Headed by a Snake

"No, I did not," Tycon answered simply.

"Whew..." Lone breathed a deep sigh of relief, "Just had to check..."

Lone felt like he'd dodged a lethal attack. If Boss Tycon was the murderer that Coraline was looking for-- eh. He was just glad that wasn't the case.

He tossed and turned in his bed, trying to get comfortable... "All that thinking's made me hungry..."

Lone saw movement out of the corner of his eyes.

Boss threw things at him, an awful lot. It wasn't moving so fast that he had to use mana for it, though.

He snatched the small package out of the air.

Measuring its weight in its hand, he groaned, "Ugh... is this more soap, Boss?"

"Hah. No," Tycon chuckled. "It's your share of the Gann jerky we cured a few suns back."

"Oh, thanks," Lone's heart warmed.

He unbound the leather and took the thickest slice of jerky to munch on. The smoky-peppery flavor was perfect for satiating his hunger.

The flavor was... nostalgic.

"You performed much better against the three than in your first encounter against the one," Tycon mused.

"Yeah... I'm a lot stronger now."

Those were simpler times... It made Lone recall how strict his training had been... but also made him realize how much effort Tycon put into him and the other members of Sol Invictus.

"Concerning the high elf's murder..." Tycon tapped his finger on the wood of his puzzle box, "I'm assuming you didn't kill him, either."

"I... I don't know?" Lone shifted the jerky in his mouth to the side of his cheek, "I might've? I don't think I did... but magic is weird. You said there were spell formations on the ship, Boss?"

"Indeed," Tycon pointed a palm at the painting he'd taken down earlier, now returned to its place. "The formations effectively block anything with somatic and verbal components, Domination-type spells included. Thus, none of the casters on-board can use non-martial spells unless exempted."

"So Miss Olesya can probably breathe fire..." Lone muttered, "And Mister Ramon can... also breathe fire? What do tieflings do?"

"Correct. Bloodline skills are both non-verbal and non-somatic," Tycon nodded. "And Turathi tieflings can activate something... fire-based, usually."

"Wh... what if a Domination spell was cast on me before boarding?"

"Clever, but no." Tycon rolled his slightly glowy, yellow eyes, "Nothing of the sort affects you... nor any other passenger. I would have noticed."

"Oh... alright," Lone sighed, staring at the bottom of the bunk above him. He'd ruled out both bloodline skills and mind-control having anything to do with the murder...

He had very few clues on who the culprit *could* be...

It wasn't Boss. It probably wasn't Coraline... and the Captain and Maisie were probably not the ones, either.

"Mister Lone."

Lone furrowed his brows. It was useless to think about it. They'd gather more clues in the morning, "What's up, Boss?"

"When I inquired about your progress, earlier... I was referring to your 'dialogue' with Miss Coraline."

...

A chubby rat scampered along the side of the hallway floor, unafraid of the small Elven girl swaddled in her blanket.

Coraline sighed. She had spent nearly two bells sitting there... watching... waiting.

She was so... very... very... tired.

Nothing. happened.

No one woke up. There were no signs of an obvious murderer, stalking the halls. The ship didn't even have any ghosts! Everything would have been so much easier if Lord Arod manifested as a spirit and laid out the specific details of his murder.

It was fine, though! Coraline had done her share of nightwatch as an adventurer-- with ghosts and without.

She was an elf, after all...

Elves. didn't. need. to sleep.

She just needed... peacefulness... peaceful-minded-ness. to be at peace-- to soak in mana from the atmosphere.

...Something like that.

The 'meditative state' she needed was difficult to explain. She needed to sit still... and concentrate. After so long, she'd sense the vaguest hint of a very specific, very fleeting state of mind.

It wasn't something that she could... hunt and catch. But once she found it, she could... will for it?

It would come to her.

It always did.

Bleigh. Sitting cross-legged for so long made her back hurt.

Sleep would have been... so very nice... if she could have afforded it. Maybe she just liked lying down? It was a lot more comfortable.

Her evening wouldn't have been so bad, if she had company.

--other than the rats, of course.

Her sleepy thoughts drifted back to the awkward boy with the scar on his cheek.

Mister Lone was...

...probably not the most ideal for that. He didn't seem to talk very much. Even she talked more than Lone did-- and she generally kept her noisy thoughts to herself.

Huh...?

Why was she thinking of *that* guy?

Felicity would make wonderful company. Lady Lucrezia would have been just perfect-- but she was getting her beauty sleep. Good for her.

Sleep was stupid~

...It was probably because of recent events. *That* was what made her think of that person.

Mister Lone had a solid alibi and was... relatively competent.

There was no special reason for it.

Coraline's ears twitched, hearing movement.

Her heart warmed and her lips curved up into an unreserved smile.

Her savior had turned the corner.

She didn't realize it until that moment... but it was exactly who she needed to see.

"So... I finally make your acquaintance... Petty Officer Mittens..."

The stray cat had a patchy, tri-color coat... black, white, and brownish. Mittens' paws looked nothing like her namesake... white fur traveling up her paws and well past her wrists.

It was certainly a cute name, though-- and thinking about it, 'Mittens' was much more feminine than... 'Gloves' or... 'Sleeves'

Coraline nodded. She would allow it.

Mittens, merciless slayer of rats, was her greatest ally on the Golden Eagle.

She supposed that Mister Lone was a close fourth.

Petty Officer Mittens proved to be excellent company. She was friendly, full of meows and gentle nuzzling. The angelic purring sound she made put Coraline's heart and soul at ease.

The calico even listened patiently to everything she had to say... complaints about her old guild leader... about how frustrating it was to stay up late... about her fourth-favorite ally.

Five star customer service.

So far, her flight on the Golden Eagle had been absolutely lovely-- minus the... murder.

Unfortunately, their time was interrupted by the appearance of a dastardly rat, bigger than two of Coraline's fists put together.

Petty Officer Mittens boldly dashed off to face her newest foe.

Tears pooled in the corners of Coraline's eyes. Her savior was so, so brave.

'May honor guide thy claws, Petty Officer Mittens! Ne'er has a Tyrion, nobler than thee, acted in so honorable a defense of her countrymen.'

...Anyroad, taking too long of a break was no good.

There were plenty of rats on-board. Mittens had a lot of work to do...

One of the doors creaked open at about the same time... The emergent Lone slowly turned his head, watching Petty Officer Mittens chase after her foul prey, down the hall and into the darkness.

Coraline-- in a far better mood than she was earlier, gave the boy a small wave.

"Ya couldn't sleep, Mista Lone?" She smirked, mimicking Maisie's cutesy, high-pitched voice.

"I'm exhausted," Lone shook his head. "I got two bells, though... I figured I'd come out and let you get your sleep cycle."

Coraline nodded lazily, covering her mouth as she yawned. That sounded lovely... but her one-sided conversation with Petty Officer Mittens had granted her a tiny surge of energy.

"I'm not too, too tired," She patted the deck next to her. "Want to sit and chat for a bit?"

"Umm..." Lone hesitated, placing his hand on the back of his neck. "Yes?"

Coraline wrapped her blanket tighter around her, stifling a giggle, "Stars and stones, you're so weeeeiird, Mister Lone."

She pursed her lips and winked coquettishly, "Do you not like my company?"

"Aha..." The boy smiled in embarrassment, "I guess I can sit for awhile."

...

Time passed by quickly enough with conversation. The topics were horribly mundane, but... they weren't... boring?

They didn't talk about the murder or the theories they had or... the two dozen things she was worried or frustrated about...

She simply chose to enjoy Mister Lone's company.

--which was... surprisingly pleasant.

It seemed silly, but Coraline was caught off-guard by the realization.

The awkward boy with the scar on his cheek didn't seem all that interesting... but... he was? It was difficult to explain.

He hid the most peculiar of details... like what his actual occupation was... and pretty much anything about Sir Tychon.

All that she could really get out of him was that Mister Lone was that person's subordinate.

They were probably criminals... but if that were true, the boy exuded far too much innocence and naivete.

Or maybe Baron Tychon actually was just a traveling scholar? His conversation with Lord Arod had supported that fact.

Coraline didn't want to believe that the answer could be simple.

...The two of them could very well be... very bad criminals.