Headed By A Snake 113 Strength Of The Wolf

Aurala and Tycon spent the previous evening and most of the following sun together.

Aurala agreed to give Tycon a letter of introduction to Fleet Admiral Chantal, whose fleet was stationed in Port City Caractere. She also offered the a.s.sistance of Wolfbanger-- err... Levi Wolfrider.

Tycon tried to refuse. Aurala insisted, perhaps out of sincerity.

At Aurala's insistence, she picked Tycon's knowledges. The princess fancied herself an alchemist. She was particularly adamant about obtaining the recipe of a sweet, bubbled drink she missed from her homeworld, a "black sugar beer." Tycon suggested that the carbonation could be attained via suspension above a beer fermentation vat, but she'd have to figure out the sugary concoction herself.

The simple princess was ecstatic, showering Tycon with kisses. Tycon found her intimacy acceptable. Establis.h.i.+ng such a close bond with Princess Aurala exceeded his expectations, but the two of them were better off for it.

Aurala obtained a surge of Tycon's life essence, absorbing the mana like a greedy sponge. With study, if Aurala couldn't reach 2nd-Circle within the moon, she'd have no future as a Magician.

Tycon got a sheet of paper and a dog.

Anyroad...

Guild Invictus set out the following morning, their numbers noticeably reduced:

Tycondrius of House Charm. Dragan Ashlord.

Pale, son of Quay. Lone Shadowdark.

Taree, the silver-haired whelp.

Oh, and Levi Wolfrider, the Weretouched Warden.

"Wolfbanger! How ya doin' man??" After a couple of suns of rest, Dragan had regained his genial nature, though he still retained a cast around his fractured right arm. Even with magical healing, allowing it to rest for a week or two would avoid any healing complications. The 8-fulm-something-tall gentleman carried a laughably small dark iron sword on his waist. Having lost his greataxe, he accepted the "gift" from Duke Tavor with chagrin.

"Oh. Hey. Dragan," The young white-furred weretouched boy seemed... less than pleased to share Dragan's company. The Warden carried a stupid-looking battle-hammer with an oversized head. A greathammer? It looked unbalanced. And the boy didn't have the build to wield such a weapon as Dragan could.

Tycon was in a good mood, though, so he didn't feel like arguing.

...He knew he still smelled like Aurala. And he knew the weretouched dog-wolf-boy was aware of it. That was the most probable reason that Wolfrider flattened his ears whenever Tycon was around and avoided talking to him outside what was necessary. Tycon wished he bought a book on dogs before he left Merylsward, so he could translate the boy's nonverbal cues...

As they hiked, Lone approached Tycon for a likely asinine inquiry. He wasn't able to ask. His mere presence reminded Tycon that... he had been in such a good mood that he forgot that Invictus needed to train.

The rest of the sun was wonderfully miserable for Taree, Pale, Lone, and sweaty-dog-smell Levi. Dragan was exempt. Tycon worked up a healthy sweat alongside them.

Invictus couldn't change their enemies. But Tycon could surround himself with men and women powerful enough to change their destinies with their own hands.

...

Barza Keith, the Lone Shadowdark, had searched for the feeling he was missing for the past couple of suns.

He still mourned the loss of Yaeger... She had showed Lone what mana felt like, coursing through his body, empowering his muscles, his sword skills, and even his very senses to a level of perfection.

Before, he thought he could only use so many senses in combat; he could see the enemy and he could hear them. After experiencing Yaeger's mana, he could feel the airflow around where Madison was going to attack. He could sense Madison's rage and understand what she was about to say before she said it. The mana blade that he wielded felt as if it were another limb-- he could close his eyes and know where it was at all times.

It felt like he could see the future.

Yaeger sacrificed the last of her mana, her soul essence. She saved him. He felt like he owed it to her to grow stronger, to regain that feeling of power.

After a harsh sun of training, he approached Boss tentatively, "Sir Tycon?"

Tycon flashed a smile, brus.h.i.+ng some of his green hair out of his eyes, "How can I help you, Mister Shadowdark?"

Lone narrowed his eyes. Not a trace of annoyance was found on his young leader's face.

Tycon leaned forward, raising his eyebrows.

Lone was confused. Boss had been in an uncharacteristically good mood since leaving Meryslward. Maybe it was always like this when a mission was completed? He decided to just come out and say it.

"Boss, I want to learn how to use mana."

Tycon placed a hand on his chin, "Amusing. It's not something you can rush, Lone. Unless you're a Circle Mage or a Martialist, a Metal Ranker develops their sense of mana naturally. You may be stronger than Pale right now, but his technique is better than yours-- and even he doesn't have an offensive mana Skill."

Lone raised a finger, "But he has Cras.h.i.+ng Thunder? And that Misty Step movement Skill."

"...Perhaps Pale is a bad example," Tycon jut out his lower jaw.

He pat Lone on the shoulder, "Anyroad, I'm glad that you've developed enough to realize your flailing attacks didn't have a trace of mana in them. You've leveled up. Grats."

Lone averted his gaze, "Boss... I've... I've felt it."

Tycon smirked, raising an amused eyebrow, "Impossible. Your foundations are still lacking. Unless a higher rank mage was literally controlling your body, powering mana through it, you're--

"But I have!"

Tycon chopped Lone in the throat with his hand. Lone doubled over, wheezing for air.

"--Don't interrupt, young man. Unless you've had someone intimately providing mana, showing you how it flows through your body, then your efforts would be in vain. How about this: we'll search for an Essence Mage in Caractere, how about that, Lone? Lone? ...Are you alright?"

Lone finally caught his breath, sweating in pain. "Sir Tycon," he gasped.

"I had that experience underneath Merylsward. Yaeger showed me how to do it."

"Ah. Very well. May I ask who Yaeger is, my good man?" Tycon smiled, though his eyebrows were still furrowed with confusion.

"She was birthed from the lice on my b.a.l.l.s because I applied your potion as a tonic instead of drinking it-- and she became a sentient mana beast that saw me as her father figure. We fought her mother, this girl who could control bugs, and the same girl that when I got super drunk Dragan got me into having s.e.x with. But because of Yaeger's sentience, she was able to fight back, allowing me to regain control of my body," Lone explained.

Tycon crossed his arms.

"You know what, now that I've said that all out loud, it sounds pretty stupid," Lone rubbed the back of his head.

"Hold on, hold on. Not the strangest thing I've ever heard," Tycon lied.

"To be honest, your... 'Yaeger's' mana control is a bit out of my depth. I would suggest you ask Dragan, but I'd rather he not be partic.i.p.ating in strenuous activities right now. Just like how I didn't make you do anything after you cut up your stomach, back in the Mosswood Wilds."

"Boss, I almost got cut in half!" Lone exclaimed.
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Tycon looked up at the darkening sky, "Did you? Hm. Maybe I'm talking about a different injury..."

"Anyroad, what should I do, Boss?" Lone grimaced.

"Pale is familiar to Elementary Level magic. I'll change your training schedules around so you two can work together with mantraining in mind."

Tycon placed his palms together and in a flash of magic, he held two gorgeous dark-metal hammers, their heads in the likeness of growling wolves. He spun them in a flourish and offered the handles forward.

Lone touched their handles hesitantly, "Boss?"

"Dark iron maces. A bit heavy, but I'm confident you can handle them. You can consider these your payment for a successful mission."

"Grow stronger, Lone Shadowdark." Tycon grinned, "The strength of the pack is the wolf... and there are no weak pups in Guild Invictus."