12 Tycon’s Kindness

Tycondrius opened the second-story window with human hands and peeked his head out.

There was a lattice for climbing-plants. It looked nice, but was a security vulnerability. 

With his sneaky-snake transformation ability, Tycon slithered successfully down to the courtyard. He continued through the grass and brush, towards the sound of noise.

A score of guards remained standing. Near twice their number were defeated, laying about, groaning or tending to their injuries. 

Tycon's snakey head bobbed up and down in a nod.

Perhaps they wouldn't need his help. He slithered to behind a nearby rock to watch. 

...The longer he watched, the more he grew disappointed. 

Barza couldn't strike a single guard. He could receive their strikes just fine. 

Wroe was a remarkable swordsman... but... why was he using a sword? Tycon thought that thing was just for decoration. 

He was a caster. He had to have been a caster. Maybe he was just... showing off? 

...And where... where in the seven. hells. was that big-boned buffoon, Dragan?

Tycon reassumed his human form and picked up a guardsman's sword that had fallen nearby.

"I'd better do something before all my friends die..."

...

Barza threw his weight into his swing with a curved sword, successfully forcing one of his attackers back. With the emergence of Guard Captain Varen, the sleepy guards seemed to have remembered how to fight, effectively covering each other's weaknesses-- attacking at intervals. Barza couldn't find any opportunities to land a decisive blow. 

Wroe flourished his longsword, "Just another day in Invictus." 

Barza steeled himself. If Wroe still had the energy and confidence to joke in a life-or-death situation, it was too early for him to lose hope, "So this happens all the time, Mister Wroe?"

"Too often, I think, Mister Shadowdark."

A quick sword slash from Barza managed to unbalance an attacker, "Just Lone, lea--"

Another guard thrust a lance forward, forcing Barza to retract and parry, "--LEAVE the Shadowdark out, please."

"Mister Lonely? A rather strange choice of name, but very well."

Captain Varen spun his halberd above his head. "This next strike will end you, Lone Shadowdark!"

Barza readied his curved blade against the attack, a flash of worry in his eyes, 'I'm not so sure I can take this…'

Barza spotted something in his peripheral vision, and he crouched, rolling to the side.

A sword had been thrown and violently and accurately spun through the air, forcing Guard Captain Varen to deflect it.

"Who goes there?" The Guard Captain yelled out.

His response came through the darkness, as the keen whistle of a whip wrapped around Varen's back foot. The whip retracted, causing the old Guard Captain to lose his footing and fall onto his back, smashing the back of his head on the hard ground.

"AAAHAAAA!!!" A loud rumble shook the ground, as Dragan jumped out from behind the bush. Bounding forward, he leapt up and above Wroe and Barza, landing near Guard Captain Varen.

"No deaths, Mister Dragan!" Tycon shouted.

"You got it, Boss!"

Dragan, the giant of the man, pointed the bottom of his greataxe's haft down at the Guard Captain's helmeted head. With a masculine grunt, he smashed it downward. 

The strike sounded a clear and loud CRONK of something breaking.

The helmet cracked. The ground beneath the old man's head cracked. Barza was almost certain that Captain Varen's skull had cracked, along with it.

Every single standing guard took a step back, fearing the worst.

"Captain, no!!" "Th-they killed the Captain!" "Oh no, Captain Varen!"

Barza looked down at the Captain with guilt in his eyes. Wroe rolled his eyes at Dragan, shrugging his shoulders in an exaggerated manner.

Dragan waved a free hand angrily, "No, no! I used the blunt end-- not the sharp end!"

...

Tycon dropped his whip and walked forward, his hand covering his mouth in shock. He hoped... that older fellow was tougher than he looked. 

Clearing his throat, Tycon raised his voice, "Baron Tavor has been implicated in crimes against another the Noble House, the House of Charm."

Tycon scowled, "My house."

He scanned the area, the armored guardsmen, and he saw only fear, "You will comply with--"

One guard stepped forward, his fear making him foolish, "You killed Guard Captain Varen!"

Tycon calmly closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes at the offender. The young man who stepped forward also realized that his companions had subconsciously distanced themselves from him-- they stared, silently judging.

The guards feared nobles. The boy did not know his place.

He looked around nervously, releasing an audible gulp. None of his peers would meet his gaze.

Tycon clenched his teeth to show his displeasure, "I strongly dislike being interrupted, young man."

"Mister Barza," Tycon waved a hand, "Strike that man down."

Barza readied his blade, trying his best to shrug off his fatigue and to hide the amount of damage his battered, beaten body had already taken.

"You mean Lone Shadowdark? Are you BLIND?! What can he do in his condition?" The young guardsman scoffed.

Tycon raised an eyebrow. At first, he wanted nothing to do with the boy. But he found his actions unacceptable. It would weigh upon his consciousness if he allowed the guardsman to continue.

Barza attacked, mustering a sound battlecry, but the young guardsman stepped away, expertly maneuvering his sword to deflect and dodge Barza's telegraphed swings. Growing impatient, Barza attacked with single-minded fervor. But in a one-on-one duel... and with his poor fighting condition... and against an energized, younger opponent, Barza was at a great disadvantage.

Tycon decided to provide some verbal encouragement.

"Mister Barza," Tycon commanded in a low voice. "You will do as I say."

Barza turned, granting Tycon a face full of shame.

[Commander's Strike activated.]

Tycon smirked as he heard the System's voice in his mind confirm the usage of another of his Skills. 

...

Barza turned to the young guardsman, adopting an expression of simultaneous anger and helplessness, but then... he was filled with a surprising surge of vigor.

Strength returned to his arms. His eyes regained focus.

Courage filled his heart. The scream of a crazed madman filled his lungs.

He swung his blade.

Barza's blade shattered into a half-dozen pieces, but the boyish guard lost hold of his own weapon. Undeterred, Barza tackled the younger man to the ground and struck his face with his hands. Dozens of fists rained down, bruising the guardsman's face.

"Yeah, GET 'EM!" Dragan cheered.

"Oho! That's the spirit," Wroe laughed.

Barza, gasped for air, utterly spent. With the young guardsman defenseless and unmoving, Barza raised his hands in victory. The crowd looked to each other, unsure of what to do.

"Mister Barza," Displeasure was still apparent in Tycon's voice, "I have not given you my permission to stop."

Barza furrowed his brows in confusion, and he turned his head to look at Tycon. Guard Captain Varen was beaten. His opponent was beaten. None of Tavor's guards were still attacking. They had won?

He looked down at the young guardsman's swollen face. Barza saw his lips move.

"M-mercy," the boy begged in a barely audible whisper.

"Mis.ter. Bar.za," Tycon stood over the both of them. 

Barza closed his eyes for a moment before solidifying his resolve... "I'm sorry."

And so Barza pulled back his arm... and he continued to beat the boy.

His hands were covered by the boy's blood, spilling from his nose and from the swollen cuts on his face. His fists stung, having been split open on the boy's cheeks. Barza punched the boy, ignoring his own fatigue the best he could. 

He inscribed every detail of this scene in his heart. This was what happened when speaking out against Baron Tycon.

Every strike broke the boy's arrogance... showed him his weakness... showed him his inability. But every strike showed his loyalty to Guild Invictus. 

Barza's fists began to slow with his fatigue.

Tycon's hushed voice continued to urge him, "Hammer down. Use the bottom of your fists. Utilize gravity to damage your opponent."

Barza nodded, as he committed Tycon's lesson to memory. The beatings continued.

None of the guards wish to deal with either the sword prowess of Tarquin Wroe or the greataxe-wielding Dragan. None were brave or foolish enough to attack a noble. They could only swallow their anger as they watched and waited.

"You don't stop when you are tired, Mister Barza," Tycon said leisurely, "You stop when I am tired."

Barza hammered down at the boy's bloodied, swollen, and wholly unrecognizable face. His gut churned as he saw the boy's missing teeth stuck in the dirt. Near collapsing and struggling to catch his breath, Barza half-turned to beg, "Please, Sir Tycon… I can't--"

With a surprising swiftness, Tycon was kneeling down, mere ilms away from his face.

"Mister BARZA. You are a WEAPON." The noble growled furiously through clenched teeth, "You do not THINK. You only ACT."

Barza felt fear. How could he be so foolish to question a noble?! He tried to lift his arms... But they wouldn't move.

"Sir… My arms… They won't--"

"If your hands cannot move, use your elbows or your knees. Your entire body is a weapon, Mister Barza, and I will have it used as such."

Barza could only grit his teeth as he laid sideways on the young guardsman. Straightening a leg back, he shot it forward, striking his knee against the boy's side. The fallen youth groaned as a new pain wracked his body.

"Again... Again..." Tycon's voice drilled without emotion..."Again."

The crowd watched in grim silence. When Barza again slowed and could barely move, Tycon began to micromanage his movements.

"Straighten the leg. Strike. Opposite knee. I SAID! OPPOSITE! KNEE! Good. Now, strike!"

Only once Tycon was certain the guardsman was unconscious from pain and broken bones, did he pat Barza on the back, "Rest."

"Th-thank you, Sir," Barza sobbed. He couldn't even lift his bloody hands to wipe his tears. 

"You're speaking an awful lot for a man I thought was too tired to move."

Barza quickly shut his mouth and avoided Tycon's gaze.

Tycon stood to face the crowd, once more.

"You will comply with House Charm's investigations. As the highest rank among you has been bested and no nobility stands among you to contest me... I am not asking you, I am commanding you!

"And if ANY of you is FOOL enough to question my orders as both a noble and man of honor--"

Tycon stomped a cruel boot down. It struck the defenseless, fallen guardsman's ugly, misshapen face.

"Then I will not be AS KIND as I have recently demonstrated."