Headed by a Snake

After dealing with matters concerning Guild Metal Wolf, Tycondrius sent Elle, Coraline, and Beatrice off to explore the city.

He tried to offer his girlfriend pocket money.

She refused... which was somewhat disheartening.

However, he respected her independence... and could at least be glad that Elle did not agree to be his lover for financial gain.

And thus, Tycon sought to meet with Captain Krysaos and the rest of the crew... or that Elven Ancient, if that one was more readily available.

In the Eastern States, Tycon was not acting as the leader of Sol Invictus, nor the Chosen Hand of the Holy Country. He was a Lieutenant serving under the Captain of the Neptune's Revenge.

This provided him with benefits twofold. The Captain's name was moderately recognizable amongst seafaring circles, granting Tycon ease in procuring supplies for the Neptune's Revenge. It also provided suitable cover from opponents that might seek to challenge him for his personal status or that of his guild.

Besides that, Krysaos was a good man, arrogant but principled. His mission in life was seeking revenge on one who wronged him-- the god of the sea.

To outsiders, that might have seemed a ludicrous proposition.

Tycon knew better.

He'd killed gods before. The process was not without great difficulty... but it could be done.

It would be done. Naught but death awaited the enemies of Sol Invictus and that of her allies.

Besides the Captain, Tycon also had great affinity with his crew, a majority of them being nigh-invincible, six-fulm tall coral-folk. By profession, they were Royal Marines belonging to the Kingdom-- which Tycon was also a Lieutenant in.

Their loyalty was without question. So too was their capabilities in violence to both themselves and outside parties.

That made them simple enough to find.

Tycon questioned a local militiaman about any major disturbances, as of recent... and he learned that a gaggle of belligerent adventurers had been seen heading towards the eastern gates...

...

⁆ Captain's Log, Date XXXX. ⁅

⁆ So there I was, standing outside the tree-walls of Whitehearth. ⁅

⁆ Weird-ass city. I've never seen so many elves in my life... as if I needed to see any more than that arrogant noble along with Imperia's empty-headed goons.  ⁅

⁆ The bastards surrounded me with their beady eyes, pointy ears, and drawn swords.  ⁅

⁆ Elves... swordsmen with hundreds of years of experience, all looking at me like I was a fish on a chopping block. ⁅

⁆ But I, Captain Krysaos, of the Neptune's Revenge, ain't a useless sunfish.  ⁅

⁆ I'm a huge f*cking tuna, an apex predator who doesn't give a f*ck how many elves he has to sink his teeth into.  ⁅

⁆ He could've had a thousand elves instead of two dozen... and I STILL wouldn't be scared of that dickless cuntweed! ⁅

⁆ So I drew my badass Master Sword, bathed in the blood of a thousand men and beasts... and I pointed it at the man they called the King of the Elves.  ⁅

"I ain't afraid of you, guy," Krysaos declared.

"Master," Mina grimaced... "We mustn't do this. King is one of our valuable allies."

The purple-haired mermaid girl floated in front of Krysaos, her eyes wide and bubbly. It was a pull-at-your-heartstrings kind of look... not that he was gonna buy into it.

She... was important to him. Real important. Irreplaceable, even.

She was the spirit that was magically contracted to hang out with him, because he was theoretically the rightful wielder of the Master Sword. She spoke a lot of sense, too, that girl... but Krysaos wasn't the guy that needed sense. It was...

"My sovereign," Imperia cooed, using her disgustingly-fake, high-pitched voice... "Don't waste your time on this pathetic human."

That dark elf Princess had her silver hair braided too damned tight. She'd conveniently forgotten that she was the most useless person out of everyone present.

Krysaos stepped past Mina to shout, "YOU'RE pathetic!!"

"See?" Imperia sighed. "Mere words are enough to turn him into a rabid dog."

"I ain't a dog, you!" Krysaos growled. "I'm a gods-damned apex predator!"

"I'd classify you as a different type of predator," Imperia glared.

That.

That's why Krysaos was so gods-damned mad.

The elves-- they all gave him the same look.

Dis-res-f*cking-spect.

He'd kept his peace long enough... He even forgot about it for a while. But as soon as that stupid Ancient came back around, Imperia turned from an almost-reasonable person to 'ohhh, my sovereign' and 'ohhh, humans are so disgusting.'

Granted, it was gods-damned obvious how much she wanted to get on her knees and choke herself on his tiny prick-- but she didn't have to be such a b*tch about it!

It was gods-damned bullsh*t!!

"How about you draw your swords, 'en?" Krysaos yelled," Huh?!? *King*?! Yeah, I'm talkin' to you!"

King raised his head, as if to look down upon him, "Captain Krysaos, this king advises thee to withdraw thy challenge. Thou wouldst risk great injury even if I were to lower my Rank as abysmally low as yours.

"The least of my magics, I have practiced since your ancestors first discovered fire...

"My blade arts have been honed such that a single stroke could fell a mighty dragon..."

"Yeah, real funny, guy," Krysaos rolled his eyes. "Dragons don't exist."

"I assure you, Captain Krysaos..." King's eye twitched, "they do."

Yeah, that got him. That got him good.

"So come on, then," He sneered. "You and me, guy. Man versus elf. A leader of proud men against the king of a bunch'a folks whose genders I still haven't been able to figure out."

"You're disgusting, Krysaos," Imperia groaned.

"Tch," Krysaos scoffed, "Stay outta this, girlie."

"Hmph," King stepped forward, "Then mayhaps a lesson is in order. This king shall accept thy challenge, Captain Krysaos... and for our match to last longer than a single breath, I shall even refrain from using my Skills."

He drew his swords and lowered his chin, his eyes glowing like an oil lamp set to too-damned wasteful... "Consider it a mercy."