416 Fake

So many years ago, the name 'Maximus' had outgrown Ezyria and was known throughout all of Tyrion. Then word came around that a new gladiator guild had been created... following in the footsteps of the nigh forgotten guild, Sol Invictus, and was associated with Maximus' noble house, House Vanzano. 

The most heroic amongst them was a flashy, highly-skilled gladiator. In his arrogance, he called himself Orcus, after the legendary Tyrion hero. 

He even called himself a god. 

Since then, Antonidus had funneled money into their cause, hoping that the popularity of the Stormbrands would return a profit into his own businesses and win him powerful political allies. 

But sometimes... he felt like all he'd earned was a spoiled brat and his lackeys. 

Tancred Mors sat, cross-armed, young, silver-haired and strong-jawed... though the armor he wore implied that he was colorblind. With a devil-may-care expression on his face, it looked like he couldn't wait to leave this place and go back to taking opiates and seducing whores. 

His associate, Occam was around the same age, though the heavens did not grant him the gift of handsomeness... or decorum. He wore an eyepatch, refused to shave, and was resting his filthy spiked boots atop Antonidus' desk. 

Antonidus glared at the Cleric... hoping that he'd realize that his domineering posturing was incredibly rude to a man who was literally their patron. 

Occam chose not to notice. 

"Gahh..." Antonidus groaned in frustration, "Apparently, I've learned that my faith in you two is as worthless as your win rate."

Tancred shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, "I would have won if you'd let me use the Snake Spine Rod, you old thief."

"Agreed. We were fighting with a handicap-- you can't really blame us for losing," Occam reached over to grab a random book off of a shelf, idly flipping through it with his greasy fingers. 

Antonidus slammed his hand upon the desk, "You idiots! Of course, you can't reveal a Flame-taken *Snake Cult artifact* in front of Archbishop Crucis!"

Tancred rolled his eyes, "I don't know why you care about that hag so much. She's outdated."

The old Magus restrained his fury-- though he might have flipped his office table if he had the strength to... But perhaps his Stormbrand allies knew something he did not. 

Antonidus impatiently tapped his finger on his wooden desk, "Explain..."

"She's like a calendar..." Tancred leaned forward, grinning like a fool, "A woman can't get a date after 31."

"I dunno..." Occam gazed off into the distance... "I'd clap those cheeks in a heartbeat."

The Magus spoke through clenched teeth, "The plans must be delayed due to your gross incompetence..."

"Sounds good," Tancred stood up. "Let's go, Occ."

"Right." Occam stood as well, stretching and yawning, "Ahhh... Let's make like trees and get the f*ck outta here."

The two Stormbrands turned and began heading to the exit. 

Occam still held the Magus' book underneath an arm. 

"You can't just leave!" Antonidus couldn't believe the gall of these men, "I'm not done speaking with--" 

Two knocks on his office door shocked him out of his anger... 

Tancred turned, smirking, "See you in a couple o' moons, Magistrate."

...

Tycondrius accompanied Sorina Capulet, Athena, her pink-haired duo, and footman Tanamar towards the Head Magistrate's office. 

Athena, Theno, Athan...o. Naming senses in the Holy Country were problematic. 

Tanamar knocked politely at the old Magus' door, which opened to reveal... the vomit-inducing colors of Reaver Tancred and the Cleric in desperate need of a haircut, Occam. 

...Tycon's two least favorite Stormbrands. 

"Thanasius," Tancred grinned. "You did well."

Tanamar shifted his weight, showing his unease... "Thanks."

"Athena!!" Occam exclaimed, "How *you* doin'?"

The Cleric then not-so-subtly licked his teeth with his longer-than-average tongue. 

The young lady held onto Parthenope's hand, positioning herself defensively behind the braided girl, "H-hello, Mister Occam."

They conversed briefly, exchanging some words, entirely ignoring the presence of Tycon and Sorina. They did interact with Parthenope... though Occam sparing the young lady a lascivious leer was hardly notable. 

The Stormbrands did ask about the 'Fallen Lighthouse'... a notion that was blatantly lacking in actual concern. 

Athena seemed a bit saddened having to explain that 'Mister Z' had yet to wake. Tycon made a mental note to reassure her that the Centurion was either going to survive and evolve to a higher tier of power... or was already dead and did not need to be mourned. 

That should make her feel better. Certainty was more comforting than uncertainty. 

Eventually, Tanamar insisted that the members of Guild Letalis had to see the Head Magistrate... at which point in time the Stormbrands excused themselves. 

Parthenope was perturbed by the entire ordeal, muttering obscenities beneath her breath about the 'creepiness' of Cleric Occam. 

Her sentiments made Tycon silently approve of the twin-braided archer. 

"Miss Athena Vanzano! Guild Letalis!" Head Magistrate Antonidus greeted their group with a smile, "Congratulations again on your victory! How can this humble old man help you?"

It seemed Antonidus was playing the part of a doddering, friendly elder. It was much unlike the domineering greeting Tycon had received earlier in the sun. 

Tycon did not hate that. That the man was easily capable of playing two nearly opposite roles proved his capability as a politician. Even when Antonidus met his gaze, his expression didn't show a hint of guilt or even familiarity. 

Earlier, Tycon had nearly pulled the fellow's long white beard off. A certain level of reservation would have been logical.

...Maybe it was fake, after all. 

Athena smiled radiantly, greeting the Head Magistrate with unrestrained innocence and glee. 

"This is Miss Sorina Capulet, House Vanzano's financial advisor. We were hoping the city of Caeruleum would be able to work with us and our new businesses!"

"Ah, yes, of course!" Antonidus nodded. "Let us work together for the good of the city and for the coin in our pocket!"

"Fu fu fu~" Sorina smirked, pounding a fist into an open palm, "And they'll give us their coin if they know what's good for 'em."

Tycon pursed his lips. Head Magistrate Antonidus was good at playing his role-- whatever role he wished. If the old fool was a slave to gold, then he could be trusted. If his motives lied elsewhere, he would prove a dangerous opponent.