Headed by a Snake

Natalya Crucis gathered up all her concentration and willpower, trying her best to murder Clayton Smith by sincerely wishing it with her mind, heart, and soul.

Alas, he did not fall down and die, frothing at the mouth and choking on his own vomit.

He turned to address the others, the boisterous tone of his words grating at Natalya's will to live.

"It is my honor to welcome you all to my *humble* abode and to my rrRRrrround table!"

"Like... it's a table," Said the Witch Whore, "and it's... round. What about it?"

"I am *glad* you asked, Lady Sapphira," Smith said as he... licked his lips?

As Natalya tried to purge the memory of Smith's disgusting mannerisms, she honed in on the name he mentioned...

Sapphira.

Bella Sapphira was the name of one of the gladiatrices of Sol Invictus.

Was it possible... that the bespectacled Witch seated at the table... was one of her childhood idols without her battle mask?

"You see, ladies and gentle-sir," Smith continued, "a rrRrround table is a table of equals! For you see-- there is no end where the master sits, nor is there an end for a guest of honor!"

Natalya kept her complaints quiet, though she had many. From what she understood, Clayton Smith did not have near the amount of power and influence as the other people at the table. He was a stand-in for Ophelia Moonwell, the representative for City-State Whitehearth.

Where that woman was, Natalya had no idea.

From what she'd gathered, there was some kind of internal conflict. Whether the blame lied in Whitehearth's internal factions or one of their rival City-States, she didn't particularly care.

It would be unfair to expect a confederacy established only a couple hundred years prior to have a solid, supporting infrastructure.

A Sol Invictus coordinator by the name of Capulet arranged the Realm meeting at the Smith Estate. Capulet was one of Tycon's people... so there was probably some kind of logic or reason behind the choice.

Natalya tried her best to focus on that fact. It was the best coping mechanism she had available to her...

"See this, Natalya," Smith said as he knocked on his table. "This is Q'barran darkwood, imported from the far reaches of--"

"What I'm seeing," Interrupted the Pirate Whore-- "is a rrrrRight ignorant cunt who doesn't know his place."

Slowly, Clayton Smith straightened his back... "Lady De la--"

"I *resent* that, Mister Smith." The Pirate corrected. "My *title* is High Admiral."

"Your rank means nothing in the Eastern States, Lady De la Croix," Smith growled.

"Meh," The Witch waved. "I'll allow it."

Smith recoiled in shock, "Lady Sapphira! You'd side with this... this troublesome strumpet?"

Sapphira lolled her head back, rolling her eyes, "Just... calm your tits, or something-- and scoot your chair away from the Archbishop, will you? Mister Bubbles over there looks like he's about to snap a gasket."

A booming voice from across the table shook the entire room:

"A gentleman... respects... all women."

Natalya had to spend a few seconds regulating her breath and heartrate after the... vocal attack.

It was the armored man who has spoken... and though Natalya still didn't like him much, she didn't find him as disagreeable as she did earlier.

"A grossly sexist remark, Mister Gobbuto... but I suppose I'll give it a pass," The whore Pirate added.

"I thought it sounded fine," Sapphira shrugged.

"No one asked for your opinion, De la Croix!" Smith barked, clearly upset, "And if Natalya hasn't rebuffed my advances, then all is well-- is it not?"

Natalya clenched her fist tight. Why was she the only one being referred to by her first name?

"Monsieur Smith," High Admiral De la Croix began... "I recommend you sit the f*ck down... unless you want a bullet to find its way to your limp, tiny dick."

"Pshh... Chkkk kkkk tsss..."

The threat was so... colorful that Sapphira couldn't hold in laughter.

That laughter... was strangely contagious. Natalya let out a small chuckle before catching herself.

She... could not remember a time when anyone defended her-- not even when she was a low-ranked Priestess. It was partly the reason why she struggled so hard to attain her current rank and status... to dismantle an archaic system, rife with misogyny.

In Natalya's profession, kindness... was unnecessary.

Yet such kindness... was not weakness.

Lady Sapphira. High Admiral De la Croix.

Even Sir Gobbuto... assuming that was a... real name.

...These were the people Tycon brought together... and they belonged to a higher caliber than their peers.

"Oh, by the way, Smith," De la Croix continued. "Archbishop Crucis has been f*cking some guy in one of your guest rooms."

Natalya held her hand out, "Wait, go back--"

"HAH! Hahaha!! S-stop it," The Witch Whore begged between gasps for air. "He's already deaddddd!!"

"wwHhHHaatTT?!" Desperate Idiot roared, "On whose word??"

"One of your f*cking maids!" The Pirate Whore shot back.

"And HOW did you get THAT information?!"

"Byyyy f*cking the maid in question," Laughed the disease-ridden Pirate Whore. "Five out of five. Would f*ck again."

Natalya shut her mouth... and shrank in her chair...

Never had she attended a meeting in recent years where everyone talked over her and her opinion didn't matter.

Even if she wanted to talk... she couldn't. She was blushing from her ears to her shoulders and she was struggling just to breathe.

She made a mistake. Everyone in the manor knew she slept with Tycon-- but they didn't even do anything!

But... even if she defended herself...

If she used mana to force herself to speak-- even if she tried to use extreme magical force to assert her will, it would only make her look more suspicious!

Also... it was very possible that she wasn't the strongest person in the room.

Natalya closed her eyes, trying desperately not to crying out of frustration.

She didn't like the thought of relying on Tycon... or on anyone...

But Natalya wished, from the bottom of her heart, that he'd show up even a second faster.

...

"Let's get this over with," Tycondrius muttered to himself.

"W... what was that, Boss?"

The effects of Korr's physical training were clear on Sorina Capulet. The merchant-girl's movements were slow... similar to her rate of speech. She was still dressed consistently-- luxurious and wealthy. However, her eyes were dead.

She dragged herself to the meeting, to 'herald' as she wished... but, Tycon sensed that she'd have preferred to be elsewhere.

It was a feeling that Tycon shared.

...Their mutual presence was borne of obligation.

Tycon nodded to the other woman flanking the doorway, the obscenely strong and characteristically silent Seldin Korr.

She said nothing.

...Tycon never knew what that woman was thinking.

"[Egg burritos after?]" She asked, "[with queso?]"

Tycon narrowed his eyes. What in the seven hells was kay-so?

"That... would be lovely, my dear."

Considering the context, it was probably some kind of... daring food item.

Bur-eeto? Hm. It sounded like a small animal.

"Now..." He closed his eyes, taking a slow breath to ready himself...

"Not that I particularly care, because we're all going to die soon... but... why is there yelling in my meeting hall?"

The dark-armored Korr shrugged her shoulders before looking over to Sorina.

"The guy that owns the house was trying to flirt with the Archbishop," The merchant girl explained.

That would not end well.

"...Go on," Tycon waved.

Sorina gave a tired smile.

"There was a little of this and that-- then the fact came to light that the Archbishop was seen leaving your room."

"Ah," Tycon narrowed his eyes.

Despite the explanation, he had learned nothing.

"Ehehe..." The merchant girl giggled. "I thought you were trying to sleep, Boss, not sleep around?"

"Natalya was more exhausted than even I," Tycon sighed. "We slept on the couch. Nothing illicit happened-- not that I need to explain myself to you."

Sorina tilted her head, "That's really sweet, actually... Is that a service? Can I sign up? You won't charge me, right?"

Tycon did not respond. He stared blankly at the child, generally disappointed with her and her values.

Korr raised her right hand. As to why, Tycon had no idea.

Sorina crossed her arms, shifting her weight to favor her left leg.

"So... that's... a no?" She pouted-- "But is that a no to the sign-up or to the charge? 'Cuz I get that it's a premium service, but I can't let you rip me off, even if you are technically my superior."

"Sorina," Tycon sighed. "Announce my presence."

Korr was still raising her hand. Tycon ignored her.

"Oh-- yeah... One sec, Boss."

Sorina Capulet stepped into the room, resuming her professional mien.

"Ladies and gentlemen, now entering: Tycon of Charm, current leader of Sol Invictus."

It was a simple introduction-- one that Tycon appreciated. He had a number of titles, many of them absurd.

Everyone in the room knew who he was. The mentioning of his guild and his territory was more obligatory than informative.

"It's about time you showed up!" Shouted Natalya Crucis.