Headed by a Snake

The Archbishop had gotten out of her seat and she looked about ready to... charge toward him.

That she was so... excited(?) to see him was... peculiar.

Tycondrius put on his practiced smile.

--though it might have been more sincere than his usual.

"It's good to see you too, Natalya."

"Yo~~~"

The most powerful Witch in the Realm, Bella Sapphira, waved her arm... exerting an almost insultingly low amount of effort. She did get out of her seat, though. That was polite of her-- and more polite than was necessary.

"Miss Bella," Tycon nodded.

"Huh," Bella lifted the brim of her cap and adjusted her glasses. "Is... that a new soul, Tycon?"

"...I believe so. How is it?"

"Pretty cool. Any tasty side-effects?"

"None worth mentioning," Tycon shrugged.

A deep and powerful metal clang resounded throughout the room. A large armored fellow who... Tycon did not immediately recognize by sight had saluted with his fist to his chest.

"...Hm," Tycon nodded in response.

The fellow remained standing. Did the chairs provided not support his weight?

"And where is my greeting, Monsieur Baron?" Groaned Fleet Admiral Chantal De la Croix.

Tycon, once again, adopted his professional smile and inclined his head, "Good evening, Ma'am."

"Did you forget how to salute?"

Tycon smiled politely at what he hoped was a joke, "Royal Marines don't salute indoors, Ma'am."

"Hmph. Right... Good evening, Lieutenant."

Tycon took a moment to look at the motley crew he'd assembled... four of the most powerful and influential people in the Realm.

Bella Sapphira, the most powerful Caster in the Eastern States.

Natalya Crucis, the one and only Archbishop of the Holy Country.

Chantal De la Croix, the Fleet Commander of the Kingdom's Royal Navy.

A respectful giant and a primary agent of the Sleeping Country's Lich Queen.

And... a fifth... unreasonably angry, mustachioed man?

"YOUUUU!!! How are YOU Still ALIVE???!?!?"

Tycon felt his mouth twitch.

That was a... vague question-- and deceptively open-ended. Tycon feared that answering directly would lead to criticism.

Earlier, Sorina had mentioned a... 'guy that owns the house.'

Carlton Smith? Or was it Schritt?

Tycon could have used his System to search his memories and confirm the name... but...

--he didn't feel like it.

The man was certainly a Schritt. (He looked like a Schritt.)

Mercenary King Carlton Schritt.

It was somewhat of a stretch for what was essentially a middling merchant to be in attendance with the other nation-representatives.

However... Schritt was also the host; it was appropriate to give him a bit of face.

...Anyroad, the Realm was going to end soon. Being offended by standoffish aggression seemed asinine.

"Good evening, Sir," Tycon bowed politely. "The accommodations have been lovely. I particularly enjoyed the whiskey provided."

Yet in response to Tycon's honesty, the mustachioed man's face reddened to the same hue as his cape. Further, his armor rattled as he shook with... emotion.

He seemed very... affected.

--by something.

Maybe he was cold? It was a bit cold in the meeting hall.

"You... drank... my... super-secret... 15-year... small batch... reserve... WHISKEY????" Schritt seethed.

Tycon raised an eyebrow.

It was a wonder that the beverage he and Natalya enjoyed earlier was aged for 15 years. Usually, by that time, the wood flavor of the cask began to overpower the taste of the drink.

It really was lovely, though.

...But it did not explain why the man was so upset.

"Natalya," Tycon leaned over, moving aside a lock of the woman's scarlet hair before whispering into her ear. "Tell me... is this *not* who I think it is?"

The Archbishop rolled her eyes, "It is *exactly* who you think it is, my lord. This is Clayton Smith, leader of the Red Capes."

Tycon glanced back to Schritt and his red cape.

It was a rather droll name for a mercenary company.

Still, only a few bells prior, Tycon had a positive experience with one of their squads-- led by a polite, (if talkative,) Gold-Rank gentleman.

Tycon wondered if he had misjudged Schritt. As a proper gentleman, he would be remiss to allow prejudice to taint his views.

He reached forward to offer Schritt a handshake, when--

"She... SHE LETS you call her NATALYAAAAAA?!?!?!?!?"

Tycon narrowed his eyes... "Lady... Crucis?"

"Yes. Yes, she does," The Archbishop insisted as she wrapped her arms around Tycon's left.

"So it's true..." Scowled the man named Schritt.

"...What is true?" Tycon asked.

"You shared an arch-bed with the Archbishop!" Admiral Chantal interjected.

Was that supposed to be... a joke?

It was... rather crass coming from his superior officer, but not unexpected, considering her personality.

...Thinking on it, Chantal had helped him in the past. With that in mind, he decided to force a smile.

Smiling conveyed gratitude-- and had no cost.

The heavy-armor Nemayan fellow revealed a thumbs-up in approval.

"Did you really?" Asked Bella-- skeptical, as a proper Witch should be. "I mean... 'grats if you did, I guess."

"We... did not," Tycon responded in a careful tone... "We did, however, share the couch."

"I think we all know what that means," Chantal laughed.

The floor shook lightly. Someone had fallen.

The vibration, however, was too heavy to have been from one of Schritt's maids.

Upon glancing back, Tycon saw that... it was Korr who had fainted?

Did she lock her knees while standing guard? That was a rookie mistake.

"Ahem," Tycon cleared his throat. "Natalya's choice of... sleeping apparatus aside... ladies and gentlemen, I've called you all here this eve to discuss a common enemy."

"It's YOU!!!" Schritt shouted, "You're THE ENEMY!!"

Ignoring him, Tycon continued, "The dealings of a certain terrorist group are of special interest to a number of personages present. Miss Capulet?"

Sorina limped forward, bowing politely before speaking.

"Sir Tycon has been targeted by a group suspiciously called the 'Archmage Organization...' and, according to our research, they operate out of City-State Archangel."

"LIES!!" Schritt barked, "Ssssslander!! As representatives of the Eastern States, Lady Sapphira and I will NOT stand for--"

"Yyyyeap," Bella yawned, leaning aside and resting her cheek against her fist. "My girls looked into it. It's pretty much true-- like, all of it."

"But just in case you thought you were paying me too much for doing too little..." Sorina continued, "I went ahead and bought off all the Red Capes working against you, Boss."

"You did what?" Tycon asked quietly.

"YOU did WHAAAAT?!??!" Schritt roared-- not quiet at all.

He was an angry little man.

Sorina straightened her back, smiling unabashedly, "Praise me, Boss."

"...Well done, Sorina."

Tycon's name and various connections were integral to the development of the East Charm Trading Company. However, it was Sorina Capulet who cultivated it to its current state as a financial powerhouse.

If the young woman wanted praise, she would have it.

"So like I was *saying,*" Bella raised her voice from where she was sitting, "We found out the 'Archmage' is a rogue member of my order. Oh, fun fact. From some of the confiscated documents, the scumbag had something to do with the death of a decorated Kingdom Admiral, nearly--"

"WHAAAT?!"

Interestingly enough, the sudden interjection came not from Schritt, but from Chantal De la Croix.

"Mademoiselle-Capitaine," Tycon said in a reassuring tone. "This was detailed in the report I sent."

"What report?" Chantal glared.

"The report I *sent*," Tycon answered calmly. "Did... you receive it?"

"...Y-yes."

"Then... with respect, Mademoiselle-Capitaine..." Tycon smiled politely, "did you read it?"

"...of course I read... some of it," The woman muttered softly.

If Chantal didn't read the report, why was she present?

"...You wrote in the letter that you tricked the new Sea God into becoming one of our Officers."

"Ah," Tycon nodded in understanding. "You should have already met him, but I'll re-introduce you in the morning."

He'd done so to protect Krysaos from being keelhauled by the Royal Navy proper for wearing a Captain's uniform and commanding Royal Navy forces. After the man had become a half-god, it was only natural to be embraced by the system instead of persecuted.

"N-no..." Chantal muttered, "It... it wasn't that pervert in the green coat, was it?"

"Gonna sum up the story, Boss," Bella sighed. "I assigned a team of mad Witches to cover you and the Sea God-- at least here in Whitehearth."

Tycon wanted to ask why Bella specifically chose the mad ones... but he was certain he would not like the answer.

"Hah!" Sorina laughed-- which, despite the circumstances in dealing with an existence that could end her life with a single breath if she misspoke... was consistent with her character. "Hahaha! But of COURSE the baddies would know about Boss Tycon's link with the Sapphire Tower. THAT'S why I have on good word that the bad guys hired the Order of the Falchion Gunners!"

"The... Fal-chion Gunners?" Tycon asked.

"Stupid girl!" Schritt scowled, "Their name is the ORDER of the FALCON gunners!"

Tycon thought that no better.

"The Falcon Gunners..." Natalya bit her lower lip, "I know them. They're a group of elites that even the Church respects. Some of their number have studied at the Basilica."

Tycon narrowed his eyes. Did they still teach Witch-Hunting in the Holy Country? It was a rather archaic practice-- and a potentially offensive one.

"Welp," Bella shrugged, allowing her floppy, oversized hat to lilt over her eyes. "If they die, they die."

"Or they would... fufufu..." Sorina chuckled, "If I hadn't hired the Blood Paw Alliance to hunt them down first!!"

The... Blood Paw Alliance. Those were the Iredar mercenaries that Korr had seen earlier.

However, if Sorina knew about them...

"Child," Tycon frowned, "How much silver did you spend?"

",