Headed by a Snake

Chapter 905 Door To Be Opened

?? Strategy meeting aboard the Neptune's Revenge, some time later... ?

Mina furrowed her brows, deep in thought. She wore her finned helmet with its visor up. Along with her scale armor, she was a picturesque Champion of the Sea God.

"The Elf God... It is of utmost importance that he is stopped."

"I concur, Lady Mina," The Thunder God nodded, "The Elf God poses a dire threat to--"

"--Ehhhh... The gods can't intervene directly," Hades shrugged, "not with things are the way they are."

"Ya don't saaaay," Krysaos sighed.

Electric sparks bristled in the Thunder God's short blonde hair, "Hhhh-what? But the fate of the people of this Realm hangs in the--"

"The Elf God inhabits a mortal body," Tycon shook his head, "In that sense, the man known as King is an existence similar to Krysaos in his condition."

His gaze drifted over to Hades. The Death God was forced to sit outside the Captain's Cabin on account of his bulk, "Grant that I would be far more confident had I an additional warscythe and..."

The Thunder God puffed out his chest, "I wield the Storm Axe, a mighty weapon, capable of--"

"--and axe. Unfortunately, the coming potential cataclysm must be averted by mortal hands."

While the Thunder God pouted, Krysaos leaned over the planning table.

"LT, we can track that guy down... right? Like we did before?"

Tycon massaged the bridge of his nose, "Unfortunately, the enchanted, star-shaped leaf I once used to track the Lone Shadowdark is no longer functional."

"Ya. Don't. Say," Krysaos glared... rather rudely, "And just why is that, Lieutenant?"

Tycon furrowed his brows, perturbed by Captain's sudden accusatory tone.

"The enchantment's was set to have a duration of three moons."

Krysaos slapped his hands upon the table, "So you tryin' to say you couldn't afford a permanency spell on that thing?!"

Tycon planted his elbow on the table, leaning forward to meet the Captain's gaze, "Such an expense would have been frivolous. By all expectations, this quest should have been completed well before the time had elapsed!"

He would rather die than spend so much money on something that neither nourished him nor aided him in lethal combat.

He did not regret his choice... even if the end result brought him to the current complication.

Krysaos threw his hands up in annoyance, "So the problem was with you, being a cheap-ass Prince"

"*Economic* Prince," Tycon corrected-- "a title I bear with pride."

"*Ivory* Prince," Mina frowned, her voice gentle but firm.

Tycon nodded quietly, reclining in his seat. He had overreacted.

"Even his Prince title sounds expensive," Krysaos muttered...

"Master," Mina turned to the Sea God.

"Tch," Krysaos leaned back, crossing his arms and looking away.

"Master," Mina repeated... "You have to behave or... or... I won't... kiss you."

Tycon furrowed his brows. Even for Krysaos, he feared that was a lackluster threat.

**POK**

The sound came from Krysaos's chair falling backward onto the deck.

"Ow! F*ck!" Cursed the clumsy Sea God, lying ignobly, his feet still in the air.

"Master!" Mina raised her voice, "Language!"

Tycon steepled his fingers. Once again, he was reminded that Krysaos was not a god to be fathomed.

"Prince," Mina frowned, "is it possible for your tracking item to be re-enchanted?"

"I'll requisition a new one," Tycon nodded. "To do so, I plan to return to Whitehearth, where the Elven magics were originally applied."

Hades raised his hand-- or rather, his large hand moved a bit, as he was being careful not to knock anyone or anything over.

"I'm outta teleport juice. The exposed nipple god here can take you."

The once-pouting and ever-shirtless Thunder God turned at the mention of his... state-of-being.

"I can what?"

"Hmph. Very well," Krysaos got to his feet-- "and I'm going with you."

...

Tycondrius examined the blade Coraline had commissioned.

It was a tool traditionally used by the Bloodmage Class. It wasn't illegal to own in the Eastern States. It was, however, illegal to utilize for its intended purpose-- drawing the blood of an injured opponent for use in Blood Magic.

It was a strange law.

If Tycon could draw divine resonant energy from a godbeing, the essence could be used for Sol Invictus' purposes... curing the Lone Shadowdark of his possession by the Ancient known as King.

As his goal was to, once again, find that elf. In doing so, the opportunity to utilize the Bloodmage Blade would arrive as a certainty.

Of course, once Tycon did find the Ancient, he planned on removing the fellow's ability to escape-- eschewing diplomacy to favor violence.

Arcanist Coraline Heartsong of the Sapphire Tower suffered several grave injuries on Moon Crescent Isle. She escaped death and kept her sanity in part due to her will and primarily due to the Ebon Mask gifted by the Elven tribe of the same name.

It was... one of many injuries incurred on her quest to save her lover.

She did not owe him nearly so much.

That young fool was not worth troubling a woman of Coraline's caliber.

Yet... it was not Tycon's place to convince her otherwise.

As Coraline had suffered a broken spine, Tycon did not want to risk bringing her to Whitehearth. He would only consider fielding her after several days of bedrest and verifying the result of the Ebon Mask's regenerative magic.

Iron-Rank Hexblade Tarquin Wroe approached with some hesitation. He was clad in armor stolen from the Amphitrite Reef tribe, wearing a silvery chestplate of woven scale and greaves to match.

It looked... feminine... or, to be more polite, it was remarkably Elven. It would be better aesthetically pleasing, worn by Malenti Priestess Atlantea.

Thus, for Wroe and his distinctly Elven mana-blade... it was appropriate.

"Boss... I feel like... I missed something on that island."

Tycon raised an eyebrow, "The past several moons."

"S-something else..." Wroe shook his head, "Like... does that make any sense?"

"No."

"I feel like... I should have been somewhere... but... it's like the doors were shut before I could get there."

"An apt analogy for a missed opportunity."

"Like-- a door that's not a door, though! I know that doesn't make much sense..."

Tycon narrowed his eyes in thought...

Wroe was being difficult. And repeating himself.

Still, he was a friend. As his confidence wavered, encouragement was appropriate.

Tycon forced a polite smile, "Doors... are meant to be opened, old friend. Perhaps we'll find this door somewhere else. I pray I can support you, then."

Wroe nodded, though he didn't seem completely convinced, "Yeah... maybe."

",