Headed by a Snake



Pale considered himself to have lived a sheltered life. 

He might have lost his father at a young age, but he was well-fed (most of the time) and was surrounded by people and horses and the one Demon Queen that he could look up to. 

And... he might have come home with bruises and bite marks every other day-- or suffered starvation, second-degree burns, or broken bones every week or so... but at least he had a bed to sleep in. 

But despite him growing taller, increasing his strength and magic power, and being taught how to file his taxes in the Holy Country... Pale felt like he was only pretending to be grown up. 

It still felt like all the *real* adults had everything figured out. They had real, adult goals, while Pale was still focused on the past. 

A long time ago... he remembered confessing something to Tycon that still embarrassed him to that sun. 

He... admitted he was afraid of being left behind. 

Everyone else in Sol Invictus had gone on to pursue their goals. Dragan was leading his troops in Vralkek, Miss Bella taught magic in the Sapphire Tower, Lulu was somewhere in one of the hells... doing... NSFW things. 

Compared to them, it felt like all Pale was doing was chasing shadows. 

--the fleeting shadow of his missing father, the last true scion of House Morninglord. 

--the huge, looming shadow of the legendary Arena Guild, Sol Invictus. 

...and then, to a lesser extent, (even though it should've probably been a greater extent,) the shadows cast by Heroes of ages long past. 

After Tycon heard his worries...

...Pale got sent away. 

He wasn't allowed to refuse his orders. He thought... it might have been some kind of punishment-- an unironic and cruel affirmation of a child's worst fears. 

In hindsight, Pale should have had more faith in Tycon's orders. 

Getting sent to the field at the time turned out to be what he needed most. 

From that point on, he began to complete quests alongside his forever-party-members... his own mini-version of Sol Invictus. 

He and his companions battled against crazy, strange creatures and in even crazier, strange locales. 

They witnessed cruelties and horrors. 

They were wronged-- but they righted as many wrongs as they could find. 

...They suffered losses that could never be regained. 

Blood was spilled, sometimes righteous and too often regrettable. 

But, eventually, the Hero and his party became strong. 

That Hero was even confident he could almost beat Tycon in a match. 

(The match had to have set rules, though. It'd have to be one-on-one, one weapon only, no items, and limited to a predefined area.)

(But, anyroad...)

The Hero Party comprised the most powerful individuals in the Realm-- definitely the absolute-strongest, only counting people under the age of 20. 

The Hero Party was a boon to the Wyrmslayer Alliance. 

Neerin Neelia insisted that they were *necessary* for the dragon threat to be overcome.

Pale wasn't sure how much he could trust a daughter of the Tyrant God... but he was at least confident that the Hero Party wouldn't be a burden. 

The Hero Party might have disobeyed Tycon's direct orders...

He had a right to be mad-- furious, even. 

But when he sat down and looked at all the facts, he couldn't *stay* mad. 

Pale was a Hero, chosen by the fates to deal with extraordinary external threats to their Realm. 

And that was exactly what was happening. 

In choosing to stay, Pale was fulfilling his obligation as a Hero-- an obligation that was honorable, just, and selfless. 

When it came to convincing Tycon, that's what Pale had to focus on:

A heart, unyielding, when it came to training. 

A mind, quick and adaptable, when it came to the mission. 

And conviction, with adamantine resolve, when it came to their reason to fight. 

...that's what Tycon--

--that's what Sol Invictus was all about. 

Pale was certain that as long as he stuck by his decision, 100% determined to fight by his side, Tycon would accept him. 

However... if he dared to show any weakness-- wavered for even a tenth of a second, Tycon would never forgive him. He might even do something drastic, because of it. 

Worst-case scenario, they'd be forcibly sent Off-Realm, even despite Lady Neerin's insistence. 

A Sky-Rank dragon woman was certainly strong, but Pale had a feeling that Tycon could somehow win if they ever got into a fight. 

But still... 

All in all, Pale wasn't afraid or worried. 

He was excited.

He was excited because he had a rare chance. 

Fighting in the Dragon War would show Tycon his determination!

All of Tycon's concerns, he'd prove them immaterial! 

Pale wanted nothing more than for Tycon to believe in him. 

--like *really* believe in him. 

And... maybe... 

--just maybe... the sun that Pale would be worthy enough to lead Sol Invictus might be soon. 

Pale snapped his head toward the door to the inn.

The mana making up the ⌈Privacy Seal⌋ enchantment began to disperse... and the door swung open.

--though it was slow and arduous, not at all loud and violent like he was expecting. 

Tycondrius of Charm, leader of Sol Invictus, trudged out of the Restful Hen inn-- looking like he was, but was not actually dragging his feet. 

His dark-blue Royal Marine uniform was crisp and clean as expected... but not everything was quite right. 

A few strands of his green hair had sloppily drifted down onto his face. His back was hunched over and his gait was lazy and without purpose. 

And the thing that Pale could almost not believe... 

Tycon had his left hand buried deep in his pocket. 

Tycon. *never.* put his hands. in his pockets. 

That fact alone made him doubt whether or not the Tycon in front of him was the same person he knew-- and had seen only a half-bell prior. 

The Tycon in front of him-- his eyes were dead. 

They showed a level of exhaustion Pale had never seen before. Even when he was dying from mana drain Off-Realm, he was committed to finishing the mission and tying up all the loose ends. 

For the first time, ever... Pale thought that Tycon looked... old? 

He was, though. He was as old as his father was... older than Lone-- he was even older than Dragan. 

Age had never been a factor in anything that had to do with Sol Invictus, just time-in-service. When they were training, Pale and Lone got similar treatment despite their age gap of a few years. And Pale would never disrespect Corporal Horse, despite being older. 

But older people... they were more jaded... more broken by the trials they've overcome or are still struggling against. 

And Tycon... he looked like he had given up. 

The leader of Sol Invictus tossed his sheathed sword against the building, then with one hand, he snatched away the chest of gear Gobbuto was lifting up. 

He let it fall to the dirt, dust billowing up where it fell. He plopped down onto the chest and, with his back to the building, he leaned back, staring blankly into the night sky. 

He took in a slow, steady breath... 

...and finally, he spoke. 

"Good evening, children. You may put your arms down."

Pale steadily and warily lowered his arms. 

A few moments prior, he was ready to plead his case... to throw as much information as he could at Tycon, hoping for his sincerity to be accepted. 

He figured... if he said the right words, he could even segue that into asking Tycon for the leadership of the guild! --as a reward for mission completion, maybe? 

But, instead... the situation had become strange. 

"Boss?" 

Without being prompted, Ree knelt down in front of Tycon, peering up with curious eyes. 

"What's wrong?" she asked. 

Boss Tycon peered down at Ree... and strong concern welled up in Pale's heart. 

Tycon was always critical of her. He figured it was because she had a lot of potential. She was also really rude sometimes and had a lot of misplaced energy. 

--and early in their mercenary career, Tycon always complained that her sect trained her wrong. 

Ree was really strong, both in body and mind... but with the recent loss of Dragan, Pale knew that her heart was weaker than it usually was. 

Boss Tycon reached out his arm. 

It was... a slow and dull movement-- not at all like one of his sharp, punishing jabs for slacking off during training. 

And Tycon... patted Ree on the head, lightly ruffling her hair. 

"Of all my hatchlings," he said... "you, Kimura Taree, were the last I expected to console me."

"You look like shite, Boss."

Pale closed his eyes.

At about that time, Ree was going to get hit. It was inevitable. 

"Do I?" Tycon replied, "I suppose it's been a difficult week."

He pursed his lips, deliberating on his next few words. 

"As of recent... it's been quite difficult, for you and I, both."

"...Yeah. It really has been," Ree said in a low voice. 

Pale stood up, gulping down his saliva. 

He still had to explain. 

Even if Tycon wasn't upset anymore, Pale wanted to dispel the guilt welling up in his heart. 

"Boss," he said. "There's a reason..."

But Tycon held up an open palm... and he shook his head. 

And Pale didn't have the courage to continue. 

"Gather round, young friends," Tycon said, his voice weak and devoid of energy... "and listen to what I have to say."

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