Headed by a Snake

"Ah," Wroe nodded. "Got it, Boss."

Tycondrius' gaze drifted upward in thought.

It would be wise to set some coin aside to commission Hexblade-related ⌈Decursify⌋ Scrolls. As Wroe was the only Hexblade in Sol Invictus, it was natural that he pay for the brunt of it.

"Wait-- what? You're docking my PAY?! Boss!??"

Fourth-Circle Scrolls like ⌈Heavenly Cleansing⌋ were impossible to craft in bulk without the help of a literal god. However, Tycon was confident in creating a Second-Circle variant, one tailored to dispel Wroe's abilities.

"BOSS!! What does-- but why??"

Company salary was something controlled by his Chief Financial Officer, Sorina Capulet. She would arrive in Whitehearth in the near future. There, they would discuss that matter and other things.

"Boss! Tycon! PLEASE!!"

Granted... he still had to survive the onslaught of the Tree God's minions to have a future to speak of.

"Y-you're my only source of income!!"

Tycon was looking forward to seeing Sorina and Korr again. As they were doing business in Archangel, they weren't terribly far away... but he'd been so busy, as of late~

"Heyyy, come onnnn, LT~" Krysaos said in a sing-song voice, "Y'don't gotta f*ck with a guy's salary like that. Wroooooe~! Heeee's... a good guy?"

Why did he phrase that as a question?

Tycon pursed his lips and shook his head, "Mister Wroe *was* absent without leave for an extended period of time."

"It wasn't a vacation!" Wroe cried, "I was in HELL!!"

"Yes, I recall," Tycon covered his face with his palm. "There, I witnessed your pathetic sniveling, firsthand.

"Take heart, Mister Wroe," He continued. "The coin will be better spent elsewhere. Paying the temporary contract completions of Krysaos and the Thunder God comes to mind."

"Oh, yeah," Krysaos rolled his eyes, "I almost forgot that you're a cheap-ass motherf--"

"--with a sizeable bonus for combat pay," Tycon added.

The Captain righted his posture and crossed his arms... "Well uh, Wroe... good buddy... it's like uh... a 'thank you.' Y'know? We did risk eternal damnation in order to save your bacon, after all."

"Friend-Maedar," The seated, cross-legged Thunder God lifted his head, "I serve for honor, not for coin."

Tycon ignored him.

He did value being economical rather than not. However, all mercenaries contracted to him were paid for their services in coin.

Those with a love for wealth earned a level of satiety.

For those with less practical goals, they could make investments towards achieving them.

The system also worked quite well for those who professed noble and lofty ideals but, in truth, did not.

As an employer, Tycon was confident in providing his subordinates with monetary rewards.

Other things... not so much.

Safety? Survival?

...Basic comforts?

Even honor, the lovely concept it was, Tycon could not guarantee.

...It would be irresponsible of him to unconditionally bind him and his own to the notion-- especially since the various factions of the Realm could nary agree upon its ordinances.

"Anyroad, Mister Wroe," Tycon swiped his hand forward, "Form up-- you and Krysaos front."

"Ahaha~ movin'," Wroe sighed as he stepped forward.

"Psh. Yeah, I hear ya, LT," Said Krysaos with a laugh.

Suddenly, Wroe turned back, "Oh, Boss. Should we uh-- go digging in ogre meat to look for that javelin?"

"What?" Tycon furrowed his brows as his mouth twisted in disgust, "No."

Why did everything that came out of that man's mouth sound so crass?

It almost made Tycon think that *he* was the one at fault.

That would be absurd.

"Don't worry about it, Blue Eyes White Daeva," Krysaos waved. "As long's we stick together, we don't need a sh*tty javelin, anyroad."

"It is *not* a sh*tty javelin," The Thunder God insisted... quietly.

With the Ancient Ogre defeated, Sol Invictus was granted a short reprieve before the remains of their severely reduced enemy would reach their position.

They had assumed an unorthodox formation, one that Tycon had ordered without forethought.

However, with a quick analysis, he determined it to be appropriate.

Earlier battle plans had been spontaneous and... somewhat short-minded.

He and each of his companions embodied the spirit of the original Sol Invictus.

That is... each of them was an icon-- an undeniable force on the battlefield, capable of dismantling entire companies of rank-and-file troops, as well as standing against specialized elite agents.

However... that was not their full potential.

Tarquin Wroe was a Hexblade with a retinue mid-to-long range Spells, with his lunar-empowered ⌈Eldritch Bolt⌋ as his most practiced. Even at close range, his expertise with the Sleeping Country's sword style meant he was not disadvantaged.

Krysaos was a Dread Pirate that could summon a powerful Divine Water Spirit. His unorthodox fighting style was cultivated in lawless brawls and, at close and mid-ranges, his Ice-type Creation Spells further added to his controlled chaos.

And, of course, since he became a half-god, his effectiveness on the field was arguably greater than Tycon's own.

The Thunder God, with his large mana pool and attention-grabbing lightning attacks made him a high-profile target. Further, with his Divine Body, he would not die easily to mortal sword and Spell.

And Tycon, himself... he was an Iron-Scale Warlord.

His companions were his personal army.

He could rally their spirits, steel their minds against distractors, and even inspire them to fight through their injuries.

Resilient Warrior with an ostentatious skillset.

Two Magic Warriors, one specializing in range and the other in close combat.

Supporter-- and, in the Realm, likely the most handsome and intelligent of his Class.

Tycon had... for the first time in a long while... a balanced adventuring party.

As such, he was confident in pushing them far beyond what ordinary protocol dictated.

"Sure are a lot o' these forest f*ckers left," Krysaos muttered.

Wroe bit his upper lip, "Aaaaaayep."

"Sol INVICTUS!!" Tycon shouted, "I order you to stand and FIGHT!!

"Though your bones may BREAK and your flesh RENT APART!!

"Even if your wills are cRRRushed or your minds trapped for ETERNITY!!

"Even if you've neither blood nor mana left to bleed!!

"Even if I must use mana-wires to take control of your broken, LIFELESS BODIES, you will not yield here--

"Not until we bring DEATH to. Every. Enemy. that dares stand in our way."