Headed by a Snake

Pathfinder Quay took Tycondrius' offered hand, standing up and dusting himself off. Sandal-print remained on his face, somewhat devaluing his heroic mien.

"Well, he's strong. That's what matters, I suppose," Quay nodded in contentment... "Hey, Tycon. I'm a good dad, right? Right?"

Tycon took a deep breath as he contemplated on how to answer.

When he'd transmigrated into the Realm, the young Pale was nine years old. At the time, no one had thought to teach the boy to defend himself. Gifted with talent and a solid work ethic, Pale's combat skills quickly grew to Iron-Rank in only a few moons. Currently, he was ten or eleven... and the current-Quay had been missing, long before then.

It was highly probable that he was dead.

Tycon providing any of that information was less than ideal. He would not risk adversely affecting the Elven Pathfinder's morale...

"Hahaha..." Quay chuckled uneasily... "I bet I'm not. I'm not really good at anything besides fighting... and FRIENDSHIP!!!"

"Tss," Tycon scoffed. "Worry not. Where you have failed, I will compensate."

"Aha! That's the Tycon I know and love!" Quay cheered, raising a fist. "I'd sure like to meet him, though..."

That... Hm... Pale wished for the same thing.

Tycon pushed the thought away, rolling his eyes at his loyal and... easily excitable companion, "We're heading to the roof. Let's put your Elven eyes to good use."

"Sounds gooooood, Boss!!" Quay grinned. "I'm a RANGER!"

As Tycon turned to navigate to the top of the fortification tower, Quay happily bounced along after him.

"Tycon! I have another question!"

...

The tall town walls had walkways that connected them with the other guard towers. As an Elven Ranger, Quay's sharpened vision surpassed that of the Elven Sorcerer, the Goblin Pathfinder, and Tycon's own Gold-Rank perceptive abilities.

With it, Quay identified a few pockets of human resistance still fighting against the Snake Cult.

The Brazen Guard collective was closer to the next-tower-over.

Tycon led Sol Invictus towards it. Upon clearing it, they would again observe the battlefield, planning their next actions from there.

"Wh-why are you giving me a sword?!" Fortuna complained, "I'm just a kid!"

The tall elf Zuko crouched over and sneered, pushing the handle of his red greatsword towards the half-elf child, "Because you have to make yourself useful, you little shite."

"Just take it. Got nothin' better to do, do ya?!" Dragan chuckled. "Take a look at Gobsuke! He's carryin' a gun three times his size! You don't see him complaining!!"

The goblin glanced over, his expression hidden by his black goggles... "It's actually very heavy. I wish I didn't have to carry it."

Tycon pulled back on a longbow he'd appropriated, shooting one of the cultists on the streets below, "Mister Gobsuke... why do you wield such a long-barreled rifle?"

The goblin shrugged as he plodded along, "You guys always charge into battle faster than I can get there. You might not have noticed, but my legs aren't very long."

Tycon sighed. That made sense. With the exception of Pale, he was the shortest active male member of Sol Invictus. It was quite nice traveling with Quay, who was of similar height, and Gobsuke, even shorter than the half-human Pale.

"Fortuna, take the sword to protect yourself," Quay offered a gentle smile. "It has the Mage Weapon enchantment. You're a First-Circle caster, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"I... I am?" The pink-haired whelp's eyes widened as she took hold of Zuko's greatsword... "It... it's not heavy at all?"

Tycon chuckled to himself, amused by the child's innocence. The young Fortuna swung the sword back and forth as if it were a thin tree branch. In the future, she'd grow to be a Third-Circle spellcaster. She'd also die by his hands.

"Whoa, Zuko, for reals?" Dragan's massive jaw hung open, baffled. "I thought you were joking??! You never let anyone touch your weapon!"

Zuko glared angrily in response, "It's not the real Hongyue. Actually, I'm insulted to have been given such a shite imitation."

"I mean... now, it all makes sense!" The Titanblood crossed his arms, nodding sagely... "Of course, you'd offer a little underage girl the privilege of double-fisting your BIG, FAT, MEATY--"

Without warning, Zuko began to strike Dragan with fists sheathed in phoenix fire. Dragan cackled in glee as he blocked and counter-attacked playfully with Dread. The skirmish 'appeared' to be heated, but Tycon paid them no mind.

"Mister Gobsuke."

"Got it, Boss," The goblin increased his speed. Reaching the door that led into the second tower, he hastily inspected it for traps. "Doors clear. Breach?"

"I WANT IT!!!" Dragan shouted, peeling off from his playfight.

Before the Titanblood could get to it, the door immediately burst into flames. Within seconds, its metal reinforcements glowed white-hot, then melted into slag. Just as quickly, the smokeless fire disappeared, revealing the tower's insides as if the door had never existed.

"Suck my arse, Dragan," Zuko spat, obviously still frustrated.

"Oh, son of a--" Dragan groaned before shrugging his wide shoulders... "Ya got me, bud."

Stepping through the disintegrated door, the members of Sol Invictus entered the upper part of the tower... where they were met with a scene of carnage.

Nearly a dozen cultists had been killed within. Their bodies were strewn across the wooden planks, bloody hack-marks on their necks and bodies. The most impressive amongst the dead was an armored class in dark-green plate, a long, wicked horse-cutting blade lying by her side.

Wielding such a lengthy blade in such narrow corridors was foolish of her-- and probably allowed her murderer to stick a hatchet in her forehead.

Amongst the dead was a single dying man... who revealed himself when he loosed a wet, wracking cough. He sat up against a wall in the corner... wearing black armor, covered in spikes.

"Oooh..." Dragan whistled, "Shall we put that guy outta his misery? --WITH YOUR PERMISSION, yOuNg MaSterR ZuKooOo?!"

"Tch," Zuko scoffed. "Do what you want, Prince Arse-lord"

"Thank you, mYy LoRrD!!"

Tycon grimaced, "Stop that. Also, don't kill him. He's one of mine."