631 Three-Legged Mare

Tycondrius had a Gold-Rank physique, but he was by no means invincible. 

He could hold his breath longer than a regular person, but he still needed to breathe. His body was resistant but not immune to blunt trauma. 

If the summoned wave were to slam his head against a rock... or several rocks, he would lose consciousness and drown to death, just as an ordinary human would. 

For an adventurer that mostly travels by land, it would have been somewhat ironic. 

Krysaos rubbed his hairy hands against his weathered face, "F*ck, man... maybe it'll be better if I just... stay on land for the rest of my gods-damned life."

Tycon sat on a rock across from him, "It may not be my place... but it is my firm belief that a Captain should not--"

"I said not to--"

"Krysaos," Tycon glared... "Please don't interrupt."

The defeated sailor pursed his lips... and nodded for Tycon to continue...

"I have faith in you, Krysaos. That means... your crew wholeheartedly believes in you."

The young, unshaven gentleman pursed his lips... but did not reject the words. 

Tycon reached over, placing his hand on the Captain's shoulder, "From what I know, the scourge of the Eastern Seas is not a man that gives up so easily."

"...Y... yeah. He ain't," Krysaos gulped... nodding slowly.

He turned his head up... "I'll... I'll make it up to you, Tycon." 

"I'll be in your care, Captain," Tycon reached his hand forward. "Us against the world."

"Yeah..." Krysaos clasped Tycon's offered hand at the wrist. "Us against the world."

...

⟬ Port Coughing Fish, Three Legged Mare Inn \u0026 Tavern, a sun and a half later... ⟭ 

"You know what'll make me feel better?" Krysaos grinned, "Ale and whores!"

It didn't take long for the shameless gentleman to be cured of his melancholy-- on the surface. Tycon had caught a glimpse of the personal thoughts behind his Captain's overall debauchery... a general sense of helplessness with a dash of an inferiority complex. 

Krysaos-- that is, a human with an aquatic bloodline was exactly the resource Tycon hoped to utilize to assist him with recovering the Swords of the Forgotten King. 

Though he hadn't wanted to accept Troia's quest... he had. Thus, he would complete it to the best of his abilities. 

He was a professional. 

"Captain, I'd like you to requisition a ship."

"Eh?" Krysaos' eyes widened in shock. "Oh, yeah! We gotta save our third crewmember!"

...It seemed the prospect of drunken debauchery and utilization of well-used goods had distracted him from the task on hand. 

"The swords," Tycon reminded. "We need to recover them."

"And the guy-- if possible."

"If possible, very well," Tycon conceded. 

Krysaos checked the bag's contents-- silver, and weighed it in his hand, "Yeah... I can make this work."

Tycon had purposely given the Captain approximately half of what he'd expected to be used. With Krysaos' silver tongue, it was quite possible for the man to make do with that... or at least use it as a down payment. 

...He trusted the man enough not to run away with it, but not enough to spend on frivolous pursuits-- in particular, the ones he'd previously mentioned. 

"So I was thinkin'..."

"An excellent start," Tycon quipped.

"We make contact with some merfolk... sahuagin or sea elves or... somethin'," Krysaos continued, "They'll be able to direct us to wherever the Black Crow base is... or at least where Becky and her tribe is."

"Sound plan," Tycon nodded. 

"The only issue is..." Krysaos took a deep breath and sighed, "I dunno how to find the artifacts."

"The High Oracle has provided a magical item to aid us, for this very situation."

Tycon had specifically requested it, before departing from Cersei's Rest. 

He flicked his wrist, summoning a starburst-shaped leaf that he held carefully between his fingers, "As the seal has been broken on the swords, I will be able to discern their location... or, at least, direct us towards them."

"W-wait," Krysaos held his palms out... "you really met with the High Oracle?"

"Cap'n Krysaos, izzat you?"

A buxom waitress had wandered over to their table. It was a busy weekend evening, covered in fog, so the public house was filled to capacity. 

Tycon appreciated that he had a well-known companion that could achieve them more exceptional service. 

...It made him want to believe even more that Krysaos was a real Captain. 

"Sandpaper Sally!" Krysaos declared, "You look... GREAT!!" 

The man was staring unapologetically at her chest, "Your tits get bigger or what?"

"Cap'n, you're such a perv," Sally winked coquettishly before lifting up her large bosom with her hands, "You can give it a weigh-- but only if yer a payin' customer."

"Good evening," Tycon smiled. 

"OoooOooh!" Sally swooned, taking a seat beside him, "Who's this handsome young gentleman, Cap'n?" 

Tycon noticed a subtle movement... of the woman licking her lips. She had what he assumed was... hunger in her eyes. 

"I'm starting a new crew," Krysaos grinned. "This guy's a Metal-Rank adventurer."

"Ohhh my," Sally fanned herself with her hand, "Well, here at the Wonky Donkey, I c'n get you anything you need, Mister Adventurer."

Wonky... what? The tavern sign was of a three-legged horse wearing exaggerated, painted lipstick. 

Also, it looked nothing like a donkey. 

"An ale and the chef's special for myself and the Captain," Tycon smiled politely. 

"Ahaha!" Sally laughed, a pleasant, if nasal sound. "I'll take care of you, now, then... but jus' let me know if you need to be taken care of... tonight."

The girl sprung out of her seat and headed back towards the kitchen. 

"Mhm... That girl's somethin' else," Krysaos chuckled, watching the woman's swaying rear as she walked off. "You gonna enlist her services tonight, or what?"

"Brother-Captain..." Tycon leaned forward to whisper... "Why exactly did you call her... 'Sandpaper Sally'?"

"Well..." Krysaos's mouth widened into his shameless, shite-eating grin, "Once she picks the scabs outta her cunt, she feels just like a virgin!"