Headed by a Snake

"I... I repent, Lord..." The woman cried, "Please... have mercy."

She begged without looking up at him. Her hair was a mess and miserable tears streamed down her face, ruining her dark makeup.

Tycondrius pursed his lips. He couldn't believe that this woman thought that only this level of sincerity would be enough. Where was the gnashing of teeth? The dashing of her head against the stones? She hadn't even torn out her hair in grief!

Humans, these suns...

"F-forgive me," The woman sobbed quietly. It didn't even sound like she was talking to him, anymore. That was a step in the right direction.

"Oh? For what, young lady?" Tycon prodded.

Yes. Apologize for your weakness. Apologize that your faith was not strong enough to protect you. Apologize for the fates damning you to be at this exact spot when two members of the gods-damned Church of the Eternal Flame were trying to have a nice, mid-afternoon stroll.

"We... we came to... to collect the money owed," The woman sniffled.

She dared to look up.

The audacity aggravated him.

Tycon leaned his head forward, close enough to taste the woman's delicious tears.

"Wrong answer," He whispered.

"Grrrrr... Let... GO OF HERRRR!!!" The Iron-Rank Ruffian yelled.

Tycon raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bellowing fool, rushing heroically to his death.

Hm. He figured he could drop his sword and grab his crossbow with his main hand... but no, cleaving the short sword through the young woman's neck would be more efficient. Then, he'd be able to face the oncoming Iron-Ranker without distractions.

"The HELLSWORN SKY is beholden to ME!!" Centurion Skyreaper yelled, his voice booming and echoing like an angry god, "It is by MY HAND that decides whether you live or DIE!!"

The armored Centurion held out his hand and the sprinting Iron-Ranker stopped as if his neck was caught by an invisible force. Winds swirled around the purple-faced man's form as he levitated into the air, mortal hands desperately grasping at the blurred mana wrapped around his throat. Suspended in the air, the man rotated, faster and faster-- surrounded by a localized windstorm of dust, trash, and road debris.

The man's scream was quick and concise. There hadn't seemed to have been much air remaining in his lungs. However, in that short breath, the fellow accurately conveyed to his allies just how much pain he was experiencing in that sensational moment.

Masterfully done.

The man fell lifelessly back to the ground. The fellow's armor looked like it was thrown off a rocky mountainside, twice or thrice. The flesh on his face, his arms, his legs-- everything exposed was torn to unrecognizable ribbons of marbled meat, exposing bits and fragments of tooth and bone. Warm blood had splattered onto the ground, droplets on everyone present, like a mischievous child had pissed into the wind.

The Librarian's name was Skyreaper. Tycon found it fitting.

"Now, loyal citizens of my beloved Holy Country..." The Centurion roared. "-- KNEEL!!!"

The remaining brigands quickly got to their knees.

"PRAISE THE ETERNAL FLAME!!" Skyreaper ordered.

The humans prostrated themselves against the bloodied road, weeping, praying for mercy... begging with strained breaths for the benevolence of the Flame.

The woman too, she wept, she begged for forgiveness, apologizing for inane and unintelligible sins she had committed. She even cracked her forehead against the stone.

Tycon stood up and crossed his arms. This was the response he wanted! He'd thought he'd given it a good effort... He made a mental note to ask his Centurion for tips, afterward.

"WHO SENT YOU?" Zenon Skyreaper demanded, his voice echoing deep into the broken hearts and minds of his flock.

"H-house Galanis, Lord," The woman screamed. "We are innocent!"

"Tsss," Tycon sneered, his teeth bared. He tapped the woman's cheek with the flat of his blade, "Innocence proves *nothing*."

Tycon tilted his head up, his gaze meeting with those of the various survivors, "The lot of you. Take your dead and leave. Should House Galanis require reparations, know that they ask not men, but the Holy Church of the Eternal Flame."

They hesitated. Of course, they would.

Tycon stabbed his sword into the woman's bicep. Twisting the blade to drive the point home, the woman cried out in both agony of the flesh and praise for her god.

Good. She would live.

"NNNNOW!!!" Tycon roared.

Quickly, the humans moved, taking the corpses and running faster than they've ever run in their lives.

"And you, speak..." Tycon smirked at the woman clutching her bleeding arm. "--but choose your words... carefully."

...

House Galanis was not a noble house, it seemed. It was a quiet, underworld power. Should they send more, Tycondrius had no issues paying them... a visit. He had no interest in making friends 'properly' in the Holy Country.

Tycon used a healing skill on the Galanis whore to prevent her from going into shock or bleeding out. She would remember the pain. She would remember her fear and helplessness. If she sought to act against him, she would be wholly cognizant of the risks in provoking him.

After the unsavory group had left, Zenon Skyreaper took off his helmet, "Optio, by the Flame, what was that?"

Tycon raised an eyebrow, "What? Do agents of the Church not act like that?"

"No, they..." Zenon hesitated. "They... they do. I just..."

"Yes, Centurion?"

"I figured you'd be more... reluctant to spark conflict, being in the Holy Country." Zenon grimaced... "Say, Optio... have you worked for the Church in the past?"

Tycon smiled politely in response. He did not-- not to memory, at least. He acted with the proper arrogance that he expected of the Church of the Eternal Flame. The Church was little more than murderers sanctioned by their god, demanding absolute faith and judging doubt as a heresy of one of the highest orders.

He was surprised that there was so much hesitation in the enemy party.

...Oh. Tycon recalled that his memories of the various factions of the Realm were decades old. Was it uncommon for agents of the Church to act as he did? ...But Zenon asked if he was a former agent?

Curious...

Tycon took out a cloth rag and began to wipe the blood from his weapons, "Shall we seek to enter the manor?"

"Yeah." Zenon twisted his lips... "But I'd like to *talk* to the manor's people before ending them."

Tycon chuckled to himself. He had no intention of making such a promise.