Headed by a Snake

⟬ Later that sun. ⟭

Tycondrius did not like the feeling of being watched.

When he came into the possession of an Amulet of Obscuration, it brought him no small amount of peace of mind for sun-to-sun activities.

However, that only protected him from divination magic. It was still possible for him and Elle to be spied upon via mundane means.

It was even more bothersome that he sensed malicious intent from whomever was targeting him. Tycon was not as sensitive to such things as he would like. He relied purely on instinct... useful enough to know that he was theoretically in danger, but too inexact to identify the source lest the spy was foolish enough to reveal themself.

"Tychon?" Elle followed his gaze, "Why do you keep looking to the rooftops?"

"I've been adventuring for a long time, my love," He grimaced. "Upwards is often the least checked direction, when scanning for potential dangers."

"Ehhh?" Elle raised her eyebrows. "That'll take me some gettin' used to..."

"I advise you try to incorporate it into your actions until it's second-nature," Tycon smiled politely. "Habits don't change over a single sun."

"Mm. Lessons from the leader of Sol Invictus, himself," Elle hummed. "Should I be paying you or what?"

"Last I checked, your stipend is issued in my name," Tycon laughed. "But if you're feeling guilty over how much you're receiving..."

"Don't suppose I can pay... some other way?" Elle winked coquettishly.

"With love, affection, and companionship?" Tycon teased.

"You read my mind."

"Tss," Tycon scoffed. He was hoping to catch his lover off-guard with honesty instead of flirtation, but she took it in stride.

Clever girl.

"So, Lord Invictus--" She began.

"Please don't," Tycon rolled his eyes. "The title is reserved for someone else."

"Mister Invictus?"

"Acceptable."

"Mister Invictus, then," Elle smirked, "How come I got a new sword and you didn't?"

As they walked, Tycon subconsciously put a hand to the Tyrion sword on his waist, "This one has... sentimental value."

Its previous owner was a young man named Justus of Leopardon, Elle's childhood friend. The fact was not something he wished to volunteer... as he'd taken it after violently murdering him.

"Sure you're not just cheap, Tychon?"

"I prefer the term 'frugal', young lady," Tycon frowned. "And to use your words from earlier in the sun, 'why can't it be both?'"

Elle put her hand to her mouth, stifling a round of light and airy giggling, "Don't be mad."

"I'm not?"

"You're making a face."

"This is how I look."

"That's not the face you gave me last night~"

Elle's brazen remark made Tycon avert his gaze.

Discontent roiled in his heart when he realized what had happened.

...Clever girl. Well played.

He let his shoulders slouch, "I concede, my love."

Elle pulled him close for a quick hug, "Aww. I'll let you win next time."

To alleviate his frustration, Tycon kicked open the door to one of the Arcanite Princess' hangars.

They were greeted by the sight of two rows of Divine Armors on the right and a single passenger airship to the left, all in various stages of completion.

Elle placed both of her hands over her heart... "I... I like this place."

"Oh? Would you like me to buy you another one?" Tycon teased.

"Not a chance," She grinned. "I'm quite happy being doted upon by my two handsome men... that being you and Gaheris. Stop making that face."

"I'm not," Tycon insisted.

At first glance, Tycon would have assumed Ophelia was preparing for war. Knowing better, he realized... the Divine Armors all looked similar, their designs far closer to that of Talks-With-Fire than the specialized Many-Big-Guns. They were being developed to be sold to other nations and wealthy third-parties.

The financial power of House Moonwell made it in no way inferior to House Highblade... and far superior to that of the East Charm Trading Company. It hadn't been so obvious until then.

Dozens of elves, humans, and persons in-between were milling about the floor, carrying tools, or conversing about something likely irrelevant. As nothing of particular importance was taking place, Tycon raised his voice to shout over the ambient noise.

"Captain Krysaos!" Tycon yelled, "Are you here? Have you been assassinated?"

"That's pretty dark, Tychon," Elle frowned. "And if he was-- he wouldn't be able to respond."

"If he hasn't been--" He countered, "then he will."

Krysaos spotted them immediately and began walking towards them, leaving behind a flustered female elf in a white coat.

"YOOOOOO~!!!!" ELLLL-TEEEEEE!!!"

"Brother-Captain," Tycon smiled warmly, "you look well."

They shook hands in greeting. Tycon judged that Krysaos' strength was not less than it had been. The gentleman had recovered well enough that they could depart from the Tree God's Forest at any time.

"And I feel a helluva lot better than the other sun," Krysaos looked up to Elle and whistled. "Wow. And heLLooo there~ Krysaos, Captain of the Neptune's Revenge, and badass-est badass of the sixteen seas. But what's YOUR name, gorgeous?"

"H-hello Captain Krysaos," Elle saluted politely. "Immunes Haelvia of Guild Metal Wolf-- but you can call me Elle."

"Ah huh. Yeah," Krysaos looked her up and down before returning a lazy salute of his own... "Elle. That's nice."

That his eyes lingered a bit too long on Elle's chest area was... something Tycon expected.

"Listen, girlie," Krysaos flashed a white smile. "Gimme a moment with good ol' Lieutenant Tycon, here."

Before Tycon could respond, the man insistently pulled him away.

"LT."

"Yes, brother?"

Krysaos crossed his arms, "You already f*cked her, din'cha?"

"Yes," Tycon narrowed his eyes. "We've established a relationship. Stay away from her or I'll murder you in your sleep."

"Deal."

"But to sate my curiosity... how could you tell?"

"Ughhh," Krysaos groaned as he placed his arms on Tycon's shoulders. "Not important. How come you keep gettin' all the hot chicks? Come on, LT. Look at me, guy! I'm single as a sunfish!"

Tycon took a deep breath through his nostrils... "Is that so...?"