7 She Means Business

Tycon warmed his hands with the clay mug. Sorina had filled it with a warm blackberry wine.

"So the sign outside of the inn… is a squirrel? With two oversized testicles."

Dragan, the giant-blooded man with flaming red hair, drained another flagon of ale. With a refreshed 'ahh,' he slammed it on the table, making a satisfying plonk sound, "Well, Wolfbanger said it was a chipmunk."

"A chipmunk then."

"This place's name is clearly: The Big Ball Chipmunk Inn," Dragan nodded, sagely.

Tycon squinted his eyes in response. Dragan was far too proud of himself for his theories, but he saw no reason to shut him down.

It was after hours in the dining hall, so everyone had left, save Tycon, Dragan, Wroe, and Sorina. Barza excused himself, exhausted after the day's events. As the man couldn't afford an inn room, Tycon had bid him sleep in his room-- after cleaning himself. Tycon doubted he would be able to sleep after all the horrific events that had happened, but the man seemed like he needed the alone time.

Dragan had explained that he and Sorina had been getting along fairly well, conversing about life, recent events, and the dubious name of the inn, the chipmunk sign being its only indicator.

Tycon hadn't taken Dragan to be a great conversationalist, but it was a useful skill, and he wouldn't fault the big man for that. Refocusing his attention on the wine, Tycon licked his lips, an action that he found improved his sense of smell and taste.

He detected sweet bark, tree sap, and a hint... of citrus? The taste was lovely.

Suddenly, Wroe's eyes lit up as if he had an epiphany. He tossed his light blue hair up and back, out of his eyes and he revealed a full, bright, angelic smile.

Tycon happened to glance over at Sorina, who was clearly staring. Wine was dripping down her open mouth, dribbling down her chin.

"By the gods, Sorina, have some self-respect," Tycon said, snatching one of her rags and dabbing it onto the girl's chin.

Wroe's beautiful smile fell upon Sorina's enraptured face. His deep, ocean blue eyes, full of innocence and the vigor of youth, filling Sorina's stomach with the feeling of tiny swirling fish. Tycon, either through his improved senses or powerful imagination, could hear the poor girl's heart rate quicken, threatening to pound through her chest.

"The Nutty Squirrel," Wroe proclaimed. He nodded to himself as if he had become a sage, far above the troubles of mortal men.

"Chipmunk," Dragan corrected him, oblivious of the radiance Wroe emitted.

Tycon coughed to gather the group's attention, "Let's put aside discussing the inn name and squirrels with testicular cancer."

Dragan opened his mouth to argue, but Tycon cut him off, "Chipmunk. Sorry."

"He said it was a chipmunk, Boss," Dragan muttered a complaint.

"Right. I know. But onto other topics. Dragan--"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"When I asked you who else was in our party, you said Tarquin, Lulu, and… Uh. What was it… Wolfbanger?"

Wroe quietly slurped his tea, a decidedly non-angelic way of drinking, "Mm. Boss, my full name is Tarquin Wroe."

"Ah. Would be confusing, because people call me Tycon."

Dragan spoke simply, "But we call you Boss."

Tycon decided to ignore him as he continued, "Where is Lulu?"

Sorina, a bit flustered for whatever reason, spoke up, "Lulu? She... She went into the forest."

Tycon narrowed his eyes, sensing her unease, "And what's wrong with the... Forest?"

"Sir Tycon, they say a demon lives in the forest."

Tycon leaned back in thought, readjusting his seating on the table bench.

"Mister Dragan. Mister Wroe. Should I be worried?"

The two gentlemen looked at each other before looking to Tycon, "Nah." "I doubt it."

"Well, there you have it, Miss Sorina. I'm sure Miss Lulu won't be troubled."

"A-alright."

"And then I've met the horse. So that makes four, including myself. Plus Barza, and we're a solid five."

Dragan tilted his head, "Boss, what about Wolfbanger?"

"I... Don't know. What about him?"

"Aren't we counting him as part of the team?"

"I thought the horse was Wolfbanger."

Wroe interjected, "No, Boss, that's Horse."

Dragan met Tycon's gaze with an uncharacteristically serious expression, "Does Horse look like he bangs wolves?"

Feeling an inordinate amount of pressure from Dragan's gaze, Tycon felt a great need to avert his eyes. But a greater issue came to mind. "Wait, Mister Dragan, are you telling me that we call this person... Wolfbanger? Because he 'bangs' wolves?"

"Boss?" Wroe's voice took on a worried tone.

"Not now, Mister Wroe." Tycon interrupted. A worrisome new mystery had presented himself.

The young barmaid raised her hand, as if she was in a classroom lesson, "Can I join your group?"

Tycon furrowed his eyebrows in surprise at the woman's forwardness. "What? W-why?"

"Well, Mister Barza's in your group." Sorina nodded.

"Have you... any skill at fighting? Miss Sorina?"

"I slapped a man last week for putting a hand on my butt."

"How do you fare under pressure?"

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"Sometimes, I have to work in the kitchen, and the head chef yells at me the entire time."

"Do you have any special skills that would make you useful in a mercenary guild?"

"Well, Sir Tycon," Sorina blushed and twiddled her fingers, "I can read and write."

Both Dragan and Wroe 'ohhhh'ed in awe, as if seeing the young woman in a new light. "Boss, she can read. Let's keep her!" "A woman as skilled as she is beautiful!"

Tycon was speechless for a moment, but managed to maintain his composure. He didn't realize that basic literacy was a lauded ability... But he still wasn't convinced.

"Miss Sorina, understand that I am the one in charge of Guild Invictus... The conditions we travel, the dangers of--

Tycon stopped, realizing the young woman was practically glowing with confidence.

He narrowed his eyes, "There's something you haven't told me."

Sorina raised an eyebrow, smirking defiantly, "Sir Tycon... I must inform you that I have... A Business Degree!"

Silence reigned in the dining hall. Dragan's broad, chiseled face turned solemn as he nodded to Tycon. Wroe had gasped, holding his breath, his eyes glowing from blue to a heavenly gold, as if he had laid his eyes upon greatness. Tycon nodded in awed acceptance.

"It would be my greatest pleasure to welcome you to Guild Invictus, Miss Sorina."

"Thank you very much, Sir Tycon. I look forward to working with you all."

Tycon reintroduced Dragan and Wroe to Sorina, and the four shook hands. Tycon reassured Sorina that he'd formally introduce her to Horse, Lulu, and… Wolfbanger, when appropriate.

The evening wound down and Sorina agreed to let the manager know in the morning that she'd be submitting a letter of resignation in order to seek a life of adventure and glory. The three gentlemen bid her a good night and watched her leave the table.

"A nice girl," Dragan smiled as he drained his last flagon of ale.

"Agreed," Tycon mused, also draining the last of his wine.

"Boss?" Wroe gently prodded.

"Oh, Mister Wroe. I interrupted you earlier, I apologize."

"Oh, no, it's cool, Boss. I was just worried about something."

Wroe looked to Tycon and Dragan, as if looking for something.

"Where's Bucket?"

Tycon looked from Wroe to Dragan, seeing frowns of worry and confusion set into their faces.

« System, inquiry, comprehensive: Who is Bucket? »

[System response: Bucket is the son of Quay, the former leader of Invictus. When the Host was entrusted with the leadership of Guild Invictus, he was simultaneously entrusted with the boy's well-being.]

Dragan pointed hastily to Wroe, "I thought he was with you!"

Wroe raised his hands in shock, looking to Tycon, "Boss, I thought he was with Dragan!"

« System… Inquiry… What age is Bucket? »

[System response: Bucket is approximately 9 years of age.]

Dragan pointed angrily, "You lost Bucket!"

Wroe pointed back, "You were the one who lost Bucket!"

Tycon stood up from the table, slamming his palms down, "WE lost Bucket. Now come! We have to act quickly."