Headed by a Snake

The first morning of Tycon's and Zenon's training yielded decent results for two, while simultaneously outing Victorius as a worthless coward.

Subsequent days progressed as expected. Ever diligent, the Invictus duo ventured to the Military Academy in Silva to work with Athena's combat instructors. Tycon was particularly skilled with the Holy Country's longsword techniques and was asked to host a short lecture.

He liked to teach... and the small bit of coin the Academy gave him was worth the time spent.

Even still, Tycon was running low on funds.

The coin went towards a balanced diet for his three trainees... and the ever-variable cost of training equipment, bandages, wooden swords, and the like.

He couldn't ask for money from the Vanzano Patriarch, Lord Greer. Tycon had rarely seen him in the manor... not that he cared to keep track of him.

He wasn't willing to use a lesser grade of proteins or herbs. Besides feeding the children, his cooking fed himself and Zenon. Professionals have standards.

A small part of him wished he could subsist on simpler pleasures... like Sol Invictus members Dragan and Lone. To improve their morale, they just needed a whore or two.

...Tycon made a mental note that they could probably share a whore between them. Even if he or she charged a bit more, it wouldn't be so much as double... If he cut their pay slightly, he could set aside guild funds for their whoring. He doubted the fools would mind, as long as they got their 'Whore Bonus.'

Within the week, he figured he'd have to visit the Banking Guild. There, he'd withdraw coin on his credit as a guild leader and owner of the East Charm Trading Company. Hopefully, whatever enemies were searching for him wouldn't dare tread into the Holy Country. After all, the nation had agents of the Church hidden behind every column, poised to smite anything suspicious into oblivion.

Tycon was a very handsome fellow. Handsome fellows were above suspicion.

"Don't look now, Optio," Zenon lowered his head. "There's trouble."

Tycon crossed his arms as Zenon slowed their group to a halt. Athena, Tanamar, and Victorius had finished a morning of light training and were still in good spirits, thus were only slightly curious about the delay.

Though Tycon's eyesight was superior to his Centurion's, Zenon's vision was... elevated. With that particular advantage, he was often first to spot threats to the party.

Tycon did not envy the man. Zenon would also be the first to be noticed and shot by enemy snipers.

"If I'm not to look, now..." He glanced up at the Centurion, "When... would it be permissible?"

Zenon twisted his lips, struggling for an answer... "It was a figure of speech."

Tycon narrowed his eyes. What did it mean, then?

...He chose to wholly ignore it. He moved forward to peek past the side of the wall Zenon had glanced over. Over two dozen armed men and women were loitering in front of the Vanzano estate.

"Those bastards... what could they want?" Zenon grumbled.

Tycon scoffed inwardly. This was an opportunity. If he could murder those people, he could rob them all... Even better, if he could track down their leader, he could extort that person for coin! This was a wonderful development.

He began to chuckle quietly as he counted the coins in his possession. Taking a few, he handed his wallet to Tanamar.

The white-haired footman warily took the bag, "What's this for?"

"Consider it a well-deserved break from training." Tycon smiled politely, "Take the young lady someplace nice. Return to the manor after two bells."

Tanamar furrowed his brows, "Tycon, I... I can't take your money."

"Good, I'd prefer it that way," Tycon shrugged. "Use your own. But keep the extra coin for purchases related to training."

Athena pouted, "Is it okay? If it's okay, I'd like... some new athletic clothes."

"Permission granted," Tycon nodded. It was not uncommon for articles of clothing to be ruined during combat training.

Tanamar moved closer to whisper, "I'm not leaving, Tycon. You guys need my help."

Odd. The young man hadn't looked over the wall to see the threat they faced. However, instant willingness to assist his allies in a physical altercation was an admirable trait. Tycon approved.

"Incorrect, we do not-- but thank you for volunteering." Tycon gestured up at Zenon, "Understand that the Centurion and I are able to handle this sort of situation because of our stations."

"Won't that get you guys in trouble?" Tanamar asked.

The young footman's worries were reasonable.

"If we act in a particular way we are..." Tycon smirked, "--above the law. Any questions?"

"Y-yeah," Tanamar's face fell. "What... what am I supposed to do with her?"

Tycon glanced past the Holy Lancer, seeing a radiantly smiling Athena. She was barely able to keep still, clutching Tycon's wallet in anticipation.

"Go." He narrowed his eyes at Tanamar, "I have faith you'll... figure it out."

As a general teaching strategy, Tycon loathed the 'figure it out' instruction. If a student asks a question, it should be answered in order to facilitate their growth.

However, concerning Tanamar's specific situation... he did not need guidance. He got along well enough with Athena that whatever they did would foster their mutual relationship.

The white-haired footman left obediently, Athena dragging him along back the way they came. This would be his and Zenon's fight, not theirs.

"As for you..." Tycon turned to Victorius, "Here's three gold coins. Ensure dinner is served at the manor in two bells."

"V-very well, Sir." The crippled-hand footman took the coins, but couldn't meet Tycon's gaze.

Tycon found it frustrating. The young Victorius dutifully completed his mundane training along with his mistress and fellow footman... but that was the extent of his faith. The former Archer still shied away from anything related to combat.

...With Victorius still completing his training, Tycon did not have enough reason to beat the fellow to death.

In the meantime, Victorius remained a loyal servant of House Vanzano. As annoyed with the young man as he was, he had no compunctions in assigning him reasonable duties.

He handed him a piece of paper, "And since you're going out, buy some groceries."

"Sir?" Victorius asked with uncertainty.

...What could it be? Tycon hoped it wasn't going to be similar to Tanamar's asinine, 'but wHaaT do I doOooO?'

"I... I can't read," Victorius admitted.

Tycon squeezed his eyes into a focused glare, "What?"

"I... I can't read, Sir."

Tycon was shocked, "Empty night, what do you mean you can't read? You are a *footman* of a *noble* house. You're not a filth-ridden commoner?"

"I uh... I joined late," Victorius stared at his feet.

Tycon rolled his eyes, turning to Zenon, "Centurion, am I wrong? Am I the 'bad guy' here?"

Zenon grimaced, revealing his teeth, "Well... most citizens can count but not read, Optio. Only merchants really need reading comprehension."

Tycon sighed, "Victorius... give the list to the grocer. They should be able to fill the order for you."

The Archer nodded, "Oh. Right."

"Why are you still here?" Tycon glared.

"Sir, I don't think three coin will be enough," Victorius squeaked.

Tycon took a deep breath, "Just... just go. Figure it out."