Headed by a Snake

The Tactician was grinning wider than a shite-eating possum, "Now, can we sit and converse peaceably? Do you have some chairs, or--"

"Won't be necessary, guy."

Bannok trudged out from his room... but even before Tactician Tycon turned to look at him, his face twisted into a grimace and he wrinkled his nose.

Ariadne felt her entire face flush hot with shame.

Her husband hadn't shaved or bathed in weeks... and the unwashed clothing he wore reeked of alcohol. She made sure to change out the bandages on his severed arm every sun-- she didn't want it to get infected... but he didn't let her wash anything else.

"You two's," Bannok slashed his secondhand sword through the air, a slow and sloppy swing, even for a human, "Get out... I don't wanna talk to ya's."

"Or you'll do what?" Tycon raised an eyebrow, "Hit me with that pig iron sword?"

"Boss," The boy, Pale, tugged at the Tactician's arm, "We should go. We're not welcome here."

Tycon tilted his head up and groaned, "Don't worry about it, young man. These two are probably casting blame on me for their own inadequacies."

"Oh. F*ck. You. Ssssnake," Bannok growled.

"Tss..." Tycon scoffed, "Really, Bannok? No matter the species, wallowing in alcohol and self-pity is just as pathetic."

"Yeahhh?" Bannok reeled back, blinking his his bleary drunken eyes, "How 'bout you say that to my face, guy?"

The snake stepped forward, unafraid of the bigger man, "I came looking for a proud former guild leader, his heart filled with courage and his will made of Tyrion steel."

He grabbed Bannok's shirt and pulled him down, staring into his eyes, "But all I see is an old drunk who's convinced himself he's a failure."

Bannok shook the Tactician off but he lost his balance. His shoulder caught the doorway before he fell... and he leaned on it while glaring at Tycon's chest, "Yeah... You got that right, guy. I'm a failure. So what?"

Tycon raised his arms, "How long are you going to mourn, then? There must be a breaking point! You've fallen to THIS!? You've hidden away in a literal HOVEL!"

The more the Tactician talked, the more Ariadne felt her heart wrench. They'd sold near everything of value to help with their travel expenses, including Bannok's old enchanted battleaxe. They'd moved twice before, too, to avoid the uncomfortable eyes of the Church on their witch hunt. That was why two Gold-Rank adventurers were living in squalor.

If Bannok was even a few years younger... if he still had both arms... he'd never have even considered running away with his tail tucked between his legs.

"Bannok..." Tycon's gaze softened, "Tell me truthfully... Is this acceptable to you?"

"F*CK OFF, Tactician!!" Bannok shouted, "You're the one that got us into this shite! We never would've gotten into those Flame-taken Halls if it weren't for you!"

"I may have led you humans into those Halls..." Tycon seethed... "but I did my gods-damned best to get as many of you out. Don't you dare blame your weakness on me."

"Flame TAKE YOUUUU!!!" Bannok raised his sword arm.

"Bannok, NO!!!" Ariadne shouted.

The snake may have been rude... and untrustworthy... but she knew the truth. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. That's why the whole ordeal was so infuriating.

If it weren't for the Tactician... everyone would have died in those halls.

Bannok had killed hundreds of people-- it was in the job description, campaigning for Tyrion, monster subjugation, Dungeon delving. But... he'd never murdered anyone. And murdering the Tactician in a drunken rage? It wouldn't be right!

She reached out, rushing forward to stop him... but she was too late.

Her husband swung his sword... but the Tactician caught it with his bare hand.

Blood flowed down his palm and dripped down his arm. He grabbed the blade, wrenched it away, and tossed it to the floor... like an adult taking a toy away from a spoiled child.

Ariadne couldn't believe it. It had been less than a year's time... and he was stronger than Bannok?

"Not a f*cking onze of killing intent, Bannok," Tycon sneered. "If you thought you could kill me with that level of attack-- honestly, I'm insulted."

Bannok sighed... like all the strength had left his body, "Don't gotta be so surprised, guy... You's can see it now, yeah? I'm a f*cking failure..."

"You've merely lost your way, Brother-Bannok," Tycon said quietly. It was like the words hurt when he said them.

Bannok stood up and straightened his spine... but he couldn't bring himself to meet the Tactician's gaze anymore, "Say what you came to say..."

"Look at me, Brother-Bannok."

Grimacing, Bannok slowly looked up.

"You're lost right now," Tycon hesitated... "I am here to offer you guidance back."

"Come with us, Sir..." The boy offered. "You know Boss Tycon means the best for you."

...Bannok took a deep breath and shook his head, "No can do... I ain't half the man I used to be without my shield arm."

He lifted what was left of his arm. It was nothing but a bandaged stump, ending just underneath the shoulder.

Ariadne had tried her best to heal it-- to at least seal the wound so it wouldn't fester and ooze. It always felt like there was something stopping the magic from working fully. It wasn't poison. It didn't seem to be curse magic.

She had a terrible feeling that the fault lied with her husband. That maybe... it was his refusal to let go of the past... That because of his rejection of any form of redemption, that it affected his physical capacity to heal.

Bannok tilted his head up in a shameless grin, "Besides, the wife'd kill me if I go."

Ariadne winced at the words. Her husband... had never before used her as a shield. He was the unyielding shield. He was the unstoppable force.

She... couldn't let it go on.

She didn't want to say what she had to say. She couldn't get over her hate of the Tactician... for being who he was. But if he had a way to cure her husband's heart where she could not...