Headed by a Snake

Tycon examined the giant fellow sharing his table. His muscles were comically oversized and the skin not covered by leather armor was covered in healed claw-marks and cuts. His face and smile were broad and his head was covered in a mane of bright red hair.

He looked trustworthy... if a bit dim.

« System, inquiry: Who the hells is this? »

[System response: Dragan Ashlord.]

...Apparently, he wouldn't get anything worthwhile unless he asked properly. How frustrating.

« System, search: Information on this Dragan fellow. »

[Dragan Ashlord. Dominant Bloodline: Giant. Reputation: Trusted. Class:...]

« --That will do. System, display known names. And display aggression level as the displayed name's color. »

[Setting change complete.]

"Bosssss!" The broad-faced giant grinned widely at Tycon, "Did you order yet? I could really use an ale!"

Tycon glanced upwards to see a transparent green 'Dragan' appear above his head.

A transparent green name appeared over Barza's, while his associates had "??????" tags, colored in orange.

Tycon did a double-take on Barza's color. The bright green signified that it was incredibly unlikely for Barza to attack him.

Dragan followed Tycon's gaze and seemed to gain an understanding of the situation. Dragan spoke in a low voice, far more threatening, managing to simultaneously sound playful... but cruel, "BoSssSS! Are these guys botttherrring yoOOoouuU??"

Barza and his men visibly paled. One had his hand on his sword hilt, which clattered in its sheath from a shaking hand. A fight between Dragan and the four fools would be as one-sided as a wolf against three raccoons and a pigeon.

Tycon was inwardly pleased. This Dragan gentleman seemed to be useful to keep around.

...

Barza's companions all turned to him for an answer. Barza cursed his own luck, searching frantically for an excuse.

"N-n-n-no, sir! We were just… was just talk'n! Talking! Ain't that right, sir!" Barza stuttered. He begged with his eyes, hoping that the young boss would show leniency.

The noble took a deep breath and sighed in response. Barza felt his heart drop and splash into the deep pit of his stomach. He glanced back at his companions, their faces revealing that they'd reached the same conclusion: Offending the green-haired youth was a mistake.

The young master's annoyed expression smoothly transitioned into a friendly smile, granting Barza and his men a slight bit of hope. But Barza felt an inexplicable, growing sense of danger.

"Mister Dragan! No, how embarrassing that you've the wrong idea! In fact, Mister Barza had *just* offered to pay for our meals."

Barza's heart and soul shook, "Y-yes, that's right, Sir Dragan. We were just talking to Sir.. uh…"

"Baron, actually. Baron Tycondrius," the noble responded with confidence.

Barza's psyche was struck with a shock, much more traumatizing than the others. He had offended a noble. He quickly glanced around to see who'd noticed--

Everyone. Everyone had noticed. Every pair of eyes in the dining hall stared at him with either pity or amusement.

Barza had approached his mark because he looked young, his clothing wasn't especially opulent-- even his sword looked cheap! But the man spoke so arrogantly that he couldn't be anything but a noble...

"Mister Barza. On my honor... I cannot accept your kindness in paying for my meal," Tycon placed his hand on Barza's shoulder. Barza's heart soared. This was the forgiveness of a kind-hearted nobleman! It was like in the stories...

Tears pooled at the corner of his eyes. Barza was not a wealthy man. In order to afford to sleep with a roof over his head, he needed to complete dozens of low-level missions from the Adventurer's Guild each week-- his wages from being in the Shadowdark Wolves were not nearly enough.

Every day, his hands and knees would be scraped raw from collecting berries. He couldn't afford soap, so his armor stank of old sweat and goblin blood. One moon prior, he was ordered to lead the Wolves against a Dire Skunk --receiving a nasty cut on the bridge of his nose for his troubles and the avoidance of his peers for longer.

He wished dearly for a chance to work for a kind, wealthy, and (most-of-all) generous noble like Sir Tycondrius.

...

The bubbly young waitress, Sorina, returned, placing down two hefty mugs of ale in front of Dragan and Tycon. "Two mugs of ale, Sir Baron. And your main dish is being grilled now."

Tycon nodded politely to the girl, then turned to Barza, "Mister Barza, I must admit, I have been touched by your sincerity. I shall allow you to pay the meal of my associate, Mister Dragan."

Dragan grabbed one of the mugs of ale, "Ayyyyy! You're a great guy, Barzaaaa!" In a few scant seconds, the big man heartily drained the mug.

He turned to Sorina, "Pretty lady! I want ten of what the Boss is having!"

Sorina glanced at the size of the Titanblood before deciding that asking for confirmation was unnecessary, "Of course, Sir. And some more ale?"

"Oh, definitely! Thank you, Booze Angel!!"

Barza slumped down into the seat next to Dragan. The other Shadowdark Wolves silently withdrew.

Avoiding conflict, even at the cost of abandoning one of their own? Did that make them cowards? Or was it because they were human?

Sorina cheerfully tilted her head, "And for you, Mister Barza?"

Barza stared at the wood of the table, "I'll… I'll have some water, please."

Tycon noticed with slight amusement that the miserable fellow failed to spot the tinge of blush that had appeared on Sorina's cheeks.

…

Tycon finished his meal, quite content. Barza had excused himself after emptying his wallet in paying for Dragan's meal.

Much of the dinner noise had died down, allowing Tycon to have a reasonable conversation with his new source of information.

"Mister Dragan." "Yea, Boss?"

"Where are we?" "A town."

"Very well... What's the name of the town?" "I dunno. Townsville?"

"I... highly doubt that." "Yeah, I doubt it, too."

"What is our current quest?" "I dunno. You usually tell us that."

"Us? ...Who else are we traveling with?" "Oh, you know… Uh… Tarquin. Lulu… Wolfbanger."

Tycon narrowed his eyes, "Are those three different people or one very long, stupid, name?"

"Three short, stupid names." Dragan raised his eyebrows, "Boss? Are… are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thanks…" Tycon waved the question off.

Tycon gathered far less information than he had hoped for. As he was called 'Boss', he likely held a leadership position. And from the adventurer-heavy inn, he was logically a leader of a mercenary guild or adventuring company.

He called over the Booze Angel, Sorina, and tipped her a gold piece.

The girl blushed and twirled her hair, "Oh, Sir Baron. I-- I don't know if Barza would--"

"Hey, pretty lady," Dragan sat the girl on his lap and she blushed even more deeply. Tycon considered stopping that behavior, but seeing that Sorina didn't look uncomfortable, he decided to allow it.

"Miss Sorina, I've a few questions I hope you can shed some light upon."

"Oh! Yes, Sir. Of course!"

"What's this town known for?"

"The town of Nice is mostly known for its trade hub. Since an Adventurer's Guild was set up two epochs ago, merchant caravans have been always able to hire cheap guards amongst the various adventurers, guided or solo."

In a hushed voice, Sorina added, "The local noble is a baron named Tavor. He's not popular."

Her response was clear, concise, and practiced. Tycon approved. He wasn't going to tip her more than that gold piece, though.

Tycon held out a rolled-up scroll, stamped with an ornate stamped wax seal, "Does this look familiar?"

Sorina crinkled her nose, looking up at the inn room's chandelier in thought, "Oh! I remember. That's the royal seal. I saw it in a teacher's textbook, once."

"Oho, Boss." Dragan chimed in, "The pretty lady's, pretty smart."

"Last question," Tycon interrupted. "Miss Sorina, have you seen any of my other companions?"

"Oh, yes, um… The Weretouched and the kind-looking boy with blue hair. They haven't come back since they left the inn this morning. Oh, and your mount is still in the stables!"

Three. That matched Dragan's numbers.

Tycon sighed in reluctance. The girl was attentive and her responses were not lacking in any way. He looked over to Dragan, who appeared just as impressed-- it did not seem very difficult to impress Dragan.

Tycon's face remained expressionless as he placed a second gold coin on the table. A job well done must be rewarded. Still, Tycon felt his heart bleed with the loss of his coin, "Thank you, Miss Sorina. Direct me to the stables and that second coin is yours."

Sorina stood energetically and granted Tycon a polite curtsy, "It's over that way, Sir!"

"Want me to come along, Boss?" Dragan asked, smirking and placing his arms behind his head.

"You can stay."

"Great," Dragan poked Sorina's cheek, "Can I get another order of the meat and potatoes?"