Headed By A Snake 380 Prince Of Vralkek

Tycon finished reading the missive from Barza Keith, the Lone Shadowdark, "It looks like Mister Lone has earned a merit in Turrim Orientem."

"Tch," Sorina Capulet rolled her eyes. "I hope he rots in there forever."

Tycon sighed. It seemed she hadn't yet forgiven him, "His prison sentence has been reduced, down to twenty years."

"Oh?" Popoto Potata Pota gasped in surprise, "That's really good, actually! He must have gotten a lot of merits!"

"Miss Capulet," Tycon raised an eyebrow. "You have frozen his pay, yes?"

"Of course, Boss," Sorina responded while absentmindedly poking at her levitating Armor Cube. It responded by lighting up in a X_X design. 

Tycon opened another missive, quickly scanning over the contents. 

"The... seal of the Kingdom..." Korr whispered. 

"Correct," Tycon nodded. "This is from the Admiral of the Sea Wolf Fleet... It appears that one of their Lieutenants is headed here, via s.h.i.+p... Shao Ran, formerly of the Golden Crow Sect."

"Xiao Ren..." Korr frowned, "I'd like to fight her..." 

"Shao Ran is uh... male," Tycon pursed his lips. 

"...N-nevermind," Korr turned away, returning to her pillow-hugging. 

Tycon began to unbind a folded poster, "And it appears my friend, Miss Rico, has sent us a gift."

Korr's gaze sharpened again, "Who is Rico?"

Tycon revealed the poster's contents, revealing a slop of paint on the parchment. Though misspelled, it was clearly supposed to read, 'I love you.' 

For those who could not read, the stylized ♥ should make the message clear enough. 

The Raging Flame Knight's gaze softened once more, "Aww... How old is she?"

"Four, I believe."

"Cute..." Korr's gaze dreamily drifted up, towards the ceiling. 

Whatever she was imagining, it seemed... positive. 

"Miss Potata, are there any other missives with the Kingdom's Royal Seal?" Tycon asked. 

"Oh, no~ I'm sorry, Sir Tycon. There's only the one," Potata frowned, seemingly sad that she had not met his expectations. 

Tycon forced a smile to hide his disappointment, "Do not feel troubled. Truthfully, I had not expected one."

He had not heard back from his former lover, Princess Aurala, in several moons. It was just as well, though. People move on. 

...

⟬ Port City Vralkek, the Free Nation. ⟭ 

Amba.s.sador Blacktooth gnawed at his wrist. It was a nervous habit he'd never grown out of, even though it marred his arms with patches of lost fur. He was old and ancient amongst his gnoll peers, nearly thirty years old. It was sometimes frustrating to deal with his long-lived non-gnoll allies, the t.i.tanbloods, the harpies, the medusae... 

Their worlds changed so slowly.

At least Merchant Prince Droghan Ashlord belonged to the latest t.i.tanblood generation. In Blacktooth's nearly three epochs of experience, the young more readily saw reason. Unfortunately, Droghan's cruel and violent reputation preceded him, so perhaps it wouldn't be so easy. 

The Gnoll Brotherhood had purposely never clashed ideologies with the t.i.tanbloods of Vralkek. In the Free Nation, logic and reasoning often had to be reinforced by strength. If Blacktooth or his pack offended the prince, it would be their own fault that they were killed. 

The heavy doors to the prince's chambers crashed open, taking Blacktooth by surprise and finding him yelping for cover and reaching for a crossbow he did not have. 

The t.i.tanblood Prince was naked from the waist up, a crimson mane atop his head, impressive for his species. Though his furless body was devoid of spots, it was battle-scarred and rippled with lean muscle. The young prince was a warrior, not a wastrel-- as was ideal for War Princes in the Free Nation. 

Blacktooth was tall for a male gnoll... and the prince stood a full head taller. It made him slightly uncomfortable looking up... In his culture, exposing one's neck was a sign of obeisance, and he had to do so involuntarily to meet the Prince's gaze. 

Prince Droghan wiped a thin trail of blood from his nose, grinning broadly in a show of aggression, "Whoa hoh!! Someone from the Gnoll Brotherhood! What's up, man? You're a guy, right?"

Blacktooth saluted by nodding upwards and showing his vulnerable neck, before averting his gaze out of respect. The Prince did not return the salute, as expected of his rank, "I am, Prince Droghan... I..."

"Nope!" The t.i.tanblood Prince smirked. 

"...Prince?" 

The red-maned t.i.tanblood clasped a muscled hand onto Blacktooth's shoulder. The Prince had five fingers, an alien and bothersome concept, compared to his own four-fingered hand. 

"You call me Dragan." The prince's face loomed over Blacktooth, "All my friends call me that!" 

Blacktooth felt his mouth twitch, "Ehehe... I... I understand, Prince Dragan."

"Walk with me," Dragan sauntered past, "I thought the Gnoll Brotherhood remained neutral in the Free Nation. Kinda weird that you're here to talk to me... what was your name again? Blockteeth?"

"That will be fine... Prince Dragan," Blacktooth did not have the social standing to contest his new given name. He followed quickly and stated his business. "I hear the whispers of my Silverstreak Pack and am here to show our concern in good faith."

Dragan scoffed, "Tch. Good faith? I liiiiiike it! I like all you guys and gals. You're polite. I like that."

The t.i.tanblood stopped, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. More blood dripped down his nose, which he casually wiped away. 

A tall humanoid appeared from the shadows of one of the palace's ornate columns, "So the Merchant Prince of Vralkek has been hiding from me to indulge in drugs, wine, and women. Really, Dragan, I'm offended."

Blacktooth lips curled back to bare his fangs for the briefest of seconds. The ogre was even taller than him and Prince Dragan, wearing a thick, braided mane, as well as rich, flowing red robes. Such attire marked him as another visiting amba.s.sador, just like himself. 

The ogre amba.s.sador carried a gnarled wooden staff... and he reeked of demonic magic. The Gnoll Brotherhood turned away from those dark paths, generations ago. Disdain for those people had been ingrained in him since he was a cub. 

"Oh, yeah?" Prince Dragan grabbed the ogre's magical staff and wrested it away with surprising ease from the larger creature. 

The ogre mage furrowed his brows, "What do you think you are doing?" 

Blacktooth felt very unsafe, seeing the look in Prince Dragan's eyes... 

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