Aurelian moved to Bahamut’s side with grim resolve and a firm hold on the hilt of his crest. Any sense of hesitation or remorse he might have felt for what was very likely about to happen he suppressed, pushing it down under Dragon’s Resolve and promising himself not to allow it to intercede with his next task.
It was not as if he were inured to the fact that he had zero experience actually interrogating anyone, let alone killing someone. The fact the Vasiri had tried to turn him into some sort of vampiric ghoul definitely made the prospect easier to stomach, but Aurelian was not some sociopathic action hero, for all his self-deprecating jesting about being a murderhobo.
The Vasiri was a person. Taking a life was a likely inevitability within the Realms, and on a logical level his time with Bael’tharax and Tarixi had prepared him for that. Hell he’d cut down the Skarnids and Skeletons easily enough.
It isn’t the same though.
The little voice of doubt wiggling in his mind, the part of himself that Dragon’s Resolve couldn’t — or perhaps wouldn’t — suppress, insisted on making the distinction known and felt. It was… frustrating, and also relieving. He had worried he was going to just randomly become completely unaffected by murder, but at least he wasn’t that far gone.
He had a feeling that such naive idealism wouldn’t survive the Realms for long, though.
When Aurelian drew level with Bahamut and placed a hand on the black dragon’s platinum-spined neck, he paused for a moment. Was Bahamut… bigger?
A cursory glance along the creature’s full length resulted in Aurelian blinking rapidly.
“Woah buddy. You got big.”
Where before Bahamut had been the size of a large dog, now he was on the smaller scale of a horse. Relaxed as the dragon was it was less evident, but it was very clear up close and in proximity that Bahamut had changed drastically.
I attained several increases in level when the battle ended. Dragons grow based on our levels, as we are born ageless. Experience both literally and in the type offered by the System are what define the differences between each dragon. I am young because I lack worldly exposure, as my Sire explained it; but we dragons do not ‘grow’ in the way you might align with a lesser creature.
“Like what, me?” Aurelian asked in amusement.
If that is how you define ‘lesser creature’ . . .
Aurelian lightly bonked the dragon on the head, and Bahamut hissed quietly.
“Be polite.” He chided while looking down, at last, to the quarry he’d been avoiding.
The Vasiri lay upon the marble beneath his eyes in what might have almost been a peaceful position, its arms crossed over its chest and its body rising and falling slowly with the steady breathing of slumber — or comatose unawareness, which was a possibility given whatever Aurelian had done. He still didn’t full understand Calamity’s Blade, for all that he had used it.
His eyes narrowed in thought while he examined the creature, and traced the high cheekbones, pointed tips of its ears, and the look of near-emaciated partial desiccation that seemed to be its prevalent physical feature. If he had to hazard a guess at what was going on, it would be that he was looking at a starving vampire in the terminology of earth: a creature that had gone for too long without proper sustenance, and was withering as a result.
“You probably look pretty good when you’re not starved, huh?” He muttered while looking down at the creature with a glimmer of pity. The tale of how it had been made, irrelevant of its nature, was still a sad one. To be tortured, broken, and then twisted into a monster by the whims of an insane god intent on the pursuit of forbidden power — he still didn’t know who the ‘Blood Lords’ that the System mentioned were — was a fate nobody deserved.
Absolum reminded him far too much of the nazi eugenicists he’d read about.
The comparison might have been spiteful, but it fed his growing dislike for the deity.
“I’m going to wake it up, Bahamut.” He said without taking his eyes off the Vasiri. “I’ll keep my sword at its neck, but I want you to pin its feet with your claws. If it so much as twitches wrong, fucking roast it.”
A fine plan. I approve. The dragon sent with an outward rumble of appreciation while hefting himself up and moving around to settle onto his haunches before the Vasiri, and lock his golden eyes on its prone body with predatory intensity.
Despite his focus on the Vasiri, Aurelian couldn’t help but once again internally gloat at how fucking cool it was to have a dragon as a companion. Best transmigration ever.
“Alright arsehole…” He said while placing the bladed tip of his ultrawide bastard sword just above the Vasiri’s neck. “Time to answer some questions.”
The way to wake up the creature seemed pretty obvious, given everything...
Aurelian kicked him in the face.
The Vasiri hissed in its sleep and he saw its eyes moving rapidly behind its thin eyelids, though it didn’t wake immediately. For all that he pitied its condition, he hadn’t forgotten the way it had gloated when Bahamut had seemingly died. He still needed to ask the dragon what had happened there, and why the link between them had seemed to go dormant — but that could wait. Aurelian tilted his head in thought, and then with a small shrug just repeated his first instinct.
He kicked the Vasiri in the face again.
This time the creature’s eyes snapped open, and it faced him with rusty eyes that might once have been the colour of blood. A hiss came from its lips, and it almost moved to rise before a low and ominous growl emanated from Bahamut’s jaws, along with the crackle of dragonfire whose heat Aurelian could feel even without it leaving his companion’s jaws.
Wisely, the Vasiri went very still, and its eyes flicked from the dragon to Aurelian’s sword.
“I suggest that you think very carefully before doing something to piss us off. We’re a little on edge.” Aurelian warned with the best ‘cold’ tone he could drum up.
The Vasiri nodded once, shallowly, in understanding.
Congratulations, Aurelian Lucis Imperius!
You have met the requirements to unlock the skill Intimidation (R)!
Despite the nature of brutish encounters within the Realms, the general availability of power often makes effective intimidation a rather difficult concept. It is the rare individual that manages to combine the raw power and savage cunning required to truly make a potential enemy afraid. Through the use of your rare skillset, spirit bond, and the evident nature of your survived hardships, you have managed to meet the criteria of being just such an individual!
Try not to steal any candy from babies, Reclaimer!
Intimidation is now Level 2!
Aurelian dismissed the System alert after a momentary perusal and filed it away mentally under ‘things I wish I did not have the talent for’ while keeping his gaze as fixed on the Vasiri as possible. He had questions, and the revolting creature would give him answers. He would accept nothing less.
“Tell me your name.” He said flatly.
The Vasiri stared at him in what Aurelian could only define as surprise.
“I—very well. I am—was—Lycinius of Telastra.”
Aurelian’s eyes narrowed at the lucidity of its tone. His tone, he supposed. It was easier to think of the Vasiri as a vaguely masculine beast, but he would need to put himself in the mindset of interrogating a person, to some capacity, and that meant using a gender identifier. It might have been easier to utterly dehumanise the creature, so to speak, but it also didn’t serve his immediate purposes. One of the core tenets of what little he’d read of interrogation demanded the building of some sort of relationship, after all.
“Lycinius,” Aurelian repeated back, “of Telastra. Right. I am Aurelian Lucis Imperius.”
“You are Nephilim.”
Dragon’s Resolve saved Aurelian from showing his surprise at that deduction, though a moment’s thought told him it wasn’t a wild one. It was easy to infer from everything that had happened, if one were even remotely well-versed in the Realms’ lore on the subject, and the Vasiri—Lycinius, he reminded himself—very likely was.
“I am. I am the Reclaimer of Elysea. I am a Dragon Rider. I am the New Calamity.” He said the titles with as much conviction and emphasis as his charisma stat would allow. “I want answers, Lycinius of Telastra. You will provide them.”
Lycinius licked his chapped lips, glanced at Bahamut’s unblinking eyes and the claws on his legs, and then looked back to Aurelian. “Fine.” He said without masking the bitter tone of his voice. “It is not as if I have much choice. You are not exactly giving me any other options.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t have Bahamut melt your skull.” Aurelian said flatly.
Lycinius glanced at the dragon again, and Aurelian’s Soul Sense skill registered a flicker of fear.
Intimidation is now Level 3!
“First things first. What is the current year, month, and date?”
Lycinius’ expression furrowed in momentary confusion, and then melted into realisation. He must have realised a Nephilim would know nothing of that, and opened his mouth.
“Bear in mind, Lycinius, that my dragon can sense deception. Though his senses are… shall we see a little untested at present. That means that Bahamut likes to be a bit… reactive. If you even attempt to deceive me, I can’t promise he won’t grow agitated.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The dragon snarled for emphasis.
Nice work, bud!
Indeed. The dragon agreed smugly.
Deception is now Level 4!
Intimidation is now Level 4!
Lycinius glanced at Bahamut again and then gave another very shallow nod before turning back to Aurelian. “By my reckoning, it is currently the seventh of Maerth, in the months of Solum, in the twelfth year of the fifth age of Deliverance.”
“How many months are there in a year?”
“Twelve.”
“How many days in a month?”
“Thirty.”
“What are the seasons?”
“You really don’t kno—?” Lycinius began scornfully before cutting off with a hiss when Bahamut dug in his platinum claws shallowly.
“Answer the question.” Aurelian said coldly.
“Agh! Solum and Wentus.”
Not that different from Earth, give or take some math and two seasons. Aurelian reasoned while nodding to Bahamut, who retracted his claws. The gesture was seen by Lycinius, but that was the point. It demonstrated that Aurelian was in charge. He knew Bahamut wouldn’t care. The dragon was too proud to be wrapped up in that sort of ‘lesser creature minutiae’, as the dragon would probably put it.
“How many years in an Age?” He asked for certainty’s sake.
“One thousand.” Lycinius replied with a bitter look for the dragon.
“Now that you’ve shown remarkable survival instincts, let’s move on to the important things—” Aurelian pressed the tip of his blade to the hollow of the Vasiri’s throat and Lycinius stiffened and went still “—like why an ancient Vasiri is prowling the halls of the Elysean Empire’s old imperial palace.”
“That isn’t for you to kn—!”
Lycinius stopped abruptly when Aurelian applied pressure to the flesh of his throat, and just barely let the tip of his blade rest on the edge of drawing blood. “Think very carefully about your next words.” Aurelian warned softly.
Bahamut growled.
Lycinius visibly rethought his approach.
“What I mean to say is that I cannot give you that information because of my oaths to Absolum! I am strictly forbidden from—!”
“Your connection to the death god is severed, Lycinius. I cut it myself. Have you already forgotten?”
“How could I?” The Vasiri responded bitterly.
“Then any oaths binding you should also be nullified… unless you are attempting to deceive me?”
Lycinius’ eyes widened and he lifted his hands in placation. “NO! N—no. Ah. No, I simply… simply haven’t gotten used to… ah, you are right of course. How foolish of me, Reclaimer. Allow me to—to answer your question.”
Aurelian said nothing, but he was cringing internally. Nothing about the Vasiri’s swing from arrogance to grovelling felt good. It only made him pity the creature more, and feel disgusted at his own actions — justified or not. It was the burden of being born in a relatively enlightened culture, most likely. People just didn’t do what he was doing, not normal people anyway. He wondered how all the protagonists he’d read about went around murderhoboing with no issue.
The thought of killing Lycinius, for all that he was now a blood-sucking monster, still made him sick. It was all he could do to hide that fact from the Vasiri himself.
“I was placed here to enact a greater plan by my master. Absolum wished to experiment with a new means of manipulating the dead.” Lycinius glanced between Bahamut and Aurelian, licked his lips, and continued. “The plan was to use the manawoods in the arboretum to curate the tainted essence you saw enhancing the Skarnids and Skeletons and wield it to create a new, more powerful kind of servant. One utterly bound to the intent of the master’s chosen, and with the enhancements necessary to ensure catastrophic power.”
“I’m not even at my Aspirant Temper and I killed your creatures.” Aurelian said flatly.
“You have an Elysean Runesword!” Lycinius spat with a clear sense of wounded ego. “Those are so rare as to be nearly implausible! Besides, you are Nephilim. These creatures were never meant for that, though I was likely tasked to stay here because of your possible arrival.”
“Why did you not come for me when I first landed?”
“I was… uncertain of your capabilities. I thought to worry about it after my servants had breached the hidden chambers, but—”
“Then I came to you.” Aurelian finished with a thoughtful nod. “Very well. Continue. What was the purpose of creating this new breed of soldier?”
“There is an enclave of apostates in the Desolation. A… a sanctuary of sorts. My master wished to test his new soldiers on them before sending them to conquer the other lands of the Prime Material.”
“Sounds charming.” Aurelian said while filing away that information. Wherever the supposed sanctuary was, he’d have to try to find them and warn them. How he’d go about that… well that was a different problem entirely. “But I don’t buy that you just juiced up some Skarnids and skelly boys and called it a day. What else did you fuck with?”
“I don’t—”
Aurelian placed his blade against the Vasiri’s flesh again, and Bahamut snarled.
“Fine!” Lycinius spat. “There were other Vasiri helping me. It was—is—a grand undertaking. They cajoled, intimidated, or outright herded entire swathes of the blighted fools that roam the Desolation toward the city outside the palace and we… changed them.”
“How?” Aurelian asked while a sick feeling started to build in his gut.
“We enhanced them with the corrupt essence. Forced them to Temper with it. Pushed them to consume and consume until it properly infested them. First dozens, then hundreds, and eventually thousands. We’ve been doing it for years. Many years.”
“How many of them?” Aurelian asked flatly.
“Ten thousand or so.” The Vasiri answered with a glimmer of dark pride. “Closer to forty when you factor in the dead we raised over the years and the various beasts we captured, corrupted, and bred from within the Desolation itself. It is an unstoppable force. It will wash over the remnants of Elysea like a tide of—”
“The remnants of Elysea?” Aurelian asked the moment he caught it. “Explain. Now.”
“I… I misspo—”
Bahamut snarled and Aurelian, swallowing back his disgust at the necessity of his actions, turned and stabbed his blade down into the Vasiri’s shoulder.
The creature’s flesh began to smoke where the runic steel impaled it.
“I warned you not to lie.” Aurelian growled in his best Jason Statham impression.
Intimidation is now Level 6!
“Mercy!” Lycinius cried piteously. “Mercy! Mercy! It burns!”
Aurelian twisted the runesword instead of answering, and kept his gaze fixed on the not-vampire, the broken soul that had been so terribly corrupted by Absolum’s madness. “You were a good man once, I wager. A noble man, before this thing you are now. So I’m going to give you a chance, one last chance, to be more than the fucking monster Absolum made you into. You’re going to die here, Lycinius. I can’t let you go. You’re the scorpion, but I’m not as stupid as the frog. Tell me what I want to know, and you can at least die knowing you did something worth a damn with the last moments of your tortured existence.”
Lycinius fixed his rusty eyes on Aurelian’s own, and a flicker of something like hope — which was bewildering — brushed against his Soul Sense.
The Vasiri nodded once with a pained expression.
Aurelian withdrew his sword from Lycinius’ shoulder.
Congratulations, Aurelian Lucis Imperius!
You have met the requirements to unlock the skill Persuasion (UC)!
In the Realms, the ability to talk one’s way out of a situation is a surprisingly uncommon but necessary skill, and those that master its finer points are well-known and respected among even the most powerful of the Realms’ denizens. By convincing a twisted creature to remember some facet of its long-buried former self through the strength of your presence, you have successfully joined this uncommon breed of personages.
Make good use of that silver tongue, Reclaimer!
Persuasion is now Level 2!
“...the sanctuary is the last bastion of Elysea’s descendants. It’s… it’s not a secret. Solarius ensured that all remnants of the Empire were firmly infiltrated long before they were able to become anything resembling a threat. Not even all the gods know who his agents are, but they are placed in positions to stymie and choke the potential growth of any resistance to the gods’ hold on the Realms.”
Aurelian didn’t lower his guard even an inch, and his blade was held pointed at the Vasiri’s throat… but he listened in silence.
“It lies north of here, perhaps two weeks’ travel by foot by the reckoning of an untempered, upon a vast and flat section of blighted ground. It is guarded by a runic choir that instigates a dimensional displacement of the valley and its mountains, but we have agents within ready to disable the defences when Absolum’s army approaches.” Lycinius narrowed his eyes. “I would say it’s impossible for you to find it, but dragons are rumoured to possess Truesight. If that’s true, then your pet—”
“Companion.” Aurelian corrected firmly.
“—companion can see it regardless of how it is hidden, or at least see the displacement of the dimension gating.”
“Who leads this zombie apocalypse army?”
“I… an apt name, I suppose.” Lycinius grunted. “They are led by twelve Vasiri, who are led in turn by the Necrolord Lunnierre.”
Aurelian filed away the information and looked down at Lycinius searchingly.
“Why did you become this cooperative? My speech about your old self can’t have been that impactful.”
“It wasn’t.” The Vasiri admitted with a derisive look. “But my hatred for Absolum… that is real, Nephilim. Knowing you will foil his great work, that you will slay those unworthy bastards that claimed my genius as their own innovation…” Lycinius smiled crookedly. It was a mad smile. A piteous thing. “Call me mad, Reclaimer, but that is something that gives me a measure of satisfaction.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
Lycinius was silent for several long moments, before scoffing. “Spare me your pity, Nephilim. What happened to me is but a microcosm of what the gods will do when they have you in their grip. You have become something beyond. Something even Absolum could not conceive of. They will hate you for it. They will fear you for it.” The Vasiri giggled. “They will hunt you for it. Forever.”
“Good.” Aurelian said much more calmly than he felt. “That’ll make it easier to kill the fuckers.”
“And you called me mad…” The Vasiri mumbled.
“Do you have…” Aurelian faltered and took a breath. He reaffirmed his grip on his blade’s hilt and raised it above the Vasiri’s head, the tip pointed between his eyes. “Do you have any last words, Lycinius of Telastra?”
“...I hate you too much to wish you well, Reclaimer,” the creature said with bitter resignation, “but I certainly wish you victory in achieving the vengeance I could not. I hope you make it hurt. I hope you make them hurt.”
“I’ll give them the same mercy I’m giving you.” Aurelian assured him quietly.
“Good enough.” Lycinius said while closing his eyes.
“May you find peace in the next life, Lycinius of Telastra.” Aurelian murmured.
“I’ll see you in the Pits, Nephilim.”
Aurelian plunged his runesword down.
The Vasiri died in silence.