Serenity already knew that his “question” wouldn’t get the response he was looking for, or at least it wouldn’t get the response he should be looking for. He wasn’t sure what he could have said that would be better; he probably should have simply kept his mouth shut in the first place.
Lykandeon started laughing. Strangely, it wasn’t the sort of laughter Serenity expected, the joy in another misfortune where someone laughed at someone who screwed up and was about to be punished. It also wasn’t the laugh of a bully trying to make himself seem strong or tough.
No, it seemed to be an actual laugh. A full-body laugh. Serenity thought he even saw tears shining at the edges of Lykandeon’s eyes. That was not at all what Serenity expected; it left him feeling a little confused.
“Haah. Oh my. I haven’t had anyone say anything that pointed in years. Decades. Why, I think the last person was my dear Karin! That’s why I made her High Priest, you know. You’ve got to have people who will stand up to you when you’re powerful. But you know that, don’t you?” Lykandeon had a giant grin on his face as he spoke.
Serenity blinked. He glanced over at the scantily-clad High Priestess Karin, who still hadn’t broken her expressionless mask, then back at Lykandeon. He wasn’t sure if the sudden affability was real or a trap but he knew he couldn’t take it at face value. Unfortunately, he couldn’t completely disregard it either.
Why was he always having to deal with people? People were hard!
Serenity decided to answer cautiously. “If people always agree with you and tell you what you want to hear, you don’t know the truth.”
“Well isn’t that a boring answer! Come on, relax, it’s just us men here, and you’re not exactly a nobody, are you? Tell me what you really think!” Lykandeon lifted himself to a seated position on the couch; if anything, he was leaning slightly forward.
Serenity glanced at Karin again. She was still there. “Just us men?”
Lykandeon waved off the concern. “Oh, she doesn’t count. All of her power comes from me, she might as well just be a toy. There are really only two people on Aeon right now that matter, you and me. You only matter because I let you, but it’s more fun this way.”
Serenity wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened or how it was even possible, but he thought his opinion of Lykandeon was actually getting worse. “I thought you valued her for how she stood up to you?”
Lykandeon shrugged carelessly. “That was then, this is now. She hasn’t said anything of note for years. I miss the fire, sometimes. She could be extra spicy back then. Now she’s skilled, good reason to leave her in her position, but that initiative and drive is gone. I guess she didn’t have it in her to stay; it’s only to be expected in a woman anyway. Everything becomes about their man once they find him, you know.”
Serenity tried not to gag at the misogyny. “And that’s you, I suppose?”
He didn’t think he’d managed to keep the doubt out of his voice. His suspicion was confirmed by Lykandeon’s bark of laughter. “Of course! All women want a powerful man, and what’s more powerful than a god?”
Serenity could answer that quite literally if he chose. He knew a number of things that were more powerful than a god, especially a piddly little Tier Ten or so god like Lykandeon.
He kept his mouth shut anyway. He was only Tier Four; he didn’t need to completely piss off the loose warhead across the room from him. He was bad at staying silent, so he decided the better course of action was to pull the conversation back to where he wanted it to go. “Then you can find my people and return them to me. That’s within your power, isn’t it?”
That was probably a bit sharper than he should have said it.
“Stop being boring!” Lykandeon complained with a sudden frown. “Your people this, your people that. It’s only a few thousand people and none are over Tier One, that can’t possibly be what you want! Tell the truth, who or what do you really want?”
Was Lykandeon twelve?
No, he was simply powerful enough that, despite what he said about liking it when people stood up to him, he was simply used to always getting his way. He must also assume that people thought the same way he did, which said that Lykandeon really didn’t care about people unless they were specifically important to him.
Serenity couldn’t throw too many stones at that; in truth, he was the same way. Most humans were, and even if Serenity wasn’t human anymore he knew he thought like one.
Serenity sighed. This was not going to be the easiest negotiation he’d ever held. With luck, it also wouldn’t be even close to the worst.
Of course, his bar for “the worst” was pretty low. It was probably the time he’d ended up running away from the throne room after triggering a massive ritual he’d prepared in advance to destroy the entire area, including much of the country that was “negotiating” with him. Admittedly, neither side was exactly negotiating in good faith that time; his countermeasures were simply faster.
Even if that one didn’t count, he could come up with others. The time he’d somehow managed to piss off the Emperor of Kheeta’s chief concubine without realizing it and ended up dodging assassins for a decade was memorable. Surely this wouldn’t be that bad. Surely.
Serenity shook his head. “Why do people always assume lies? They’re my people. You do not steal my people. It’s that simple. Talk them into leaving, fine. Pay them enough, that’s okay too. Stealing them? I won’t stand for it. I will get them back and -”
Serenity forced himself to stop before he started ranting about making the kidnappers pay. He definitely wanted to, but he wasn’t going to jeopardize the rescue effort for a little retribution. Retribution could come after he’d recovered his people. Warning Lykandeon wouldn’t help.
Lykandeon stared at Serenity.
Serenity waited for a response, but there didn’t seem to be one coming. “Well? Are you going to help me get my people back or not?”
Lykandeon took a step to the side and set his hand on top of the floating green World Core.
Serenity tensed, concerned that Lykandeon might attack, but he wasn’t certain what to do. A shield perhaps? The problem was that a shield wouldn’t be enough against a god’s power unless it was very carefully designed; even at an equivalent Tier, gods were special. They were very focused but in their areas they were hard to beat. A god’s offensive spell was somehow special; it was one of the reasons most people wanted the protection of one god before they fought another.
It wasn’t necessary but it certainly helped.
The odd thing was that Serenity still didn’t feel any particular threat from Lykandeon. Either he wasn’t particularly hostile or his aura control was excellent. The lack of warning from Moment of Prescience could mean all sorts of things; if it wasn’t fast and soon, it might not warn him.
Perhaps he should try to trigger the shielding spell runes he had on his body? The fact that they burned all of his mana when they self-triggered made that distinctly undesirable, but manually triggering them too early would mean they might not be available when he needed them. No, he’d have to wait; if he got a warning from Moment of Prescience, he could use them then. Otherwise he’d just have to depend on their automated capability.
They might not do much anyway. Serenity could still remember Helios’s attack burning through his chest. He wasn’t even certain the runes had triggered, but even if they had they wouldn’t have stopped the attack. They probably wouldn’t have even reduced it to something human-survivable. The fact that he could apparently survive with a significant portion of his chest turned to charcoal as long as he had the chance to heal afterwards didn’t mean the runes were sufficient or even helpful.
“Answer me. Why are you here?” As Lykandeon spoke, the room’s light changed from the slightly off-yellow of ordinary sunlight to a greenish hue. “You will tell the truth.”
Serenity was actually slightly relieved by the effect Lykandeon was causing. It was probably divination-adjacent; while that wasn’t an area Vengeance had given much study, he still knew the basics. An externally powered divination Skill was exactly what it sounded like; the Voice didn’t seem to like mixing secondary effects into divination Skills. It was entirely possible with spells, but they were far too complex to cast in a moment. This was either a Skill or an item of some sort and that meant it was probably straightforward.
It was a good thing Serenity had already been telling the truth. “I’m here because my people were kidnapped from the Tutorial. I want them back.” That wasn’t the only thing he wanted but it was undeniably true. The reason they were on Lyka was the same as the reason they’d left Earth in the first place: people were kidnapped from the Tutorial.
Sure, he might try to leave the universe a slightly better place wherever he went, but that wasn’t why he was there. He was here to rescue his people.
“You’re telling the truth. The complete truth.” Lykandeon sounded startled. No, shocked. He sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “You’re really here for a few useless people. Maybe there’s someone really valuable in the group?”
Lykandeon sounded like he was reaching for straws.
The spell was still active, so Serenity grinned and decided to really cement the knife in place. “I don’t know who was kidnapped. I never asked; it didn’t seem like it mattered. I should have, it might have made finding some of them easier.”
At the minimum, he’d have known which languages to look for. He wasn’t certain how much the Voice could have told him; it didn’t always seem to keep track of details in a coherent searchable manner. He still could have asked his mother. She had contacts that might well have realized something was going on even though he’d had no idea until the Voice told him.
“Still the truth,” Lykandeon confirmed. The greenish light seemed to intensify. “You do not act like a Human. I can see you are not entirely Human; is that why? What bloodline has corrupted you?”
Serenity wanted to laugh at that. Not entirely human? Serenity might look mostly human while he was in his human shape, but he wasn’t. Not really. He’d seen far too much of his body to not know that despite his outward appearance, even his human form had major deviations. Serenity didn’t laugh, but he couldn’t stop his smile. “Dragon.”
With luck, the fact that he’d said what he was instead of what bloodline changed his humanity would slide by. Divination-type Skills could sometimes be partially fooled when the user wasn’t paying attention.
“Powerful,” Lykandeon noted. “Not as good as being fully human, of course, but not a bad second choice. That would explain a lot. Your bloodline is dragon and not one of the lesser draconic variants? They are far more common, and some of the drake variants seem very close, despite being weaker. Very strong instincts, not much more.”
Serenity thought Lykandeon was undervaluing drakes, but the question was still easy to answer. “Dragon. Essence Dragon, if you know what that is.”
Serenity knew Lykandeon wouldn’t; that wasn’t the point. The point was to make it seem like Serenity was cooperating while still misleading Lykandeon.
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