Headed by a Snake

Besides the Sons of Qotal, there were hundreds of Tyrions amongst the Caeruleum populace who heard the dragon's whispers.

Those that had a Metal-Rank were simply referred to as 'The Faithful.' Veteran adventurers, popular gladiators, men of the Church, they comprised the most powerful secret army in the nation.

It was bothersome for Antonidus, having to reveal his hand... but after over a decade of accruing forces, the Senate-- no, not even High Oracle Troia would be able to challenge his iron rule over Caeruleum.

"Well?!" Antonidus waved his arm, his official robe billowing majestically, "What are you waiting for, Decanus?"

Decanus Philippos' expression didn't change, "There are several dozen of the fire slimes burning the city, sir."

"S... several dozen, you say?"

"That's right, sir."

Antonidus gulped... "Then the uh... the Faithful... have the Faithful alert... The Branded."

Amongst the Faithful, there was a small group of infinitely powerful adventurers within the Sons of Qotal. They were called The Branded and according to the rumors, every single one of them were Iron-Rank or higher.

Confident in his command, Antonidus turned sharply and increased his walking pace down the corridor.

"Sir!" Phillipos chased after him, "Where are you going? The stairs to the front door are that way?"

Antonidus felt sweat drip down the back of his head. This fool still wanted him to fight against insurmountable odds? That's what The Branded were for!

"I uh... I left my... stove unattended."

The Decanus looked unconvinced, "Is... is that so, sir?"

"It is so. Now... go see to your duties, Decanus."

...

Tycondrius comfortably strolled down the streets with the members of his team in tow.

Broken bodies were littered everywhere, covered in fresh blood and a layer of soot.

Everything stank of smoke. Errant screams sang sporadically. It was a beautiful, burning hellscape reminiscent of a nightmare.

Tycon remained unbothered. His own nightmares were worse.

He figured that, with Dragan's fire slimes, he could wipe out at least 90% of Caeruleum's population. It was a severe enough culling that whatever snake cultists hid amongst the survivors would be hard-pressed to bite back within the next decade or so.

It was acceptable.

It was somewhat disheartening to kill so many innocents. Tycon found the act mostly annoying. He knew the dwarves and elves and the mostly-human members of guild Letalis weren't so keen on the idea, either.

Still, he had enough allies who had no issues with the order.

The harpies needed their breeding stock. The spider-breeders preferred meat-corpses to... breed spiders. The fat raccoons had no issues with consuming the flesh of sentients and were more concerned about looting than they were about morality.

Then the fire slimes... they were essentially natural disasters that did as they pleased.

...Tycon would leave some of them in the city, even after his forces withdrew. He'd need the Titanbloods to advise him on the matter... They would know best on the number to leave, ensuring enough of them to procreate but not enough that they'd terrorize the surrounding areas.

Dawn had broken through the morning clouds only recently, lighting up the alley ahead. Wet, glistening grey spiderwebs were serenely draped along the walls, untouched by the fires.

"[LEADER,]" Seldin Korr's metallic voice echoed through her emotionless helmet, "[THERE ARE BODIES IN THOSE COCOONS.]"

Tycon nodded, "I can see that. Wait here."

"[YES, LEADER,]" Korr stood up straight and saluted.

...Her greaves were raised, artificially emphasizing her long legs and making her taller than he was. It annoyed him slightly... but as she was fond of them, he decided to allow it.

"[Eyes open, Optio,]" Zenon warned.

⟬ Seldin Korr, Gold-Rank Human Flaming Rage Knight; Zenon Skyreaper, Iron-Rank Human Librarian. ⟭

Korr stood watch at the alley entrance along with Centurion Zenon Skyreaper. Any of the three of them were enough to deal with any difficult issues, but the teams had been decided the evening prior.

Stephanos, Pale, and the Lone Shadowdark were acting independently. With their superior mobility, they were able to engage with any targets at-will, withdrawing if necessary.

Holy Lancer Tanamar and Frostblade Athena formed a unit. Obviously.

Tanamar was a lethal force at range and was difficult to defeat in close combat, especially guarded by Athena's ⌈Frost Shield⌋. Then Athena... any of her incanted abilities could wreak havoc on anything that Tanamar couldn't defeat in a short exchange-- and she wouldn't be interrupted, as long as her footman still breathed.

Sorina Capulet was somewhere in the city with Corporal Horse and Private First Class Jeremy... with Private Edge assigned to keep them alive and out of trouble. Tycon decided not to worry about them, for the sake of his sanity.

With the other teams focused on wreaking havoc, Tycon was to act as a general troubleshooter, assessing and assisting the various Letalis companies. Zenon and Korr insisted upon accompanying him.

Thus far, they'd checked on the dwarves and two of the six Letalis fielded companies. It seemed that with the webs and various arachnids crawling about, Tycon had come across where the spider-breeders had been.

He walked into the alley, examining the human-sized cocoons of thick, soot-covered silk. Men, women, children-- warriors and not, all were bound, all were equal. Some still writhed in discomfort. Most did not, having accepted their fate.

Tycon removed his helmet and raised his voice, "Is anyone here?"

He sought a report from the spider-breeders, if not from Matriarch Feverbite, herself.

"T-tactician?" A woman's voice whimpered, "Is... is that you?"

Tycon furrowed his brows as he directed his gaze upward. A dying woman was suspended by the webbing above him, her arms outstretched like a captive angel.

⟬ Ptolema, Iron-Rank Human Champion of Qotal. ⟭

He didn't recognize her at first with the scars on her face... but he knew her.

Still, he could not help her.

In the Brazen Guard collective, they were allies. In the short time since, she had become an enemy.

Only one thing awaited the enemies of Sol Invictus.

He remained silent, wondering how he should kill her.

"Tactician... please help me," Ptolema begged... "I can't... I can't see..."