Chapter 677 Tendril Entrapment

Healing Skills were highly valued assets and were relatively uncommon in the Realm.

Tycondrius, himself, had the ⌈Inspirational Surge⌋ Skill. His daughter, Sasarame, had the ⌈Cure Wounds⌋ spell. However, those abilities were granted by their respective support Classes, Warlord and Oracle.

King... was an Elven Ranger.

That he could rescue Imperia from an otherwise certain death was unexpected. Tycon hypothesized that King had... developed his Class in a very unorthodox manner... or he was gifted with a healing ability completely unrelated.

Either way, the phenomenon was... incredibly rare-- even moreso than a non-medusa being born with mastery over an ocular art.

Thankfully... the female elf, Imperia, looked absolutely miserable.

...The fates saw fit to grant King not a divine healing spell that could completely heal the Cleric, but instead either increased her resistance against his ⌈Vexing Gaze⌋ or catalyzed her convalescence.

King straightened his posture as he turned to face Tycon and Captain Krysaos, "Do not raise thy hand against my people, Maedar... not without due cause. As I have previously warned the human Captain, I grant thee but a single warning... out of courtesy."

"Most gracious of you..." Tycon nodded.

Though he initially intended for Imperia to die a painful death... seeing her in tearful agony was... satisfactory.

"Sapling..." King gestured towards Imperia, "honor me with thy name and house."

"Oh, my sovereign!" Imperia did not wipe her eyes as her natural, high-pitched voice spilled out, "The Spider Crab Tribe has come to aid thee and thy allies... and-- and these people! They attacked me without warning!"

She clenched her fists as water began to swirl around them. It wasn't quite as powerful as Sea Witch Mina's display, the previous sun... but Imperia's hostility was clear.

"Sea god's socks... is this guy... really a f*cking king?" Krysaos muttered underneath his breath.

Tycon twisted his lips, "That is still to be seen, Brother-Captain."

"I asked thee... a question, Sapling," King exhaled out of his nose as he turned again to Tycon, "Tell me, Maedar, is it uncommon in this sun and age for... questions to go unanswered?"

"That much has not changed, Ancient," Tycon responded.

While he felt it was odd that his knowledge was requested, a simple question deserved a simple answer.

"I am... Imperia, lord..." The girl grimaced.

She flashed a series of quick hand gestures towards King. The graceful Elven movements hand-language was something Tycon was unfamiliar with... and was uninterested in.

"Ah, so thou art *her* descendant," King nodded. "Though I doubt thou hast my blood within thy veins, I shalt still consider thee my kin."

"Then my lord," Imperia bowed-- a slight dip of the head that seemed too informal for a proper sovereign, "please punish these humans for their arrogance!"

"...I will not," The bronzed elf tilted his head and pursed his lips, "From what I have witnessed, the fault lies in both parties."

"But... but my lord?!" Imperia cried out.

"Imperia," King glared.

The young elf was mollified in an instant... which instilled great concern within Tycon.

Carefully observing King's eyes from the distance... he sensed no mana expended.

It was not an ocular art... it was just... an angry look... that of a father-figure staring down their misbehaving daughter.

...If Lone *had* developed an ocular art, on top of his other revealed abilities, Tycon might have retired to his room to mourn the injustice.

"The human and his crew have rescued me from the depths," King continued. "They are deserving of thy respect."

Imperia grit her teeth... but lowered her head in obeisance, "By your will, my lord."

"And the Maedar," King gestured, "is a Prince of his own Reign. As an ambassador of our people, Imperia, you must render him the cordiality he deserves."

The woman's eyes twitched with annoyance, but she again bowed her head, "I understand."

Tycon and Krysaos exchanged a look of confusion.

While King arriving to de-escalate the situation was a welcome development, it was...

"I did not expect that," Tycon spoke in a low voice. "Not from that one, anyroad."

...The elves could certainly hear it, as well, not that he particularly cared.

"If there's one thing I've learned, LT, it's to expect the unexpected," Krysaos muttered. "So yeah-- I was totally expecting that."

"My lord," Imperia raised her voice, new strength within it. "Come away with us, to the city of Whitehearth! Your people await your return!"

"Very well, Sapling," King nodded to her with a gentle smile... a look appropriate for a father towards a whelpling, "Captain Krysaos, I beseech thee to set a course for this... Whitehearth."

"Yeah... about that," Krysaos groaned.

...He leaned over, clicking quietly in Aquan, "(What does that mean?)"

"(The elf makes a request,)" Tycon clicked back, "(in a polite manner.)"

"Not gonna happen!" Krysaos turned to King with a snarl, "We've set course for Archangel and *that's* where we're goin'!"

King laughed heartily to himself, "Very well. Then as a favor to me and my Reign, Captain Krysaos, thou shalt grant to me the use of thy second ship."

"Of all the..." Krysaos groaned as he placed his palms over his face, "You know what-- F*CK it. Go RIIIGHT ahead. Jus' take the Sugar-Titted Siren II. See if I care!"

The elf's mouth twitched, "Is that truly the name of thy second vessel, Captain Krysaos?"

"Do whatever the hells you want!" Krysaos shouted, turning away and crossing his arms like a disobedient child.

The Captain's patience had run out, which Tycon could not blame him for. However, if the elf was determined on taking their second ship, compensation was appropriate.

Stepping forward, Tycon stood with his chin held high, "Ancient, I have need of your Cleric."

Imperia turned her nose up in disgust, "I want nothing to do with you, you snake."

The bronze-skinned elf pursed his lips... "Tell me of your reasoning, Maedar... as it is unlikely that I will acquiesce."

"I pray my bare qualification will suffice," Tycon raised an eyebrow.

The elf stared for a moment longer, the white sclera of his eyes radiating displeasure... "I will allow no harm to come to this child."

Tycon returned the glare, "Forgive me, master elf... but your words could be mistaken as you doubting my honor."

"Hmph," King hesitated... before nodding and relaxing his stance. "Such was not my intention. Imperia, do as the Maedar requests."

"But-- my lord?!" The elf woman held her hand out, shock and disbelief clear on her face.

King turned away, gesturing his hand over the waters... towards Sugar-Titted Siren II, "Faithful men and women, children of the earth and sky... with me."

And with those words, the elf leapt off of the ship... then appeared to run through the air towards the stolen Nemayan ship. Upon Tycon's further examination, King was stepping on magical footholds... created and dispelled at the speed of thought and with only a modicum of mana expenditure. It was yet another advanced technique that should have been nigh impossible for Lone to execute.

Imperia's goons watched the fellow go with wonder in their eyes... then looked to Imperia, who was gnashing her teeth in anger.

"What the hells are you all looking at?" She barked at them. "Go attend to the sovereign!"

"(I hear you, Priestess!)" "Yes, milady." "(Understood...)" They shouted back in a mix of Elven and Common.

The elves, minus Imperia, departed in haste... taking their karkinii with them.

Tycon turned to Krysaos, "Might you have any words for our newest Elven companion, Brother-Captain?"

Krysaos directed his gaze at the woman's chest, "Nah, she doesn't have the qualifications..."

"And what in the seven hells and eleven heavens is THAT supposed to mean?!" The elf screeched-- her light voice sounding more ridiculous than intimidating.

Krysaos shook his head, "Ishmael, get the Coral Boys to come back from the second ship."

The Captain's shadow emerged from the deck with a salute, then sprinted off-- much in the same manner as King, before him.

Then, Krysaos turned and began to walk away, "I'm..... I'm goin' to my f*ckin' room. Wake me for dinner, LT..."

"Very well," Tycon nodded, watching him descend the stairs to the lower decks.

"As for you, young lady," He gestured towards the woman,"we will converse in my personal quarters."

Imperia crossed her arms, just as petulant as Krysaos before her, "Anything you have to say to me, you can do so right here."

"Tss..." Tycon shook his head... "That was not a request."

He tapped the deck thrice with the tip of his boot.

Tendrils of water-mana shot out of the deck floor, wrapping around the elf's wrists and ankles. Her face turned purple with rage as she punched and kicked in futility.

He and Krysaos had designed and empowered the spell circles before Imperia and her elves boarded the ship. They were designed to immobilize and incapacitate her entire squad... for at least several seconds.

As the trap only had a single target... the mana would hold for bells, if not suns.

Tycon chuckled to himself at the girl's pitiful state as he took direct control of the spell. He slowly squeezed his fist despite Imperia's resistance...

Besides his forcefulness serving as retaliation for her earlier insults... he judged the spell circles to be both stable and highly effective.

The mana-created tentacles would, at the very least, leave painful bruises.

...If granted a reason, he would test the spell circle's precision by fracturing her left arm.