175 Fishman Island: A single rock (1/2)

Fun and games aside, Fawkes' disappearance had begun to worry me a little. The man was as strong as I was, and if what Rein had to say was right, then he had been yoinked away. Though he had assured me that the women looked harmless, and Fawkes had only been startled by the suddenness of the situation it had still begun to bug me.

I did not want a second Sphinx after all. I would rather not see those I now considered siblings bloody.

The light from the tree in the distance cast a vague shadow over my face, as if it had begun to wane. The tree itself was built to emulate the day-night cycles from the surface, and though it would not completely darken, the surroundings would still dim.

As the last of the ships docked at the side finished unloading, the sailors got off board. A litany of fishmen leaving their posts to scour the town for the nearest tavern, no doubt.

This was the beginning of happy hour on the undersea island. From what I had heard they had a unique liquor, made from the extract of reef exposed to some form of liquid. I wasnt completely sure of the process, only that the liquor was pretty strong stuff. I would have maybe decided to indulge myself too, had it not been for the current situation.

Minutes passed by as I stood silently at the stern of the ship. The surrounding seemingly finally settling down at what could be considered 'night' on the island. The first wave of stragglers began to return.

Lodging on the island was often too scarce to trust in, so most of the travelling sailors often slept within their own ships.

The crew had long begun to experiment within the ship's kitchens. We would usually be staring at Fawkes' back as he blazed through the kitchen making us a particularly tasty entree. Now that he was absent the rest of the crew decided to try their hands at the culinary art.

I for one knew that I was terrible at it. The last time I had attempted to cook, there had been a whole fire, with the resultant food being pretty much inedible.

A loud crash brought our attention to the fore, as those that had been seated below deck ran out. A small group of skinny fishmen regarded us with blazing eyes that had been dulled with the onset of the alcohol.

”It's cause of you lot...” he guzzled out as his small group of lackeys nodded their heads, equally intoxicated.

”You lot are the ones that did it...” He continued shakily fumbling in his dirty white clothes and pulling out a cooking knife.

He waved it in the air threateningly before hobbling to the side of the ship.

”Fir-firsht ya take big bro Tiger! The-then you even take the Queen! Where did you even get the guts to saunter back here again?! Filthy Humans!! You lot are a group of murders!! Dea-” here he paused slightly his face going pale as he retched, though his stomach was strong enough to hold its contents inside.

”Selling us around like cattle! Fuck you Humans and yer high handed attitude! Just cause we nice folk have a pair of gills or look a certain way, you lot trample all over us!! FUCK YOU!!!” he roared, punching angrily at the boat's side.

I stared at him impassively, nonchalant as if those words flew over my head. Angella was the one most affected, especially by what the second man had said. After all, she too had been enslaved at one point. She knew how they felt.

Terrick mutely looked at them, before snorting and going back below deck. There was nothing he could do about the situation. They wanted to bluster and he could not care less. If they attempted to harm anyone on the ship however, he would be the first to cut them a new pair of gills.