Aurelian arrived at Bahamut’s side with grim resolve and a firm hold on the hilt of his Crest. Any sense of hesitation, remorse, or trepidation he might have felt for what was about to happen he suppressed and buried; shoving it down under Dragon’s Resolve, and promising himself not to allow it to intercede with what had to be done. He was not, despite some of his more questionable choices, a fool. He’d taken Modern and Ancient History both as electives in University, and Oxford didn’t skimp on the ‘education’ part of its reputation.
He knew very well that he was about engage in torture.
There were no Geneva Conventions in the Prime Material.
He was painfully aware of the fact that he had absolutely zero experience actually interrogating anyone, let alone torturing or killing. The fact that the Vasiri had tried to turn him into some sort of vampiric ghoul definitely made the prospect of both easier to stomach, but Aurelian was not some sociopathic action hero.
No matter how much he quietly joked about being a Murderhobo.
The Vasiri was a person, in as much of a way as a creepy pseudo-vampire could be.
Taking a life was a grim 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 a frustrating permanent companion, and also one that gave him some measure of both relief and reassurance. With the way the System affected his mental state—and he knew it definitely had throughout his time in the Realms—when it came to violence, he had worried he was going to just randomly find himself numbed to the idea of murder.
Thankfully, and perhaps just a little regretfully, that wasn’t the case.
Truthfully, part of him wished it was that easy. It was a dark thought, but it was true.
Whatever part of him still clung to those fundamental, peace-forged ethics and morals from the comparatively pacifist society he’d grown up in on Earth quailed at the idea of what was about to happen. The Military and other such groups existed for a reason, back on Earth. It wasn’t usually everyday people like him that were thrust into such an immense level of responsibility.
Hell, he still didn’t know why he’d been summoned, and not some super ripped SAS bloke. That would have been the far more logical choice for an imperial successor, if he was being honest with himself. He was an Accounting nerd that spent his time watching Anime, shamefully wanking to hentai, and drooling over busty celebrities he’d never have a chance in hell with.
Not exactly anyone’s first choice for Isekai Protagonist, all things considered.
The fact he’d made it as far as he had, frankly, was bloody insane.
When Aurelian moved closer to Bahamut and placed a hand on the black dragon’s platinum-spined neck, he paused for a moment and his rabbit hole of self-doubt eroded for the moment.
Was Bahamut… bigger?
A cursory glance along the dragon’s full length had Aurelian blinking rapidly.
“Woah buddy. You got big.”
Where before Bahamut had been the size of a large dog, now he was the size of a small pony. The dragon’s lounging state had made it far less evident, but it was very clear up close, and with physical proximity, that Bahamut had changed noticeably.
I attained several increases in level when the battle ended. Bahamut explained languidly. 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 me, you mean?” Aurelian asked with 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 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 fully 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 mythology: 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 frowning 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 locked 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 a moment later 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…
…so 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 it had thought Bahamut had died. Aurelian tilted his head in thought, and then with a small shrug just repeated his first instinct.
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He kicked the Vasiri in the face again.
This time the creature’s eyes snapped open, and it faced him with rusty eyes which, Aurelian finally realised, might once have been the colour of blood. A hiss came from its lips, and it moved as if to rise, until a low and ominous growl emanated from Bahamut’s jaws. The Vasiri’s eyes snapped to the dragon, and then it seemed to register the crackle of dragonfire—the heat of which Aurelian could feel even without it leaving his companion’s jaws.
Wisely, the Vasiri went very still, and its eyes danced from the dragon to Aurelian’s sword, and back again.
“I suggest that you think very carefully before doing something to piss us off.” Aurelian warned with as much mustered ‘ice’ for his voice as he could manage. The memory of the vile blood the creature had forced down his throat helped immensely, too. “We’re a little on edge.”
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 he was determined that the revolting creature would give him answers. It owed him that much, and more besides.
“Tell me your name,” Aurelian commanded.
The Vasiri stared at him with what Aurelian could only define as surprise.
“I—very well. I am—was—Marius 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, and only loosely a person; but he’d already accepted he would be interrogating a person—for all that it made him uncomfortable—and he needed to keep that in mind. 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.
“Marius,” 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—Marius, he reminded himself—very likely was.
“I am.” Aurelian confirmed. “I am the Reclaimer of Elysea, summoned for the justice of a murdered Empire. I am a Dragon Rider, entrusted with the resurrection of the Realms’ ancient guardians. I am the New Calamity, Godsbane, and Primogenitor,” he said the titles with as much conviction and emphasis as his charisma stat would allow, “and I want answers, Marius of Telastra.” Aurelian shifted the tip of his blade, and forced the Vasiri’s chin upward. “You will provide them.”
Aurelian’s Soul Sense spiked, and he felt a mix of shock, fear, and—surprisingly—reverence coming from the creature, though the last was notably smaller than the prior two emotions/
Outwardly, Marius licked his chapped lips nervously, glanced at Bahamut’s unblinking eyes, crackling jaw, and the claws resting on his legs; and then looked back to Aurelian from his prone position. “Fine,” the Vasiri spat 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 coldly.
Marius glanced at the dragon again, and Aurelian’s Soul Sense skill registered a more powerful surge of fear.
Intimidation is now Level 3!
“First things first.” Aurelian stated. “What is the current year, month, and date?”
Marius’ expression furrowed in momentary confusion, and then melted into realisation. A glimmer of cruel amusement flashed through Aurelian’s Soul Sense, and he took it to mean that the Vasiri must have realised a Nephilim would know nothing of that.
Marius opened his mouth to speak, and the cruel amusement rose in volume.
“Bear in mind, Marius—” Aurelian said before the Vasiri could speak “—that my dragon can sense deception. Though his senses are, in a manner of speaking, a little untested at present. What that means, though, is that Bahamut likes to be a bit reactive. If you even attempt to deceive me, I can’t promise he won’t grow… agitated.”
The dragon snarled for emphasis.
Nice work, bud!
Indeed. The dragon agreed smugly.
Deception is now Level 7!
Intimidation is now Level 4!
Marius 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—?” Marius 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 maths and two seasons. Aurelian reasoned while nodding to Bahamut, who retracted his claws. The gesture was seen by Marius, but that was the point. It demonstrated that Aurelian was in charge. He also knew Bahamut wouldn’t care. The dragon was too proud to be wrapped up in that sort of ‘lesser creature minutiae’, as the hatchling would probably put it.
“How many years are in an Age?” he asked for certainty’s sake.
“One thousand.” Marius replied with a bitter glance at the dragon.
“Huh. That’s interesting. Thank you.”
“Does that mean you are—?”
Bahamut snarled, and Marius fell silent.
“Now that you’ve shown commendable survival instincts, let’s move on to the important things.” Aurelian said as if nothing had happened, and pressed the tip of his blade to the hollow of the Vasiri’s throat. In response, the Vasiri’s eyes crossed to look down at it, and he seemingly stopped breathing. “Like why an ancient Vasiri is prowling the halls of the Elysean Empire’s old imperial palace.”
“That isn’t for you to kn—!”
Marius 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.
Marius visibly rethought his approach.
“What I mean to say, Nephilim, 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, Marius.” Aurelian interjected with an affected air of boredom. “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?”
Marius’ 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, he lamented quietly. People just didn’t do what he was doing. At least, not normal everyday people like him and his family. He wondered, momentarily, how all the protagonists he’d read about went around murderhoboing with no issue or moral qualms.
The thought of killing Marius, 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.