The waters here churned violently, and the sea wind carried a pungent salty reek and flecks of ice.
With both hands in the pockets of his black coat, Solomon headed straight for the village's only rundown tavern, which glowed with dim yellow light.
He pushed open the creaking wooden door, and a pungent mixture of cheap ale, cigarette smoke, and the body odor of people who rarely bathed hit him in the face.
The tavern was packed with local fishermen dressed in heavy furs and coarse clothing. The noise cut off the instant Solomon opened the door.
Everyone glared at this uninvited Chinese stranger with wariness, disgust, and even hostility.
At a wooden table in the farthest corner of the bar, a bear of a man with wild, long hair and a thick beard was ferociously downing hard liquor.
Arthur Curry, the future king of Atlantis, Aquaman.
Solomon walked through the crowd as if no one else were there, went straight to Arthur's table, and sat down, tapping his fingers against the liquor-stained tabletop.
"Arthur Curry."
Solomon got straight to the point, his tone calm.
But Arthur, who was drinking heavily, did not even lift his eyelids. He slammed his empty glass onto the table and let out a coarse, drunken belch.
"Get out."
Arthur's voice rumbled like muffled thunder, full of wild drunkenness and undisguised disgust.
"Outsiders aren't welcome here. Get out of my sight before I beat you to a pulp and throw you into the sea."
The fishermen around them also rose to their feet, their expressions vicious. Clutching bottles and harpoons, they surrounded Solomon.
To these ignorant, xenophobic villagers, Arthur was a god who blessed them with bountiful catches, while Solomon was clearly an intruder looking for trouble.
Faced with hostility and threats from every direction,