Headed by a Snake

Chapter 586 Fake Scars (Part One)

?Before Tycondrius and his companions could burn down the Church temple, an adventuring company walked out from an adjacent road. There were dozens of them, all wearing military Tyrion armor and carrying long, rectangular shields.

However... one of their number flew a strange banner with a familiar symbol. He'd seen it before on Ptolema's armor... a stylized dragon's head on a red backdrop.

"Sons of Qotal," Tycon remarked.

"[They reek of heresy,]" Zenon added.

"[LEADER. I REQUEST GROUND-BEEF PATTIES WITH BREAD FOR LUNCH,]" Korr boldly declared.

The three of them were about to engage in lethal combat and she was thinking of her next hot, delicious, expertly-cooked meal.

"Stay on topic, young lady," Tycon chided.

"[...I WOULD COMMIT GENOCIDE FOR GROUND-BEEF PATTIES WITH BREAD FOR LUNCH.]"

At least she was consistent.

"Halt!" One of the adventurers shouted. "We are The Branded! Loyal Sons and Daughters of Qotal! State thy allegiances or DIE!"

"Is it just me or do all human Tyrions sound the same?" Tycon muttered.

Korr responded with a light shrug.

Zenon leaned forward, his tri-blade claws were crackling menacingly, "[Same plan, Optio?]"

He was referring to Flaming Rage Knight Korr crashing into the group, Tycon covering her with either blade-whip or curved sword, and Zenon supporting with his magic.

However, Tycon was still in a poor mood. The dozen or so city-defenders they'd murdered since leaving Ptolema's alleyway had yet to sate his bloodlust.

"Negative," He shook his head. "We dance."

Zenon shrugged, "[Hm, very well. Let the dancing commence.]"

Korr tilted her head, "[ACTUAL DANCE BATTLE OR THE CODEWORD?]"

"The codeword," Tycon assured her.

The tall, dark-armored woman nodded quietly. While Tycon couldn't see her expression, she seemed somehow... disappointed.

"I'll see you two shortly," Tycon stepped forward, expediting the mana circulating through his body... focusing on his legs, "?Shadowfang.?"

Tycon appeared in the midst of the Sons of Qotal, stepping down gracefully upon the road.

As a credit to their training, the humans took a step back, shields up, weapons ready. They wore heavier sets of Tyrion armor and armaments, leathers and metal bands, highly resistant against cuts.

"By the Flame, what do you think you're doing?" A woman scowled behind her tower shield, her sword pointed over it.

Tycon looked her over... she wore red war-paint on her face reminiscent of stylistic scars, but frivolously wore no helmet-- allowing her brown ponytail to swing freely. According to the markings on her armor, though, she held the same rank as Ptolema, that of Centurion.

He waved in greeting before placing his hands comfortably behind his back, "Do you have some time to talk about your lord and savior?"

The Centurion twisted her lips in confusion, "The Eternal Flame, you mean?"

Tycon cracked his neck left and right. That was the 'correct' answer... but it wasn't what he was looking for.

"Ah, so fellow faithful," He smirked beneath his full helm, "I was just curious. Can't be too careful, you know."

The Centurion relaxed her shoulders and sheathed her weapon... "Stand down, men. This isn't one of the heretics we're looking for.

"You too, adventurer," She pointed, "Find your way to safety... unless you can direct us to the xeno's attacking the city."

Tycon laughed internally at the woman's naivete. It seemed they hadn't yet encountered any Guild Letalis members. Though he wore the white helmet of a commanding officer, the blackened armor of Letalis Serpentia was easily identifiable.

"And what makes you think you can make a difference? Centurion?"

The woman's eyes in annoyance, "We have to, adventurer. The Branded are the strongest members in the Sons of Qotal, blessed by the..."

Her words caught in her throat and she swallowed awkwardly.

Tycon gestured for her to continue, "Blessed. by. the...?"

"By the Flame," The woman growled... "The city burns all around us. Every able-bodied Tyrion is honor-bound to do *something.*

"Sons and daughters of Qotal!" She raised her voice, "We're moving!"

Tycon watched their backs as they dropped their guards and began to walk away. While he could respect their hopes and dreams... their ignorance was unforgivable. The Sons of Qotal thought they were the heroes of their stories. In fact, they were little more than blind fools, clinging to their false faith.

The corruption of Caeruleum ran deep. Tycon had initially thought he was only hunting after the snake cult. But instead, he found... dragon cultists. Or perhaps they were the same, all along?

Though it annoyed him greatly to do so, he decided to quote a particular dragon prophecy.

"Sons of Qotal!" Tycon called out after them, "Have you heard of a song... of which legends are sung?"

He had to know...

How far had Caeruleum fallen?

The Centurion stopped walking... and soon her troops stopped as well.

Tycon wanted to be pleased, but instead, he grew more anxious... "It is a song... of ash and fire."

The female Centurion stomped her way back to Tycon, staring at him eye-to-eye... "Where... the hells... did you hear that?"

Wonderful. Unfortunate... How... gods-damned annoying it was for his worries to be confirmed.

"What's wrong, Centurion?" He teased, "Have you been hearing... voices?"

"You..."

She was at a loss for words. She just needed... a little push.

"Come now," Tycon turned his palms up and tilted his head. "You can trust me."

The Centurion stood up straight and shook her head... "Why would I trust a man who hides his face?"

"Hah!" Tycon tilted his head back to laugh, "This is a helmet, Centurion! Are the Sons of Qotal so destitute that they could not afford to issue you one?"

The woman grimaced, crossing her arms, "My title, sir... is Scarmother."

Tycon stopped laughing.

Scarmother... It was the same title the snake cultists' leaders used in the past... the ones led by Snake Champion Orcus.

But why... in the seven gods-damned hells... were the snake cultists in league with--

The snake god.

The snake god was working with the dragons.

It was an incredibly specific coincidence that Tycon did not want to believe.