15-37. Turning Heads

“Stop.”

“Huh?”

“You’re tugging on your coat. Stop it,” Tisk said.

Elijah barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. He managed it, but only by the barest sliver of decorum. Instead, he responded, “If I’d known you were going to nag me, I would have brought someone else.”

“You mean you’re not into all this?” she asked, running a hand down the smooth contour of her gown. It wasn’t actually silk, at least according to the ten-minute lecture she had given him. In fact, she seemed quite horrified when he’d described where that particular material originated. Either way, the not-silk gown clung to her like a second skin, leaving very little to the imagination.

That meant showing the rigid bumps of her scales. And as much as Elijah enjoyed Tisk’s company, her appearance was far too alien to engender attraction. Which he eloquently articulated by saying, “Gross.”

She laughed. “If it makes any difference, I think your fleshy bits are gross, too.”

“Glad we can agree on our mutual grossness,” Elijah deadpanned.

“And also, for your information, lots of drakes find me very attractive.”

“I’m sure. Same, but with not-drakes.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” Tisk said. “Outside of your scales. Those are okay.”

This time, Elijah did roll his eyes as he escorted her into the building. It was a grand palace, just like so many others he’d seen in She’evoth, but the difference lay in scale. It was huge, even by the dragon-sized standards in the capital of the Empire of Scale.

But thankfully, nobody had shown up in their dragon forms. That would’ve made things much more crowded. Instead, the city’s customs seemed to relax in favor of practicality – especially considering that a few of the attendees were drakes or serpentors. As they entered the ball room, Elijah even saw what he expected were delegates from other kingdoms and empires.

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that the Empire of Scale didn’t exist in isolation. They enjoyed diplomatic relations with most other states, which meant that there were embassies in the city dedicated to many other kingdoms, solar system-spanning empires, and a host of other entities Elijah never bothered to list. However, he had encountered a race of mushroom men that he found intriguing.

“What’s that face for?” asked Tisk.

“Huh? It’s just my face.”

“No. You got this look…like you were pondering the problems of the multiverse. Or maybe trying to figure out how it all works.” She twisted her face into something that would’ve been appropriate in a cartoon. “Like this.”

“I have never made that expression in my entire life.”

“See? There it is.”

Elijah shook his head, saying, “If you must know, I was thinking that I’ve got a mushroom problem.”

“Oh. Like the good kinds?”

“Uh…”

“You know, for food. My cousin’s brother-in-law used to work at a mushroom farm,” she revealed. “He considered it a superfood. Kept going on and on about how every pound of mushrooms contained more nutrients and ethera than any other edible.” Then, she leaned closer and whispered, “He also used the not-so-edible kind for…ah…recreational purposes.”

Then, she elbowed him. “Get it?”

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t look like you do. I can get some.”

“No.”

“Then you definitely don’t understand what I’m talking about,” Tisk countered. “We’re talking high-grade –”

“Drugs. Yeah. I got it.”

Her brow ridges furrowed. “Then why –”

“Just drop it,” he sighed. Muttering to himself, he wondered, “Why in the world did I bring you?”

“Should’ve brought that cute serpentor,” Tisk pointed out. “She would’ve come. No idea why, considering how ugly you are.”

“I am not ugly!”

“Eh.”

“I’m not!”

“You barely even have any scales.”

“That’s because I’m not a drake!”

“See? Ugly.”

Elijah was going to respond, but it was at that point that they reached the ballroom. Or rather, the chamber meant for a ball. The thing was as large as any auditorium back on Earth, and it was packed full of hundreds, if not thousands of people. Most of them were dragons, but Elijah saw a few of the aforementioned dignitaries out and about as well.

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There weren’t many drakes, though.

Except for the servers and a group of musicians playing in one corner. Elijah found the discordant sound oddly soothing but entirely off-putting at the same time.

“I feel distinctly out of place,” Tisk said, her nerves coming through in her voice. Doubtless, she’d been trying to mask her anxiety through teasing. “Why did you bring me here?” she wondered, almost to herself.

“Because you’re my friend, and I didn’t want to come alone,” he said, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Also, because you’re safe.”

“Most people don’t like being referred to as safe,” she pointed out.

“Well, you are. You weren’t going to turn me down or see anything else into this.”

“Oh, you’ve done it now. I’m madly in love with you and your fleshy bits,” she joked. “You do have pretty scales, though. I’ll grant that. Only part of you that’s even remotely appealing. That, and power. Every girl likes that. Oh…wow. So, yeah – totally falling for you.”

Elijah groaned.

“No. Can’t stop myself now. It’s definitely going to happen,” she said, dragging him closer.

The sarcasm wasn’t even remotely hidden, but Elijah definitely appreciated it. Largely because it served as a distraction until, at last, Mano and Illska found them. The big dragon looked the same as ever, save that he’d changed into an elaborate black outfit trimmed in silver. It reminded Elijah of a variety of styles, but he had to admit that it all came together perfectly. Mano looked impressive, not even considering his towering figure and intimidating aura.

Somehow, Illska managed to outdo him.

And with very, very little fabric.

Indeed, she looked like she’d worn as little as modesty required, which meant that her attire consisted mostly of a couple of strips of cloth crisscrossed over her chest and a pair of skirt panels – one in the front, with another in the back – reminiscent of the slave Leia outfit from Star Wars.

Of course, it was also black, trimmed in silver. And considering that she stood almost as tall as Mano and with comparable musculature, she cut an entirely intimidating figure. That was somewhat mitigated by the grace of her movement and the curve of her hips.

She paid no attention to decorum when she wrapped Elijah in a bear hug and lifted him from the ground, exclaiming proudly how happy she was to see her favorite brother-in-law. Elijah tried his best not to suffocate as he mumbled a muffled reply in a similar vein.

“And who is this shiny-scaled beauty?” Illska asked after she set Elijah down.

“Tisk.”

“Just Tisk?” asked Illska.

Tisk shrugged. “Only name I need. I love your scales. Very pretty.”

“Oh, it’s all in the lotion,” Illska said, weaving her arm under Tisk’s. “Come, let us mingle.”

And just like that, Illska whisked her away.

Mano elbowed Elijah, the casual nudge nearly enough to topple Elijah. And he wasn’t wearing his normal gear, so Absolute Grasp wasn’t there to save him. Still, he kept his balance as Mano said, “I guess I’m not the only one in the family that likes big women. Tisk is a bit thin for my taste, but she has the height for it. With the right workout regimen and proper nutrition –”

“We’re just friends.”

“That’s how it starts, brother. Illska and I were bitter rivals for more than a thousand years. Then, we were stranded together in a Primal Realm…”

He went on to tell the story of how their entire army had been slaughtered by a vast population of grimlings, while he and Illska had barely survived. “We spent nearly two years arguing about every little thing before it became something more. It will be the same with you and the tall girl. I predict it.”

“You’re probably going to be disappointed, then.”

“Bah,” Mano responded, in what sounded like his best impression of Tura.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” Elijah remarked.

“Why wouldn’t I be? My favorite brother is here to be acknowledged by the Empire itself, I have a beautiful wife, and my children are hatching tomorrow,” he said.

“Wait, what?”

“Ah – I thought I had mentioned it,” Mano allowed before explaining that a clutch of eggs were scheduled to hatch soon. His latest batch of children were included in that group. Apparently, the fact that he chose to hatch his children on She’evoth instead of Esik was another point of contention between him and Kirlissa.

“Why does it matter?” Elijah asked as they strode through the room. Mano seemed to know where he was going, at least.

“They do things differently here. Come with me to The Pit tomorrow. You will see.”

With that, they entered the fray. Most of the attendees seemed to know Mano, though Elijah’s instincts told him that few of them actually liked the big dragon. Popularity just wasn’t in the cards for someone as battle-crazy as Mano. However, they did respect him, as befit a transcendent who focused so completely on war.

Others might be more powerful, but if Mano wanted to, he could destroy the entire planet. Transcendents included.

Or that was the impression Elijah got. Whether that was accurate was likely up for debate. But one thing he did know was that non-combatants would likely struggle against the big dragon.

Transcendent or not.

And there were a few of those there, though they were a little more difficult to spot because they controlled their aura quite a bit better than Mano. Still, there was something about a transcendent that Elijah found unmistakable. That degree of power came with a surety that no one could hide.

Elijah attempted to break away, eyeing a server who was carrying plates of snacks, but Mano kept a handle on him. At least until a silver-scaled dragon took the platform and announced that the time for the ceremony had arrived.

Everyone took their places, sitting on chairs that abruptly grew out of the stone. They were arrayed in neat rows, showing a mastery of earth magic that Elijah hadn’t really expected. But perhaps he should have.

He was shown to a spot in the front row.

After that followed a ceremony where they commemorated the Tournament. Everyone who’d received a treasury token had shown up, which meant that when Elijah was called up, he was forced to share the stage with Cyran es Caelwyn. Oddly enough, the teal-scaled dragon refused to meet Elijah’s eye, almost as if he was ashamed.

The only saving grace was that Skahan hadn’t made it. Doubtless, he was drooling in the corner of his parents’ estate, where he would remain for the rest of his days. Or that was what Elijah hoped.

If not, then he would return and finish what he’d started.

That thought soured Elijah’s mood, so he couldn’t even take pride when the announcer actually paid Elijah the respect he deserved for winning the tournament. He even mentioned the irregularities in the final fight, which was about as close to an acknowledgement of the blatant cheating that anyone was likely to make.

It should have been gratifying, but Elijah couldn’t allow himself to enjoy it.

So, when the ceremony completed and he rejoined Tisk in the aftermath, he was in a terrible mood.

Which was why he nearly punched Cyran in the face the second the dragon approached.

Cyran held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not here to fight.”

“Good. You’d lose. Again. And this time, there’s no time anchor.”

Cyran shifted his feet anxiously. “Yeah. Look – I just wanted to apologize for how things happened in the tournament. I…I didn’t mean for any of that to –”

“I don’t care, Cyran.”

“But –”

“Come on, Tisk. Sometimes, people can’t take a hint,” Elijah said, pulling the tall drake away.

“What was that about?” she asked when they were out of earshot.

“Doesn’t matter,” Elijah said. “So, do you dance?”

“No.”

“Hmm. Snacks, then?” he asked.

“Snacks. Yes. They’re supposed to have good food at these things,” she said.

“Let’s find out if that’s true.”

With that, they went off in search of hors d’oeuvres, but Elijah couldn’t escape the annoyance that came in the wake of his brief conversation with Cyran.