Headed by a Snake



Stepping through the portal, Tycondrius arrived at the foyer of Hero's Hearth. 

The small Dungeon was the previous home of Hero Ravidius the Lionhearted and was a paragon of modern architecture. 

Each room was kept warm by mana-powered heating circuits underneath the wooden flooring. The walls were fortified by varied layers of defensive enchantments. And the kitchens--

Oh, how Tycon loved the kitchens... 

The kitchens had dozens of conveniences, from a walk-in icebox to keep food from spoiling, contraptions that could sustain precise roasting temperatures, and even a magic tube that provided purified drinking water on demand. 

But the greatest treasure in the Dungeon was not tools or weapons or marvels of arcano-engineering. 

It was personnel. 

Hero's Hearth was the heart of the Anti-Lizard Offensive, serving as a communications hub and the source of general orders for their offensive fronts. 

They had three teams on deck. Two comprised Artificers, Archanotechs, and support personnel. The third was made up of Divination-related Classes. 

And their foremost expert, standing in front of her welcoming staff. 

"Sasarame," Tycon said in a soft voice. "I've returned."

The hatchling had grown since he last saw her-- or rather, she did in her Elven form. She had become taller than Taree (not that the notion was by any means impressive,) but that and her attire gave her the air of a proper professional. 

It was good to see her. They had communicated only via missive for some time, but words on paper were no substitute for personal warmth. 

The white-robed dark elf placed her hands together, bowing respectfully. Her long, straight hair, almost glowing-white, drifted downward and accentuated her elongated ears. 

"Welcome home, Father. We have all been anxiously waiting for your return."

"Has the Realm ended yet?" Tycon asked casually. 

"No, not yet, Father."

"Very good," Tycon nodded. "Then, are the kitchens stocked? Our journey has been lengthy and arduous."

"They are, Father," Sasha answered. "I have taken it upon myself to hire an Iron Chef in preparation of your arrival."

She bowed again, deeper than before, "Please forgive this one's presumptuousness."

Ever-humble. Ever-professional. Tycon was so proud, it was difficult to keep his bearing. 

"Raise thy head, daughter," he said, holding his hand out. "Thy foresight is most excellent."

Tycon had some questions... but at that moment, none were important to verbalize. 

--but what was an Iron Chef? Was that the name of a Class-- or had Sasha hired someone with the Chef Class who had gone through painstaking efforts to reach Iron-Rank? 

He also wanted to ask just how she predicted his arrival. Granted, Sasha had the Oracle Class. That was a reasonable explanation for most anything she did. 

That, he wouldn't dare ask in the presence of her peers. 

That would be rude. 

The other Mages in the foyer looked toward her with awe and admiration.

Among them, Tycon noted Witches from the Sapphire Tower, Medusa girls from Charm, Youkai from Black Opal Valley, a Gnoll and a Titanblood from Vralkek... and... 

--a strangely familiar bespectacled Troll?

For what reason was that fellow present? Was he a Mage, as well? 

Spotting Tycon's gaze, the troll waved shyly. 

He silently mouthed the words, 'Greetings, Ivory Prince.'

...Tycon nodded in acknowledgment. 

The troll was a polite enough fellow-- and had been a longtime ally. 

Tycon recognized a few others, if not by name. 

It reminded him that Sol Invictus was not alone. There were other like-minded sentients lending their expertise to prevent the Realm's destruction. 

In their own ways, they were all fighting to save themselves... and on behalf of each other. 

The pressure was on, to work harder still. 

--a positive feedback loop. 

"Father, please head to the dining area," Sasha said. "Once you've finished your meal, I will have the servants draw baths for the Hero party."

Once more, Tycon was pleased with his daughter's attention to detail. 

"Very good," he nodded. "But at least I can operate the baths here on my own."

"Nonsense, Father," Sasha said, her voice oddly sharp. "I will draw your bath, myself."

"Hm. Then I will be in your care."

...

⟬ A short time later... ⟭ 

Tycondrius sat in Ravidius' overlarge dining room, filled with equal parts noble elegance and adventuring-vagrant crudeness. 

The table appeared to be made of a grey slate, sanded even and smooth, but with colorful minerals shining through the cracks. 

The dishware was smooth and glassy, yet resilient-- polished stone from somewhere Off-Realm, perhaps. 

And the cutlery... Tycon was highly suspicious they were worked from refined White Trilium. The rare metal was appropriate for weaponry with up to Third-Circle enchantments. 

The walls, however, told a different story. 

There, severed monster parts were mounted on plaques of varying materials. 

Storied, but useless, treasures were displayed in glass cases surrounding the table. 

Over a third of the various items displayed were mildly phallic-- but that was to be expected. 

That was the way things were for adventurers. 

It was something Tycon did not question. 

[Are you upset?] Troia signed from across the table. 

"This is my face, young lady," Tycon answered curtly. 

[You look upset.]

"Miss Troia," he said, closing his eyes, "please refrain from speaking with your mouth full."

The Holy Princess was nibbling on a bread roll while making her hand signals. It wasn't quite the same as speaking, but it still seemed to broach common etiquette. 

"Please understand," he sighed. "Natalya would be cross with me if I allowed you to fall into poor habits."

Troia responded with a wide smile. That was enough to show her forgiveness on the matter. 

Suddenly, Kimura stood up, hopping onto her chair for height. 

"I've DECIDED!!" she exclaimed. "Cheesy garlic bread is MY GOD, and I will worship her from THIS DAY FORWARD!!" 

The young lady had decided to worship a mundane inanimate as her god. 

The sentiment was... unsurprising. It did not take humans much for them to worship a perceived deity. 

The bread was good, but Tycon found it... lacking. 

The amount of garlic and simple seasoning utilized were... acceptable. 

The cheese was tasteless-- and perhaps only one type was used. (The melty texture did have merit, of course.)

Altogether, though, the bread felt like... it was missing something. A simple scattering of bacon or hot peppers required little effort and had the potential to elevate the dish thrice over. A more flavorful cheese on top? Perhaps an application of fire magic to achieve a half-melted, half-crisp state? 

Tycon took a deep breath. 

"See this, Princess Troia? It is not enough to be more polite than Kimura Taree. I hold you to a higher standard."

Troia silently mouthed an 'oh' and bowed her head in acknowledgment. 

Kimura sat back down, awkwardly placing her hands on her lap, "H-hey... I'm technically a Princess, too, y'know."

"I look forward to the time your actions match your words," Tycon replied in a flat voice.

"Ahem," Pale cleared his throat. "Sir? I request knowledge."

"And now you're being overly formal," Tycon allowed himself a slight smile before fixing his bearing. "A good leader leads by example. Ask away, Master Pale."

Pale nodded with a small grin, "I thought we were going to rejoin the western front? Didn't you say Lady Cass was waiting for you?"

"I, indeed, made a promise to my sister to return," Tycon answered. "However, I did not explicitly say I would return to see her. I have entrusted her to lead the western front in my stead. Here, we can get a better understanding of the whole of the Anti-Lizard Offensive's efforts and act accordingly."

He had an appointment to hear the details from his daughter, later in the evening. He was looking forward to it. 

[You're a snake,] Troia signed with a gleeful smile. 

[That is the truth,] Tycon returned.

"Anyroad, Boss," Kimura began--

She fixed her posture and bowed her head, "Young Master Tycon?"

Tycon forced a brief expression of surprise, followed by a gentle nod, "Speak your mind, Miss Kimura."

"What are our plans in the short term?" she asked, "I look forward to serving with you again. I hope to demonstrate the growth in my ability to kick SO much ass."

Tycon felt his mouth twitch. 

He recalled the gentle and proper demeanor of the young lady's mother, Kagehisa Yumiko.[1]

That the child was so different from her mother was simply baffling. 

"I plan to rest here in Hero's Hearth for seven suns, starting from the morrow," Tycon replied thoughtfully, "long enough for some training and for everyone here to comprehend our side's situation. Soon after, I'll grant you and your party a choice of deployment zones in need of your aid-- areas of conflict in which your abilities are appropriate."

He turned to Pale, "Of course, I'd like to perform a few tests to properly ascertain your effectiveness as a team."

"We won't disappoint you," Pale said. 

The young man was dramatically holding a piece of bread in his hand.

Tycon was uncertain as to what the gesture symbolized. 

From the context, it was a display of agreement. 

...Tycon took a piece of mid-level bread from the mid-level bread basket, touching it to Pale's as an improvised toast. 

"Avoiding disappointment is not enough, little brother," he smirked. "Rather than that, I look forward to being impressed."

Troia and Kimura, too, brought pieces of bread forward.

At first glance, the bread-toast seemed absurd. 

But then again... toasting with alcohol was a regular custom. Most alcohols were basically liquid bread. 

"To Sol Invictus," he declared. 

[1] Yumiko: See Chapter 53.

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