495 Burning Curiosity

Tycondrius pulled out the chair to the desk, placing his hand on his chin in thought...

"Once we touch down at Cersei's Rest, we need to appeal to the highest power we can manage. Archbishop Crucis' assistance would behoove us in particular..."

He grit his teeth in annoyance, "--if she would deign to grace us with her presence."

Natalya wouldn't be happy to see him... but he was confident in being persistent enough to be granted an audience. 

A dull thud rang out. Lone had struck his forehead against the bottom of Tycon's bunk, "Ow. No, Boss, I mean... you know... what do you think about the other passengers?"

Tycon tilted his head, pursing his lips. There were two other Iron-Ranks on the ship, Arod of House Highblade and the tiefling guild leader, Ramon. No one else was powerful enough to be of consequence. 

"I advise you not to grow too close to Mister Ramon. Stupidity is contagious."

Concerning Lone's clumsiness, Tycon's feared that his advice may have been given much too late. 

He turned his attention to the puzzle box he'd taken from the dining hall. It was a peculiar wooden cube with moveable panels. Something rattled inside... which would presumably be released upon discovering the puzzle's solution. 

It didn't seem difficult... and with so many panels moved and mechanisms activated, he believed he was nearly finished. 

Lone rubbed his forehead, grimacing... "Well, how about... a certain elf?"

"...Arod Highblade is an insufferable prick. Treat him respectfully-- as I do."

"No, I mean--"

"Mister Lone," Tycon growled, pushing the puzzle box away. With his last movements, its internal mechanisms had reset... its conditions identical to when he'd first began to fiddle with it. 

"Say what you mean, young man," He sighed. "The best way for me-- or anyone to understand your intentions is to be *transparent* about them."

"Yeah... but... but it's not always that easy."

Tycon took a deep breath, grabbing the box once more... pondering its weight and which possible actions he could safely eliminate... 

"By process of elimination-- and in assuming you're not interested in either the half-elf Captain or the fellow in Ramon's group... then you're referring to that Coraline girl."

"Y-yeah," Lone nodded, this time, being mindful about his available headroom. "I just think that... me and her, we--"

Tycon held up a palm, his attention still focused on the box, "Hold a moment. I apologize for interrupting... but before you continue on, understand that I recommend against any sort of romantic pursuit."

"Against wh-what?" The Ranger stammered, "O-oh, you mean... the two of us? Like-- wait, what?! Why??"

Lone grew quiet, allowing the details of his situation to sink in. Tycon's own situation was similar... his long-term goals taking precedence over finding a mate. Lone's contract was finite, but Sol Invictus owned him for another three years-- outside of special circumstances, like debilitating injury or death. 

"Boss... what if... what if she joins Sol Invictus?" 

Tycon chuckled at the young man's naivete. Judging by Miss Coraline's social aptitude, covering for Master Arod, and based on her class and metal-rank, she would be a fine addition to either his Guild Invictus or Athena's Guild Letalis. 

"Unfortunately, I'll have you recall how vehement the young lady was *against* joining Mister Ramon's guild... I suppose you could blame the tiefling's unprofessional mien or his absurd guild name, but my speculation is that Miss Coraline's unwillingness may stem from a deeper, unknown issue."

Lone turned his body in his bed to face him... "What do you think it could be?"

Tycon furrowed his brows, "I do not have such information-- hence my speculation. At a certain point, little brother, *you* must be the one to seek out the answers you desire..."

He turned to face Lone directly, "You are a Ranger, are you not?"

"Well, yeah? What's that got to do with it?"

"Then such answers are your prey, so to speak... You must task yourself with the hunt, with your... burning sense of curiosity as your motivation."

"Hmm..." Lone adjusted his body to stare at the underside of the top bunk, "You kinda make it sound like... an unfortunate condition."

Tycon rolled his eyes, "I'm not talking about your inability to wash your genitals, you oaf. Now, go to bed before I beat you within ilms of death with this puzzle box."

Seven hells. He considered doing it, anyroad, if there were any chance it would get the thing open. 

Lone let out a heavy, overly dramatic sigh... "I just think... there's a spark... a connection."

"With a young lady you haven't spoken a single word to?" Tycon smirked. 

"It's just a feeling, Boss..." Lone insisted, "Like you said... it's a burning--"

Tycon reached into the small pouch on his belt that contained daily necessities, tossing one of its contents to Lone. 

"Huh? What's this?"

"It's a bar of soap. Snap off a piece of it for use, next time you wash."

"B-boss! I don't have crabs!"

Tycon narrowed his gaze. His attempt at being helpful had failed... "Perhaps you should have specified your burning as figurative, as opposed to literal."

"It was in the *scope* of conversation, Boss."

Admittedly, it was. He certainly would have noticed, if he cared to pay attention. 

"...You are aware that I am... bad at that."

"Yeah," Lone sighed. "I'm aware..." 

"Anyroad," Tycon smiled politely, "what is your first task from hereon, Mister Lone?"

"I guess I have to bathe with the soap," The young man groaned listlessly. 

"I mean, concerning a certain young lady, you dolt," Tycon sighed. "Also, you should have been doing that, already."

"I guess? I dunno the first step, though?"