Headed by a Snake

"Oho~!" Krysaos crossed his arms, his grin threatening to split the ends of his mouth, "Ain't what you expected from your elf lord, girlie?"

"Hmph!" Impera snorted, turning her nose up and away from the Captain. "You're just jealous. *You're* supposed to be the ChoOosEn oNe-- but my King is far more suitable for such a title than YOU, you dis-*gusting* pig!"

"PshhHHH," Krysaos waved. "No wayyyy. Mina's mine, so she's fine with it. Ain't that right, babe?"

"Correct," Mina bowed her head. "I serve the Chosen One, the pure-hearted warrior who drew the Heart of the Ocean."

"Which is... me. And the Master Sword is mine-- 'cos I drew it," Krysaos gestured at the sword on his waist as he stared down the mermaid Sea Witch, "Thus... you're my servant. Not that guy's."

Mina hesitated... but very briefly, "Th-that is how it is."

Tycon pursed his lips.

Krysaos had lied.

...Granted, the gentleman-Captain could lie as easily as he breathed-- not that Tycon would call attention to the fact.

It was, however, quite strange that Krysaos was so insistent on that particular lie.

Was the fellow... feeling... threatened? By the Elven Sovereign?

Inferior, perhaps?

...The thought was asinine.

The two were incomparable. Krysaos was a human Buccaneer of modest birth. King was... an exemplary elf, boasting ancient arts and knowledges.

"Yeah, uh huh," Krysaos nodded towards the mermaid girl-- but did not meet her gaze, "I'll tell you what, Mina: you stay behind on the Neptune's Revenge. Make sure the Coral Boys are workin' hard more than they're hardly workin', alright?"

"That... I can do that," Mina pumped her fist. "Thank you, Chosen One. You must have noticed that I have yet to recover from the battle against the Nemayan privateers."

"Y-yeah," Krysaos pursed his lips and raised his chin. "'Course, I did."

"Chosen One..." Mina turned her head up, looking into the Captain's eyes with a serious expression, "If you're ever in trouble... simply call for me... and I will be by your side."

"Yeah, yeah," Krysaos turned away, waving behind him. "LT! Girlie! We're leavin'."

The mermaid girl watched the Captain turn and walk off... but shrugged to herself and started back towards the ship.

Tycon wasn't exactly certain of what thoughts were going on in each of their heads... but it certainly seemed more complex than at first glance.

...He hoped it would resolve itself before it affected his quest.

...Though, of that, he was doubtful.

As they walked over to where King was waiting, Imperia took the chance to sidle up to Krysaos.

It was strange to see the young lady with a smile so wide.

"OoOoOoooooh? Are you JeaAaloUuuss?! Just because you're not the super-badass-awesome Chosen One that Mina thinks you aaAAre?"

Krysaos rolled his eyes, "Imperia?"

"Uh huHhh?"

"You don't have any friends, do you?"

Imperia's eyes shot open wide... and her entire body-- small as it was, trembled with indignance, "Y-you! I... I... Well!! You don't have any friends, either!!"

Tycon averted his gaze.

The fool girl had indirectly admitted that the Captain's conjecture was correct.

"Sure, I got friends-- plenty of 'em!" Krysaos chuckled. "For example, the LT, here."

"He!" Imperia pointed with a shriek, "is your subordinate!"

Tycon lowered the brim of his Officer's cap. He wanted no part of the bickering couple's spat.

"El-Teeeeee!" Krysaos nudged Tycon's shoulder," Heyyy... buddy... pal o' mine... we're-- we're friends, right?"

...

Elven Ranger King served as the forward scout for the adventuring team comprised of Warlord Tycon, Buccaneer Captain Krysaos, and Imperia, Cleric of the Storm.

The trek was relatively uneventful, walking the shoreline between the ocean and the thick inland trees. Once or twice per bell, King would inform them that the path forward was devoid of threats, or he would redirect their path to avoid any territorial creatures.

Granted, there were no monstrous beings great enough to defeat for... the sake of a certain Elven Ranger's 'honor'-- merely bears and badgers that wished to be left alone.

Tycon appreciated the peace. Not every journey needed to be laden with acidic-blooded Stone Frogs, fire-sphere throwing Gann, or... hostile... wang-wielding Leviathans.

"Brother-Captain, what do you know about Thorne Village?"

"Ehhh," Krysaos sighed as he stretched his arms, "comparing some of the maps we got, it's been around for a couple o' decades. They should have better tools than the ones we have on ship."

"What *tools*?" Imperia groaned, "All we have on the ship are weapons!"

Tycon found wry amusement in the way the young lady used the word 'we'. It seemed over the past week, she had subconsciously accepted that she was integrated into Krysaos' crew.

"They can do... *some* repairs," Krysaos countered. "They got choppas."

Choppers? Tycon furrowed his brows, "You mean... axes, Captain?"

"Oh," Krysaos furrowed his brows. "Oh, yeah. That's what they're called... Y'know, the Coral Boys use funny words for things-- so sometimes I get caught up on 'em. You know? Like the smoova?"

"What in the seven hells is a smoova?" Imperia frowned, forgetting to mask her naturally light voice with her usual two-tones too deep.

"Y'know," Krysaos repeated, "the clothes smoova."

Tycon thought about it for a brief moment... "The flat iron warmed upon a flame and applied to clothing to remove wrinkles?"

"Yeah, that's it," The Captain nodded.

"Why... why would they call it that?" Imperia pouted.

"It smoovs out yer clothes," Krysaos scoffed.

Before Imperia could respond back with something insulting, sarcastic, or generally unpleasant to hear-- Tycon directed their attentions forward.

King was standing in a clearing at the edge of a tree line.

In the distance beyond stood a quaint village of wood and thatch houses.

The Elven Ranger raised his voice as the group approached, "I have escorted thee safely to the Village of Thorne. Hast anyone taken injury or discomfort?"

"All in one piece," Krysaos gestured with an upward-raised thumb. "Could use a drink, though."

Such was... a truism for Captain Krysaos.

"Your pathfinding is peerless, Ancient," Tycon nodded.

A task performed well was worth praise. King had led their group through the forest faster and with fewer complications than with any pathfinder Tycon had worked with prior.

"I am well, my king," Imperia folded her hands and fluttered her eyelashes.

The elf didn't even spare her a glance as he gestured towards the gentleman beside her-- "Captain Krysaos, tell me your next plan of action."

"We got a village with wooden housing in front've us," Krysaos smirked. "They got tools, for sure. We show up and ask to borrow 'em... real nice."

"Uh huh? Great plan," Imperia rolled her eyes, "And if they say no?"

"Then we take 'em," Krysaos laughed. "Simple's that."

"...For once, I agree with you," The elf girl crossed her arms.

"Worry not for thy tools, Captain Krysaos," King stood tall as he unsheathed his prized swords, "I shall offer my noble service to the villagers in exchange for your favors. It is the least I can do."

Krysaos stopped laughing... and tilted his head in confusion, "Huh. You'd do that?"

King's gaze hardened as he grit his teeth in disdain... "Do you *question* my honor?"

Tycon coughed into his hand, "Ancient, I believe Captain Krysaos was responding with a question in order to elicit conversation."

"...Such words are unnecessary."

"It is... considered socially polite to do so-- in human culture."

King stared at Tycon in thought for a moment longer before breaking away, "In that case, yes, Captain Krysaos. I offer my services gladly for the greater good. My heart beats to serve the people as their hero and sovereign. My blades were crafted to defeat evil and dispel fear. My spirit..."

Tycon's attention and gaze drifted as King droned on.

Thorne Village was large enough to house several hundred... yet that it appeared so empty was baffling. No men or women could be seen, working or even loitering. No children screeched or played with sticks.

It made Tycon worry the village was abandoned... and perhaps recently. However, the buildings were in too adequate states of repair for that to be plausible.

"--so powerful that even the dragons bow in obeisance!" King finished with a flourish of his blades.

Imperia clapped giddily in excitement. Tycon, though having largely ignored most of King's speech, nodded politely.

"A sovereign such as myself would never speak falsely, Captain Krysaos," King raised his chin with pride. "Thou wouldst do well to remember that."

"Huh?" Krysaos shook as if stirring awake, "Oh. Right. Got'cha."

King granted a nod of approval as he turned to walk towards the village.

Krysaos looked over to Tycon to bubble in Aquan... something he seemed to do more often in recent suns, "(Do all elves really act like that?)"

"Yes," Tycon nodded.

The real answer was more complicated. All elves Tycon had previously met had delusions of grandeur. Some were less obvious about it than others. A simple answer, however, behooved Krysaos' inquiry.

"Um. No~" Imperia huffed, jutting out her underdeveloped chest, "We elves are beings of nobility, noble in speech and deed, always seeking to assist the goodly people of the Realm with our gods-given, noble gifts!"