Tycondrius gave a cursory nod to the Inquisitor. Though blood had splashed upon the older man"s clothing, the Church uniform seemed designed for it-- dark leathers and red cloth. The Inquisitor narrowed his eyes, growling low, "Good afternoon, Deca.n.u.s."
"I would offer to shake your hand, Sir, but..." Tycon pointed the four fingers of his left hand forward and thrust it through one of the thugs" chests. The ⌈Wind Barrier⌋ allowed him to easily pierce the man"s heart.
"Tch, circ.u.mstances dictate the cordiality *inappropriate*." The Inquisitor scoffed with annoyance, "Carry on, as you were."
"My RAGE BURNNNNNS as a Eternal as the FLAAAAME!!!"
Zenon"s echoing voice sounded like he was breathing flames. Tycon thought it sounded quite impressive.
A short distance away, Centurion Zenon was hurling spheres of condensed mana at various dark-clothed ruffians. Archers from the far rooftops fell, heads and sections of body missing as the cruel, spinning orbs found their targets. Zenon"s spells rent through flesh and bone just as easily as Tycon"s wind-sheathed arms.
Tycon batted one such orb away from the Inquisitor. The wind-to-wind contact rebuffed the attack wonderfully, the errant sphere obliterating a woman"s leg below the knee. Tycon dashed to the fallen and pounded a fist into the back of her skull, the wind enchantment tearing out her hair and the flesh from the back of her neck.
"With respect, Inquisitor..." Tycon stood and smiled politely, "What is your a.s.sociation with these people?"
"House Galanis? Pah," The old man glared, his face curled up in disgust. "Mind your tongue, Deca.n.u.s. I have no "a.s.sociation" with these filthy creatures."
Before Tycon could argue, the Inquisitor pulled a crossbow from his side and shot a quarrel into the side of a man"s skull. The old veteran ratched back the weapon"s mechanism and reloaded it with practiced skill.
Tycon allowed himself a smirk, "You must forgive me, Inquisitor. Then it was a mere coincidence that you stood amongst their number."
"Very well..." The Inquisitor shot a few more bolts in the crowd before speaking again. His voice remained a surly mix of displeasure and annoyance, "I shall forgive your insolence, Deca.n.u.s..."
He narrowed his eyes, speaking through clenched teeth, "--but I a.s.sure you, you were mistaken."
...
Thirty men and women, dead. And apparently, the Centurion had rescued a cat.
"You"ve outdone yourself, Centurion," Tycon congratulated.
Zenon took off his helmet, showing a cheesy smile, "Not so bad, yourself, Optio."
The taller man tilted his body to look behind Tycon. Tycon couldn"t fathom why. The elevated Zenon could look past him without the exaggerated movement, "Who"s that? An Inquisitor?"
"A gentleman caught in the wrong place at the time," Tycon a.s.sured his Centurion.
The Inquisitor nodded at the armored Zenon, "Librarian."
"Inquisitor," Zenon returned the nod, before frowning at the surrounding ma.s.sacre. "Very well. Hm... I shall see to cleaning the blood and bodies."
The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, "May I suggest hanging them from your walls. It would be a more effective deterrent against... unreasonable solicitors."
Admittedly, that was good advice. Unfortunately, there were difficulties to that. Blood tended to be... a detractor of a business" value, at least when displayed so openly. Until Sorina Capulet arrived, Tycon did not want to worsen House Vanzano"s reputation. It would be better to hide the bodies and have Zenon use his magic or mopping skill to keep recent events to rumors, as opposed to facts.
Further, Tycon worried that with Athena"s demeanor, she might not look kindly upon the wanton slaughter he and Zenon had committed in her House"s name.
...Anyroad, when he and Zenon left blood, bone bits, and a severed arm in front of the estate several suns prior, it elicited the rage of one footman Tanamar. It was better to clean up the mess, in order to at least avoid that fellow"s whining.
"No, Brother-Inquisitor," Tycon shook his head. "That would go against the Centurion and my goals with House Vanzano."
"Oh?" The Inquisitor frowned. "Then I suppose House Vanzano is your jurisdiction, then?"
The tall Centurion loomed over the two of them, "Is there an issue, Brother-Deca.n.u.s?"
"There is not, Brother-Librarian." Tycon narrowed his eyes, "Brother-Inquisitor, I believe you and I should speak in private."
The old man glanced up at Zenon before grimacing to Tycon, "Indeed..."
...
Tycon and the Inquisitor stepped several fulms away, allowing Zenon to begin cleaning the damage with his magic. It was a simple spell, cleaning blood from the stones as if with pressurized blasts from wind or water. In the Kingdom, such spells were far more common... but magic for mundane tasks seemed somewhat frowned upon in the Holy Country.
The Inquisitor had access to an Elementary magic spell called ⌈Message⌋, which allowed him and Tycon to speak privately without risking the Librarian and his Wind-Affinity hearing them. For added privacy, they used the Holy Country"s Old Language. The old veteran Inquisitor was naturally fluent in it... and as Tycon"s family originated from the Holy Country, the memories held within his bloodline made him just as fluent.
"(I must insist once more, Inquisitor,)" Tycon stated. "(House Vanzano belongs to the jurisdiction of myself and Centurion Skyreaper.)"
The old man rolled his eyes, his decorum diminis.h.i.+ng as his patience did, "(A shame, Deca.n.u.s. It"s quite frustrating, you see.)"
Tycon chuckled to himself. He felt just as annoyed as the Inquisitor with the development of general events-- unrelated to the older gentleman"s issues, he was sure, "(Might you speak your mind, Brother-Inquisitor? I have none to spill your secrets to.)"
The old man sighed in annoyance, "(Indeed. I was growing quite partial... to the young Athena. She"s the only reason I was in this Flame-taken city. Do you know how difficult it is to find a "breakable" young n.o.blewoman, in recent years?)"
Tycon let out an unintentional scoff, "(Hah. Oh, I cannot relate, Sir. However, I advise you to mind your tongue around my Centurion. I believe he would not take kindly to your honesty.)"
"(Just my luck,)" The Inquisitor spat against the stones, "(We are of different factions, then, Deca.n.u.s?)"