Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius settled his bill with a staff member of the Broken Drum inn and tavern. It pained him to see so much coin lightening his wallet... but the beds were comfortable and the rooms were clean. It was well worth the additional coin to not sleep in squalor.

He did not add an additional tip. If the Broken Drum wanted more of his coin, they'd have to wait for Sol Invictus to stay another evening.

Isidor wore his hood low, revealing only a nose and wide, unsmiling lips on a beardless chin. A leather sack nearly half his size was slung over the stout fellow's shoulder.

"What's in the sack, Brother-Isidor?" Tycon asked. He was fairly certain of the answer, but still... he held hope that he'd be pleasantly surprised.

"It'ssssss... filled withhhh... sssssouvenirs..." Isidor explained.

Tycon took a deep breath, "Isidor, really? How are you going to carry all that?"

Also, how was he able to afford all that? Tycon had provided him and Sasha with enough coin to purchase food and a few trinkets if they spent frugally but...

No... Tycon had a feeling he knew how he was able to afford so much junk.

"I was going to carry them in my mou--"

"Hold on, Brother-Isidor," Tycon raised his palm. "Did you... eat?"

Slowly, the scale-dwarf's mouth twisted into a pout, then into a grimace.

Tycon narrowed his eyes, "If you lie to me, I will beat you."

Isidor was ridiculous. It seemed he had spent his money for the past few suns on stupid souvenirs, ignoring his personal health. While he was a Gold-Rank and was in no immediate danger of death by starvation, he must have been quite uncomfortable.

Zenon Skyreaper crossed his arms and frowned, "Y'know, Tycon, I don't wanna tell you how to raise your kids, but--"

Tycon shut his eyes, raising up his palm to stop Zenon, as well, "Brother-Zenon, please. Isidor knows not to lie."

Also, Isidor was not a child, not by size, nor by age. He knew the consequences of his actions.

"Is... is there more coinnnn... for foooood, Brother-Tycon?" He asked, his face still set in a deep frown.

Tycon exhaled through his nose, "Zenon and I are continuing our journey. Go. Return to the Aetnian Mountains and rejoin your faction."

"What of the young Ssssasha?"

"I sent her off to school."

"The... the Lone Ssssshadowdark?

"He's gone off to..." Tycon paused for a brief moment, "--to train."

"Can... I go withhh you?" Isidor asked hopefully.

"No," Tycon glared. "You have prior responsibilities, Brother-Isidor. I will not be your 'excuse' to ignore them."

"I don't... eat muchhhh..."

Tycon narrowed his eyes into a deeply scrutinizing glare. In Isidor's scale-dwarf form, he ate as much as a Titanblood. In his natural form, he could go without food for some time, but when he ate, he would gorge on the Snake Cult's tributes of quadrupedal non-sentients... and probably the occasional human.

"I have already closed our account at this establishment, Isidor." Tycon explained, "I will not reopen it on account of your selfishness."

Isidor looked down at the tavern floor. He somehow managed a sullen look, even though he generally had trouble expressing emotions with his humanoid disguise.

Tycon felt no remorse. The Titan Snake knew what he was doing, spending money on useless trinkets instead of filling his belly.

"Hey, Tycon..." Zenon spoke in a calm voice. "How about you guys stay at my place? I have to get a few things from home, anyroad."

Tycon shook his head, pursing his lips, "Centurion, we really shouldn't impose. Isidor can feed himself while he's on the road."

Only the wildlife in the Holy Country's forests could properly satiate a snake of Isidor's size.

"It's just one night. And I'll take you guys to dinner," Zenon urged.

Isidor looked up, his eyes full of expectation-- his mouth still set into a frown, so he looked quite pitiful. He... he really needed more practice, if he hadn't yet learned to un-frown.

"I know all the best places," Zenon offered. "I've been stationed in Caeruleum for awhile."

The Centurion was... far too kind of a human. Tycon let out a deep sigh and smiled politely, "Very well... one night will be fine. We can set out with the morning sun."

"You have... my tttthankssss, Brother-Zenonnnn," Isidor thanked the Librarian, his expression still clashing with his tone.

Isidor didn't want to go to Caeruleum in the first place. Now he didn't want to leave? It was absurd.

"And you will return, afterward," Tycon reminded.

...

Tycon wanted to eat at a restaurant that offered fire-roasted lamb.

Centurion Skyreaper lamented that he could not afford to pay for everyone's bill if that were so. After a short deliberation, they agreed that the Librarian would pay for the cost of their party's drinks. Sol Invictus would be able to eat better, while still allowing the Centurion the pride of a generous host.

As for why Zenon couldn't afford to pay when he had the rank of Centurion-- it seemed he was only being paid as much as a Decanus. His rank was afforded to him because he was a Sanctified Psyker-- Tyrion's designation for a legal spellcaster.

Zenon's status in the Church of the Eternal Flame was... as pitiful as his pay grade.

Tycon was finding it harder to judge Archbishop Natalya's motives as being anything but generous and benevolent. Attached to Sol Invictus, Zenon was away from the toxicity of his temple's leadership-- and he was certain to gain a few battle scars, gaining him an award or three to pin onto his armor.

It was a partnership mutually beneficial to both parties.

Well played, Natalya Crucis.

"This is the place!" Zenon pointed at the eatery sign they were searching for. "Best food in Caeruleum, right here!"

Tycon scrutinized the sign, "That's... an... oblong-shaped berry?"

"It's an olea. It's a small tree fruit common in Tyrion cuisine," Zenon happily explained. "Come on, let's get a table."