Tycondrius followed Athena and Tanamar leisurely. The stonework was solid and he was well aware of his surroundings even in the dim light. The temperature gradually dropped the further they descended... which was worrying-- but he decided to shrug it off as an anomaly.
Athena turned over her shoulder to speak, "We've sold most of Maximus' things... but there's a few still left? Maybe what you're looking for is still there?"
Tycon didn't hold high hopes. If the Snake Cult artifact was gone, he wasn't going to bother searching for it. If he did get ahold of it, there was a greater chance it would merely prove troublesome-- not being useful, at all.
He decided to change the subject, "Miss Athena... I was curious as to why you refer to your brother as Maximus. I had thought his birth name was Gian?"
He was also curious as to why she continually referred to Zenon as 'Mister' instead of 'Centurion.'
"Well, Sir Tycon..." She replied softly, "To me, my brother has always been Maximus."
She took a deep sigh, shaking her head, "I don't really remember why, but I think I must have gave him that name? We... played Gladiator a lot? Ehehe... He always let me win, too. Can you believe that? Maximus of Ezyria! It's... it's a really gladiator-y name, isn't it?"
...It was.
The way Athena's voice began to crack as she spoke of her brother was troublesome. Tycon chose not to respond. With her personality, if he tried to address it, he also risked worsening her mood.
"I... I made up Tanamar's name too!" Athena forced energy into her voice, turning back at Tycon to reveal her forced smile.
She was a very polite young lady. As hurt as she sounded from recalling memories of her deceased brother, she still expressed honest worry about her allies.
It was a strange conundrum. Athena was born to be a combatant. Such naivete could prove to be her undoing. But to remove that weakness would challenge her positive and pure outlook. There was a certain innocence existent in the young lady that was sorely missing in combat veterans like himself.
"Um... Is that weird, Sir Tycon?" Athena asked. "I'm sorry."
"No apologies are necessary, young lady," Tycon smiled politely... "All names are made up."
"Well, yeah... but... yeah, you're right," Athena nodded to herself, again focusing her attention on Tanamar's back.
As the trio silently continued to descend into the darkness, Tycon's mind drifted off in thought.
Compared to Athena, even Zenon was somewhat cynical and jaded. Over the suns of travel with him, Tycon judged the Centurion's open display of optimism to be somewhat forced. Zenon trusted because he wished for that trust to be returned.
Athena was different. She was competitive. She gave her best effort without being told. She spoke her mind. She trusted as if she'd never been betrayed.
Further, she had the benefit of a champion who defended her... Tanamar of House Vanzano, the silver-haired footman who rebuffs her advances. He encourages her when she appears weak. He seeks to shoulder her burdens. The few cases of him disagreeing with Tycon's judgment would never be on his own half... but would revolve around Athena's physical or emotional wellbeing.
Thus far, Athena's and Tanamar's relationship only positively influenced the other. However, Otherworlder or not, the both of them were young and relationships... were tenuous. Tycon thought well of them both and sincerely hoped that his worries were unfounded.
"T-tanamar," Athena prodded. "Tell him the story!"
Tycon saw Tanamar's head dip, the young man sighing deeply, "I don't think Sir Tycon is interested in that."
"No, he is! Tell the story!" Athena insisted. She turned back to glare at Tycon expectantly.
Tycon smiled politely. How could he refuse? "I would like to hear of it... A short summary will suffice."
The group took a few careful steps down the stone stairs quietly, before Tanamar began, "My birth name is Athanasius Mors."
"See? It's kinda like my name?" Athena gleefully added.
"Athena and I were introduced when we were kids... and our--err... my instructor may have given my name to Lord Greer incorrectly."
Tycon honed in on that piece of information, "Your instructor, you say?"
Several days prior, Tanamar had stated that he was self-taught, yet now he spoke of an instructor. Was it a combat instructor or something else?
"Forgive me, Sir Tycon. He and I are no longer on speaking terms."
With the sharpness of Tanamar's speech, Tycon doubted he'd get more information. If the Holy Lancer's combat skill was any indication, his instructor was quite skilled.
When the trio reached the bottom of the basement, Tanamar hung up the lantern on the wall to illuminate the room. Tycon lamented that the pitiful flame did nothing to allay the cold temperature. His cloak was upstairs and he wore thin tunic only suitable for training.
He hadn't expected to descend into the depths of an icebox.
There was precious little in the basement, though empty shelves and weapon racks hinted at the majesty it once held.
Tycon was miserable. Tanamar looked uncomfortable. Athena was wholly unbothered.
Yin body. Of course, she'd be fine.
"I have a feeling that what you're looking for... is in that," Athena pointed.
pαпdα Йᴏνê|,сòМ At a table in the center of the room was a small, wooden chest, reinforced with gold and about the size of a severed human head. If it was cleaned and polished, it wouldn't look out of place in a young woman's room-- perhaps used to contain jewelry.
"I wouldn't touch that thing," Tanamar politely offered as he rubbed his arms.
Tycon approached the chest warily, "Thank you, young man. Your counsel is wise."
"Sir Tycon has a sarcastic voice," Athena reminded her footman.
Tycon glared back at the two, "I do not."
He examined the chest by sight. A supernatural cold radiated out of the chest, yet did not mark it with frost or damage the wood.
« System, inquiry: Is this box-- or whatever is within the source of the cold? »
⟬ Affirmative. ⟭
That question eliminated an outside source for whatever phenomenon he was experiencing.
« System, analysis: Basic information on the box and its contents. »
Tycon shut his eyes and reviewed the information his System provided. The box's contents were cursed. The box, itself, was not. He took it, turned it upside down, and emptied its contents.
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