Headed by a Snake

Chapter 705 Strength & Weakness

?Neerin Neelia looked to Tycondrius with eyes that glowed an icy, electric blue.

It was probably supposed to be intimidating.

A threatening mien-- especially coming from a dovahkiin, was not something Tycon felt the need to react to.

If Neerin were to attack him, he would respond. If the situation looked grim, he would escape the Reality Marble.

If that was impossible-- if he were killed by the Dragon-Rank entity as probable logic dictated... then so be it.

He would ensure he inflicted significant damages, in order to inconvenience the woman as much as possible.

"You still value your past, Tyrael," Neerin's eyes sparked. "It is your strength... holding onto the name of Sol Invictus... seeking new companions to fill its ranks and to once again relive your glories."

She gulped as she reigned in her oppressive aura... "It is also... your weakness. You won't kill the girl without her dragon memories... You won't expend your resources for nothing. I even expect you to try to recruit her."

The lizard woman raised an eyebrow... "Or am I wrong?"

...So Neerin would find Tycon with logic?

He loosed a groan as he rolled his eyes.

The insufferable woman's hypothesis was correct.

Other Tactician-type Classes were dreadfully annoying to deal with.

"Ugh. Very well," Tycon did not answer Neerin's question, taking a deep breath, instead. With an exhausted sigh, he dropped his fighting stance, mirroring hers...

He looked around the room... at the knife block, at the cutting boards, and at the dried herbs in small glass containers, "Is this a kitchen?"

"...Yes. There are cooking ingredients in the-- the metal box behind you."

Tycon nodded as he turned and pulled the box's handle.

"Tss." The hinges were broken-- and the door came loose. However, he still had access to its contents.

Taking quick inventory of the chilled meats and vegetables inside... he determined that he could work with it.

"...Neerin Neelia, get me an iron pan."

...

"The Draconic Court is not your enemy, Tycondrius," Neerin insisted.

If previously, the lizard woman held a lofty appearance having such a high Metal-Rank and speaking of her ideals in a Royal Court... it was greatly diminished by her recent injuries.

She looked ridiculous as she held a chilled water jar against her cheek to reduce the swelling.

"I really, *really* do not care, Neerin Neelia," Tycon was utilizing an iron curved bowl pan to fry day-old rice, eggs, and what he identified as pork. "I plan to eat something decent, return to the Real, and pretend we never had this conversation."

"...Is there enough for both of us?"

"You have eyes, don't you, girl?" Tycon groaned.

He felt that the atmosphere had deteriorated to... bickering between long rivals-- perhaps even friends. He still did not like the woman... but found it not impossible to tolerate her presence.

She lowered her water jar, revealing that the side of her face was starting to discolor.

Her discomfort pleased him.

"The Court can be an powerful *ally,*" She seethed. "You'll at least see value in that."

"Tss. You're tactfully implying that your 'Court' is a fearsome enemy," Tycon scoffed as he stirred the frying rice with a wooden spoon.

Conversation with Neerin Neelia sorely tested his patience. If not for the calming scent of aromatics and caramelizing meat, he would have probably sought to kill her again... utilizing her mundane cooking implements.

"I mean... you're not wrong," Neerin grimaced-- wincing in pain as she did. "The True Court's goals--"

"--True Court?" Tycon rolled his eyes, "What a pretentious name for a faction of rebels and dissidents."

The woman sighed... "The Court absolutely does *not* want the Dragon God to descend to the Realm. The song of which legends are sung... according to its verses, he will... and soon."

The lizard woman's ominous words were probably meant to incite deep thought.

Tycon still did not care.

However, he was thankful for her attempt at gravity.

...For the next several moments, he was able to enjoy comfortable silence, better to appreciate the sizzling of rice and the crisping of the tiny bits of pork. It was... healing.

Tycon halved the rice portions evenly into two plates... "How do I..."

"The gas supply to the fire is controlled by the knobs."

"So... this one. It is done."

Tycon grabbed two spoons and carried the plates to the seating area.

Neerin Neelia took hers with a grateful nod... "We are not your enemy, Prince Tycondrius. I am not your enemy."

The woman was repeating herself. How droll.

"Mm," Tycon mumbled his acknowledgement as he sampled his work.

It wasn't the best-- but it was a quickly made, comfortable, and filling dish.

Neerin took a bite... chewing thoughtfully. She was much more pleasant company when she kept her mouth shut.

"...You remembered that I like my eggs runny," She offered.

"I did not. I made this dish to my specific tastes."

"You... fight against the Dragon God... and those still loyal to the old ways," Neerin whispered... "He... is a cruel god, domineering and destructive. He cares not for the lives of mortals... and does not even care if his own hatchlings live or die."

Tycon nodded. He also did not care-- not for the lizard whelplings or their callous god.

"That..." Neerin sighed, "is why we split off from the Seven Wings and sealed him, in the first place... Do you... truly not remember?"

"I do not," Tycon responded before taking another spoonful of rice.

He was eating slowly enough to enjoy himself but quickly enough that he could leave in good time. At his current rate, he would exit the Reality Marble and kill Willow before Neerin would have a chance to cast her Mindwipe spell on her.

"We were once very close friends and allies," Neerin closed her eyes. "You... you and my sister were--"

"Don't care."

"No..." Neerin chuckled sadly... "I suppose it doesn't matter. We went our separate paths long ago."

"And I'd rather our paths not converge again," Tycon smirked as he placed his empty plate on the small table. "I'll be going, then. Clean the dishes, if you would."

"They will again, some sun," The lizard woman sighed... "Not in this life-- but maybe in the next or the one after. We'll journey together again."

Tycon stood up and nodded. He didn't like the notion of it... but a prophecy coming from Neerin Neelia was probably reliable.

...Before he left, he decided to grant the dovahkiin his own piece of advice: "Next time, Neerin Neelia... don't be a dragon."

"Right," The girl stared down at her half-finished bowl, "Being a dragon kinda sucks in this Realm."

...

Tycon opened his eyes and took quick inventory of his surroundings.

Willow was prostrated, face down in the mud.

He was still standing over her, curved blade in hand.

It seemed very little actual time had passed since entering Neerin Neelia's Reality Marble.

He still had the faint taste of garlic on his tongue. He tried not to think of the logic behind that.

Tycon flipped the girl onto her back with his boot.

He directed the point of his sword downward, ready to stab it through her unprotected throat, "Any last words, hatchling?"

Willow blinked hazily, "Wh-wha? Who... who are you?"

...Tycon grit his teeth as he knelt over the child and grabbed her collar, positioning his blade's edge to slit her throat, "What's your name? Answer me!!"

"It's... it's-- I don't know!!" The girl sobbed, "I'm sorry!! Whatever I did, I'm sorry!!"

« System, inquiry: Target information. »

? System response: Willow, Unranked Human Commoner. ?

Neerin Neelia... that... infuriating... pretentious lizard... she had done as she promised.

Willow's injuries had closed.

The defiance in her eyes... they were gone. The green scales that once covered her arms, gone as well. The heart of a 'dragon'... completely and utterly absent.

"ArrrRRRGH!!" Frustration still smoldering in Tycon's heart, he stabbed at the dirt.

He observed the sobbing girl... She was helpless and without even an onze of mana radiating from her.

Her fearful crying grated at his senses.

...She had even soiled herself.

"Have some self-respect," He muttered. "Get up, child. I'll take you back to your brother."

"I... I... have a brother?" Willow sniffed.

Tycon stood up and forcefully lifted Willow by her arm, up to her feet.

...The blue lizard, Neerin, was correct. If the girl had no value, his conscience did not allow him to kill her.

"Cease your sniveling, child, or I will commit physical violence against you."

"Y... yes, Sir..." The girl sniffed.

...She took orders well enough to not agitate him.

Clever girl.

"...Also, remove your trousers. I'll have you wash them with soap before we return."

"I'm... I'm alri--"

"Now."

"Yes... sir..."

...

The remaining villagers were to travel to... wherever they were going. Princess Iyuri volunteered herself to accompany Willow and Sprig.

Should Sprig survive to an age where he'd survive Sol Invictus' recruit training, he could prove useful.

Willow's memories... were as Neerin Neelia had declared.

It was mostly empty of her relationships-- much like Tycon's memories were when he'd first awoken in the Realm.

Unlike him, though... she did not have access to a System.

Maybe she'd grow up as a normal child.

Tycon's thoughts drifted to Pale, the son of Sol Invictus' previous leader, Quay.

It was possible that Quay wanted that child to have a normal life.

Tycon changed that.

He forced the ten-year-old boy to become accustomed to adventuring life... performing alongside fully-trained, battle-hardened adults. It was a selfish decision that increased his own chances of success as Sol Invictus' current leader.

Multiple lives were changed... made far less mundane and far more dangerous, solely because it benefited him.

Without his hand... Sorina Capulet might have still been serving drinks, incorrectly referring to herself as the tavern wench.

Seldin Korr would have drifted from seedy employer to seedier, wallowing in self-pity.

Kimura Taree would have remained in her small sect, practicing abilities that would never achieve her greatness.

Athanasius Mors and Athena Vanzano would waste away their potential, subject to the whims of an inept Lord.

Maximus of Ezyria might have never found the honor he had lost.

...Though he might have remained alive.

Others, too, might have lived...

Kimura Tamaki of the Ivory Judge Sect. Justus and Rena of Leopardon. Karodin of Emberhold. Ptolema of Snowy Village.

...Barza Keith, the Lone Shadowdark.

Still, Tycon would continue gathering allies to his cause... Many more would die... and not few, as a result of his commands.

He boarded the Neptune's Revenge as they were raising the anchor and was greeted affably by the crew and their Captain.

The next stop... was the City of Whitehearth, the home of Tarquin Wroe-- otherwise known as Landris Wyndham, the Arcanite Prince.

Once the Swords of the Forgotten King were delivered to the powers there, his quest for High Oracle Troia would be complete.

Then, he would return to his homeland, the Free Nation... complete his final quest for his mother, Queen Rylania, then...

And then...

Once his debts were paid... maybe, then, he could rest.