"Ohhh," Tycondrius nodded in understanding.
"Concerning *who* allowed in this area... the fault would lie in the gentleman at the front desk... or the female warden that escorted thus far."
It was a small oversight, but Tycon had neglected to ask the woman her na... not that it mattered. The guard seed confused-- unsure what to do with the information he had specifically requested.
"Boss!!" Lone shouted, rattling the loose bars of his cage, "You gotta save !!"
Tycon turned, scowling, "*That* is what I am doing. Why else would I be here?"
"...Oh. Thanks, Boss."
"You there," Tycon pointed his chin at the injured guard. "Release this man. He belongs to my guild."
The guard's face twisted from confusion to... what appeared to be revulsion, "*You're* part of Sol Invictus?"
Tycon narrowed his eyes in judgnt. He did not like the attitude the guard was displaying. It baffled him that it did not change after he did *not* break the fellow's arm... or the fact that he revealed he was here legitimately.
"Indeed... I am... Is there a *problem?*"
"Yeah, there's a problem." The guard grit his teeth, "You're full o' shite."
Tycon nodded slowly... Judging by the timing of the negative colloquialism, he surmised that the human was questioning his integrity... "Young man... are you calling a liar?"
The guard shook his wrist and flexed his fingers, seeming to grow a sense of misguided courage.
Straightening his back, he scowled, "Yeah, so what if I--"
Tycon grabbed the side of the guard's helt and smashed his head against the nearby wall, crumpling the ignorant fool to the floor. Tycon then wound up a kick and struck at the fallen man's abdon. Then again. And again.
"I really don't understand why so people feel like they can say the things they want to..." Tycon shook his head, "Your thoughts, Mister Lone?"
Lone crossed his arms, "Uh... Maybe because he's a guard?"
"Still..." Tycon frowned, stomping the side of the guard's head, "Regardless of social status, why would soone speak so arrogantly to while I am within striking distance? Is it truly so unexpected that I lose my temper and commit assault... murder, perhaps?"
"I an... if you say it like that, it's not really that surprising," Lone shrugged.
"Seven bleeding hells! What's going on down there?" A female voice echoed from atop the stairs.
Shortly after, a familiar female warden walked upon the scene of Tycon beating one of her guards...
She placed her hands on her hips, observing the damages... "Decanus."
Tycon smiled politely, "Lady Warden."
"I'm assuming there's a good reason for this, Sir."
"Indeed, there is." Tycon kicked the guard in the mouth, loosening several teeth... "Is it important?"
The Warden narrowed her eyes... briefly hesitating, "I would like to know... for my own personal benefit."
Still keeping eye contact with the Warden, Tycon ground his boot against the back of the guard's head, "Your man called a liar."
The warden pursed her lips... "Very well... I apologize, Decanus. I'll deal with him... I'd like to request you to stop."
"Hm. Granted." Tycon shoved the groaning guard away with a final kick, "If you would, then, I'd like you to facilitate the release of my companion."
"Of course, Decanus. If Archbishop Crucis wills it, I have no complaints."
...
Centurion Zenon woke up from his comatose state... if briefly. He was still relatively useless, barely able to keep conscious and still unable to properly circulate his mana. It was overall beneficial for him, though, as he beca easier to feed.
However, with how little he had eaten in the past several suns, he had to subsist on clear soups.
Lone was more than happy to eat Zenon's share. He had grown used to the diocre food quality while imprisoned at Turrim Orientem. During his al, he cried as he ate, all the while offering high praise to the chef.
Tycon, as the self-assigned Master Chef of Guild Letalis, was honor-bound to oblige the young man with additional food. Such was the duty of an expert craftsman.
In private conversations, Centurion Zenon confided that he could only train with Garock episodically. After a few bells of training, he would drift off into a deep sleep.
It seed that only Tycon could utilize the orc's illusory world for longer periods of ti. During his own training, he changed a System setting to allow uninterrupted connection over several real-ti bells... a ti that translated into weeks in Garock's world.
While Tycon could not consider himself an expert at Garock's style of swordsmanship, he had achieved middle completion with his garishly nad 'Demon Blade Technique'. He also learned how to plant and harvest rice and gained competence at a two-player board ga called the Ga of Generals.
He was more skilled at farming than at gaming.
Under normal rules, Tycon lost nine of ten matches. When he introduced his pocket watch for playing with a ti limit, he and Garock won an even amount of matches. It was just as important to make quick decisions as it was to think about the long-term state of the battlefield.
Barza Keith, the Lone Shadowdark got along well with the likes of Tanamar and Athena, even despite his rough exterior. His previous belongings would be sent to House Vanzano via the Courier's Guild.
The young man did reach a breakthrough in his arena fights... which was a surprise... though it was an unwelco one.
According to Tycon's System, Lone had broken through to beco... an Iron-Rank Gangster.
While Iron-Rank was a great improvent... his class had reverted to an offshoot of his original Ruffian path.
In order to readjust the young man, Tycon spent a rest cycle rcilessly beating him-- a process he cleverly disguised as training. It only took eleven different activations of ⌈Inspirational Surge⌋ over about four bells of ti for Lone to revert back to his previous class... and rank.
In hindsight, it was probably more beneficial and less psychologically damaging to develop him naturally. Iron-Rank was a major milestone in an adventurer's life, after all.
Unfortunately, the damage was already done.
He'd develop as a Ranger or Tycon would kill him.
...
Heading back to the Vanzano Estate was pleasant for everyone but Lieutenant Shao Ran.
For the Sea Wolf's transport, Guild Letalis purchased a barrel to store him in, as well as a few kegs of fresh water to replace the stagnated water on a daily basis. The barrel was then secured to the supply cart, but still accessible in case Ran wanted to leave its confines. Tycon wondered if transporting fresh fish to market was a similar process.
Tycon had completed his quest in the Holy Country. As such, he and Lone would depart for the Free Nation as soon as they returned to the manor. He planned on retrieving Invictus mber Pale and, if reasonable, searching for the missing Tarquin Wroe.
He'd leave Sorina and Korr in Silva to finish up any loose ends, business-side. Guild Letalis, of course, would also remain. In the case of a world-threatening event, Tycon could send word to Athena, asking for their assistance.
...Even if she refused, there were more than enough mbers of Letalis loyal to Sol Invictus. With direction from Tycon, they'd easily be able to mutiny.
Zenon would return to the Church, a bit battered... but he'd recover to a stronger level than prior. Because he had won the Martial Tournant in Caeruleum, the Centurion would reasonably have more clout amongst his peers, as well as the confidence to command respect.
His faith had been challenged, as of late... but in Tycon's opinion (an opinion that did not agree with Church doctrine), questioning one's beliefs promoted growth. Whatever he concluded, his faith in whatever-that-was would not be so easily shaken.
Tycon would return to the Holy Country in a few moons, perhaps paying House Vanzano a visit, if convenient. He needed to visit Sasara when her classes would briefly suspend in the springti.
Before he left, though, Tycon wished to have private conversations with Tanamar, Zenon, and Athena. For Zenon and Athena, he wished to thank them for their loyalty and faith. It was certainly already understood, but verbalizing such things were important to solidify their friendship. For Tanamar, there was another important issue that needed to be addressed.
Tycon directed his horse, Anemone, closer to Athena's moving carriage.
He knocked upon the door, "Miss Athena, it's ."
"C-co in, Sir Tycon!" Athena raised her voice. It sounded a bit peculiar from outside... but Tycon was being invited in, without issue.
Tycon opened the door, allowing a puff of frosty air to escape before hopping in... "Miss Athena, Miss Parthenope, good afternoon."
The twin-braided archer, Parthenope, was wearing a troubled expression, "Hey, Sir Tychon... I'll uh... I'll leave you two alone."
The girl opened the opposite door, acrobatically climbing atop the carriage to accompany the driver.
Tycon secured both doors and sat across from the young Athena Vanzano.
She had been crying.
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