Chapter 170: Flatter |
The first portion of the event was rather stuffy, though not intolerable, mostly because Vivi didn’t have to do anything. No speeches from her, nor much ceremony. She stood next to the Dragon King as he welcomed them to his palace and extended his hospitality; that was the sum of her role.
The speech he delivered was a little embarrassing, she supposed, since it recounted her ‘legendary feats’ in a somewhat heavy-handed but maybe appropriate way. She hated being the center of attention, yet it didn’t drag on, and she was getting used to unpleasant necessities. The reemergence announcement Rafael had organized had been much worse.
Afterward, Vanguard took their seats at the table of honor, and then she was among allies and being served lavish meals—hardly something she needed to suffer through. Though she wouldn’t rudely admit it out loud, even their guild's new cook couldn’t compete with the delicacies offered by the Dragon King. Petra herself probably didn’t have the same credentials as whoever acted as the palace’s head chef.
Something Vivi noticed immediately was how there were a lot more attendees than she’d been expecting. As with most rooms inside the Dragon King’s palace, ‘grand’ didn’t begin to describe the feast hall, and yet the opulent space had been crammed full. Nearly a hundred dragons were present, which, to her understanding, made up a not insignificant percentage of their entire race.
This celebration was a big deal. She’d known that, but hadn't grasped the scale.
Famous visitors from outside the Sky-Pillar Range are a once-a-century occurrence, if not once-in-a-millennium, she thought. Rafael did warn us that they would see us as more of a spectacle than the other way around. Dragons don’t get to experience new things often.
There were also a variety of humans and beastkin in attendance. As far as Vivi knew, none would be nobility themselves, since aristocratic titles belonged exclusively to dragonkind. But their subjects who excelled in different ways—Titled or high-rank craftsmen—would be acknowledged and rewarded in the same way as in the mortal kingdoms. She didn’t know precisely how the social dynamic worked, but the non-dragons were important in their own right. They weren’t groveling. If, admittedly, they did present a passive deference to their scaled overlords.
After the feast, the more uncomfortable segment arrived. With their appetites sated, they were set loose into the courtyard connected to the banquet hall. Meaning music, dancing, and general mingling.
Also known as her worst nightmare.
Distracted, she didn’t realize that she was being approached until too late. A shadow alerted her to a nearby presence, and she turned to find a gold-scaled dragon bent over, offering her a respectful bow.
The first, and certainly not last, of her intruders for the evening.
When he straightened, he loomed above her like a monument. She took in his golden wings, lustrous blond hair, and icy blue eyes. The last were quite striking; she couldn’t help but notice that he was an attractive man. Merely as an observation—nobody could miss that fact, given his perfect features. Dragons in general tended toward the statuesque in their humanoid forms, like they’d been carved by an expert artisan, and yet somehow this one stood out by those standards.
Some women, maybe most, would've swooned at the pearly smile he beamed her way. Or at a minimum, their hearts would’ve fluttered. Hers didn’t. She was focused on something else.
I swear he seems familiar. Have we met, somewhere? How?
“Lady Sorceress,” the man said smoothly. “What an honor to finally meet.”
She’d suffered enough of these outings that she could get through introductions without incident. “Vivisari is fine. No need for the titles. And I’m sure it’s my honor as well, Lord…?”
“Marac.” He flashed her a charming grin. “But if we’re on a first-name basis, then Edmurax will suffice.”
She suddenly placed his face. “Ah, I remember. You were there, weren’t you?”
There’d been dozens of dragons she had needed to swat away during her fight with Cinereus, so she was impressed that she recalled any of them. Golden scales were a rarity, and she remembered finding them quite pretty.
He faltered. Vivi realized she’d been tactless, highlighting how they’d previously met. If it could be called a meeting. He’d been mind-controlled. The person she’d encountered had been a thrall.
Probably better to have left that unsaid, she mentally winced. Like usual, she had stuffed her foot into her mouth in record time.
He recovered so seamlessly she could have imagined it. “Quite so. And there lies one reason I mustered my courage to seek you out, Lady Vivisari.”
The phrasing took her aback—mustered his courage? He’d been scared to approach? Her eyes darted sideways, and she saw a clump of other dragons standing conspicuously nearby. Their gazes flitted away the moment her attention turned toward them. In the other direction was another group, where the same thing happened.
Vivi realized, abruptly, that there were a lot of people who wanted to speak with her.
They were waiting to see how this Lord Edmurax Marac fared, and would no doubt swarm her if she didn’t—what, curse his bloodline or bind his soul to her staff? Who knew what nonsense they thought about the Sorceress that had singlehandedly brawled with their entire court.
She considered the pros and cons of teleporting away.
The man continued speaking, unaware of Vivi’s inner despair. “For all that the King thanked you on our behalf, it would be dishonorable not to give my gratitude personally, would it not? It was a dark fate that awaited us, and we were delivered solely by your hand.”
What was someone even supposed to say to that?
“It was no problem,” she lamely decided on. “I’m glad I could help.”
A brief pause, then the golden-haired man chuckled. He rubbed his chin. “‘No problem,’” he repeated wistfully. “All who were present know the truth of that claim. I find no shame in saying I was shaken to my core. You were… incredible. Some might have taken grievance with how you stole our form”—he waved at his horns and presumably wings, referencing her transmogrification—“and on their behalf, I apologize profusely. I say you honored us instead. Watching you, I thought a white-haired goddess had descended. Truly.”
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Vivi stared at the man.
Okay, no, really. What is someone supposed to say to that? She didn’t even blame her general awkwardness for once.
“You flatter me,” she finally managed.
“Not nearly enough.” That easy, radiant smile made a second appearance. “I could spend the rest of the night trying, and still fall woefully short.”
At the tone of his voice, a terrible realization hit Vivi.
He’s not flirting with me, is he?
She was so horrified by the idea that her quickened senses kicked in, as if she’d entered combat. Time slowed to a crawl. She ran through the conversation in her head and, perhaps due to wishful thinking more than logic, decided she must be misreading things.
It’s regular old sycophancy, she tried to convince herself. Getting on the good side of the Sorceress.
A second dragon entered the fray, saving Vivi from having to respond. Her relief was short-lived, because the red-haired man graveled by way of introduction, “Indeed, Lady Sorceress, your prowess in battle left all participants speechless. I have never seen its like, and may never again.” He bowed. “Lord Albrax Dravith, pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The golden-scaled dragon’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, though he wiped the expression away before the other man rose.
“A pleasure,” Vivi weakly returned, dread growing.
With a second dragon having gained the courage to speak with her, the floodgates opened. Before she knew it, a veritable posse had surrounded her, and she was being flattered from every direction. They weren’t even questioning her, asking how she’d gotten so powerful or what her intentions were. Just slathering compliments onto her. She received several invitations to their estates, should she be interested.
Her mental image of dragons as uniformly proud, noble creatures rapidly deteriorated.
They have to know how transparent they’re being. Do they really think I don't see through this?
Then again, hadn’t Rafael’s praising of Ember after the events at Prismarche worked swimmingly? Stroking egos, no matter how shamelessly, might be a tried-and-true strategy among dragonkind.
And they were trying to employ it on her.
She might find the idea funny later, but right now, she was nothing short of mortified.
For once, her inexpressiveness worked against her. If they could have recognized her discomfort, or how little she appreciated the flattery, surely they would have reined themselves in. But her face remained blank, and she gave passive responses, horror growing but not manifesting outwardly. They only seemed to grow more desperate at her lukewarm, inscrutable reactions.
When Vivi saw Saffra walking over, she almost fainted in relief. That feeling doubled when the girl grabbed her by the wrist and said, “Lady Vivi, I need to talk to you about something.”
Vivi seized the excuse, apologizing and extracting herself before any of the—was it ten now?—dragons could reply.
“What is it?” Vivi asked, making a mental note to pay the girl back. A great debt had been accrued this evening.
Saffra continued pulling her along until they were properly separated from the crowd. Then she let go of Vivi’s wrist and turned toward her, looking unimpressed. “Sound barrier?”
Vivi paused, then summoned one.
“You can uproot a mountain, but you can’t tell some vultures to take a hike?” the catgirl asked.
Vivi blinked.
Oh, she realized. I didn’t get lucky. She came to my rescue.
She was oddly touched by that. But she also responded a tad defensively. “Those vultures are high nobility of the Dragon King’s court. I’m trying not to cause diplomatic incidents.”
A cat tail swished with irritation. “They were being gross. You had to have seen how the gold one was looking at you.”
Vivi took heavy psychic damage at the confirmation. Maybe they were both wrong. Actually, they definitely were. “You’re mistaken. It was regular flattery. Nothing else.”
“You can’t—”
“Regular flattery.”
Saffra raised her eyebrows and, after a second, snorted. “Seriously though, you’re the strongest mage in the world. If even you can’t tell weird people to go away, then what’s the point of climbing the ranks?” Her tone turned sarcastic. “What am I working so hard for?”
A green-scaled halfdragon began strolling toward them, wine glass in hand and confidence dripping from his posture. Both Vivi and Saffra looked his way. The beastkin glared so balefully that the man faltered a step and swerved sideways, as if his initial trajectory had been a total coincidence.
Saffra seemed pleased. “See? It’s that easy.”
"I have much to learn, O wise one," Vivi replied dryly. She waved a hand. “I’m not a pushover. I just didn’t want to be rude, and they weren’t doing anything obviously wrong.” In fact, that they’d seemed genuine was the worst part. She suppressed a shiver, remembering some of the compliments and the many pending invitations to various noble estates. “The mistake was going off on my own. If that’s going to be my reception, I think I’ll skip straight to business and go to Solfirus.”
“Or set the annoying ones on fire,” Saffra pointed out. “They’ll learn fast.”
“I don’t think that’s a smart way for the Sorceress to behave.”
Saffra made a noise that suggested she disagreed. She changed topic, though. “Besides how they’re being creepy with you, they’re not as bad as most of the nobles I’ve met.”
“Oh?” She hadn’t expected Saffra to suddenly praise the draconic upper class.
“I’unno. They’re twice as arrogant, but it doesn’t seem like they’re talking down to any of us. Kind of like Lady Ember.” A shrug. “Maybe they’re good at hiding what they really think.”
Vivi doubted that. Her group of flatterers had not been masters of subtlety. Having her opinions anchored by how Cinereus acted had given her skewed expectations.
People will be people. Even old immortals.
They were quiet for a moment as she and her apprentice looked around the courtyard. As expected, no member of Vanguard had escaped the attention of a dragon or three. Their initial encounters didn’t seem to be going as disastrously as Vivi’s. Even William’s team, their lowest-ranked and supposedly least interesting—from a dragon’s point of view—had collected a circle of eager listeners. The young man was gesticulating as he appeared to orate what she assumed was an adventuring story.
His flushed cheeks and exuberance told her that he’d had a few too many drinks during the banquet. But she couldn’t blame him for easing his nerves in that way. She had been sorely tempted herself. His audience seemed entertained, and not in a long-suffering or mocking manner, but actually intrigued by the gold-rank adventurer and his two teammates. They were laughing and having a good time.
“Thanks for extracting me,” Vivi told Saffra. “I need to speak with Solfirus and Vulkarius, though, and I’ll be safe with them. We’ll probably be talking about void energy for the rest of the night.” She could only pray the discussion would last that long, at least.
“Alright,” Saffra said. “I’m gonna go watch Jasper, then.”
“Jasper?”
“He challenged one of the dragons to an archery contest.”
Vivi paused, scanning the crowd until she spotted him in the corner of the celebration given over to martial contests. Of course there was such a corner—in this world, combat always found its way in. Any culture, any event.
There would likely be a number of exhibitionary duels before the evening ended. She hoped they remained cordial. ‘Friendly’ fights seemed like a recipe for disaster.
Jasper stood off on the outskirts of that area with his bow drawn. A halfdragon wielded a much larger, much more ornate weapon, and the two of them were… laughing?
Why did that scare her more?
“Is that something I need to worry about?” Vivi asked.
A shrug. “They’re getting along. It was funny. They’re basically the same person.”
A Jasper-dragon? She suppressed a full-body shudder. What a terrifying idea.
Saffra read her reaction. “Mae’s watching over him. She can be scary when she wants to be. She’ll keep him in line.”
“Mae? Scary? Are we talking about the same elf?”
Saffra snorted. “I’ll come and give you an excuse if I see you get caught again. But my vote is a fireball to the face.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She intended to make a beeline toward Solfirus, so there shouldn’t be a second bout of that awkwardness.
“Good luck.” Saffra waved and slipped away, headed for the brewing archery competition. Vivi was briefly tempted to go and watch it herself. Surely he doesn’t stand a chance? An orichalcum against a dragon is pretty one-sided. Maybe there would be a handicap.
Shaking those thoughts aside, she strode off to speak with the First Prince Solfirus—Cinereus’s eldest son, and perhaps the third most powerful wielder of magic in the world.