Tycondrius adjusted himself as comfortably as he could on his improvised seat.
The hatchlings had gathered.
He wished they had not... but since they arrived, he could not leave them be.
...Tycon cared for the hatchlings.
He wanted good things to happen to them.
They were kind and hard-working; their efforts deserved to be rewarded.
They were loyal, impressionable traveling companions.
...and that loyalty of theirs was thrice strong as battle-ready subordinates.
If he commanded them to hold the line and die... they would do so without falter.
--of that, he had no doubt.
Yet... he would not forgive himself if he were to waste their lives for... negligible returns.
...It was an extreme act of selfishness, him sending them away.
Tycon had one impossible mission.
Each task of which was layered, demanding in resources, and carried with it a high probability of failure.
--save for one.
