Headed by a Snake

"Even if you DON'T fink you'z da worst Coral Boy in da field," Bob growled... "Den you'z still da WORRRST Marine in da crew."

"Oh, YEAHH??!?!!!" Wonderboy shouted back, his indignant voice shrill and unpleasant, "You'z got NUFFING on us!! Why don'tcha PROVE IT, DEN!!"

The attention of the Coral-Boy crowd... turned to the ever-so-handsome Tycondrius.

He gave a wry smile as he averted his gaze downward, "Must you, Wonderboy?"

Bob gestured with his yellow palm, "Whaddya say, Bosun?"

Tycon shrugged lightly as he re-assumed his polite, neutral smile, "Very well."

Flicking his wrist, he activated his spatial ring to summon Wonderboy's records... "Out of fairness, we'll only consider the previous moon's counseling. Now... where shall I begin...?"

Wonderboy stuck his chest out, grinning wide, as if he were certain he'd been on his best behavior.

From whence his confidence came, Tycon had no idea.

"The previous moon, you've been late to work... four? different times?"

He remembered assigning the fool one or three lashings for those, but *four* was unacceptable.

"Fridays don't count, Bosun," Wonderboy scowled.

"Hmph. You've fallen asleep on post... thrice."

"Ehh?!" Wonderboy's eyes opened in shock, "Dat ain't far! Da way da ship rocks is loik a lullaby!!"

Tycon had no idea what that was supposed to mean-- but the way the other Coral Boys were murmuring, that seemed to be a... minor series of offenses.

"Moving on... i says here that Petty Officer Bob and a few of your other peers had discovered you neglecting your duties on... *eighteen* separate occasions."

"Dat..." Wonderboy opened his jagged-tooth mouth to argue... but then tilted his head down, hand on his chin-- "Yea, 'at's fair."

"And finally, you've a single instance of..." Tycon furrowed his brows... "malingering? For... a... 'blowed' up... head?"

All of the entries were in Tycon's handwriting... but he did not recall writing anything of the sort.

There were dozens of Coral Boys, thus dozens of counseling records... but that sounded like something he would have committed to memory.

Doc shot his hand up in the air, "Ehehe... 'Dat was us, Bosun. We'z was practicin' 'eadshots wiv our custom longneck rifle."

Ah, so it was a mundane training accident.

Tycon returned the papers to his spatial ring and nodded, "As Petty Officer Bob says, Wonderboy-- with his shoddy record, will be suitable as the Elven Ancient's Champion. Gentlemen, let us prepare a circular ring for our dear Captain."

Wonderboy fell to his knees, pitifully putting his hands together to plead, "But... but BOSUN?!?!"

"Consider yourself lucky that I don't administer punishment myself," Tycon glared.

...

Krysaos grit his teeth as he looked over to King, standing amongst his guys. He looked on without any real emotion in his glowing eyes... real patient, real quiet.

Imperia was trying to talk to him, like always. He didn't look like he was listening, though. Might've been because of the fake high-pitched voice she used to talk to him... or the fake, forced-deep voice she used talking to the guys she considered beneath her.

Fake all around... just like Krysaos, himself.

The fight was coming up... and even though the Elven Ancient was so much stronger than Krysaos was... he was still sizing him up. He was still taking it real serious.

It... might have been some kind of respect... but it sure didn't feel like it, most of the time. More shite came out of that guy's mouth than out of a Leviathan's arse.

Krysaos sighed and shook his head.

Tycon was right. He always was. The whole idea of a duel with an Elven Ancient was the epitome of stupid.

Even if that King guy didn't use his full abilities, his sword-swinging was ten times better than anything Krysaos could give back... and Tycon had been real clear that he wasn't going to use any of his weird magic to tip the balance.

And honestly-- the elf wasn't really that bad of a guy. He was stuck-up and arrogant as the worst elves in the stories, sure... but his heart was in an alright place.

Even if he wasn't really an Elven king, he always put out what... one could expect from a good leader.

He was some kind of hero, always trying to right wrongs, always looking for glory.

He didn't have any friends. Real leaders seldom did. That was most likely the reason why he stuck with Krysaos and the crew.

That guy... he even offered to swear an oath to help him kill the sea god.

Granted, he probably just wanted to fight the bearded cunt... but it's not like he needed to offer.

"Master..." Mina frowned, "I can NOT in good faith allow you to do this! The Elven sovereign is not our enemy!"

Then... her shoulders drooped, her anger fading... and she looked up to Krysaos like she was going to cry, "Why must we bicker amongst ourselves?"

Krysaos shrugged his shoulders, "I have to, girlie. You... probably wouldn't understand."

Mina suddenly grabbed his arms, "Then make me! Please..."

...Krysaos frowned, seeing... what looked like desperation in her eyes.

Yeah. She was a good girl, too... probably too good for the likes of him. Those sparkling bluish-purple eyes of hers had an innocence to them... and he couldn't look into them too long without feeling like the deceitful sack of shite that he was.

"It's about how the world works, girlie," Krysaos tilted his head forward, blocking her gaze with his hat... "This is about my reputation."

"Reputation!?" Mina shouted, "Master, please, be serious! The Elven Sovereign has NEVER called your reputation into question."

Krysaos took a breath... "It ain't about him... not really, anyroad. It's... about everyone else.

"Take a look around," He gestured. "Our crew. Imperia's elves. They know who I am. They judge me for my name and what I do with it."

"Is... is that really what this is about?" Mina floated backward, crossing her arms... "You're... you're trying to impress Lady Imperia, of all people? You... you d-d-don't... like her that way... do you?"