It had been a sun and a half since Rena's death. Tycondrius figured the break would take two-- one for the Rhodok healer to expend her mana and another for follow-up healing. Reasonably, they would set out by the morning of the third sun. The healer's mana would have regenerated in full, ready again to support her allies.
Then, the Rhodoks would break their bodies against their next enemy. Repeating the procedure, the healer would repair the bones of those that still lived. It was an effective strategy.
However, he preferred his Sol Invictus' methods. His own guild utilized only a few strong adventurers, instead of a mass of bodies thrown haphazardly at a mission objective.
It was far less... messy.
During the interim, Tycon had the displeasure of watching the miserable young fool of a Decanus, Justus, mope around.
Munifex Rena's death hadn't been the young man's fault-- it made no logical sense for him to attribute such a thing to himself. The girl had chosen the worst possible time to run out of cover. She even yelled out, marking her position. Worst of all, their particular enemy seemed to prioritize inflicting pain and grief more than it wanted to survive.
There was no brood in the cave, no reason for it to remain instead of fleeing. Tycon snuck out after-hours with Modestus to check. He surmised that it was merely the Manticore's nature to be cruel. That was why it was killed. Pathetic.
Concerning his emotions over Rena's death, Tycon was... annoyed. He enjoyed her company, but it wasn't like she was an integral member of his Sol Invictus-- not like his previous scout.
Bah. The thought of it only frustrated him more. Tycon couldn't even identify what exactly it was that made him like the girl. Was it her instant and willing obedience to orders? Her keen eyes and accurate shot, perhaps? Or did he, on some subconscious level, wish to return the young woman's romantic feelings?
It was a useless question, but the waiting allowed him time to contemplate.
Rena was dead, her body turned to ash.
Gianna was injured-- and even with magical healing, it would take several suns or weeks for her arm and whatever else had broken, to recover. She, along with others too injured to continue, were sent back down the mountain to the remnants of the Second Cohort to convalesce.
Justus... that peculiar, emotional, numbskull, was alive and physically well. He had even managed to breakthrough mid-battle.
« System, display the information on Justus. »
⟬ System response: Justus, Iron-Rank Holy Avenger. ⟭
It made sense that the young Decanus broke through to Iron-Rank, despite his age. He was at the peak of the Bronze-Rank, developing faster than both Holy Bolter Rena and Shield Maiden Gianna... However... the class-change to Avenger gave him pause.
His memories marked the Avenger as one of the most useless classes in the Realm. As an Iron-Rank, his abilities and physique were all boosted, yes... but the Avenger class was specialized at... avenging.
They were a valuable and rare class, yes. The Church of the Eternal Flame would welcome him with open arms. Wielding greatswords of xenophobic hate and oppression, the Avengers were bounty hunters of the Church. Their job was to eliminate traitors, political dissenters, and anything their human masters deemed as "sinners."
But in a mercenary company? The class had a skill called ⌈Avenger's Oath⌋... an oath not to be taken lightly. It was quite useful, allowing him to strike unerringly with mana-powered slashes of radiant energy.
There were two conditions for using it-- the first was against a true villain, like the Manticore, a murderous and remorseless creature that reveled in cruelty. The second was after one of his allies had fallen.
Unfortunately for Justus, not every enemy was a villain. A guild like the Rhodoks would slaughter tribes of innocent Iredar if they were granted the mission. In such a case, Justus would be no better than an Iron-Rank warrior.
And for the second condition... an ability that relied on an ally being killed was beyond useless in Tycon's mind.
No... the Holy Swordsman class that the young man used to be would have been far more versatile to develop.
The Avenger was also a mana-intensive class... and if Tycon judged correctly, the only reason his mana had surged so greatly, previously, was because their misguided Holy Bolter had instilled her massive mana pool to supplant his.
Justus even wasted a majority of it, channeling it into his steps and his voice... even going as far as shooting a beam of light into the sky. What was he trying to do? Alert every faction in the mountains that humans had come to invade their territory?
Rena's desperate decision to grant Justus her mana had killed her far faster than if she hadn't. Tycon would have even considered taking back the broken girl and hiring her as a noncombatant assistant-- if she was any good at it, anyroad. Even with one arm and half a face, she was probably more useful in a fight than Sorina Capulet, his quartermaster back in the city of Nice.
But still... Rena made a conscious choice-- for that, Tycon could not fault her.
Empty night.
He could be angry about it, though.
...
Justus was told to fetch Duplicarius Zehr for a meeting with the Centurion and the forward group. He half-expected to have to drag him there, knowing his friend's disdain for such events... but he was pleasantly surprised when Zehr accompanied him without complaint.
After the initial greetings, Zehr was first to ask a question, "Who's in the forward team?"
Many around the table glared at him for his forwardness.
Optio Sixtus nodded, "You're looking at them, Duplicarius."
Justus looked around the table set up in the Centurion's military tent. The forward group was made up of the traditional ten. He felt a little embarrassed, especially at his friend's demanding nature. He figured that only he and Zehr were the only Bronze-Rankers amongst them.
Sixtus briefly introduced everyone around the table, allowing Centurion Cyrac to brood at the table's head.
"So you're Duplicarius Zehr..." A woman's voice mused... It belonged to the Rhodok adventuring company's single Gold-Rank, the head medical Immunes of the cohort, Healer Fortuna.
"Your reputation precedes you, Sir," She offered... though her voice was... almost mocking.