Chapter 766 Arcanite Princess

Princess Ophelia likely wore an item enchanted with an ⌈Obscuration⌋ effect, blocking attempts at scrying for her location and analysis magic. Tycondrius wore similar, the effect granted by an amulet he wore around his neck.

He glanced down, spying the ring the elf wore on her left hand.

That was probably it.

"Oy," She glared. "My eyes are up here."

"Ah, of course," Tycon smiled apologetically. "Ophelia! You look, uh... moisturized. I heard about the face cream."

The elf slammed her tiny hand upon a nearby surface, literally gnashing her teeth in rage, "Don't play games with me, Tycondrius! Where the HELLS is my fiancee?"

Thin green vines slithered down her arm and began to bore into the wood. Within seconds, the sturdy table was irrevocably ruined, torn apart and crushed.

From the look on her face, the effect was unintentional.

It was rather intimidating, though, as the same could be feasibly done to an Iron-Rank adventurer.

« System, inquiry: What was Ophelia's power level according to my past memories? »

⟬ System response: Gold-Rank Elven Folium Cyclone. ⟭

Gold-Rank. Also... that was a high-tier Class, if unapologetically Elven.

And thus... Ophelia's unintentional tendril-crush could be feasibly done to himself.

Tycon calmly began to review his exit strategies-- calculating how many guards he'd need to cripple or kill in order to escape. He slowly took a breath and raised his chin... hoping his posturing would make her think twice about attacking him.

"Honestly, Princess... I was hoping Mister Wroe was with you."

"And just WHY haven't you been responding to my letters?!" Ophelia seethed, "Prince Droghan and Sect Leader Zuko, I can understand, but YOU?!"

She slammed her desk again with her palm, her angry vines retracting all at once and sinking back into her skin... "Only sweet Bella responded. I don't know what I'd do without her..."

​ Her anger was abating... That was good. He could build on that.

"And... what did she say?" Tycon asked politely.

"She said HE WAS WITH YOUUUU!!!"

There was... a lot of ambient mana in the air, emanated heedlessly from a very angry woman.

It was intimidating. Tycon was intimidated.

Unfortunately, he couldn't help her, even if he wished. He'd no clue of the whereabouts of Tarquin Wroe.

...If the case had been... normal, he'd imply that the gentleman was safe and accounted for.

There was an implicit code between brothers to not betray each others' locations. This would allow a man to fornicate outside of monogamy or participate in other unsavory actions without incurring the wrath of their actual partner.

Tycon decided to dodge the question. Ophelia was an elf, well-familiar with trickery and deceit. She'd understand the implications with Tycon being absolved of any guilt by association.

That and speaking plainly would probably get him injured or killed.

"Ophelia, concerning the missives... did you send them to... Charm?"

"Stars and stones, Tycon," The woman crossed her arms, taking in a haltered breath, "Where... else... would I send them?"

Tycon averted his gaze, smiling in chagrin, "I... haven't been home to check my mail in quite some time."

He had also not given his mother or sister a forwarding address. It was... an oversight.

"I still want answers, Tycon," Ophelia scowled, "and I have dozens of Divine Armors in my command that will ensure you won't leave my city until I get them."

"Ah, speaking of," Tycon smirked. "I tested out the capabilities of one of yours... its designation was Talks-With-Fire?"

"D-don't try to change the subject, you," Ophelia stuttered, faltering only slightly. "Talks-With-Fire is a second-generation armor with a third-generation Arcanite Core, tuned for mana-efficiency and reduced-strain on his physical parts. The basic weapon systems integrated in either arm were designed with repurposed risers from House Windwhisper's ⌈Lesser Wind Cyclone⌋, converted with the studies headed by..."

Tycon waited patiently as he listened to the Arcanite Princess gush about her creation.

He was glad he recognized Ophelia's mana signature when he was reconfiguring Talks-With-Fire's mana circuits. Besides his familiarity with his friend's fiancee's logical processes expediting his work, his side-quest to save Coraline and Elle had granted him a lifesaving shield: something for the two of them to converse about.

Ophelia Moonwell was far better at working with spell circles than he was, and he liked to think that their understanding of magical theory was at least similar. However, her... exuberance when discussing the topic bordered on... obsessive.

"--therefore," Ophelia wore a confident smirk as she placed her fingers on her collar, "it is a matter of COURSE that Talks-With-Fire could handle any and all challenges you've encountered in the Southern Plains or the Cascadia Highlands."

Tycon casually placed his hands behind his back, "I took part in a Divine Armor duel against a gentleman by the name of Notaku."

Ophelia bounded over the table, scattering books and scribbled notes onto the floor as she grabbed onto Tycon's arms.

"You fought MANY-BIG-GUNS?! Tell me! How was it?! How did they compare?!?"

The woman had a tinge of madness in her eyes.

Also, she was... drooling.

"O-ophelia," Tycon tried to move his arms, but her grip was quite fierce, "this... is not appropriate."

"Psh," Ophelia rolled her eyes-- but released him, "Still a virgin, Tycon? Or did Cass finally tie you up and take you for herself?"

Tycon narrowed his eyes, "That is... also not appropriate."

The answer to both was no.

According to his memories, the original-Tycon had plenty of sexual experience... and the good fortune of having a small number of lovely, consensual partners, himself.

...Also, he hadn't a clue as to what his sister, Cass, had to do with the conversation.

Eventually, Tycon gave into Ophelia's inquiries-- concerning her Divine Armors, anyroad.

They took to a cushioned bench, opening a dialogue about Talks-With-Fire's power source replacement and how they handled the increased strain. They shared their thoughts on Many-Big-Guns' overreliance on its weapon systems, its ability to operate after sustaining damage and duress, and its general mobility concerns.

All Tycon had to do to avoid being crushed to death by plant tendrils... was to keep her interest.

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