Tribals - Section 1 l Chapter 1 l Part 1

The pub was crowded at night, people were ordering drinks and turning into a completely different person by the end of this. Ladies dressed in frilly skirts and snow blouse aimlessly wandered around with a cocoa-colored tray that they held in balance. On top of those trays were mugs of foamy, bubbly drinks. It seemed these were the ones getting the men intoxicated. The atmosphere of this place was noisy, the exact opposite of the bar I went into last town. It was livelier, so I wouldn’t complain as much. I just didn’t find the excitement that everybody was sharing.

One lady noticed a figure sitting by the corner of the pub. He—or rather I—hadn’t had a table, resting by a place that she deemed dirty (judging from her expression). Walking over to him, she noted the first thing that caught her fancy. It was his brilliant and mysterious silvery eyes. Never had she seen such colors on a human being nor had she seen a person who would enjoy sitting on the ground in this pub. The next thing was his warm golden hair and the small, almost antique, round glasses resting upon the bridge of his nose. Apart from all the men around her partying ‘till the end of night, this person was quietly reading a book. Obviously, she was unaware that he was studying her the whole entire time.

Snapping out of her daze, she realized she was still at work and hurriedly approached me. She gave me the same business smile as the other lady who greeted me when I first arrived. Then she asked why I didn’t take a seat. I told her that I was more comfortable on the ground. She pouted and replied, “Well, you won’t get a good sight for the show if you just sit there. Come on!”

Proceeding to grab my wrist, she yanked me up from the dusty floor and pushed me to another corner, except I was to sit on a chair. I sighed, giving her a look and noting that she was waiting for me to order something. I glanced around another time, seeing that the bubbly, gilt drink was what everybody was getting, I said, “I’ll take what those people are getting.”

“One honey ale, coming up.”

I nodded, taking in a word that I just learned.

That girl seemed to understand me as to why she gave me a table that wasn’t particularly near anybody going crazy. And though this was a bit far apart, this place had nice view of the stage. She said something about a show. Was this why everybody was here?

Touching the leather-bound book, I read the title, “History of Romero.” The book was written by an unnamed historian and it spoke of the legacy of both King Romero I and the kingdom he built. It began with him born into a family of many. His family lived in the city of Resk—now named Romero. Being the youngest, he was often teased and this caused him to escape from his life. He was then kidnapped and sold into slavery for twelve years. The experience he had during those times hardened him up and when he bought his freedom, he returned to his family where he murdered all of them. Finally, he caused a revolution within the City of Resk due to the time it was ruled by an unlawful king. A simple slave like Romero risen to the ranks of nobility and built an empire for himself.

I discovered this fascinating piece of antiquity two years ago on the body of a dead Romero soldier. Whether it was true or not, there was certainly a City of Romero. From what he collected from daylight ‘till now, this city was flourishing with wealth. It astonished him, reminding him of the story of King Romero I. How could a heartless beast be such a great king? Had he ruled through fear or through respect? It was an answer I desired. Already did I find myself secure in this city. Anything was better than being back at [ ]. Though my comrades was pleased to be of use by the Generals, I wasn’t. It was the reason why I fled from that warring country. I had no obligation to stay in the battlefield.

Placing the book down, I thought about the Dead Ground. It was a year since the stalemate between the Romero Empire and the Country of [ ]. Magic was a formidable strength for the Romero Empire and with their latest invention of guns, it could possibly push their enemy back. Though they’d better work promptly on their creation, because there was an unbelievable amount of Tribals being pumped into the war.

The same girl came back with a mug in her hand, placing it down on my table. I thanked her as she left. I remembered those people having a name for their position. It was a waiter or something. Anyways, I gazed at the drink. People were drinking these, but I never once tried this. Draping my fingers around the handle, I pulled it up to my mouth and took a sip. Immediately I slammed it on the table with a frown on my face. It was bitter—a little bit sweet—how could people drink this? While complaining, I had another.

By the time that I finished, the room darkened and a single light pointed at the stage. Where that light was coming from, I had no idea. There was a woman standing upon the platform, she was holding what appeared to be a guitar, but thinner. I became curious about this instrument she was holding. After a second, she started playing and felt like all the shouting and yelling had died down. The atmosphere felt mellow. Everybody became quiet, a sign of respect. I watched her performance with my utmost attention, analyzing at every single movement she made to play her song.

This was a nice city. I wished that it stayed this way.

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A/N: I haven't gotten a name for the other country yet. It'll come to be eventually. Anyways, this is a new story I'm starting for the moment. Still piecing in the world because I'm a bit confused. Not exactly, but some details I need to polish.

It's weird how I split this, and the title's too long. Heh.