390 Taking Responsibility

Name:Headed by a Snake Author:
**Content Warning: Sexual Activity**

Doe supported herself with her hands pressed onto Tychon's bare, muscled pecs. She wasn't wearing a single thing... and while Tychon only wore a very thin pair of shorts, it was the only thing between... 

Doe's heart was beating out of her chest. The heat in her face and cheeks had started to spread to her arms and chest, too. 

Her plan to not let Sir Tychon see her naked again had failed... spectacularly. All of her scars were plain to see, the starlight through the window like a beacon illuminating her nakedness. 

"Are you injured?" Tychon asked. Though his words showed some concern, he looked almost annoyed. 

Doe wanted to hit him so badly. Why was she the only one embarrassed? He was technically naked too! 

Two solid knocks on the door stopped her before she physically assaulted her boss's boss's boss. 

"You alright in there? Sir Tycon?" A muffled voice asked. 

"Yes, everything is--"

"Everything is FINE!!" Doe shouted... before realizing she had made a mistake. 

The voice belonged to Footman Victorius, one of the other servants. 

...and he was asking for Sir Tychon... because... everyone else probably knew this was his room... 

"Oh, uh... sorry for bothering you two," Victorius said through the door. He audibly turned and walked away, "I'm uh... I'm leaving now." 

...And because Doe opened her big, stupid mouth... Victorius now knew that she was also in his room...

Doe collapsed, just wanting to faceplant against the hard floor... but her face and damp hair plopped onto Sir Tychon's chest instead. 

"...Have you been drinking, Miss Doe?" 

Doe rolled her head to the side, "Yes. I don't want to talk about-- eh EHH?"

Immediately she sat up in a panic, "Sir Tychon!! Y-you!"

Tychon rolled his eyes, "I have a beautiful woman pressing her naked body against mine. This is a physiological human response."

Doe felt her heart stop... honing in on Tychon's words...

Beautiful. Did he really think that? He was so... very, very wrong. She was pathetic... she had so many scars, physical and... emotional. 

But her heart made her want to believe it so badly. The wine, too, sped her thinking towards terribleness. 

She lowered her face close, staring into Tychon's golden gaze... Feeling a bit naughty, she ground her hips, just like Kleio had taught her to. That was the wine, not her. 

"Sir Tychon... D-do you really think I'm beautiful?"

The green-haired noble smirked. He gently pulled her close, kissing her deeply. She thought her hair was too short to grab... but Sir Tychon proved that it wasn't.

She liked it. 

Sparks and explosions lit up in Doe's head, leaving her in a daze. A deep second kiss... and again, a third... found her mind absolutely empty of anything except wanting more. 

Doe shivered as Tychon's hands brushed down her lightly perspiring back, finally resting firmly upon the sides of her hips. 

With a quavering voice, she willed herself with more bravery than she knew she had, "Sir Tychon... Do... do you want to sleep with me?"

"Tss..." The noble scoffed, "That depends. Have you found the courage to live?"

"Yes... I think... I think I have."

...

"Good morning, Monsieur le Baron," Sorina's assistant, Maeva, greeted Tycondrius, her daily itinerary tucked beneath an arm. "I've noticed our newest maid had trouble sleeping last night."

⟬ Maeva Leserre, Unranked Human Expert. East Charm Trading Company. ⟭ 

"Indeed," Tycon nodded. He could still remember the faint taste of wine on Doe's lips, "She was very insistent that our late-night meeting be... prolonged."

Maeva shook her head, "Forgive me, but I do not see it as proper. You are a noble of the Kingdom, Sir Baron. You cannot sample every maid I hire on."

"I will take responsibility, should her duties suffer because of it..." Tycon pursed his lips. It was rather suspicious of him... "And I assure you that the pairing was consensual."

The woman sighed, "Sacred gods... Just... be more private about it, will you? The female adventurers-- zhey have been submitting both complaints AND requests to see you. It 'as been non-stop since early in ze sun."

Tycon looked away from Maeva's burning gaze. The woman's frustration with him was almost palpable, "I... uh... I apologize. Please deny those requests."

Maeva huffed before blowing away a lock of hair that had fallen over an eye, "I've already done so."

After Maeva's personal complaints, she provided her reports of the week. A number of recruits had been injured, some outright dismissed by Combat Instructor Shao Ran. Tycon agreed on Maeva's decision to grant the dropouts their last paychecks and send them off as soon as they were able to walk. 

The special weapons order had yet to come in. Maeva showed curiosity to the source, intending to contact the supplier. Tycon could not provide it. 

The order was from a forgemaster in Bael Turath, recommended to him by Sol Invictus member Lulu. As many demons and demon-bloods as there were in that nation, both Tycon and Sorina agreed it was best to not have the source written down on paper. If a Tyrion official or a rival of House Vanzano were to find out, the resulting line of questioning would be uncomfortable to answer. 

A set of custom armor had come in, shipped from the Dwarven Krakhammer clan. Based on designs made by Centurion Zenon, it was the prototype basis for the armor for which he would equip his new adventuring company, Guild Letalis Serpentis. 

The armor was made of resilient, dwarf-forged steel with a blackened metal finish. Also, there were... spikes on the shoulders and chest area, more appropriate for a gladiator than for a legitimate military force. 

Tycon did not like it. They were in the Holy Country, not the Dark-Spiky-Overlord Country. 

"Maeva, what... is the general consensus of our high-ranked adventurers, concerning the armor design?" 

"Overwhelmingly positive," Maeva pursed her lips. "However, I will give credit to the emblem on the shoulder."

Tycon nodded. The symbol painted on the armor's shoulder plate was a snake skull atop a backdrop of a stylized lightning bolt. It was clear that Guild Letalis was backed by House Vanzano and their lightning crest. 

It would do.