Chapter 163: The Angry Little Man

In the worlds of leveling, adventuring, and politics, there were a lot of different fellows with a lot of different temperaments. But among the especially powerful and great, there were—and would naturally always be—those with severely violent and unhinged streaks. People who, justified or not, tended to become increasingly volatile and dangerous the more they were angered, disappointed, or otherwise dissatisfied with any given situation.

Throughout his life, Haisel had known many of these people. His father had been one of them. As a child, his mother used to suffer terribly under the fist or palm of the irate man, who when angered, would rapidly turn from a calm husband into an abusive, wife-beating piece of filth. The power given to him by the Royal Roses had only made things worse, enabling his most nefarious instincts in both private and public.

Through his father, Haisel had learned to identify and recognize the signs and mannerisms of those predisposed to violent aggression so that when it came to detecting the dangerously unhinged, Haisel had a freakishly good sense. He knew their type and could spot them a mile away. He could pick these people out of a crowd and be right 100 out of 100 times. And it was for this very reason that Haisel could say with devout certainty that Vim Alazar, the leader of the Royal Roses, was emphatically, unquestionably, and unequivocally not one of these men.

No, he most certainly was not—and it was because he didn’t need to be.

In contrast to those who opted to be physically abusive, Vim’s weapon of choice had always been his mouth. In fact, in all the years that Haisel had known Vim, he had never once seen the man strike another person solely due to anger. But that was not to say that Vim could not become angry. Gods, no. If anything, the man had a deeply rooted issue with anger. It was simply the case that violence was not his outlet for expressing it. Instead, Vim chose to be ruthless with his speech.

Often, the angrier Vim became, the harsher his rhetoric. There seemed to be no upper limit to this, either: no point whereby he became so enraged that he switched over from words to seeking blood. No, he would simply continue to escalate verbally until the situation either resolved on its own or he had created an enemy for life.

And why did all this matter? Why did Haisel care? Why would he even bother to reflect upon this now, of all times? The answer was actually very simple. The reason for Haisel mulling over Vim’s temperament was because, right now, in the skies above, one of their precious, invaluable fighter jets had just been split into two separate pieces and then subsequently exploded into a ball of fire. And it was upon seeing the destroyed jet’s blasted-apart wreckage falling down to the surface that Haisel recalled Vim’s quick temper—because he just knew that Vim was going to take this very, very poorly.

“GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” cried a type of creature that Haisel never wanted to see again.

Slightly less than half the size of Ziragoth, yet still large enough to be clearly seen even all the way across the city and off the coast, a large, crystal-colored drake had taken command of the skies, and at the moment, it was soaring after one of their fighter jets having only just blown to bits another of their F15s, destroying it completely. Smoke trailing out of its partially opened mouth, the creature released another roar as it flapped its powerful, spiked wings and sped up in pursuit of the three supersonic aircraft that were retreating from northwest Shadowfall Coast. Yet despite the incredible speed of the F-15E Strike Eagles, the Sky Drake was faster.

“Command, I can’t…I can’t get it off me!” one of the pilots screamed. “I’m ejecting!”

The dragon attacked with a powerful, chomping bite, snapping its jaws shut and obliterating the aircraft. The plane was too far away for Haisel to see if the pilot had ejected, but even if he had, Haisel doubted it would’ve made much of a difference. The man was inside the belly of that beast in either circumstance. And Vim Alazar, the leader of the Royal Roses, was clearly displeased to see this.

“I’m guessing you didn’t plan for this possibility?” he asked Haisel, cocking his right eyebrow. The diminutive man’s gaze had turned sharp and was now focused solely upon him. Haisel could therefore visually see his mood souring.

Until just this moment, Vim had been in high spirits. He’d also looked far more alive, too, though that was partly because he was back in his best equipment and had been reacquainted with his favorite staff. Haisel, deciding to plan for success and not failure, had retrieved all of Vim’s belongings from guild storage and had brought them here in the event they succeeded in rescuing him. And so now, Vim stood on the deck of the Piercing Thorn bedecked in tulle, red-and-brown robes, with the glowing red insignia of the Royal Roses on the front of the right breast; his rings, bracelets, and other gear were also back where they belonged.

With a clear sense of momentum on their side, Vim had scraped together every available fighter they could find aboard the Piercing Thorn and the surviving battlecruisers, and he himself had been just about to head to the shore to join in the fighting. But then that damn dragon appeared, and now, Haisel had the very strong sense that the occasionally foul-tempered guild leader was about to let himself loose.

And he was right.

“I…I’d forgotten all about that artifact-quality ring,” Haisel said, even as he knew the explanation wouldn’t suffice. “I believed that with the enemy’s anti-aircraft capabilities so severely diminished, our fighter jets would be clear to attack. I regrettably forgot all about the ring that was stolen.”

Vim dismissively shook his head. “Oh, you forgot, did you? And what else of importance have you forgotten, you potato-brained, moronic imbecile? The Gods curse you for letting this happen! Oh, and look. Look, Haisel! There goes a third fighter jet. Ka-boom. And…yep, there goes the fourth. Congratulations. You just cost our allies their lifeline and put our guild at an even bigger disadvantage. Well done. I’m ordering my tailor to make you a suit with a big gold star on it because at least you ‘tried your best.’”

To Haisel’s shame, Vim actually began to enthusiastically clap, releasing a completely insincere round of applause. “What a good job you did.”

Haisel held his breath a moment before releasing it. “I apologize for not anticipating this, Vim, but you can’t blame me for it. A lot was going on.”

“Not in your brain, it wasn’t,” he replied viciously. “And look, it’s coming straight for us now.”

The dragon’s form appeared to grow as it flew nearer. The beast was clearly heading in their direction, as whoever was controlling it had decided to put the Royal Roses in his or her sights. Most likely, the dragon’s controller was none other than King Morrison himself.

“That thing will destroy the entire fleet,” Haisel said. Then he gasped. “We need to evacuate everyone immediately while there’s still time. We’ll all have to push to the city together, combatant and non-combatant alike.”

Vim’s face turned so red that, for a moment, Haisel worried it would pop. “So this battle is not only costing us all of our fighters but our entire fleet as well? Wonderfully done, Haisel. Wonderful. My ace commander, everyone. Haisel Ragora.” He spat on the deck. "Just stay put. I'll handle this. But you just cost us more than you know. We're already close to poor!"

Vim rubbed his face as though frustrated. "You don't even know what this will cost me now," he grumbled. Then he began muttering about gold.

Haisel held his tongue, not wishing to further provoke the man, who would only ratchet things up more and more. At the very least, if Vim’s rage was contained to him and him alone, it wouldn’t cause any problems, as he’d long learned to shoulder the brunt of the little man’s invective. But then Vim did something truly unwise: something spectacularly terrible, even. Vim tilted his ear slightly and decided to use his Comm.

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“Queen Vayra,” he said. “Do you read me?”

“What is it now?” the Elvish queen replied. She grunted several times over the Comm and then released what sounded like an angry battle-cry. A moment later, she asked, “What is it? What do you want?”

“I need you to get over here immediately,” Vim said to her. “The Guild of Gentlemen just summoned a dragon and they’re ripping apart priceless assets of ours.”

“And? I fail to see how that’s my problem. Honestly, what is it with you and the young one that you both keep hassling me each time you fail to stand on your own two feet?”

A wrinkle formed in Vim’s forehead, and it caused Haisel to involuntarily strain the muscles in his body apprehensively, as he knew that this could turn very bad, very fast. He tried to give Vim his most ardent “calm down” look, but this seemed to have the opposite effect.

“A hassle, is it?” he asked.

“Yes. Quite the hassle.”

The wrinkle deepened. Vim was getting angry. Gods, this wasn’t good! His ability to remain civil could typically be measured in seconds—and that was on a good day. But when disrespected as he’d just been, Vim often tended to go overboard in retaliation. Haisel prayed he did not make this one of those times.

“Maybe I wasn’t clear,” he said. “Right now, and without delay, Fylwen, you need to get your fat fucking Elvish ass on one of your dainty little unicorns, and you need to fight that dragon. And I don’t give a damn if that’s a hassle for you, sweetheart.”

“Excuse yourself!” the queen shouted over the Comm. “In what universe do you find yourself audacious enough to take that tone with me, Gnome? I’ve killed for far, far less!”

Vim scowled as he spoke to her. “Yes, you have, and that’s not exactly something you should be bragging about, you psychopathic, crazy-brained lunatic. Now get that fat ass on a unicorn right now or I’ll increase the cost of shipping freight out of Whispery Woods by 800% and then some.”

“YOU DARE!” she yelled at him. “I warn you, Sir Alazar. Continue to use that tone with me, and I shall do as you ask, but only so that I may sink your fleet and then feast on your bones!”

Vim rolled his eyes as he replied to her over the Comm. “Oh yeah? Well, maybe you should start feasting on bones, Fylwen. You’ve clearly been having too much cake lately. If that fat ass of yours gets any bigger, the unicorn won’t be able to fly with you sitting on it.”

Haisel trembled as he listened to this conversation continue. Why did Vim have to be like this? Why, why, why? Did he not understand that he was dealing with one of the most dangerous and powerful people on Galterra? Did he have no idea how foolish, absurd, and suicidal it was to provoke the Elvish queen? Why couldn’t he just control himself?

He’ll get us all killed!

Haisel tried gesturing with his hands for Vim to calm down, and in addition, he shot his guild leader such powerfully strong looks of warning that the muscles in his face began to ache. But Vim merely scowled at him, and in all honesty, the damage was probably already done. Even as she engaged in battle with enemies from the Guild of Gentlemen, Haisel could actually hear the Elvish queen hiss with anger.

“You shall pay dearly for your words, you insolent, disrespectful, vulgar little Gnome!”

Vim made a “pfft” sound into the Comm. “Oh, I’m vulgar? Really? Didn’t you murder Zach and your own niece? That sounds pretty vulgar to me, so spare me your bullshit, Fylwen. Right now, our most important weapons are being eaten by a Gods-be-damned dragon, and your Elves are the only ones who can do anything about it. So do it. Now.”

“Never!” she actually shrieked into the Comm. “I shall never aid you! And when this war is over, perhaps my Elves will pay a visit to Giant’s Fall and burn it to the ground!”

Vim pulled back his lips and shouted right back at her. “You want to burn something so badly, Fylwen? How about a few calories, you fat bitch!”

“YOU WILL PAY WITH YOUR LIFE FOR THAT REMARK, VIM ALAZAR!”

“Fuck you too!” he yelled at her.

He disconnected her from the Comm line, cutting off all communication. And then, as Haisel stared at him in absolute bewilderment—a state of shock so powerful that he could no longer even blink, let alone move—Vim continued on nonchalantly as though nothing at all had happened. In fact, with an air of something close to indifference, he began resuming preparations make his way to the shore with Haisel while humming a shanty. It was as though his fierce anger had just abated into nothing: like he didn’t care one way or another about the conversation he’d just had.

“We’re going to end this today, Haisel,” he said. “Even if we lose every ship and every plane: the Guild of Gentlemen are done for.”

Haisel was still far too overcome with disbelief to reply. He watched in awe as Vim carried on like nothing had happened. Where had all his anger gone? Had it really just vanished? He was back to how he’d been before the dragon appeared. He was calm, collected, and seemingly unconcerned in the slightest about the consequences he might face as a result of spewing such venom at the Elvish queen. His anger was just…gone.

Until it wasn’t.

Somehow, Queen Vayra managed to get around whatever Vim had done to disconnect her, and her voice began blaring over the Comm. And the moment it did, Vim’s anger reignited so quickly it was like turning on a light switch.

“You’re about to be in even more trouble than the Guild of Gentlemen, you foolish little Gnome! Did you really just disconnect me? Now you’ve done it. Your impudence will cost you everything, little man!”

“Oh, spare me the outrage, you twisted little Elvish demon!” he shouted back at Fylwen, his anger just outright reappearing without any kind of ramp-up or transition. “I have nothing to say to you until you deal with the dragon. I need to see some unicorns flying at the dragon before I’m willing to listen to more of your whining.”

“That you think there’s even a chance, however remote, that I would help you after the way you’ve disrespected me is so outrageous that it calls into question your sanity. At this point, you should be begging for your life, though even then I cannot fathom the idea of sparing it. You’ve crossed a line!”

“Oh, I’m so scared, Fylwen,” he said mockingly. “I’m so scared.”

Haisel was so stunned by the way the two of them were acting that he was just about mesmerized by it. And what made everything even more surprising was that, prior to a minute or two ago, Vim and Queen Vayra had not had any bad blood between one another or any kind of history that would’ve led to something like this.

Unless Haisel was severely mistaken about the facts, what he was witnessing was not the result of some long-simmering dispute or discontent between the two. For the most part, they’d only interacted a few times with one another outside of fighting in close proximity during the dragon raid. Besides that, there’d been a few spirited negotiations between the Royal Roses and the Elvish, but really, things had been fine and cordial. This meant that their sudden feud really was an impromptu, organic, and spontaneous explosion of anger that was likely the direct result of two hotheaded personalities setting one another off without any pretext or prior motivating factors. It was just so unnecessary.

“I will rip off your limbs one at a time,” Queen Vayra threatened over the Comm. I will dig my thumbs into your eye-sockets just like I’m doing to this human here.” A man’s screaming could be heard in the background. “You’ll pay for your disrespect.”

Vim’s response was to yawn into the Comm. “I’m looking up, but I still just see the dragon. Where are my unicorn-mounted warriors?”

His words caused the queen to growl over the Comm. He was provoking her, and she was provoking him. And then things became so bizarre that Haisel gave up trying to understand what wild thoughts and impulses were running through the heads of either of these two individuals.

“You’ll be seeing them soon enough!” she threatened.

Vim opened his mouth as though to shout, but then he paused as the level-190 Sky Drake roared as it flew ever closer. Now, he sighed. “Okay, fine. I give up, Fylwen. How much?”

“Excuse me?” Fylwen asked, her tone heated.

“Gods-dammit, Fylwen! How much?”

“Hmm?”

“Stop playing dumb,” he growled. “How much?”

There was a pause. A long, lingering pause, during which the dragon roared again and continued to fly close enough so that its full form was visible, and its wings were audibly thwapping against the air.

“Two-hundred million.”

Vim swore, loudly and angrily. “For killing a mob?”

“It’s a level-190 Sky Drake.”

“We’re supposed to be allies!”

“Perhaps. But that’s still the price.”

“My guild is already close to bankrupt!”

“Is that so? How horrid. If only I cared. Pity you had to go calling me fat. Perhaps it’d only be half otherwise.”

"Does it help if I admit how much I enjoy staring at that big booty?"

"It makes it worse."

Vim released a loud groan. “Fine. Just get over here already. You get nothing if our aircraft carrier sinks.”

“Very well. I’ll deal with it personally.”

Haisel blinked, confused. What the hell just happened? Why had it happened? What had he just been listening to? He had no idea what kind of conversation he’d just overheard or what had even just taken place. But at least it seemed like somehow, inexplicably, the Elvish queen was going to heed Vim’s call for aid after all.

Haisel opened his mouth to ask Vim to explain just what in the name of the Gods he’d witnessed, but he shut it and decided he likely still wouldn’t get it even if Vim was charitable enough to offer a non-malicious answer. Vim was an angry little man.

But he was effective.