Death Atop the Tower

Margeaux and Guild Invictus stood around a wooden door embedded in the red-orange rock. It was at the end of the mana-formed passageway that protected the group from the Eternal Battlefield's windstorms and would presumably lead to the 5th floor of the Wizard Tower.

"Sir Tycon," The maid held out her enchanted key. "Would you grant me permission to open the door? Or do you not trust me, either?"

Tycon frowned. It was a matter of course that he didn't trust her... but concerning the situation, that was clearly the incorrect answer.

He took a step back and offered a polite gesture, "If you would, Miss Margeaux."

"Thank you, Sir Tycon," The pink-haired half-elf replied. The tone she adopted was a bit forced and bordered on insolence-- not specifically directed at him, of course.

Tycon chose to remain neutral in the argument between her and Wolfrider.

He didn't care much for either of them.

Margeaux stepped forward and placed her key into the door. As she whispered a series of incantations in the Elven tongue, magic circles in white dimly appeared, emblazoned upon the wood.

Tycon looked to Lone. The young Shadowdark was staring at Levi in disbelief, and had been since Margeaux's outburst.

Tycon looked to Sasha. The chocolate elf was watching Lulu with great interest.

He looked to Lulu. She was whispering sweet words in Abyssal while lashing the seven demons with a suspiciously familiar, razor-edged whip.

Tycon looked at his belt. His whip was missing. She must have taken it when he pried free of her grasp, earlier, "Miss Lulu, are you going to return that?"

"Oh! Yeah, thanks, Boss! Sorry, I forgot about asking!" Lulu seemed uncharacteristically apologetic.

While inconvenient, Tycon couldn't fault the demoness. He hadn't properly secured his whip and Lulu did tend to be... excitable, concerning her "hobbies."

"No, it's fine, but--"

Lulu placed a finger on her chin and tilted her head, "Did you want me to wash it after I'm done using it??"

Tycon frowned, "N-no.... That's quite alright."

If Lulu offered to wash it, she must have been planning on doing something obscene with it. Though Tycon preferred not to spend coin if he didn't have to... he also didn't want to utilize a weapon possibly cursed by lust-demon sex magic.

...He'd purchase or requisition a new one.

Tycon turned back to Margeaux, "Concerning the private discussion with Mister Wolfrider-- if he is fine with it, then go ahead."

The door in front of Margeaux gently clicked open and the spinning white mana circles slowed and dimmed. She turned and bowed politely, "Thank you, Sir Tycon, for the basic human courtesy."

Ugh. Her voice was still dripping with annoyance.

Tycon wanted no part of that. Wolfrider was on his own.

He and the rest of Guild Invictus followed the maid in, leaving the whipped and lacerated demons behind.

[Wizard Tower: Top Floor]

The top floor looked similar to the first floor in that the decor was... boring.

In Wizard Towers, Tycon expected to see fantastical severed horns from terrible lizards or entrapped souls of spirit-beasts.

The top floor of the Wizard's tower was reasonably where their most covetous materials would be held. The decorations, however, were... maps of the Realm, a painting of a family, and a tapestry of the flag of the Sleeping Country-- all very mundane items.

There were 4 rooms: a large main-room with a desk, a bath, a simple bedroom, and a study with a workbench and a few shelves stocked with books.

Margeaux turned on her heel, "Mister Levi, would you join me in the Master Wizard's study for a short conversation?"

"I don't have anything to discuss with you, whore!!" Levi yelled back.

Lone glared in confusion.

Tycon took a deep breath in through his nostrils and sighed.

"Oh, wait. Yes, I did," Levi walked into the room.

Margeaux stomped in after him, as angrily as a weak, maid-woman could stomp, anyroad.

"Massster...?" Sasha tilted her head, "What isssss.... a... whore?"

Tycon narrowed his eyes to thin slits. Lone averted his gaze.

"It's a noble profession," Lulu answered with a genial grin. "Human civilization couldn't run without it!"

"Oohhhhh," Sasha awkwardly bared her teeth in a smile, trying to emulate Lulu.

The top floor wasn't very large. Tycon walked a few steps into the largest room with the desk. There was a large cabinet that likely held some worthwhile loot... and he also found a body, clearly dead.

"Found a corpse," Tycon called out to the others, "On a different note, I seem to remember Mister Wolfrider not trusting Miss Margeaux."

"A corpse? How'd it die?" Lone asked, walking up, "And yeah-- he didn't. Kinda weird how he said that... then agreed to be locked in a room alone with her."

Tycon paused, "Locked, you say?"

"Yeah, Boss. They locked the door as soon as they closed it."

Tycon sighed and walked back to the study door. He tried the handle to ensure that the door was actually locked-- it didn't budge.

He knocked twice against the wood, "Wolfrider, respond."

There was no response.

Tycon banged on the door, "Wolfrider! Are you in there?? Respond."

Nothing.

He turned to Lulu, "Have you prepared any more Knock spells?"

"Oh! No, Boss. I only had one for today~" The demoness twirled her blonde hair without a trace of concern.

"Right." Tycon took a step back from the door, "Lone, break it."

"On it, Boss," Lone grabbed one of his wolf-hammers. He stepped back, then rushed forward with a yell and bashed his weapon against the door. A single crack formed on the reinforced wood.

With another strike, the cracks deepened and spread.

And with another, Tycon lost his patience and snatched the wolf-hammer away from him, "Seven hells, Mister Lone, have you never broken open a door before?"

Lone narrowed his eyes in confusion, "Um, no? Why would I?"

"Ugh. Observe," Tycon smashed the wolf-hammer against the door, near where the locking mechanism should be.

With a single strike, the door flew wide open.

"I did most of the work," Lone grumbled.

Tycon rolled his eyes and moved past Lone, into the room.

The first thing he noticed was that Levi Wolfrider had dropped his halberd.

Looking to Margeaux, it seemed it was not out of carelessness, but rather, he had been disarmed.

The wolf boy was struggling, mumbling cries for help, his furry head entangled within Margeaux's long pink hair.

Fresh blood stained her lips and mouth, staining the front of her clothing.