308 Assembled

It was more or less true. Tycondrius and Zenon were here on behalf of Maximus of Ezyria, Archbishop Crucis' wishes aside.

The young Athena Vanzano had happened upon the truth, on her own... However, she seemed to be on the verge of tears, because of it.

As this was not a training-environment, Tycon immediately began to panic, "Is uh... there an issue? Young lady?"

"It's fine," Athena wiped the corner of her eyes with her wrists. "We received the news a few suns back, that... that Maximus fell in battle... But it's fine, really."

She said it twice. From her expression and the quavering in her voice, Tycon judged that she may not have been entirely truthful.

"Ever since Maximus left... and then Tancred left... and then the company losing its backers... and then dad's spending habits got worse... and then mom's drinking problem..."

The young lady's volume steadily softened, its pitch raised-- with sporadic sniffling sprinkled throughout. It was most certainly not fine.

Athena held out her hand towards Tycon.

...The action implied a response. But... what?

Tycon gingerly took hold of the young lady's hand. She continued to cry quietly, not sharing words, merely sharing Tycon's company.

He hoped he had chosen correctly...

It seemed that everything went to shite as soon as Maximus left Ezyria-- something Tycon doubted the dovahkiin knew. With Maximus' generally upright and somewhat predictable nature, the man would have sped back on his stupid-looking blue wings to be the hero that Athena needed most.

Unfortunately, Maximus was dead. And his Church wouldn't bother resurrecting him, even though that would likely fix this poor child's issues.

...All 'what-if' thoughts of Maximus were useless, of course. Tycon didn't know why he bothered.

It took a few minutes for the young lady's sobs to subside. Tycon remained patient. He wasn't in a hurry... His preparations had already reached the 'in-the-oven' stage.

"If you're just here on behalf of the Church..." Athena whispered, her voice still cracked from crying, "--you can go back. House Vanzano doesn't need your pity."

Tycon chuckled to himself. What a selfless young lady, "Not so. The Church has deigned to assign you a champion, so to speak. Further, I worked closely with your brother in the Kingdom."

Athena tilted her head up, showing her wide eyes and tear-covered cheeks, "R-really?"

...Yes.

Tycon continued, "I will be overseeing your martial training for the time being... and I know a very capable woman that could serve as an advisor for your family's financial troubles."

"Wait, really?" Athena's eyes widened, larger than he'd observed thus far.

Why did she keep asking that? Tycon did not reply. He would assume the questions were rhetorical, in order to avoid the embarrassment of a snarky response.

"No, really? You would do that?" Athena asked.

Oh, it was a real question.

Tycon smiled politely... "Yes."

It was very difficult talking to this woman.

...

⟬ Current time. ⟭

"By the Flaaaaame, this is sooooo goood!!" Athena gushed. "I want to stuff it all in my mouth and have it live there forever."

Zenon had removed his armor and was utilizing table manners proper for a young military officer, eating from his plate of broth-soaked bread and vegetables.

Tycon nodded in approval, carving a piece for him from a large roast chicken. Zenon had gone out to purchase it while he used the kitchen. After providing for the Centurion, Tycon placed a meaty chicken breast, freshly cooked and succulent, onto Athena's plate. She was a growing young lady and he wanted to ensure she had enough protein in her diet.

Zenon narrowed his eyes at the door to the servant's quarters. Tycon felt it, as well. He positioned his body to guard the roast chicken from whatever attack was imminent.

The door burst open, nearly breaking its hinges. Silvery mana flaring wildly from Tanamar's person, his white hair flowed as if wind was flowing upward. He stepped forward, dust and fragments of tile levitating around him. Clenched tightly in his right hand was a... Tyrion pilum, save it was formed entirely of concentrated silvery mana.

"ATHENAAAAA!!" Tanamar yelled dramatically.

The young lady stopped abruptly, a half-bitten piece of chicken in her hands. She placed the meat down and politely brushed the sides of her mouth with a napkin, "T-tanamar. Hey! Welcome back! Have you had dinner yet?"

Tycon pursed his lips, looking over his shoulder at Tanamar's confused state. The footman looked like he was ready for a fight of some sort.

Thankfully, he and Zenon were more than ready for it. Tycon had physically interposed himself between the Holy Lancer and their roast chicken. The Centurion had applied a magical wind barrier to protect the table of food from dust and debris.

The mana pilum that Tanamar held explained why he traveled unarmed. Apparently, Holy Lancer was a mana-shaping class-- a unique type of spellcaster that formed weaponry with their magic. Other mana-shapers included mages that cast Polymorph-type spells onto parts of their body, transmogrifying them into weapons. Creation-type spells like Tanamar used were less mana efficient, but more versatile.

The white-haired footman waved his hand, his aura-glow diminishing and his weapon dissipating into a rainbow of dust. He gingerly took a seat at the dinner table, his expression solemn.

The fellow with the crippled hand, Victorius, entered the room shortly after, a trace of worry still in his eyes. Tycon surmised that that fellow had something to do with Tanamar's furious entry.

"What's this?" Tanamar asked, looking at his plate.

"Sir Tycon called it dressing! It's sOooooOo good," Athena explained, speaking quickly and mashing her words together in excitement. "I helped!"

She did.

Tycon gave Tanamar a chicken wing. Everyone liked chicken wings.

Athena cleared the confusion by explaining to Tanamar and Victorius that the two representatives of the Church would be staying with them for a period of time.

In retrospect, Tycon should have explained that in the first place... but he thought it paramount to garner Athena's reaction to it, before continuing. Tycon had no compunctions against taking over House Vanzano tyrannically, but he sought to achieve his specific target's blessing.

Or perhaps he was treating her kindly, merely because she was Maximus' sister.

Tycon looked over his new crew, assembled before him.

Zenon was a sanctified spellcaster with electrified claws, righteous and just.

⟬ Zenon Skyreaper, Iron-Rank Human Librarian. ⟭

Athena expertly wielded frost mana and he was fairly certain had a physique valued by the Hidden Sects.

⟬ Athena Vanzano, Unranked Human Warrior. ⟭

Tanamar was a young, slightly temperamental fellow with a high-tier class.

⟬ Tanamar, Iron-Rank Human Holy Lancer. ⟭

And then that fellow Victorius looked like... he could be trained.

⟬ Victorius, Bronze-Rank Human Archer. ⟭

Three out of four were promising.