Headed by a Snake

Chapter 758 The Worst

?"Alright, great!" Krysaos clenched his fist, "Now-- jus' tell me what I gotta do!"

Tycon placed his hand on his chin in thought.

Whatever was going through the LT's head was pure, unfiltered, calculative genius.

"Your magic casting is mediocre... but your mastery in the basics of White Raven swordsmanship will at least save you from complete embarrassment..."

Or not.

Krysaos narrowed his gaze, "You kiddin' me, guy?"

Tycon pursed his lips, "I make it a point not to jest concerning potentially deadly situations."

...Yeah, that made sense. It also made Krysaos' butthole clench up a bit.

"I uh... LT..." Krysaos scratched his head... "about me winnin'... that's not... impossible, right?"

"Would you like the truth or a cleverly disguised lie?"

"The truth, please."

"No."

"I'll take constructive criticism for five-hundred."

Tycon's eyes twitched-- but then he shook his head with a sigh.

"If you truly wish to defeat the Ancient... I *strongly* advise you to rely on that enchanted sword of yours."

...

Tycondrius entered the crowd of Coral Boys, largely ignored amongst their discordant shouting and overly masculine posturing. It was a stark contrast to the two squads of elves that stood near King and Imperia, utterly silent and waiting patiently.

From what he understood, the fault lied in that fool girl... If the dark elf Princess of the Vulkoori had kept her peace and hadn't openly antagonized the Captain, this entire debacle could have been avoided.

That child... he would deal with later.

For the time being, Tycon chose to remain amidst the chaos, where he felt most comfortable.

"Have they decided yet? Ishmael?"

The vague shadowy figure in a military coat that was Ishmael shook his head.

? Ishmael, Gold-Rank Venomous Shadow. ?

It had been a few weeks since Tycon's ?Venomous Shadow? had been granted a name... and it seemed he had no issue keeping his form, regardless of their distance apart.

The shadow... had always been a strange existence.

However, his loyalty was without question. He was a valuable crewmember serving alongside him under Captain Krysaos... and a friend.

Ishmael pointed at one of the Coral Boys... a somewhat clumsy crewman whose porous skin was colored a vibrant lime-green.

Wonderboy... formerly 'One of Twelve'. Even by name, he was the weakest of the first twelve Coral Boys fathered by Eleven of Seven.

That fellow was... being stripped of his clothes and armor by his peers under the vigilant watch of Petty Officer Bob.

Bob was the largest and... loudest gentleman in the crew, superior in both strength and rank to all but Captain Krysaos and his two Lieutenants. As he worked far more closely with the lower enlisted, it was natural that the choice of the Elven Ancient's Champion fell to him.

He would certainly know which Coral Boy would be most advantageous for Krysaos to fight.

"We'z just DON'T UNDA-STAND IT!!!" Wonderboy cried as he shivered, rubbing the rough outsides of his rock-skin biceps.

Without his armor, he was left with... a mere cloth wrapping that covered his lower regions.

Tycon furrowed his eyebrows. He was in charge of the crew's inventory and supplies... and was absolutely certain that each Coral Boy was issued proper undergarments.

"Ain't NUFFIN' ta unda-stand, ya IDJIT!" Bob roared. "You'z da WEAKEST an' da WORST in da CREW! So YOU'Z goin' to da FOIGHT!!"

"But... but we'z gonna be fightin' da Cap'n?!" Wonderboy argued. "E'z gonna MURDER US!!!"

"Tch. Hah... huhuhu..." Bob laughed, deep and... wet... "Oh... I know."

The wide grin he wore was suitably intimidating as he towered nearly two heads over Wonderboy.

Tycon nodded... slightly concerned, but... not enough to raise a complaint.

The Coral Boys were far from the sea waters that allowed them to quickly recover from wounds. It effectively made them... mortal. Granted, each of them carried several clay jars of the healing brew to utilize in an emergency...

That is... all of them but the half-naked Wonderboy.

"Suck it up, WonderBOYYYY!!!!"

"Jus' lissen' to yer OR-DA'Z!!!"

"Serves ya roight, ya stoopid git!"

It seems that most of the Coral Boys were in agreement with Bob's judgment.

"Wot... wot about Barrel Boy?!" Wonderboy argued.

Tycon furrowed his brows. That was admittedly a sound argument, which was unexpected to be coming from that fellow's simplistic mind.

Barrel Boy was... a Coral Boy that walked about wearing a literal barrel instead of... actual armor-- which he was also issued.

As far as Tycon was aware, that one... was not an effective member of the crew at either combat or his regular duties.

"Yer's speakin' outta yer fuggin' arse, Wonderboy," Catshit groaned. "How 'bout 'is, 'en? You'z go on. And we'z won't end you ourselves..."

Ah, Catshit. That was a Coral Boy that never had any problems with violence as an effective answer.

Tycon liked him... but would never admit to it, openly. Such behaviors should only be rewarded if successful.

"Ihihihii!!" A high-pitched cackle from a Coral Boy known as Doc took everyone's attention, "Wouldn't send Barrel Boy, anyroad! Ahaha! E'z a family man, after all!"

Tycon turned to Ishmael... "I don't suppose I misheard that, just now."

The taciturn shadow gave a light shake of his head and made an open gesture towards the others.

"We'z heard 'e sends 'alf iz pay ta charitable organizations!"

"Yeah! WE'Z 'eard it went ta feedin' da 'ungry snotlings wivout mums and dads!"

"E'z a good bloke, 'at Barrel Boy!!"

The crowd turned their attention to the barrel 'standing' amongst them.

The lid popped up as Barrel Boy's head emerged...

"Aye," He nodded... "Jus' finkin' about da kiddo's brings a tear to our eye... Ev'ry li'ul snotling deserves ta grow up wiv someone 'at gives a shite."

"Aye!"

"Hear hear!!"

"You'z a good 'un, Barrel Boy!"

"You SUCK, Wonderboy!"

"YeahHHH!"

"YEAH!!"

Tycon rubbed his chin in thought, ignoring the fact that the crew were beginning to throw trash and debris at Wonderboy as he yelped in indignation.

...He needed to converse with Barrel Boy when their schedules allowed. So much coin consistently given to charity might be worth some tax write-offs when the time came to report their earnings to the Royal Navy.

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