Headed by a Snake

Mina, the Heart of the Ocean, swiped her arm to the side.

The Divine Spark within her soul pulsed with power... and the purest water mana in the Eastern Seas washed over her.

Her coral god-armor covered her form... glowing blue. It was suffused with magic bestowed by the Lake Goddess, herself.

Thrashing her powerful tail, she swam upward through the air, high above the two ships below.

"(Praise to the Goddess of the Lake!)" Mina sang, "(Praise be the beauty of her thousand vigilant eyes! Strength to her thousand hands, each wielding a SWORD!!)"

She held out her hands... and a hundred and thirteen mana-created swords of rending wind and water appeared in her midst.

The fates had not been wrong.

Krysaos deserved her power...

As for his enemies...

They deserved death.

"I am the Heart of the Ocean! And by my name, no harm shall befall my master!"

...

⁆ Captain's Log, Date XXXX. ⁅

⁆ There I was, in my own personal cabin. The Captain's cabin-- probably the only intact cabin on the Neptune's Revenge. ⁅

⁆ That almost made up for the fact that getting up hurt all the muscles in my chest... some of them, I didn't even know I had. ⁅

⁆ Honestly, it didn't hurt as bad as the other sun. The current pain's about the level of a hangover and that's something I've been used to for years. ⁅

⁆ Whatever magic that the LT used on me seemed to work decent. It made more sense how he could move his arm well-enough, even though the week prior it got snapped in two or three by that bone lizard. ⁅

⁆ The previous sun... was an interesting one. ⁅

⁆ I survived a crazy f*cking battle against privateers from Nemaya Strana. Military trained, military armed sailors from the gods-damned Sleeping Country. ⁅

⁆ Me. Krysaos, the former Captain of the Sugar-Titted Siren. A guy who only got through in life raiding folks that honestly couldn't defend themselves. ⁅

⁆ I fought like a gods-damned hero. ⁅

⁆ Like I always wanted to be, I guess. ⁅

⁆ Thought it was impossible, before. ⁅

⁆ But I guess things are different, seeing it from the other side, I guess. ⁅

⁆ The old crew was made up of street-raised orphans, scoundrels, and slug suckers that couldn't make it doing actual hard work for a sun's wages. It was obvious that that kind of crew would never have a chance against sailors from an actual Navy. ⁅

⁆ Now... I literally have Marines from the Kingdom. I have a guy that's made out of shadows. Got an LT that loves to f*ck with inventory. ⁅

⁆ I work with the god of death. ⁅

⁆ That guy. Good guy. ⁅

⁆ But if I told him to swab the deck and he said 'no, you do it,' I'd just say 'well, shite, very well,' and I'd be the only Captain in the thirteen seas to be swabbing with a smile on my face. ⁅

⁆ Then I had... the Master Sword. ⁅

⁆ Don't know what the hells Mina was doing fighting against the Coral Boys in their stupid ladder match. The girlie could actually fight if she put her mind to it. ⁅

⁆ You know what, though... things are looking up. ⁅

⁆ This is the best me, leading from the front. Still scary as shite... but the crew didn't need to know that I was about to piss myself every step of the way. ⁅

⁆ Honestly, I don't want to do that shite again... but with the way the crew is... and the way my dumb arse openly told f*cking everyone that I want to kill the sea god with my own hands... ⁅

⁆ I'll probably be leading from the front until it kills me. ⁅

⁆ This is my legend. This is what the name of Krysaos means, now. ⁅

⁆ That sort of name is what I've always wanted. I just never had the means to do it. ⁅

⁆ Or maybe, back then, I just didn't have the balls to act as big as I talked. ⁅

...

Tycondrius oversaw Krysaos' practice with his new rapier, the Heart of the Ocean.

...or as he called it, the Master Sword. It was a name that managed to be even more pretentious than its actual.

A few changes had to be made to his admittedly solid understanding of White Raven Swordsmanship. The training primarily accounted for the fact that a rapier was weighted closer to the wrist rather than distributed evenly throughout the blade.

With Tycon's guidance, Krysaos was able to grip the sword more efficiently, keep his stamina for longer while fighting, and would hopefully prevent the man from fracturing his wrist by his own fault.

"This thing's pretty weird," The Captain groaned. "But all things from the Magic Kingdom are weird, aren't they? More fashion than effectiveness, I'd say."

"The sword's design originates from Bael Turath," Tycon explained. "The guarded hilt and blade were developed as qualities for a personal defense weapon."

Tycon telegraphed a backhanded swing. The Captain expertly parried and thrust in response, forcing him backward.

"Whoa, the devilfolk?" Krysaos exclaimed. "That's kinda hard to swallow, ain't it?"

The man lunged forward for a quick stab, the Heart of the Ocean glowing blue with power. Tycon's weapon, an enchanted sword previously used by the Amphitrite Reef Tribe, glowed in kind-- but much less dramatically. It proved effective at deflecting Krysaos' initial thrust and the two quick cuts that followed.

"From Bael Turath," Tycon continued... "the sword was adopted by the Holy Country. The design found use in the hands of nobles and merchants, as carrying a Tyrion shield for sun-to-sun activities proved unwieldy."

Tycon swiped a shallow cut at Krysaos' face, which the man caught with a thick-gloved hand. Unwilling to release his weapon, Tycon grit his teeth as he took a boot to the chest and staggered backward.

He took a deep breath and relaxed his stance... "Excellent strike, Brother-Captain."

"Thanks, LT," Krysaos saluted with his sword before sheathing it, "Why is it, then, that I only really see rapiers coming from the Kingdom? ...And pirates, I guess."

"The Kingdom then adopted the weapon from the Holy Country," Tycon shrugged, "There, the sword flourished, popularized as a dueling weapon rather than a military one."

He flourished his own weapon before sheathing it. "I'd imagine it took so many epochs, due to the Alizeauns' general disdain for their northern neighbors."

"Yeah... I guess that makes sense," Krysaos pursed his lips as he took hold of his wrist, gently stretching it from side to side.

Tycon nodded to the clean-shaven, slightly perspiring Captain, "Due to your general swordsmanship mastery, I'm confident in your abilities with your newfound weapon."

It was one of the few things that the Captain boasted of that Tycon did not doubt.

"Thanks, LT. You're not so bad, yourself... but anyroad," Krysaos grinned. "I'm pretty excited to meet that Lone guy."

Bob had reported the Lone Shadowdark having awoken recently.

It was bittersweet news, considering the temporary absence of Hades and Mina.

Hades lamented that the mana supporting his physical form was beginning to wane. Using the lizardolich skull to summon him to the material plane could only last so long.

Mina had exhausted her mana during the previous engagement. She was confined to her room, in the ship's only bathing tub, in order to convalesce.

Tycon smiled politely, "I'd imagine Mister Lone will be more useful awake than not."

"Hah! That's what I'm hopin' for," The Captain laughed. "What Class did you say he was? Ranger, right? Twin swords? Blends in with the dirt and the grass and gets ya in the blink of an eye?"

"Something of the sort," Tycon scoffed.

He flicked his wrist, summoning Lone's favored weapon, a Dark Iron mace fashioned in the shape of a wolf's head.

Tycon had taken it from the armories of a traitorous Duke in the Kingdom city of Merylsward and soon after rewarded it to the Lone Shadowdark.

"Nice," Krysaos took the offered mace and weighed it in his hands. "Ooh, heavy. Just one weapon, though? I thought Rangers were all dual wielders or uh... archers?"

Tycon snatched at the weapon's hilt. Instilling a modicum of mana in his grip, he pulled back a second identical wolf-hammer, the original still in Krysaos' hands.

The Captain furrowed his brows, "What the...?"

"Paired weapon enchantment," Tycon explained. "The wolf-hammer can also activate a minor fire enchantment and can transform into a sentient wolf, its fur as sturdy as its material."

"No shite?" Krysaos raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Metal f*cking wolf. That is f*ckin' awesome."

Tycon chuckled to himself. It was rather impressive, the weapon having such a bond with its wielder, "The weapon spirit can only be summoned properly by Mister Lone. I'd imagine, at that time, that particular gentle-wolf would be more than willing to join your crew, Brother-Captain."

"Hells yeah," Krysaos grinned. "We can have the wolf lead a charge into a fight, soaking up all the crossbow bolts!"

Tycon bared his teeth in chagrin... "Yes. That would be... an effective tactic."

The young wolf, Tres Leches, might not be so keen on the idea. As a mana-construct, he would recover from injuries faster than the other members of Sol Invictus... but it would undoubtedly be unpleasant for him or anyone to be used primarily as a target for bolts and arrows.

Krysaos handed back the wolf-hammer and started towards the stairs, "Alright, let's head down, LT."

",