Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius exhaled out of his nostrils in frustration. The foliage was practically swarming with movement, but despite his warnings, his peers remained blissfully ignorant. He wondered if Decanus Constantina's scout group had reported his findings to the Primus Pilus. If so, it was his own damn fault that his beloved cohort was going to be needlessly decimated.

The archer, Rena, was babbling nonsensically about getting captured and savaged by the kobolds.

Tycon found the thought of it absurd. There was no reason above the seven hells or below the eleven heavens that a common kobold would capture and mate with a human. Their anatomy was particularly incompatible with humankind and wouldn't result in offspring.

A captured human would be held for ransom or used as a hard-labor slave. Failing that, humans had more use as edible meat than for grotesque sexual outlets. A kobold copulating with a human outside of a consensual relationship would be as abhorrent as a human seducing a pig or a horse.

At the very least, the archer-girl had the common sense to be worried about a possible attack.

If Tycon was an optimistic person, he would believe that the Rhodok adventuring company was well familiar with Iredar tactics. If he could choose, he would drill his troops to quickly assume a defensive formation, and withdraw to a safe distance-- away from the cunning traps the Iredar had certainly set.

If he were less than optimistic, he would think that the humans were grossly underestimating the Iredar threat. Had any of them experienced an attack by a full Iredar tribe, Holy Bolter Rena's panic would not be unique to her.

As he observed the young woman, he mentally inquired his System about her status.

⟬ Rena, Bronze-Rank Human Holy Bolter ⟭

She was a low-level archer-type class. Ranged classes generally had better survival instincts than their melee counterparts.

Unlike the costly and large, unwieldy Class-Identification and Mana-Measurement devices developed by the Artificer's Guild, Tycon's personal System granted him a generally accurate measurement of a person's abilities.

He hadn't chosen to transmigrate into this Realm, but he was glad the fates had seen fit to compensate him for his troubles with his System. It did have its limits. It didn't unlock new skills for him or come with its own storage space or allow him to increase his attributes. It wasn't at all omniscient, but it did allow him analysis and information enough to serve as a "cheat" for a more comfortable adventuring life.

It was enough, anyroad, that Tycon had no desire to off himself to try and start over with a different benefit... not that he was certain such a "reset" was a viable option.

"It is what it is," Decanus Caelistis dismissed Rena's worries with a foppish shrug.

⟬ Caelistis, Bronze-Rank Human Warrior ⟭

The Decanus with an unstylish goatee had an awe-inspiring ability to waste words. 'It is what it is.' Such a statement was worth as much as stating that water is wet. As Caelistis was a Bronze-Rank with a miserable personality, Tycon respected nothing besides the man's rank and position.

"That's... that's wrong," the young, red-haired recruit, Justus, muttered.

⟬ Justus, Bronze-Rank Human Holy Swordsman ⟭

Tycon raised an eyebrow, both pleased and mildly amused. It seemed there was someone else in their tent group with common sense. Just like Rena, he had an excellent class: Holy Swordsman.

"Eh? You say something, Fish?" Caelistis asked with a sneer.

It was a shame that Justus was also Bronze-Rank. Without a rank difference, if he was stronger than the Decanus, the difference was negligible. With the 5 or 10 year age difference, it was also doubtful the young man had the experience and skill to best his superior.

Justus cleared his throat to speak up, "I've got this weird gut feeling, Decanus... like we're being watched?"

Yes. Tycon had seen the movement of dozens of Iredar in the woods. It wasn't impossible that there were hundreds, waiting to strike. It took far less to feed a similar-sized cohort of kobolds than of humans. The traveling company, full of potential slaves and food supplies proved a viable and attractive target.

"Gahhhhh," Caelistis groaned, "You too, Fish? Let them watch, we'll keep doing what we're doing. It is what it is."

Tycon felt his eye twitch. He pulled back his hood to address Caelistis, "Decanus, with all due respect... what the hells is that supposed to mean?"

"Huh, what?" The Decanus narrowed his eyes but could unfortunately not change the vacuous expression on his face, "It means what it means. What is, is. Is there a brain beneath that 12 copper helmet, Munifex Zehr?"

Tycon took great pains not to roll his eyes. The man wasn't worth wasting his words on, "Munifex Justus."

Justus sat up straight, "Huh? Me?"

"...Yes," Tycon glanced left and right... He was fairly certain there was only one Munifex Justus in the wagon.

"M-munifex Zehr, how can I help you?"

Tycon thought that he had perhaps been too hasty in thinking the boy was worth conversing with. Still, he had chosen to address the boy. It wouldn't do to keep his words unsaid.

"Your 'gut feelings' stem from your senses. Though you may not be able to explain it, it remains that one or more of your sensory perceptions is warning you that not everything 'is as it is.'"

"Munifex Zehr... that..." A large-breasted blonde tilted her head at the thought.

⟬ Gianna, Bronze-Rank Human Shield Maiden ⟭

Another rare class. Tycon was surprised at the amount of talent he had lucked into, joining Decanus Caelistis' tent group.

"Anyroad," Tycon turned back to scan the road in front of the wagon, "Remaining vigilant costs you nothing. We can rest during our sleep cycles."

"By the Flame... he is sooooo hawt," the Holy Bolter, Rena whispered.

If the woman thought she was being subtle, she was not.

Decanus Caelistis pulled on the horses' reins, "Seven hells... Really, we're stopped again?"

It appeared that the wagon train was coming to a halt for a second time. Another issue may have been discovered by the scout team or one of the lead wagons.

"Ooohhhh, look!!" Gianna's voice had raised in pitch to a high squeal. She sat up to look over the opposite side of the wagon, "It's a puppy!"

Tycon's eyes widened as adrenaline coursed through his veins and slowed his sense of time to a crawl.

The floppy-eared, blue-furred kobold raised a heavy crossbow, leveling its sights onto Gianna's surprised face.

Seven hells of ice and whirling steel. Eleven heavens raining blood and fire. The Iredar were attacking.