Headed by a Snake

Centurion Cyrac gnashed his teeth, grimacing. They hadn't even set out yet and Fortuna was picking a fight. The woman knew she was untouchable as the Rhodok's only Gold-Rank... and she sometimes threw her weight around when she was feeling... moody?

Everyone's eyes were turned to Zehr. The young red-headed Justus audibly gulped. Hah. Even the boy knew his companion was trouble.

Cyrac anticipated a good show. A little useless anger amongst the tent group was better than the general dull depression. With the Manticore's decimation of their already dwindling forces, morale was not high.

He kept quiet. Fortuna would speak her piece... If Zehr was as tactless as Optio Sixtus... he would intervene. If not... he would strongly consider the Duplicarius for promotion, even if he had to stuff it down his throat for him to accept it.

The visored Duplicarius lightly bowed his head, "Gold-Rank Healer Fortuna, thank you for your grace in healing my companion, Shield Maiden Gianna. I am forever in your debt."

"Hmph!" The also-helmeted Fortuna turned away, crossing her arms.

Oho... That was well-spoken. The young man countered Fortuna's misplaced aggression with a heartfelt compliment that she would find trouble to deny.

"I didn't do it for you, idiot," Fortuna muttered.

"Nonetheless, you have my gratitude."

Cyrac raised an eyebrow at Sixtus.

That criminal... The dark-haired mushroom-brain was polishing his helmet. Cyrac wanted to belt his Optio in the head and demand that he listen-- maybe he could learn something from the Duplicarius. He inwardly cursed the fact that he had to play his persona as the Rhodoks' wizened leader.

Sensing the two's conversation finished, Sixtus returned his gaze to the table, "The forward group has the highest-rank leadership among the remaining combatants, as well as a few veteran Iron-Rankers. Besides detailing the mission proceeding tomorrow, I would like to address any concerns you may have, as well as gather your opinions on a few issues..."

Zehr crossed his arms, closing himself off. Cyrac chuckled inwardly. It would not be so easy to escape Sixtus' nigh-ceaseless questioning. The man loved meetings, gathering everyone's thoughts and concerns so he could form a plan to the best of his ability, to address everything.

Sixtus gestured to Zehr with an open palm, "Starting with you, Duplicarius."

Zehr uncrossed his arms, facing the Optio, "I have two concerns, Optio, both of them related."

The Optio nodded, "Go ahead."

"The first is... how many Rhodoks remain? Sending ten on a mission seems a far cry from our Rhodok Company's usual tactics."

Fortuna slammed the table, jostling Cyrac's wine cup, "And how would you know what our Rhodok Company's tactics are??"

Fortuna's question was ridiculous. The Rhodoks used standard Tyrion military tactics. If his and Sixtus' conjecture was correct, Zehr was a former Tyrion Immunes, while Fortuna's first taste of military life was with the Rhodoks. It... seemed that the girl was trying to seek trouble with the Duplicarius... but he couldn't fathom any rhyme or reason to it.

"Please, Fortuna. Everyone at this table is important enough to speak," Cyrac spoke to intervene.

He had initially expected to have to ask Zehr to stand down. In a strange twist of fate, he had to calm his Healer down, instead.

The willful girl pointed angrily at Zehr in response, "And why do you keep that helmet on? Do you have something to hide? Huhhh?!"

Ugh. What was the girl trying to do? She was only digging a hole for herself to crawl into.

Zehr grimaced, "With respect, Miss Fortuna--"

"Don't call me Miss~! I'm not that old!!"

"With respect... Fortuna..." The Duplicarius paused, likely to see if he'd be interrupted again, "--I will remove my helmet, if asked. However, you are... also wearing a helmet."

Cyrac sighed. There it was. Only two people at the table wore helmets. Fortuna wore a standard-issued Tyrion helmet, while Zehr wore a helm modified to cover his eyes, allowing him to see through a narrow slit. He looked quite menacing in the dim candlelight, but Cyrac knew that the young man did so to hide his unique eyes.

"Take it off, then!" Fortuna sat back in her seat, thinking she'd won.

Zehr placed his hands on the sides of his helm, removing it in a smooth motion. He brushed his green hair back, revealing an unfairly handsome face, youthful features, and a haunting golden gaze.

Fortuna... gawked, her face as red as a tomato... Cyrac thought she looked like a farmer's daughter seeing a soldier for the first time.

Flame take it all. Cyrac had a feeling this would happen as soon as his Healer mentioned Zehr's helmet. That thrice-damned Duplicarius was probably the handsomest bastard in the company.

"Y-y-y-y-your eyes..." She stammered.

"They are gold, yes," Zehr replied. "And yours are purple."

Amusement prickled Cyrac's heart. It was rather difficult to discern the color of Fortuna's eyes in the dim light. He would have asked for him instead of Proserpina, had he known just how good the Duplicarius' vision was.

"Fortuna," Sixtus gestured to the Healer. "--if you would."

"Wh-wh-wh-wh-what? Wat?" The girl stuttered and babbled. Any train of thought she might have had, had been run completely off-path.

Cyrac did his best to hide his amusement, smiling and adopting a polite tone, "Fortuna, the Duplicarius has complied with your request. Would you remove your helmet, as well?"

She obviously didn't want to, but it was perfectly fair. She did so... but in an excruciatingly slow, obstinate manner.

Removing her helmet, Fortuna revealed dark purple hair in a braided bun... and two elongated ears, marking her as an Outsider with an elven bloodline.

More than a few eyes around the table grew wide-- far more surprised at Fortuna's ears than Zehr's eyes. This was the grave that Fortuna had dug for herself.

Cyrac wasn't sorry in the least.

Not many of the Rhodoks knew that their leadership recruited those with Outsider-blood. It was because of that policy that they had discovered Fortuna in the first place... an Unranked girl, useless at combat, with an honorable dream to save lives-- to make a difference.

"S-s-s-s-stop staring!! Idiot!!!" Fortuna growled, "You've got elf blood too!! Don't try to deny it!!"

The golden-eyed Duplicarius smirked. He whispered something-- and Cyrac could swear it sounded like a... a pleasant song? A magical phrase of some sort?

...And that magic turned Fortuna's face redder and hotter, her ears lighting up like torches aflame.