When Charles was brought before Swan, he found the fat man rapidly typing away at a typewriter.
"You're here?" Swan said without even looking up.
Seeing his cold attitude, Charles was a bit surprised. This guy hadn't been like this before. Since Swan wasn't in the mood for pleasantries, Charles was perfectly happy to get straight to the point.
"I need to commission a special ship. I might need to use your Navy-only shipyard for it."
A dark object flew straight at Charles. He caught it one-handed and found it was a medallion forged from various flat gears.
"Take this medallion; the people at the shipyard will listen to you. You still have to pay, though. If there's nothing else, you can go. I'm a man with twelve islands now—I'm not on the same level as you little governors," Swan said, his voice dripping with open contempt.
Charles frowned, glanced at Swan's slightly balding head, then turned and walked toward the door.
