Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius took a moment to look over his elevated companion.

Librarian Zenon Skyreaper's appearance hadn't changed much. His skin was lighter, either from the sunless winter moons or from the consistent use of his Letalis-issued full helmet. The lines on his face had been etched deeper, as if he'd grown a habit of scowling and furrowing his brows. His handsome mustache was still full and luxurious.

It was a good mustache.

The gentleman exuded a strong aura of confidence-- perhaps because he was in good spirits, concerning the company and the meal. Certainly, he was a completely different person than the always-smiling pushover Tycon had initially met.

Zenon placed his winecup back on the table and leaned back... "Optio, I must admit I was looking forward to talking to you about battlefield tactics."

Tycon raised his eyebrows in amusement, "You sound like you have some experience."

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Zenon laughed with chagrin, "but you know how I'm big on history? I've studied a fair amount of Tyrion military engagements. Shield walls... cavalry charges, archers on elevated ground, infantry formations-- that sort of thing."

Tycon chuckled, "You certainly rate as an above-average tactician with just that. Admittedly, my peers tend to not be so studied."

It was a complex topic... and from what Zenon was implying, it seemed he fell into the unfortunately common notion that unit-types were... unique to themselves.

The most foolish subsequent theory was that the various battlefield units had a relationship triangle. Cavalry defeated archers, infantry to cavalry, and archers to infantry...

The logic fell apart with just a modicum of thought.

Archers didn't always defeat infantry. Arrow volleys were mostly useless against large formations of infantry shield walls.

It was the same with infantry defeating cavalry. If a formation of footmen was broken, light cavalry could inflict massive casualties as they retreated.

Then, of course, modern battle strategy utilized Gold-Ranks, either individuals or synergistic Iron-Rank teams. They were fielded to shore up defenses or to crack open glaring holes in the enemy line.

Battlefield studies were difficult in that there were so many factors to consider... from training, morale, and fatigue, to armor and weapon-types.

"Eh..." Zenon shrugged, "You're the expert though, Brother-Tycon. Your base Class is Warlord, isn't it? The higher tier of Tactician?"

"Indeed," Tycon pursed his lips. "What of it?"

"As long as you're leading us, taking Caeruleum's gonna be a breeze!" Zenon happily declared, shoveling a healthy portion of food into his mouth.

"Well, yes," Tycon hesitated... "But be advised, the coming battle is not something my Class excels in."

Zenon almost choked and he grabbed his winecup to clear his throat-- "Wait, what? Why not?"

"As you mentioned, Warlords excel in large-scale battles... but with thousands of troops on either side." Tycon smiled politely, "We have hundreds... and we'll be fighting through a series of skirmishes, rather than a single chaotic melee."

"Oh," Zenon mulled over the thought... "Yeah, that makes sense. So we'll be focused on hit-and-run tactics to steadily hack away at their number and bleed their morale?"

"I like the way you think, Brother-Zenon," Tycon nodded with pride. "However, the answer is more basic. We have a number of unique troops-- harpies, dwarves, a gorgon Idiot, a gunnery squad... and the Letalis Gold and Iron-Rank frontlines..."

Tycon felt his eye twitch. Zenon sensed it, as well.

An unwelcome visitor had entered the war tent...

However, upon glancing at the dark-clothed Assassin in his peripheral vision, Tycon decided not to worry about it and continue.

"In theory, Caeruleum forces will be unable to adapt to our tactics, especially if we strategically field our forces according to their strengths."

Zenon crossed his arms, his gaze drifting over the shadowy area where the Assassin hid, "I mean-- I get what you're saying, but... isn't the best strategy the Tyrion one? Charge in through the front? Rotate the front lines so our troops never get tired? Every single one of our people should be superior to the enemy's, no?"

"Oh, that will work, most definitely," Tycon groaned, "However, I am not a kind commander. That is why we have siege weaponry parked outside; the fat raccoons are within the city-proper, wreaking havoc; and I have literally entreated a young man with the Hero Class to aid us-- have you met Pale, by the way?"

"I have," Zenon nodded, crinkling his mustache. "He's a good kid. What should we do about the..."

"The Assassin?" Tycon chuckled.

From the corner of the tent, Tycon saw the young person visibly shiver then grow completely still.

He could respect the Assassin's optimism.

"I'm not worried about it," Tycon lightly shrugged.

He reached over to grab the bottle of wine, refilling his and Zenon's cup, "Perhaps we can keep them around for a light-hearted prank?"

"Like tearing out his insides and having the Spider-Breeders feed on them?" Zenon offered.

Tycon grimaced. Was that a prank? It seemed rather pointed and not at all light-hearted, as he'd suggested.

"No?" Zenon furrowed his eyebrows, "Cutting off layers of his skin, then? My ⌈Soothing Winds⌋ spell should ensure they die as slowly as possible."

"...Do not do that," Tycon frowned.

"How about using fire?" Zenon offered, "Oh. I recently had to take care of a bunch of unsanctioned psykers-- a lot of them, too... all of them capable of using Unranked or First-Circle fire magic."

"The Sons of Qotal," Tycon shook his head... "I've heard. And unfortunately, they are indeed sanctioned... and by the city of Caeruleum, no less."

Zenon reeled back in surprise, "They are? ...Shite. I feel stupid, then."

"It was an honest mistake," Tycon chuckled to himself. "Miss Virgilia has ensured that no survivors remain from the century you encountered. Worry not about anyone questioning your integrity."

The Assassin in the corner... his or her heart rate had spiked dramatically.

"Commander Tycon!" A deep voice boomed from outside the tent, "Warrior Cillian of Overlook requests permission to enter!"

"It's about time for the leaders to report in, isn't it..." Tycon grinned.

He hoped that Cillian fellow would provide an amusing show.