Headed by a Snake

"You wanted to see me, Boss?" Tarquin entered the living area.

Tycon had wrapped himself warmly in a blanket in front of the fireplace, slowly sipping on a heated cup of wine. After Bucket's departure, he had discovered a prominent wine rack in the corner of the room.

As Tycon had commandeered the entire estate, Tavor's vintage wine collection was also his.

Delicious.

Tycon examined the Daeva. Wroe was half-a-head taller than he was. His light-blue hair was a few ilms longer, where Tycon kept his short enough to not need excessive styling. He wore leather armor, reinforced by metal shoulders and a chestguard. Unlike Tycon's dark, peaked hood, Wroe had a white hood. That and the white clothing underneath his armor matched well with his somewhat-obvious angelic bloodline.

Tycon glanced down at Wroe's side, frowning with disdain at seeing his longsword.

"Indeed. I wanted to discuss something with you, old friend."

As frustrated as Tycon was at the whole situation, he couldn't help but feel a deep kinship with both Wroe and Dragan. He hadn't many memories of them, but he wasn't too worried. More memories would come and he could always inquire about whatever was missing.

Tycon poured a second cup of wine for his companion. Wroe smilingly accepted it, taking a seat for himself.

"Should we get a third cup for Dragan?" Wroe asked.

"Nah. We'll start ahead of him. I believe we both know how much that man drinks," Tycon chuckled.

The pair clinked together their cups in a friendly toast, draining them in smooth, practiced pulls.

Tycon took the wine bottle and again, filled the cups with the sweet red.

"Well, what's up, Boss?" Wroe inquired.

Tycon gently swirled the wine in his smooth, wooden cup, letting his gaze wander about the room, "I wished to inquire about your swordplay tonight."

Wroe placed his wine cup on the table beside him and smiled sheepishly, "Oh? You saw that, huh? It's the… Zarovich-style blade forms, I learned it when I was in--"

"No, no," Tycon held a palm up, interrupting him, "I mean to say… Why didn't you fight at range?"

"What? Because... I don't have a ranged weapon. Well, I earned an Expert badge with a crossbow, but..."

"No, wait, hold on," Tycon drained his wine cup, trying to think. His concern was steadily rising.

"What is it, Boss?"

Tycon decided to be clear, "Magic, Mister Wroe. Why didn't you use magic?"

Wroe laughed derisively, "Haha. I don't know any magic, Boss. That's silly."

Tycon's eyes set into a confused glare, "What the... but the... Arms? And when the ceiling ate the corpses?"

"Oh, yeah, that was kinda weird, huh?"

"And gathering information about Bucket's whereabouts? All those screams we heard around that time?"

"I just... kinda hear voices, sometimes?"

Tycon was standing and yelling at Wroe, "And I was told you IDENTIFIED the DARK MAGIC surrounding the MANOR?!"

It was all he could do to not begin strangling the man. Wroe felt his Boss's rising anger and stood up, trying to calm Tycon down.

"Boss, I just-- kinda, sorta felt it! Do-Don't be mad!"

"I'M FURIOUS!"

"Boss! Boss!" Wroe put his open palms forward, "Can we just all caaaalllm--"

« SYSTEM! Inquiry! What class is Tarquin Wroe? »

[System response: Tarquin Wroe, Bronze-Rank Duelist]

« System, inquiry! Just to be absolutely, perfectly clear, does the Duelist class have any magical capabilities? »

[Negative.]

Tycon's eyes widened in surprise at the System's answer. He began to gnash his teeth, trying desperately to rein in his anger.

"Shut up! SHUT UP! Shut the hells up, Tarquin Wroe, and follow me!"

…

Tycon kicked open the door. Inside was Barza, snoring like an innocent child, yet somehow also like an ugly, roaring beast, trying to attract an equally ugly mate.

« System, inquiry: What class is Barza Keith? »

[System response: Barza Keith, Bronze-Rank Ruffian]

"Pah, as bad as I thought," Tycon cursed aloud.

Ruffian sounded like a lower-tier version of Rogue. With Barza's fighting style, a more upront and domineering class would be more beneficial to him. He'd be trained along with Bucket.

Tycon slammed the door shut.

…

Tycon kicked open the door. Bucket was startled awake, "Dad?"

"Nope, Quay's still missing. Might be dead. It's just me. Every day you live, you learn of pain and suffering."

"O-oh, okay," the boy pouted.

Wroe frowned and in a hushed tone he whispered, "Oh, come on, Boss, really?"

"I don't care, Mister Wroe."

Tycon stared at the half-elf boy in the bed, who had quickly nodded back to sleep.

« System inquiry: What class is Bucket? »

[System response: Bucket, Unranked Novice]

"Well, at least that's good news."

"Boss, what's this all about?" Wroe prodded.

The Novice Class was an excellent one. Bucket would be able to learn skills from any class-- though the completion rate would be lower. Even better was that the Novice was a transitioning class ensuring that when he did class-change, he would attain a standard-tier, and possibly a high-tier class.

Because his main class hadn't yet been determined, Guild Invictus could cultivate his abilities to match his talent… Unlike a certain Duelist.

Tycon again glared at Wroe as he quietly closed the door.

…

Tycon kicked open the door.

A woman with a scar over one eye looked up with puffy, tearful eyes. Her room looked as if a whirlwind had gone through it, a table lamp illuminating all sorts of clothing and personal effects strewn haphazardly onto the floor.

Was Seldin… looking for something? The guards seemed unable to summon her to rebuff their attack on the estate.

"Sorry," Tycon apologized, "Wrong room."

The armorless Seldin, in her long white shirt and black skirt, didn't bother to stand, nor hide her sniveling.

"Wh-who are you guys?" Seldin asked in a quavering voice.

Tycon glanced over to Seldin's armor. It was still in one piece. The woman hadn't even tried donning it.

Could this woman have been tearing apart her room for the past two bells?

Tycon shook his head and spoke in rapid-fire, "Good-evening,-I'm-Baron-Tycondrius,-s'nice-to-meet-you. The estate is under new management. I'd-like-you-to-continue-working-for-me.-We'll-discuss-terms-of-your-continued-employment in the… uh, morning? Wear-business-casual-for-the-interview.-Good-night."

« System inquiry: What class is Seldin? »

Tycon politely, but firmly shut the door and began to dash away.

"Boss? Wh-why are we running?" Wroe asked while hurrying after him.

[System response: Seldin, Iron-Rank Berserk Knight]

Tycon only ran faster.

…

Tycon kicked open the door.

Barza continued to snore, sounding like a wood saw slowly and violently torturing a tree. An ugly tree.

Tycon took a stuffed doll out of his side-pack and placed it amongst Barza's belongings.

Wroe watched in curiosity, "Huh. Okay."

Tycon shut the door.

...

Tycon kicked open the door.

"Heyyyyyyyy!" Dragan smiled, drinking from an open bottle of wine. Over a score of bottles laid on the floor, opened and unopened-- more open than not.

The Titanblood and four guards sat in a circle, in various states of undress, seated around a deck of cards. One of the drunken female guards looked up lazily, blinking her eyes in disbelief.

"Huh? Isn't that the Sir?"

The other, slightly more sober guards looked up in a bit of mild panic. One whispered, "Sh-should we report?"

Tycon stared for a moment before he dropped his head with a sigh... "No, nevermind."

Tycon slammed the door shut...

« System inquiry: What class is Dragan Ashlord? »

[System response: Dragan Ashlord, Iron-Rank Swordmage]

"...Wait, what?" Tycon raised his hands and asked aloud in confusion.

"They looked like they were playing a form of strip poker, Boss? Did you want to ask to jo--"

"What? No. No! Seven hells, man, no! Just… Just come with me. I'm going to fix you."

"Fix me? Well... Alright, Boss," Wroe hurried forward to walk beside Tycon, "Where to, next?"

Tycon scoffed, "Tss. Where else? To the dungeons."

THIS CHAPTER UPLOAD FIRST AT NOVELBIN.COM