Headed by a Snake

Loki scrunched his face and tilted his head in confusion... "N... no way?"

Wait, what?

Haelvia's eyes widened in surprise.

Had... she actually gotten through to her arrogant, green-haired coworker? That was... new.

...It was the first time it managed to change someone's mind about something.

Pride swelled in her heart... and she was glad she'd done her research.

"That's right," She nodded with a smile.

"So..." Loki twisted his lips... "So that means... that Gaheris is older than the Flame, herself!"

The idiot flashed an ugly grin that was completely in line with his mushroom brain. He must have thought insulting Haelvia's only friend in the company ON TOP of openly blaspheming their national deity made for top brand humor.

Haelvia shut her eyes and raised her eyebrows as she sighed... "H-yeah. Sure."

Harkus Mors was probably the most skilled crafter in all of Tyrion. That man only made two generations of Divine Armors. Centurion Januarius only managed to get ahold of Gaheris because he had a personal contact from House Vanzano.

It was... absolutely... undoubtedly... and infuriatingly useless to explain any of that to Loki.

The boy's propensity for learning was... pathetic. He dozed through or skipped out on nearly all his classes, save the ones where he got to pick up and put down weighted objects or punch and kick half-naked men in a circle of rocks.

Why the Centurion and the Decani let that pass... probably had to do something with his mana...or the fact that Loki was a combat genius.

As much as she wanted to tear down his throne and humble him, everyone in the guild knew that Loki was the better combatant between them. Before they departed for the Eastern States, they'd done dozens of training exercises... some even simulating live combat conditions.

The fault, however, did not belong to Gaheris.

It belonged to his pilot.

"You know, Elle..." Loki crossed his arms, "How about you just unsummon that guy? There's enough room in Lancelot that we could ride together."

Haelvia had to stop and take a breath. She was just shy of scoffing aloud. If she wasn't paying attention, she would have laughed in his face... which would have been very rude.

That boy...

He couldn't have been as serious as he looked...

Even though they were supposed to be the same age, Haelvia was nearly seven Tyrion feet tall-- nearly two heads taller than he was.

No, there was not enough room in Lancelot for them to ride together.

And no, that was not something she'd consider, even if it was possible.

Besides, Centurion Januarius ordered her to stay mounted... so stay mounted, she would.

She signed a contract.

Having both Divine Armors ready to fight at a moment's notice was a necessary safety precaution.

Besides the various mid-to-large size threats in the deserts, their century was a prime target for raiders.

...Not even raiders, the Centurion was accounting for the fact that a foreign Adventuring Company might be attacked on sight rather than be politely questioned.

And the reason for that? Guild Metal Wolf was... very... unapologetically Tyrion.

Long shields strapped to Munifices' arms. Scouts armed with Tyrion crossbows. Various Decani wearing crested helmets.

Their company marched in loose, barely-acceptable formations. The Centurion turned a blind eye to how bad it looked, maybe due to the fact that they'd been slogging away in an unchanging landscape for well over three suns.

The horse-drawn wagons they guarded had their guild banner and the Tyrion flag draped on their sides. They were paramount to protect... most carrying food, water, and equipment, but one carrying emergency personnel and a teenage Elven girl suffering from heatstroke.

Guild Metal Wolf *did* have Lancelot, though. His scuffed paint was the same colors as the flag that represented the Eastern States as a whole.

However... it definitely looked out of place-- especially next to Gaheris and his color scheme's liberal usage of Tyrion purple.

The locals would probably think Lancelot was looted, rather than legally commissioned.

...And anyroad, even a neutral inquiry likely wouldn't result in civil conversation. In that kind of situation, Loki was far too quick to try to act the hero... brandishing his spear and mucking everything up.

"I have to respectfully decline, Munifex Loukius," Haelvia smirked. "I wouldn't betray my Gaheris like that."

"Tch," Loki scoffed and shrugged his shoulders, "Why're you talkin' about that thing like it's your boyfriend?"

"Gaheris and I are as inseparable as lovers," Haelvia pursed her lips and winked coquettishly. "Isn't it the same with you and Lancelot?"

"WhaaAAAt?" Loki rolled his eyes, "It's-- it's not like that."

"You hesitate, hero of Tyrion?" Haelvia teased.

"Well-- I... ARGH! Come on, Elle! Me and Lancelot are the best of pals. But it's not like we-- you know."

Haelvia smiled politely. Even though Loki was undoubtedly the most appropriate pilot for 'Lancelot' in the guild... he wasn't without his flaws.

--with the most glaring one being...

⟬ Lancelot is not his Divine Armor's true name. ⟭

It wasn't something she could tell him-- or anyone.

She tried to hint at it in passing... but the ignorant brat was so proud of coming up with it 'all by himself.'

The other guild members would probably dismiss her concerns as a result of small-minded jealousy. The gossip would spread throughout the guild in a bell or two.

It was probable that... no one in the Realm would believe that Haelvia could... talk to Weapon and Armor Spirits.

...Anyroad, Haelvia couldn't help Loki even if he asked. The boy's Divine Armor refused to reveal its name to her... and even refused Gaheris when she bid him to ask.

Haelvia hoped Loki would learn it eventually. It took a few moons of training for Gaheris to share his true name with her... but she reasoned that the Divine Armors were like people-- they warmed to others at different rates.

Loki rated friends throughout the company. He probably rated loyalty from 'Lancelot' too...

A shout came from below, along with the clanking of something striking Gaheris' metallic leg.

"Hey, Hagrid!!!"