Headed by a Snake

The largest advantage of making connections was the concept of specialization.

Tycondrius was very good at several things. He was not the best at any of them, but he was acceptably talented at waging war, training, and... gathering a half-dozen or so relatively useless fools and forcing them into doing something... useful.

For balancing books, Tycon could have attempted to fix it all himself... but a far more efficient and effective solution was to call in a specialist. Through the Courier's Guild, he sent out a few letters, including a discrete letter to Sorina Capulet, the Bronze-Rank Calculator that was Sol Invictus' Chief Financial Officer. Barring any fantastical incidents, she would make her way to the Holy Country's city of Silva as soon as possible.

The formation of a proper plan to revitalize House Vanzano's businesses would hinge on Sorina's arrival. Until then, Tycon would correct any glaringly poor business practices he came across-- but otherwise would focus on the training of the young Athena Vanzano.

...By extension, he'd train her two footmen, as well. It's not like those two were doing anything important.

Wisely, Centurion Zenon Skyreaper asked Tycon of his plans, which they discussed over a warm bottle of Tyrion wine. Zenon agreed. He had no idea how businesses worked, either. Why would he?

Training, however? Both Tycon and Zenon lived, breathed, loathed, and loved training. The two wrote out a basic regimen to subject Athena to... starting with a daily morning run.

The beaches were breathtaking, the crystalline green waters, had visible coral and non-aggressive sea life clear to see. The waves lapped against the fine, vibrant sand. And of course, three young persons were struggling to both breathe while continuing to run at an accelerated pace.

Zenon ran alongside Tycon, the only exception to the young-persons failing miserably. As tall as he was, each of his strides were two, nearly three of Tycon's own. Tycon was sweating lightly. The Centurion could carry full conversations.

"You know, Optio... You're pretty good at running," Zenon admitted.

Tycon grimaced. He did not, in-fact, consider himself good at running. Including Zenon, he was still the slowest runner amongst the combat classes of Sol Invictus.

He took a deep breath in order to respond without pause, "Why do you think that?"

"Well, you're running in full armor, while I'm just carrying this pack. That's gotta count for something," Zenon smiled amicably. "What's in this thing, anyroad?"

"Just training gear. Practice swords and such," Tycon smiled with chagrin.

He chose not to tell the Centurion that he wore magic boots that made his armor feel as light as linen. He wore his armor to psychologically pressure Athena and the two footmen.

Concerning endurance training, Athena looked the best of the three. The pace Tycon set for her pushed her abilities, but obviously she was no stranger to running along the sands. Her near-shoulder-length, light-blue hair was tied into a ponytail, and she wore a comfortable tunic, rhythmically breathing in twice, out twice.

Tanamar was performing the worst... his silvery hair matted against his forehead and face. He should have bound his own hair, as well, but for whatever reason, he did not.

However, Tycon found an interesting phenomenon. When the silver-haired footman fell behind. Tycon would slow his pace to jog beside Athena. The Holy Lancer's pace would then mysteriously increase... in order to run between Athena and himself. From there, Tycon would increase his speed to run in the lead alongside Zenon.

He had tested this three times, attaining the same result each time.

It was not a coincidence. The implications of the young man's actions were something Tycon could take advantage of.

The short-haired, blonde footman, Victorius, initially complained that his crippled hand ached terribly. That the fellow's injury was debilitating was reasonable; his hand was twisted and gnarled as if crushed by a heavy stone. Tycon offered the footman bandage-wrap to reduce the swelling, or perhaps to be used as a sling to prevent his arm being jostled as he ran.

Victorius refused.

He explained that before his injury, he was the best archer amongst House Vanzano's personal forces, and his training was top-notch.

...Why he mentioned that was beyond Tycon's understanding. It... didn't seem to relate to anything, at all. Such an admission only made him expect more of the fellow. He was still young, after all. Such an injury, the footman would need to train around, but it did not make him worthless.

Tycon surmised that Victorius' injury made the fellow doubt his own usefulness. Like Tanamar, his loyalty was reliable, since neither footman had abandoned the house even in its state of reduced wealth and prestige. Rebuilding Victorius' confidence would mean one additional ally for the young Athena.

Tycon raised an arm above his head, his fingers and thumb pointed up, "Here will do."

The group of five slowed to a walk, cooling down from their run. Zenon led the group in a few stretches. It reminded Tycon of his time with the Sea Wolves, performing stretches and exercises mandated by the Kingdom's Navy.

"Athena!" Tycon called out.

"Yessir!!" The young lady screamed, standing up quickly from her seated stretch. Sand shot up everywhere and she spent a few seconds spitting it out of her mouth before recovering in a Tyrion salute.

...There were plenty of things Tycon could have said. He decided not to call attention to the young lady's clumsiness on account of her eagerness... "Young lady, I would like to test your swordsmanship. From what I understand, you're training to be a Knight-Champion."

"A P-paladin, Sir Tycon!" Athena pouted.

...A Papaladin? ...No, Tycon was just going to assume she said Paladin... Apparently there was a difference between Paladins and Knight-Champions. Tycon had no idea what that could be, though.

"Considering your station, I'll give you the option of being tested now... or in private, when we return," Tycon made a show of eyeing the other two footmen. Did she trust her footmen to reveal the extent of her abilities to them?

"I'd like to be tested now, Sir. I have nothing to hide from Tanamar," She smiled cheerfully.

Tycon pursed his lips. What about the other one? There were two footmen... "Miss Athena, please retrieve a wooden sword from Centurion Zenon."