After Lang Hai rested for a while (and healed his broken arm,) he lifted up Rico's four-legged form onto his shoulders. It looked absurd, the teenage boy carrying a tentacled Sea Wolf the size of a horse.
Tycon raised an eyebrow, "Has your strength returned, Captain?"
"Eh, not all the way," Hai admitted. "But I can at least do this much."
Tycon found it strange. According to Lang Hai's personality, he'd expected him to rudely awaken the young lady. Tycon surmised that the battle had taken an emotional toll.
"I promised the young lady that we'd eat a celebratory meal if she survived."
Hai rolled his eyes, "Then she tricked you. All she wants to do is eat. We can't afford to feed Rico 3 whole meals every sun!"
Tycon smiled, "You will eat alongside her."
"Ugh. No thanks." Hai frowned, "She steals food from my plate, sings and dances, and is just a general annoyance-- besides, it's unprofessional for officers to eat with the crew."
"She has specifically requested it."
Hai hesitated... "I suppose one meal couldn't hurt."
He glanced at the double-doors, adjusting the sleeping Rico snugly against the back of his neck, "I'm gonna get this fatty back to Eilean and inform the men of our victory."
The sleeping Rico bit Lang Hai's head, causing him to yelp in surprise.
Tycon chuckled amusedly, "Very well. I will remain for a short while longer."
Hai pried off Rico's jaws before glaring at Tycon, "You're going to investigate the weird snake cult stuff? Tch. You nobles and your weird hobbies."
Tycon grimaced but could not refute the boy.
...
The central room was the location of the cellar door. Tycon had discovered it when he had initially infiltrated the keep, and with some patience, confirmed that it held the would-be slaves from Beaurte.
Tycon sought more knowledge about the snake god. Perhaps he could discover clues about his past. Some of the floorboards had already been broken through from his Iron Dragon Rend, revealing the spacious basement below.
He unlatched the trapdoor, examining the ladder that led down.
« System, Activate Small Snake Form. »
[Activating.]
Tycon hadn't sensed any enemies below, but the stealth effect of his snake form would provide an added layer of caution. He silently slithered down the ladder.
The taste of old blood and unwashed prisoners still hung in the air.
Metal bars made a third of the room into a prison. Inside, a few rotting corpses still remained, stripped naked and piled in a far corner. Outside, were well-used torture racks and tables, a constant reminder to the imprisoned.
Prisoners could pray to their gods for sweet release. Or they would endure horrors if their gods remained silent.
The burning floorboards above, once enveloped in sickly green flames, had calmed into bits of orange embers-- the light of which was enough for Tycon to see the color in the darkness. Besides the drab browns of human waste, rusted iron bars, and unvarnished wooden torture equipment... he spotted a sliver of silver. It hid beneath a large, loose rock in the corner.
« System, inquiry: Target status? »
[Unranked Snake]
...Well, that was certainly nothing to be afraid of. The System returned a target value, so the young snake was not a corpse-- unlike most everything else in the Saltspray keep.
He decided to approach in a less threatening form.
« System, Cancel Snake-Form. »
[Small Snake Form Cancelled. Returning to Human-Form.]
Tycon carefully knelt a few steps away. He cleared his throat began to hiss in Parseltongue...
"(Wouldst thou reveal thyself? I am no threat.)"
Hesitantly the silver snake revealed herself. She was a thin snake, not even a fulm in length, with a feminine tapered tail, "(Who... might thou be, Lord? Thou who can disguise himself as a man?)"
Her voice was young, a child. This was a foul place for one so young to live. On a soon-to-be deserted island, she would soon run out of prey.
Younger snakes tended to be deadlier than others in their brood as they could not well control the amount of venom they could inject. Tycon had easily resisted a Second-Circle poison spell less than a bell earlier. Even if the young lady had bit him by mistake, Tycon was confident he would suffer no ill effects.
"My name is Tycondrius--"
The snake reared back, hissing in panic, "(The Ivory Prince! Lord, thou must forgive Sasarame for her rudeness!!)"
Tycon smiled gently as the System's display changed the silver snake's name to Sasarame. He reached an open palm to the ground, "Come with me, (I will take thee from this place.)"
Sasarame hesitated, "(Can... she finally return home?)"
"Perhaps, young lady. But until then, you can be my traveling companion."
The young snake shuddered lightly but did not approach.
"(...She hesitates. Sasarame is afraid.)"
Tycon nodded in encouragement, "(I will protect thee, beautiful child.)"
Sasarame lowered her body, slowly slithering backward.
"(Nay, Ivory Prince... Sasarame is afraid of thee.)"
Tycon closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, "I too, am afraid, young lady. I fear the uncertain dawn. I fear for my friends. I fear myself and the dark secrets that I know and know not... But fear will not stop me from doing what I believe is right.
"(On my name as the Ivory Prince, on my name as Leader of Sol Invictus, on my name as Slayer of Dragons... I swear to protect thee, Sasarame.)"
Finally, Sasarame slithered closer, "(Do... do dragons truly exist?)"
"They do not," Tycon smirked. "I have killed a very large lizard, though. Will that be enough, (beautiful child?)"
She stared at Tycon's outstretched hand, "(Sasarame is not a beautiful child... She is a cursed child. The Ivory Prince knows naught of her...)"
"(No child deserves to live in fear. If thou art truly cursed, I shalt enslave the angels of the 11 heavens and command the denizens of the 7 hells...)
Tycon inwardly admitted that there were plenty of cheaper and less troublesome options he would try before waging war against an outer plane. While pricey, Tycon would look into hiring a Cleric or Cursemancer.
"(Then... Sasarame will trust thee...)" The young lady softly hissed.
It had been difficult to convince Sasarame, but her distrust was not without good reason. Whatever depravities she'd witnessed in these chambers were certain to taint her worldview.
Slowly, the young snake slithered to Tycon's hand. She flicked her tongue against his fingers... and his eyes began to grow heavy.
He felt his consciousness quickly fading. He struggled to stand, to cry out... but his vision grew dark.