Headed by a Snake

When Tanamar's containment field expired, Victorius lay in a pool of blood-- also expired.

The blonde footman appeared to have died from an open wound on his abdomen... a slow and agonizing way to die.

Also... his 'good' hand had been crushed and broken. Very nice.

Tycondrius gestured towards the corpse, "If you're quite finished, I'll be taking the body."

"Seven hells..." Tanamar spat... "Do whatever you want. I'm leaving."

Tycon chuckled to himself, watching the Holy Lancer's back as he departed.

"Brother-Zenon... what are the chances that we can return the equipment at full price?"

"Egh..." The Librarian frowned, "Not too good, I think."

"I had assumed as much," Tycon swept his hair back and sighed. "Very well... Let's hang him up. It would be a shame for the materials to go to waste."

...

As the morning bells passed, the body crucified atop Silva's cliffs attracted various passersby. Tycon appeased their curiosities, detailing Victorius' lack of honor and duty.

Honor and duty were very important to Tyrions.

A tent-group from the Church came by to inquire about the macabre display. Upon discovering that the footman's offenses were in line with the punishment, they detailed the process for obtaining a permit for a 'proper' crucifixion.

It was an interesting and somewhat lengthy process. An offender would be stripped naked and scourged by a professional. Then, they would be paraded through the streets while a crier announced their sins to the public. Throughout, they would be shamed, spat upon, struck by stones-- humiliated, in general.

Tycon thanked the helpful gentlemen for the information. The price for a permit was relatively fair and he would have chosen to spend the few gold pieces for the extravaganza. Hopefully, he would not soon have the need to crucify an individual... but it was nice to have the option available.

Zenon volunteered to retrieve food for the two of them, along with a small jug of wine. He and Tycon held a light-hearted picnic with the sparkling beach scenery as the backdrop.

Four male younglings came by to throw rocks at the dead body.

It was a shame that the young footman was so rude as to miss his own crucifixion.

"So... what happens now, Optio?" Zenon asked.

Tycon shook his head, "To be perfectly honest, I'm at a loss... I'm glad Victorius showed up and gave me something to do."

"Optio..." Zenon wore a grave expression, "You know it's not your fault, right?"

"Tss," Tycon scoffed, averting his gaze. "I am painfully aware. If it weren't for Guild Letalis being in that Dungeon, no one from the Brazen Guard would have made it out alive..."

Zenon grimaced, swirling his wine cup... "No, I mean... the whole thing. We never imagined any of what happened... not the hidden motive behind the quest, nor the Stormbrands betrayal..."

Tycon leaned back on his elbows, gazing at the cloudy sky... "I could have."

The Centurion placed a hand on his chin... "You know... at the time, we made our decision as best as we could."

Tycon furrowed his brows... There was a certain familiarity in those words.

"How was it?" Zenon sighed... "A wise man once told me: in our profession, such decisions will haunt us until the end of our suns. You can have regrets, but you can't let them stop you from moving on."

"How droll," Tycon rolled his eyes, "What fool told you that?"

"You did, Optio," Zenon grinned.

Tycon pursed his lips... "That is not how I speak."

"I was paraphrasing."

Tycon sat up, downing his cup of watered-down wine.

...He appreciated the calm silence. It was stained, but beautifully, with the crowing of scavenger birds and the light giggling of cruel children.

Zenon offered his usual gentle smile, "My faith in you remains unshaken, Brother-Tycon. I'm sure the same can be said of Tanamar and Athena. It'll be much easier if you help us get through this, than if we were on our own."

"Hmph, you lot would do fine..." Tycon bit his upper lip in thought... "--but yes, my assistance would make our actions more... efficient."

"Hah, that's more like it," Zenon grinned. "So what's the plan from here, Optio?"

"As of current? We take most of the sun off to rest. In a few bells, we'll meet with Athena to discuss our next course of action."

...

The members of Guild Letalis' forward team met in one of Olea Garden's private rooms.

Lone and Zenon... Athena and Tanamar... Sorina and Korr, along with Sergeant Cecil Salt looked to Tycon with great expectation.

They would likely be disappointed.

"I have two different proposals," Tycon began, "a good one and... one that is less so."

Athena Vanzano balled up her tiny fists, "Well, good! Because we have to do *something*, Sir Tycon."

Each member of the table murmured more-or-less in agreement.

Tycon gestured towards the young lady, "I propose House Vanzano moving their base of operations to Kasydon."

"Wh-wh-whaaaaaaaat?!" The girl almost screamed, cupping her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. Though they were granted a private room, the restaurant walls weren't so thick to not be heard.

"No, it makes sense," Sorina offered. "Almost all of our businesses go through Caeruleum, somehow. With it no longer in our control, so are our profits in Ezyria."

"Yeah," Lone shrugged. "I mean... it's not like we have a house anymore in Silva. It kinda... burned down."

Tanamar shot the Ranger a glare before trying to calm Athena down, "It's a good idea. We should listen to--"

"I can't BELIEVE YOU, Sir Tycon!!" Athena stood up, pointing. "We're-- we're just giving up?! Huh?! HUHHH?!"

Tycon inhaled through his nostrils, grimacing. This was the plan with the highest rate of success in re-establishing House Vanzano as a power...

Unfortunately, though it was a temporary measure, it was essentially the same as running away... 'giving up', as Athena aptly stated.

With a few years of amassing wealth and power, they could oppose any arising Snake Cult factions both socially and politically.