Headed by a Snake



It had been ages since Tycondrius had been reprimanded so harshly. 

Granting birth to a Demon Princess was a considerable responsibility-- and not one to take lightly. 

Raelion warned that Tycon's well-being had become second to a simple beast lacking sense and the notion of self-preservation. 

Sleep would become a thing of the past... for at least the first few moons.

And the General also said it would behoove Tycon to find a... partner? Raising a Demon Princess was too taxing for a single person to sustain. 

...He also mentioned something about a village. 

Unfortunately, Tycon was only half-listening, so he didn't quite understand what that meant. 

Anyroad, there were many factors he had to consider as a novice parental figure: care, welfare, physical and moral development...

Tycon was familiar with a bit of it. He had a hand in the development of Pale and Lone... (and Kimura Taree.)

He would have loved to argue... but unfortunately, Raelion held the higher moral ground with a stranglehold. 

Raelion had the experience to be respected. And if that were to be challenged, his strength would not be. 

Thus, Tycon could only be patient. 

He stood outside the tent at a militant parade-rest, his palms crossed behind his back, occasionally offering an 'I see' and an 'I understand' when appropriate. 

Raelion continued at length, circling back to familiar topics and repeating them with subtle variations thrice over. 

According to the Clock Devil, the scolding only took 37 minutes. 

It could have been worse-- going on for longer.

(It could have gone better. The various issues could have been covered in 37 seconds.)

"The Gatekeepers will be conscripting the bug girl for the time being," Raelion sighed. "I'll explain the situation to that Bucket guy-- eleven heavens, Tyrael. You're the gods-ascended definition of reckless."

"With respect, dear friend--"

"Cut the formalities, you snake-tongued prick," he waved. "At this point, it just sounds like you're mocking me."

Tycon smiled unabashedly, "I need to get back to the Human Realm."

"You..." Raelion growled, "So that's your angle? That's why you're in a mortal's body? So you could f*ck with the gods-ascended Dragon Prophecy?!? You're inSANE!!"

Hm. Tycon learned more about himself with each passing sun. 

"I trust you'll have no issue allowing us access to the roots of the World Tree."

In order to fulfill the conditions required by his contract, Tycon had barely a quarter-sun to return to the Material Plane. 

Each of the World Tree's spiraling roots ended in naturally-formed gates, leading to all manners of Realms.

At least one of them would bring him home. 

As Raelion said, it was... a reckless plan and not at all certain. 

(Also, it was his only plan.)

He'd have to trust his destination to the fickle fates. 

And those fates could be trusted... enough. 

For certain, Tycon could expect to arrive precisely when and where he needed to be. 

Hopefully, that would also be where he *wanted* to be. 

Granted, the process would likely expose him, Pale, and his companions to great danger-- 

In the middle of an active warzone? 

Surrounded by hostile lizards, perhaps? 

...or by allied Gorgons? 

--or something just as precarious...

Still... whatever obstacles the fates threw at him, Tycon only had to overcome them. 

Or die. 

...Life had become rather simple, as of late. He didn't hate that. 

However... Tycon wondered if he was overthinking the situation. 

Throughout the history of the heavens and hells, the Gatekeepers have been using the roots of the World Tree to--

"No," Raelion stated flatly. 

"And why the F*CK not?" Tycon snapped. 

Raelion dropped his bearing, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. 

"Listen, Tyrael. Even if I allowed it, the Realm of Dirt has been sealed off-- that's been the case for some time, now."

Tycon furrowed his brows. 

That... had a number of implications. 

"I've had to listen to literally *hundreds* of reports and complaints, just this moon," Raelion growled. "The only way to get there is a Manifest Zone in the Bristlebear Highlands-- and mortals keep wandering in and *falling* the f*ck through!"

"That's preposterous," Tycon frowned. "Anyone with even basic common sense--"

"Oh, I know!" Raelion cried, "I-- I... absolutely F*CKing know! But you and me-- anyone with a half-a-brain! And in that half-brain, even a f*ckin' itty bitty thinly-cut pork slice of COMMON SENSE would f*cking know better!"

Ah. 

Tycon felt foolish for being annoyed. Considering the situation, Raelion was the one worse off. 

Thus... it seemed appropriate that he pat the devil affably on the arm-- a physical sign of understanding and affection. 

He did so. Two firm pats. 

"Sorry to hear that, old friend."

"I'm the one that's sorry, man," Raelion sighed. "Our engineers have been working on the problem, but it obviously ain't f*ckin' fixed yet. So it's sealed up... enough for it to be practically impossible to leave that place without a collaboration of God-Ranks."

Tycon grimaced in thought. 

That place, the Bristlebear Highlands, was a trap. 

And Jerim Jya had bid him to fall into it... 

When last they spoke, Tycon sensed no deceit from that person. 

She was merely the messenger. 

The source of that message... was likely the Blue Lizard Strategist.

Neerin Neelia... of the ill-named 'True' Draconic Court. 

She was the closest thing to a leader their faction had. 

And as much as Tycon disliked her... she... had some... reasonable... intelligence. 

About average. 

Maybe a slight below average.

Stupid woman. 

It was probably her Class that made her halfway decent at thinking.

Neerin Neelia knew things. She either had an Oracle on commission or had some Ora-cular abilities. And then, she went out of her way to send Jerim Jya to him... 

At the time, Tycon very nearly killed the green-haired trollop. 

Though the logic was somewhat weak... it seemed that Neerin's message was worth Jerim Jya risking her life. 

But... why? 

As long as the lizards kept content in not existing, Tycon had no reason to eliminate them. 

Yet still, they were aiming to trap him for an indeterminate amount of time? 

And then... Jerim Jya was rather insistent that she send her mate, Rixen, to travel with him? 

What was that disgusting creature's role in Neerin Neelia's deception? 

It *appeared* that she was willing to trap him and that abhorrent being in the Plane of Dirt together? 

A horrid fate... 

But that made even *less* sense. It made sense for the Court to see him as an enemy. But Jerim Jya's mate should have definitely been one of their allies? 

"Arrrrrgh," Raelion groaned. "Alright. F*ck it. How long do you have?"

Tycon snapped out of his reverie, turning to his Devil-companion in surprise.

"I'm sorry?"

"You had a Clock Devil," Raelion groaned. "And she was counting down. How long?"

Tycon shut his eyes, sighing deeply, "Under six bells."

"I'll get you and your party to where you need to be," Raelion nodded. "But after this, we're even, you an' me."

That... sounded like a decent compromise.

However... 

Tycon steepled his fingers, "I highly doubt your suggestion takes so much effort, General Raelion. I'd like to think that besides being a skilled leader, you are also a gentleman who values *efficiency.*"

Raelion bristled at the remark. His Sky-Rank aura seeped out with his displeasure, something that made Tycon painfully uncomfortable. 

It made him wonder if it was too late to apologize for his various deceptions. 

But then again, overstepping his boundaries with an Archdevil would assuredly result in a quick and painless introduction to oblivion. 

--and he wasn't dead just yet. 

"Go get your shite," Raelion spat. "I'll open a Gate. I'm giving you five minutes-- and I expect at least a *little* bit of f*cking gratitude."

Tycon cracked a smile, "And, that, you have in droves, dear friend."

...

It took closer to ten minutes. 

Raelion had to explain to Bucket why both Jægerin and his party was safer if she trained with the Gatekeepers for some time before she was allowed to act independently. 

The boy, of course, agreed. 

There was a sorrowful parting.

However, Tycon somehow had the sense that the parting granted both Troia and the Titanblood-killing twit, Kimura Taree, a measure of relief. 

But anyroad... 

Despite Raelion's sordid sense of punctuality, the General was true to his word. 

His ⌈Gate⌋ brought Tycon, Pale, Troia, and that silver-haired shiteling, Kimura, to a different Plane... the Plane of Water. 

It was an acceptable deviation. 

It took Tycon a bell and some change to navigate the icy depths long enough to find a Manifest Zone capable of returning their group to the Material Plane. 

It took some work, of course-- and the recent usage of the natural ⌈Gate⌋ left his Realm vulnerable to a future invasion by hostile waterborne. 

However, he doubted that would be an issue. 

His Realm was doomed to naught but ash and fire. 

And even if he could close the ⌈Gate⌋ behind him, Pale and his company needed a reliable way to escape when it came time to abandon their home Realm. 

But besides creating a vulnerability capable of bringing about a second cataclysm, Tycon successfully kept his contract with Cass, returning to the Realm with over three bells to spare! 

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