Headed by a Snake

The Rhodok adventuring company had been reduced from nearly 200 men and women to barely a little over half. Though there were far less than 80 Munifices, there were more than enough Immunes to fill in the gaps.

Every Immunes was also a spearman, after all.

With the assistance of Decanus Constantina and her scouts, Tycondrius oversaw the cleaning and gutting of two deer in less than a bell. The roasted meat was enough to feed three tent groups well, with enough left over to smoke to last a few days... or feed the entire cohort.

Even though they were cooking downwind, three tent groups quickly swelled in size to over ten-- including the Pilus Prior and Optio,

It seemed that Ferrutius couldn't keep his mouth shut.

...It wasn't often that Tycon regretted not inflicting enough violence on someone.

During the meal, the red-headed Decanus regaled the archer Rena with the tale of how Tycon was nearly condemned to a lashing.

Justus was somewhat of an idiot, after all.

Tycon was worried the young woman would march off to Cyrac in order to submit a formal complaint. Instead, she tried to spit on the food portions given to the Munifices responsible.

Tycon stopped her. Hygiene was very important to him, as a cook. Professionals have standards.

The two Munifices were overtly thankful, apologizing profusely for their earlier transgressions.

...It's not like Tycon could have refused them with the entire cohort praising him as Saint Zehr, Hero of the Rhodoks, slayer of dogs, bringer of deer meat.

Tycon lamented that he was a tremendous failure at keeping a low profile.

His reasons for bringing back the deer were entirely selfish. He was tired of cheap battlefield rations and small game animals. Worried for his short temper, he sought to satisfy his base urges to alleviate his mood. He just wanted to gorge himself as a proper carnivore.

Failing that, he was worried he'd do something rash... like beat an orange-bearded Decanus named Ferrutius to death for not keeping his gods-damned mouth shut.

Or he might have been tempted to ravage the young archer, Rena... Though that would have been terribly unprofessional.

...Hm. On second thought, both options were unprofessional.

Maybe he'd consider scrounging up two silver pieces to purchase Modestus' services.

...Probably not, though. Three coin and some copper bits could buy him a loaf of bread.

Nine of ten of Tycon's tent group had survived. The Rhodoks said it was a blessing by the 'Eternal Flame' that they were so lucky. Tycon was not a religious person. However, with the loss of only one fool Decanus, he accepted that luck was involved.

There were a few injuries, notably Rena and Gianna. The Gold-Rank healer Fortuna saw to their convalescence.

Justus seemed to have recovered mentally.

Tycon was proud. The young Decanus was growing more reliable.

...

Following the meal, Shield Maiden Gianna invited Tycon out to explore the walled village of Montegarico.

He could find no reasonable excuse to deny her. Whatever peculiarities she had figured of him or would inquire-- he doubted it would change his plans to see the Rhodok's mission through.

Perhaps she was going to challenge him to a grappling match? Why she would seek to make it a private ordeal was beyond his understanding.

The cool, nighttime air was a refreshing change of pace from the overbearing sun beating through the canopy of trees. The Shield Maiden walked with her full armor, her shield strapped to her back-- a wise decision, considering they were still near hostile territory.

She did eschew her helmet, unbinding her blonde hair and allowing it to spill down her shoulders.

As he walked alongside Gianna, Tycon noticed that both Rena and Justus skulked behind. It had seemed that Justus was not only somewhat of an idiot, he was also useless at sneaking about.

Their invasion of privacy didn't concern him. Rather, he felt secure in the additional combat power, in the case of an attack or an otherwise troublesome incident.

Gianna softly smiled, her hair seeming to glow in the moon and starlight, "So, Duplicarius... congratulations on your promotion,"

"Thank you," He responded.

It was a nice smile. The woman was of marriageable age, had an above-average bust-size, and gave off a gentle, motherly aura. She was a perfect human woman-- probably.

Tycon was admittedly not a good judge of human female attractiveness. He judged her using information he had surmised from the conversations of his peers. Large breasts, symmetrical features, wide birthing hips, and... the shapeliness of a woman's buttocks?

That seemed to be the male perspective of a woman's top 4 most desirable features.

Honestly, he didn't know why intelligence, loyalty, or demeanor weren't on that list.

The woman hadn't offered anything to the conversation past the initial congratulations.

...He figured he should probably say something.

Should he compliment her symmetrical features? ...No, she had a tiny mole on her lips, but pointing out unique physical traits tended to be frowned upon according to human culture. One could compliment a human female's unique eyes and be thanked, but compliment her powerful jaw and be offended.

He considered complimenting the woman's sizable bust... No. Hm. He needed a compliment that was guaranteed to be socially safe.

"It pleases me that you are alive," Tycon forced his lips to curl up, trying his best to convey his sincerity.

Gianna raised a hand to her lips, laughing politely and with obvious reservation, "I'm assuming that was your best try at a compliment."

Tycon averted his gaze. The woman had seen through him completely. That wasn't good.

"I love the way you speak, Zehr... But I noticed something."

Tycon turned back, an eyebrow raised.

...Gianna continued to look on quietly.

He supposed he needed to respond, in order for the conversation to continue.

"Yes?"

Hm. Was that too short of a response? Stars and stones! This was more difficult than murdering dogs in the woods! He wanted to say more, but the only thing he could think of was the useless lumps of fat on the woman's chest.

Thankfully, she responded.

"You always call Justus 'young,' like you're several years older than he is..."

Tycon averted his gaze again. He felt beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead.

Shite.

He forgot that, to human perception, he looked about as young as Justus did. Dealing with his peers in Sol Invictus, this had never been an issue.

Tycon was a Maedar, claiming the physique and abilities of the Medusa bloodline, an adult of which was over 100 years of age. He needed to dodge the question, in order to avoid unwelcome suspicion. Outsider blood was not looked upon kindly in the Holy Country-- with the exception of the angelic-blooded Daeva.

It was definitely too late to compliment Gianna's breasts.

Tycon coughed into a closed fist, "Well, yes. I am older than I look."

Gianna tilted her head to the side, allowing her hair to sway. Her long, full-bodied hair was well-cared for, again advertising the fact that she was in good health and was able to give birth to strong young with an increased chance of survival.

"How old... are you, Duplicarius Zehr?" She asked.

Tycon pursed his lips, "Older... than you."

"Well, that's good." Gianna grinned playfully, "I like older men."