Headed by a Snake

"Sir Tycon," Athena glared, pointing angrily at the girl in the tattered cloak. "What is your relationship with that person?"

Tycondrius raised an eyebrow, "I met the young lady a few evenings ago, naked in a dungeon. Why do you ask?"

Without warning, Tycon received several harsh slaps of a sheathed sword.

"By the Flame!" Athena screamed, "How can you ignore her?!"

"Miss Athena..." Tycon used his left forearm to block the girl's simple attacks. They stung, though.

"Go TALK TO HER!!" The young lady was furious.

...Tycon grimaced, "But why?"

"Seven HECKS! Just go! Go or you're fired!!"

"...I don't... I don't actually work for you, young lady. You can't fire me."

"Then I'll get Mister Zenon to fire you!!" Athena growled.

"I won't dismiss my Optio unless I know the full story." The Librarian shrugged... "But you're lookin' kinda like a scumbag right now, Tycon-- no offense."

Tycon furrowed his brows. What did he do?

"There is no point in speaking with the young lady. Be serious, you two. We're in the middle of a gear inspection."

"Just... just go! Do it! Or I'll be really mad!" Athena puffed up her cheeks like a petulant child.

She was already mad. This was the extent of the young lady being mad. No. He didn't want to go. He wanted to finish the inspection.

"Duty above all else." Zenon gave a half-hearted smile, "I'll finish checking the gear, Optio."

Tycon watched as his beloved inspection sheet was snatched away from him. He enjoyed doing inventory... and he had lost that privilege.

"Very well," Tycon sighed. "Please be thorough, Centurion."

He was going to be very upset when one or two of the children reported missing supplies.

"Of course."

Taking a deep breath, Tycon walked over to where a miserable-looking young lady had sat upon the grass. Her shapely legs were revealed beneath her cloak-- appearing slightly alluring. Had she been able to recover proper clothing within the past few suns... or was that all she was wearing?

"Good afternoon, Miss Doe," Tycon greeted her.

Doe's eyes widened as she looked up in surprise, "Y-you remember me?"

...He did... slightly. The young lady was of no importance, so he hadn't thought much of her. Thankfully, his System always did an excellent job at informing him of various persons he'd met previously.

⟬ Medousa, Bronze-Rank Human Expert. ⟭

"Yes. I was curious as to your arrival. When first we met, I tried to kill you." Tycon smirked, "Are you so willing to waste the life I had gone out of my way to save?"

Admittedly, it hadn't taken much effort to save the young lady. He had taken maybe a bell's worth of effort and spent a single gold coin. After fleecing some stolen trinkets and valuables from House Galanis, he had the benefit of disposable funds.

"I... I wanted to pay you back," Doe muttered. She shifted uneasily, revealing more of her scarred legs.

Tycon rolled his eyes, not particularly caring to hide his emotions, "Not necessary. Concerning my current quest, I've no use for you. You can go back and live your life as you please."

She knelt and bowed her head, "I... I'll do anything you want. I can fight..."

"Tss. You?" Tycon scoffed, shaking his head, "The five of us will be venturing to the Icingdeath Mountains. While I appreciate your enthusiasm, with your level, you'd only be a hindrance."

Expert was not a combat class. That she would volunteer herself for such a job was absurd, regardless of where Sol Invictus was going.

She pointed past him, angrily, "And why is he going with you, then?"

Tycon narrowed his eyes, following her finger, "Victorius? He's a... porter."

It was a good question... Why was he coming along?

"I can... I can carry your things for you," Doe offered.

Why was this young lady being so stubborn? Tycon grimaced, refusing her again, "Carry things? You're clearly fatigued just from your travel here. Your pupils are dilated and your body is literally shaking. I trust you as much to carry gear as much as I trust you can walk five paces."

He took in a breath through his nostrils, exhaling slowly, "Rest for a while. Go back, afterward. I insist."

"Sir Tycon... Please," The girl begged, bowing her head near his boots. "I can... I can warm your bed."

Frustration tinged Tycon's voice, "Raise your head."

The last woman who offered her body to him, he had killed immediately after. It was something he did not regret.

The young Medousa was physically attractive. The scars on her body he was privy to, while considered a social flaw by human culture, he didn't care for, at all. Once she recovered, her body would be in good condition for such physical endeavors.

That she was offering herself without a strong relationship seemed to be... a social faux pas. When the young lady raised her head, he looked into her eyes.

Within them, he saw fear, uncertainty, desperation...

...and not an onze of self-respect.

"I will not share a bed with someone who does not respect her own body," Tycon declared with finality.

The young lady's jaw hung open and she gawked in disbelief, "Wh... what?"

Tycon sighed. The girl was lost... confused. He likened her actions to that of a child, promising whatever she could, without thinking of the consequences.

Kneeling down, he patted Doe on the head, "There was no selfish motive in saving you, young Guardian. You owe me nothing...

"But if you need guidance... get off your feet, work towards a goal, seek to support yourself honorably. And I prefer if you did not need saving again..." Tycon chuckled, "Hah... You only get one."

The young lady's eyes had glazed over. Small tears ran down the sides of her face and her lips were quivering. He was trying to be inspirational... he hoped those were 'inspired' tears.

Tycon poked the center of Doe's eyebrows, "Do you understand me, young lady?"

Clarity returned to her eyes, "Y... yeah. Th... thank you, Sir Tycon."

Tycon offered a smile that he did not need to fake, "Good."