Headed by a Snake

A handsome prince and a courageous maidservant stood atop a cliff overlooking Silva's white-sand beaches.

Tycondrius sidestepped Doe's sloppy lunge, snatching her dagger-wielding wrist and pressing two fingers beneath her chin. If he had a weapon, her throat would be severed open, her crimson life force spilled upon the cliffside dirt.

The girl's maid attire restricted her motions. A member of Sol Invictus, Kimura Taree, had worn a similar outfit, before... but its material was more elastic, allowing a freer range of movement. He considered offering to purchase a new set for the young lady... but then he recalled how expensive it was and decided against it.

Doe smirked, brushing her short ash-blonde hair out of her eyes, "Are you going to kiss me, Sir Tychon?"

Tycon narrowed his gaze.

The young lady should have been far more disappointed that her attack had failed. Since she'd been training with Guild Letalis, she had improved in aggression and misdirection, but she still had flawed, wasteful movements, as well as had trouble retaining her balance.

⟬ Medousa, Bronze-Rank Human Maid. ⟭

Tycon sighed, rolling his eyes at Doe's lack of seriousness, "Whether it's work, training, or play, Miss Guardian, focus on the task at h--"

Suddenly, Doe sent a knee towards Tycon's nether-regions, forcing him to twist his body and receive the strike to his thigh. As he was struck off balance, Doe was able to slip free from his grasp and disengage.

"Mhm~" Doe hummed.

"...Ah."

Tycon had been played for a fool. He had underestimated the young lady's capacity for deception.

"Well done. You could have struck me with your dagger, just then." He chuckled to himself, "You know I won't die with just that, don't you?"

"Oh, but Sir Tychonnn?" Doe sang, licking her lips and grinning. "I couldn't *bear* seeing you get hurt."

"Miss Doe..." Tycon gently reprimanded the flirtatious young lady. "I don't believe that is entirely truthful."

Humans were strange. The young lady was lying... but in a coquettish manner. She had literally bit him a few evenings prior. As the setting for that 'attack' was intimate and he was unguarded, her teeth marks remained visible on his left shoulder.

Doe smacked her lips together and leaned forward, consciously presenting a fuller view of her cleavage, "I like it better when you hurt me."

Tycon mulled over the thought... "If that is an invitation... I would prefer to take your offer while we are unobserved."

The young lady gasped dramatically, "Sir Tychon... are you saying you'd be embarrassed if you were caught ravaging the *maid* against a fruit tree?"

Tycon glanced behind her at one of the fruit-bearing trees, a short distance away. She was being terribly specific.

Shaking his head, he smiled politely, "I'm implying that one of our associates is fast approaching."

Medousa quickly adjusted her clothing just as Centurion Zenon Skyreaper came into view.

She sighed wistfully, looking into the distance at the beaches below, gleaming in the afternoon sun. "I'll be returning to the manor first, Sir Tychon... Perhaps I'll pay you a visit later, if you're free."

"Your company has been lovely, Miss Doe." Tycon bowed as Doe curtsied, "Perhaps I'll treat you to dinner in the evening, then?"

"You realize when you say you'll 'treat' me, you have to pay for my meal, too," Doe chided.

"Uh... Right."

If Tycon was paying for two meals, then Olea Garden would be his primary option. The economic value of complimentary breadsticks was invaluable.

The Centurion arrived, engaging in a few moments of small talk with Doe. After the young lady politely excused herself, Zenon greeted Tycon with a smile as bright as Silva's sands.

"Hey, Optio! Did I interrupt something?"

"Not at all, Brother-Zenon," Tycon smiled warmly. "I see you've brought a training weapon."

Zenon wore a training tunic and... his healing pants, with a wooden sword resting on his shoulder. After he had exhausted his mana during the Caeruleum tournament, he fell into a comatose state for several suns. It took him at least thrice as long to convalesce, eating and exercising steadily to regain the weight he'd lost.

Zenon laughed to himself, "Yeah! I developed a new ability that I wanted to talk to you about."

"Ah, so you've improved." Tycon nodded. "Excellent."

With the assistance of Samurai Garock, a weapon spirit, the Centurion also had undergone specialized training-- weeks of it, with the time disparity between the illusory world and the real.

At the time, their focus was primarily meditation and the efficient and effective circulation of mana through Zenon's damaged circuits. Still, Tycon was fairly certain Garock would have tried to impart at least some of his blade techniques... even though Zenon was a *Tyrion* human.

"Let's have it, then." Tycon spread his arms wide, opening himself up to attack.

He assumed that Zenon had most likely gained proficiency with Garock's ⌈Taste the Demon Blade⌋. Tycon, himself, had cultivated the technique to middle completion... though he'd taken the equivalent of a couple of moons to do so. Still, he figured he might be able to glean something new from watching a lesser skilled person activate the skill.

Centurion Zenon flourished his wooden training blade, before channeling his mana into it with a low groan. The air blurred around him, thick with wind mana.

Tycon sharpened his gaze, waiting...

Waiting...

Yet no attack came.

Tycon took a deep breath through his nostrils....

"Was... that the skill?"

"Oh, no." Zenon shook his head, "I learned a defensive skill-- so... I guess, uh... yes. It is the skill."

Tycon pursed his lips, "Should I... attack you, then?"

"Please do."

Zenon was an excellent companion, as well as a loyal friend and ally. Tycon wanted to be as helpful as possible... but attacking him was... difficult. He didn't want to embarrass him.

Or accidentally kill him.

Doe's earlier mention of fruit trees reminded him of training Invictus had developed for Invictus member Pale. He walked over to one and picked up a hard fruit, "Are you prepared?"

Zenon nodded, "Yes, Optio, I--"

Tycon hurled the fruit at Zenon's mustachioed face, utilizing all of his strength.