Headed by a Snake

Chapter 990 Drake Armor

? A short time later... ?

Tycondrius dragged Coraline away.

Squad Leader Ashley seemed distraught. And... though he could not explain why he felt as such, he did not believe that Zeta Squad's second-in-command, Jessica, would provide any valuable information.

The intelligent and clever Coraline, however, he knew from prior experiences to be consistently reliable.

? Coraline Heartsong, Iron-Rank Elven Arcanist. ?

? Beatrice, Gold-Rank Fire Elemental. ?

But unfortunately, before he could glean anything useful from the whelpling, he first had to... peel her off of him.

"With... respect, child, I must request that you *release* me."

Coraline shook her head, securing her embrace.

"Th-this is important!"

Two tiny hands were grasping onto a tuft of Tycon's hair. Due to his physique, Beatrice could not harm him without the intent to do so, but the near-scalding heat remained mildly uncomfortable.

? hurray ?

Tycon was not in the mood for frivolities. He had summoned Coraline as her Commander, hoping for details on her squad's mission, not for... whatever was happening.

"And just how is this important, exactly?"

"It's important to me."

...With that, Tycon loosed a defeated sigh.

He... assumed that Coraline and Beatrice's physical displays stemmed from affection.

Realistically, the two could have been asserting their dominance-- and if so, he judged it unwise to retaliate, in respect to his current resources...

--he sought to replenish them, at his earliest convenience.

Finally, Coraline released her hold while wiping the corners of her eyes.

"Tycon... you're here."

Tycon raised an eyebrow, "You're not surprised."

Coraline pursed her lips and nodded.

"You have a body double, real or magical, pretending to be you in the east. But that information was released so the enemy would prioritize forces on that front."

"...Clever, as always," Tycon sighed in resignation. "You figured that out just now?"

"I had some time," Coraline looked up, her mouth breaking into a grin, "There were rumors that a handsome, green-haired man was spending more time than was appropriate with our CEO."

"I see," Tycon nodded. "I am, indeed, very handsome."

"You do, indeed, have green hair," The elf replied... "I'm so glad you came."

"You signalled for assistance," Tycon waved. "I assisted. Well done, Sapling."

Coraline's voice dropped as low as her gaze.

"Tycon," She said...

"...Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

Tycon narrowed his eyes. He was not part of the group of near-death children onset by a swarth of enemy combatants. One of his rescues asking about his wellbeing was largely inappropriate.

"Yes-- reasonably so," He answered gruffly. "You're injured."

"I'll be fine," Coraline said with a pout. "I could've used my mask if things got dicey."

"The ebon mask is a last resort," Tycon said in a stern voice. "You were issued potions--"

"--special-ordered by you, I know," Coraline groaned...

Tycon tilted his head down, staring quietly, but intently. He had, early on, identified the young elf as an asset, a notion confirmed by the excellence she displayed at Moon Crescent Island.

However, she took grievous injury during that campaign. Thus, he provided her with additional resources to ensure her safety.

He hoped for the child to survive... until survival was a moot point, anyroad.

After enough staring, Coraline rendered a sigh of defeat. She reached into one of her side pouches and quaffed one of the aforementioned healing elixirs.

"Someone died..." she said quietly. "They didn't have access to magical healing like I do."

"...Go on."

Coraline twisted her lips, "I... feel guilty about it. Like, why should I have these when my squad members don't?"

"Tss," Tycon scoffed. "Your guilt is irrational; the sole blame belongs to me. I specifically assigned *you* additional potions, Sapling. And they are designed only for persons of your bloodline to dissuade you from sharing with strays you might find on the roadside."

"Really? Coraline frowned, "I thought it was because you were being cheap."

"...I will admit that this is also a factor."

Finally, with no other gratuitous questions, Coraline gave a report on her squad's situation.

Tycon learned no useful information.

Zeta Squad's mission was similar to that of several others carried out simultaneously, each targeting one of Making's vulnerabilities.

Making was not a particularly vulnerable target, especially when compared to smaller, less-established City-States. However, its defenses relied on people... on mortal and fallible men and women. And thus, according to its large population, its secrets could scarcely be held.

"So what are these things called?" Coraline asked.

Tycon followed the direction her thumb was pointing. She was referring to the smoldering, purple wreck she shot down earlier.

"Abominations," he answered.

"I mean like... what are they in military code?" Coraline asked.

It was an odd question, as Tycon thought the answer obvious.

"They are suits of Divine Armor. Though lacking the divine magics intrinsic to models designed in the Holy Country, the term persists."

"But... they look different?" Coraline argued, "They should have different names."

Tycon furrowed his brows, "Despite their biomagical shells, their functions are identical. Changing their designation is unnecessary and frivolous."

"What have we been calling them?"

"...the flights have been referring to them as Drake Armors."

"So I get that the Drake Armors we encountered were piloted by humans," Coraline continued. "That was why their senses seemed... so limited. But how do they hold up, compared to other, traditional Divine Armors?"

"Despite their... eugh... their vile appearances," Tycon said with a grunt of disgust, "the artifice involved is structurally sound. The scales are made of Cenarion Wood-- a material that takes Enchantment magics quite well. And for the mana circuits-- Arcanite, as one might expect."

Tycon took a moment, considering the strength of the average combatant from each of the nations he was allied to.

Bronze-Rank. Many below. Some approaching its peak.

"Considering this Divine Armor's size and mana consumption, it's safe to consider any units similar as a Gold-Rank threat."

City-State Making was a top-priority target, specifically for their war technologies. Even if Tycon did not have trained pilots to utilize the 'Drake Armors' himself, denying the enemy's access to them allowed the anti-lizard offensive to sustain their momentum.

Conversely, if they were unable to secure Making, the increased casualties would severely hamper their advances.

Coraline's gaze had wandered to the horizon, her arms crossed.

"How... did they hide these things? Sir Tycon... you know something, don't you?"

Tycon shut his eyes, thinking back to what he saw in the Tree God's forest.

"These shells," he said, "and the material involved... They're reminiscent to what Krysaos and I  encountered in the Tree God's Forest."

"And the Arcanite circuitry?"

Tycon shook his head, "Installed by mortal hands. The technology is likely a derivation of research done by House Moonwell-- the Arcanite Princess, in particular."

"So that answers the where," Coraline muttered. "Then... how did they train the pilots?"

Tycon raised an eyebrow, "How do you mean?"

"The pilots," Coraline repeated. "It takes inborn talent on top of hard work to be proficient in these things-- and that means, like, hundreds of bells in flight time."

"You're... certain of this?" Tycon asked dubiously.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Tycon found that somewhat odd. He had experience piloting a Divine Armor, but he found controls intuitive.

However... the suit he piloted was bipedal. Also, it was designed by Ophelia Moonwell, herself, an artificer he knew well.

He couldn't imagine how many bells of flight time he'd need to pilot a quadrupedal suit of Divine Armor that made him nauseous each time he looked at it.

Also, an additional layer of training would be necessary, as each of the so-called Drake Armors were intrinsically capable of flight.

...like cockroaches.

"Then you've raised a valid question," Tycon sighed. "And I pray we find the answer by the end of this sun."

He took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

He wasn't in the mood to uncover a mystery.

If it was a reasonable option, he'd have preferred to bombard City-State of Making with several dozen large-scale destructive Spells.

He and a small team of Bella's Witches could have designed all the formations in a week-- two weeks if he wanted to impress anyone.

"...Sir Tycon?"

"Are you still here?" Tycon frowned. "You're dismissed. Return to your senior-- what was her name? Jessie?"

"Dessi," Coraline smirked. "Short for Decemberleigh."

Tycon slowly crossed his arms.

"That's her actual name?"

"It is."

"And your Squad Leader?"

"It's Zashleigh," Coraline answered.

Was she serious? She did not appear to be joking.

Tycon bit his upper lip, suddenly nervous, "Miss Heartsong... what is *your* first name?"

The elf flashed an overtly mischievous grin.

"If I told you it was Bora-line, can we still be friends?"

She must have been joking. Tycon decided to treat everything she said prior as a joke.

"...Yes," he frowned-- "but it would add some difficulty to our friendship."

It pained him on a personal level to appear so intolerant. However, he found the naming conventions for young people in the Eastern States peculiar and difficult to remember.

"But really, though..." Coraline said in a soft voice, "Are you okay, Tycon?"

",