomon."
"….How delightfully informal! HAHAHAHA!!!"
Raizel scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Right, well, sorry to inconvenience you, but in accordance with the laws set by the Olethros Clan, I'm afraid we have to search your vessel for any kind of contraband."
"Ohohoho.." The large archbishop looked amused. "Well, I can assure you, such a thing is hardly necessary. As you can see, all we are carrying on board this ship is lost souls."
Bishop Byrn gestured to the main deck full of bodies behind him.
There, Solomon and Raizel were met with a most depressing sight.
A sea of emaciated bodies littered the deck as far as the eye could see.
They were men and women of various ages, all of them equally feeble-looking and sickly.
Their only clothes were simple rags and footwrapings that acted as shoes. Some, despite looking awake, were drooling and had an unfocused look in their eyes.
Solomon knew they were ill, but he couldn't pinpoint what kind of ailment did this much damage to the body.
"What's wrong with them?" He asked, clear concern in his voice. "What kind of disease do they have?"
Before the archbishop could answer, Raizel surprised both of them by answering first.
"The worst kind, brother. Addiction. These people are addicted to Star Powder."