581 Good Boy Part One

The girl's mana control was precise, as always. 

"I know I can't defeat you just like this, Sir Tycon," Athena growled. "I know you have a buttload of defensive Skills... I'd have to go all out..."

"Go on, then," Tycon leaned forward. The two blades pressed into his neck gave way-- still not cutting him. "Even without me, you'll win with the forces we've gathered."

"You mean the forces *you've* gathered," Athena grimaced... "Isidor's Faction is only loyal to you... The Vralkek Faction, all yours... and the same with Mister Emilien's guild.

"I just... I don't understand, Sir Tycon," The young lady shouted as her frustrated tears began to fall. "We're so strong... Why do we have to do this? Why do we have to commit GENOCIDE?!"

Tycon shut his eyes and he nodded solemnly in thought. 

There were plenty of answers he could give.

He liked killing people, for one. However, in most situations, that was usually not something he liked to admit. 

If he did as Athena asked, having their forces only target obvious combatants, his forces would suffer grave casualties. The cultists hidden among the civilian populace would attack at their option... and only when advantageous. 

Then... if enough snake cultists were to survive and escape, they could spread their propaganda, inciting the Tyrion masses to a frenzy against House Vanzano. If the political opinion against them was too strong, both Archbishop Natalya and High Oracle Troia would have their hands tied. 

Tycon considered refusing to answer... or perhaps he could blame his own selfishness. He could have Athena direct her hate and shame at himself... to protect her from the guilt. 

He had done something similar when her parents were killed. He refused Athena the privilege of witnessing them buried... so she would not see their defiled and desecrated corpses. 

"Young lady..." Tycon took a deep breath... "Mercy is a gift... only granted to those who can be redeemed."

The snake cult was coiled too deeply in Caeruleum. The entire city was infected by their lies. They were all beyond conceivable redemption. 

He reached his arms up, Athena's blades withdrawing as he did. Taking off his helmet, he swept his sweat-drenched green hair back and looked into the Iron-Rank Frostblade's eyes...

"Only death awaits the enemies of Sol Invictus."

"Sir Tycon..." 

"Stand down, Athena," He whispered. "Stand down and let Caeruleum fall as you know it must."

He turned to the surrounding observers... "and the rest of you... prepare for battle. We attack just before dawn."

...

⟬ A bell before dawnbreak. ⟭ 

All things died. Death was inevitable. 

Tres Leches, the wolf formerly known as Moon-Moon-Moon, crawled out of the freshly dug dirt, emerging in the city of Caeruleum proper. As he was in his grey-furred form, he shook his coat free of dust and debris. 

"(This is as far as the Bloodpaws can take you, Brother Three-Moon,)" Lady whined. 

The blue-furred Iredar girl was panting from the heat, and she wiped a paw over her sweaty forehead. 

While the smoke and fire of the burning city felt like home to Tres, it was uncomfortable for most, including those that belonged to the Bloodpaw tribe. The other members of the Guild Letalis assault companies wore Dark Iron skin, so were largely resistant to the heat. 

As the Iredar attached to the assault were only tasked to dig them into the city, they were not granted the luxury. 

Still, they'd done their part, and admirably. 

"(Thank you, Lady,)" Tres saluted. "(You're the best digger I've ever known. You're a good girl.)"

"(You honor me, Sol Invictus,)" Lady returned the salute, then placed her paw to her heart while closing her eyes, "(I only wish we had more warriors to assist you...)"

Tres nodded, nudging her face, "(All members of the pack pull their weight.)" 

Lady's tail began to wag furiously, her eyes widened in surprise, "(B-brother Three-Moon! You... you... you're a good boy... the good-est of boys.)"

She turned back to the hole, helping pull a dirt-covered Lone Shadowdark to the surface, "(Come on, human! The dwarves and fat raccoons have already gone ahead!)"

Lone tousled his hair, allowing the dirt to fall, "Th-thanks, man!"

"(I'm a girl,)" Lady whined, shooting Tres Leches an uncomfortable look. 

"Don't worry, bro!" Lone grinned, "Me and Tres Leches here will kill all the bad guys!"

"(Why's he baring his teeth at me?)" Lady asked. 

"(He does that. The fault in training him is mine,)" Tres sighed as he pawed at Lone's chest, "(Bad human. Be polite.)"

"Ow! Sorry! Right! Let's go!"

...

Tres and his partner jogged through the streets. 

People were running away, screaming. They feared death, as folly as it was. 

It was a shame. It was a good sun to die. 

There was smoke and dust and embers in the air. They passed by a Fire Slime the size of gorgon Stephanos-- one of the big ones. 

"(You good, Fire Slime?)" 

The creature shrieked, making loud gloppy sounds as it rolled into a small shop, breaking down its walls, parts of it lighting ablaze. 

"What'd it say, Tres Leches?" Lone asked. 

"(No idea. I don't speak slime.)" Tres whined... "(Can you understand me, yet?)"

"Ah, I see," The human nodded sagely-- "Oh, here comes trouble."

A gaggle of adventurers appeared in the distance, dressed in differently-colored gladiator armors and wielding a variety of weapons. 

They were not afraid. 

Tres crouched low to the ground, like a snake ready to strike. 

He and Lone would strike fear into their hearts. 

"(Shall we, Lone Shadowdark?)" 

"You ready to do our part to fight the heretics, Tres Leches?!" Lone grinned. 

...Tres took a hot breath and sighed. 

Having a language barrier was somewhat troublesome. It made him wish he had opposable thumbs so he could learn the hand-language that Boss Tycon used... or that he had the vocal capacity to speak... human. 

Then... metal began to rain down from the heavens.