Headed by a Snake

The young ghost did not appear particularly concerned about Tycondrius' misgivings.

"I'll tell you h-what, Mister," Tamaki leaned forward. "Yer gettin' mah hospitality, no if's, and's, and/or but's. And as fer my forgiveness? I ain't cross wit'chu fer anythin' in per-tic-ular."

...There were far too many 'ands' in that sentence.

"Brother-Tamaki..." Tycon took a deep breath... and loosed an exasperated sigh, "you... deserve better than this."

"Well, on that note," Tamaki paused... "If ahm recollectin' correctly... which there's a good chance I might not be, there's Avernan Snapper a couple malms upriver?"

"Not what I meant, boy," Tycon growled.

He turned up to see Tamaki grinning at him, wide... like a fool.

"This is mah fate, Warrior Tycon... m'destiny. I found it. I like it. I ain't lamentin' what's in the past-- ahm livin' in the present, e'rry bell, e'rry sun, the best I can."

He tilted his chin up and raised his brows, "You can't let one fella's death kill off all yer hopes and dreams-- that'd be plum stupid."

Despite the presence of a plum in the boy's reassurances, Tycon couldn't help but be annoyed at the boy's mature response.

"...I'm older than you, you know," He scowled.

"Want me ta call you Sir?" Tamaki laughed.

He began adding the coated fish pieces into the iron cookpot... into the heated animal fat.

The smell was lovely.

The gentle, sizzling noise... was healing to the soul.

"...No, that won't be necessary," Tycon groaned... "But I will ask... for the honor of seasoning our meal with salt and spices, once the frying process is complete."

Tamaki smiled... a gentle smile that made Tycon miss the young gentleman's friendship and company more than ever.

"The honor's all mine, Young Master Tycon."

...

⟬ A short time later... ⟭

Tycondrius did not remember so much maturity from Young Master Tamaki when he was alive.

The boy had died... but he'd taken it more as a positive experience than not.

He had grown-- so to speak.

The meal was lovely. The drink was satisfying.

The conversation... was thought-provoking.

Tycon still did not feel deserved... but his companion was certainly doing his best to make him feel as welcome as he could.

In that, they... agreed to disagree.

"So what're yer plans from here on out, Young Master Tycon?" Ghost-Tamaki asked. "If yer gonna stay awhile, we kin set out and get materials ta make you a bed."

"I'm planning to--" Tycon stopped mid-sentence and tilted his head, "Where exactly would we get materials for that? ...And where did you get the lumber for your cabin?"

Tamaki opened his mouth in a broad smile, "Don't remember."

"Tss," Tycon rolled his eyes, "You can only say that so often before I start to disbelieve you. The catfish-- eating its fried flesh restores your memory, does it not?"

"Guilty 's charged," Tamaki gave a casual shrug. "A half-bell east, there's a forested hilly area crawlin' with ogres and big ol' spiders 'at shoot burnin' puke out their butts. They don't move much when it gets dark-- gets colder 'n a witch's teat 'bout that time,though."

Tycon nodded in thought. That sounded... incredibly dangerous. Tamaki was the most powerful Bronze-Rank Fisherman in the Realm, alive or dead.

"And... the bedding material?"

"There's a valley a few bells away filled with the nastiest roosters I ever did see, s'big around as a fella is tall. The feather down'll make do... but if'n ya ain't careful 'bout coverin' up, you'll get a mighty burnin' rash fer yer troubles-- lasts 'bout a week long."

"...Do you have any coin?" Tycon asked politely, "--or whatever is used for currency in this place?"

"Ayep," Tamaki raised his chin proudly. "Ah went up ta town a coupl'a weeks back."

Tycon furrowed his brows. There was a nearby town?

Ah, no-- that wasn't what was concerning.

The young ghost had provided... far less information than in his previous examples.

...Thus, Tycon remained quiet, staring expectantly.

"Well, uh..." Tamaki rubbed the back of his neck, "Y'see, I didn't know my way 'round those parts... so ah went through a coupl'a alleyways."

The boy stopped once more... but Tycon vaguely understood the gist of his story.

Tamaki had a fortunate encounter... or an unfortunate one, that resulted in an increase to his financial net worth.

Most likely, he was the target of a violent assault.

Clearly, he survived-- so to speak... and was better off for it.

Why he decided to keep that information private was peculiar... but it was his prerogative to do so.

"Very well," Tycon smiled politely. "Anyroad, dear brother... concerning my stay here, I'd best be going as soon as possible... As you may be aware, I don't quite belong here."

"Yeah, 'bout that," A star of suspicion lit up in Tamaki's eyes, "It's 'cause yer uh... colored, ain'tcha?"

"...Mind the year and the socio-political climate, Young Master," Tycon glared. "The proper term, I believe, would be *alive* as opposed to... not that-- or opaque as opposed to translucent, if you'd prefer."

"Aha, right, right," Tamaki scratched the back of his head, chuckling in embarrassment, "Didn't mean no harm, Tycon."

"Granted," Tycon shrugged as he lifted up his cup.

Tamaki's moonshine was a harsh drink, by itself. However, mixing it with tea, sweetened with beet sugar, made its consumption a vastly more pleasant experience.

The young Fisherman lifted his own cup, tapping it to Tycon's with a satisfying clunk, "To the livin', I guess."

"I'll drink to that."

"So 'sides from that..." Tamaki glanced over to the opposite end of the table... "what're we gonna do 'bout that third plate o' food we fried up?"

"Reagent for a summoning ritual," Tycon explained.

"...Fer a magic ritual?" Tamaki asked, "I didn't see you cast no spell, though?"

Before Tycon could answer, a series of loud sounds came from outside the cabin. Wooden planks had bent and snapped... and a series of rocks had fallen.

"Gods-DAMN IT!!!" A gruff, rock-gargling voice called out, "Who the F*CK made a F*CKING TRAP PATH OUT HERE?!?"

Tycon finished off the last of his delicious beverage, "Did you truly doubt me, little brother?"

",