Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius' irritated gaze drifted over the paltry force sent to capture him. He felt pressured because they were agents of the Church... but as only two of the enforcers were Iron-Rank, he did not feel *threatened.*

If he were to simply undim his vision, his ⌈Vexing Gaze⌋ skill could cripple or kill nearly all of them.

The dwarf did have a unique class... but as Hark was also Bronze-Rank, he would die just as easily.

"Mister Harkus, is this the Decanus the Archbishop wants?" An Iron-Rank enforcer asked.

"Aye..." Harkus glowered at Tycon, holding up a clenched fist... "You... boy... You owe me forty slugs."

That was the most preposterous statement Tycon had heard in moons.

He pulled his hood down, glaring sharply down at the unreasonable dwarf. Tycon was annoyed before, but the dwarf's accusation made him furious.

"Forty silver pieces..." Tycon scowled, "Are you trying to rob me, Master Dwarf?"

"What?!" Harkus stomped, pointing and shouting. "Me? You're the thief! Triple-thief!!"

"I. left. five." Tycon insisted through clenched teeth.

"That barely covered gratuity, you knuckle-headed soft-skin!"

"Tss, gratuity?!" Tycon scoffed, rolling his head back-- it was almost inconceivable, what he was hearing, "I'll be a cold, rotten corpse before I pay gratuity for take-out food!"

"Is there an... issue, Mister Harkus?" An aged, white-bearded man in Church robes had approached while the two were arguing.

"Stay out of this, boy!" Harkus growled, "This is personal!"

Tycon crossed his arms, "I'm willing to pay you back the thirty silver."

"Forty!!" The dwarf showed four of his fingers, likely to remind himself how many tens there were in the number.

Tycon lifted his nose in disdain, "I refuse."

"Ahem," The robed man cleared his throat. "Mister Decanus... you are *requested* to accompany us to the Officials' seating area... you, House Vanzano, and Guild Letalis..."

Tycon pursed his lips, "And who the h... mm..."

...He took a deep breath to calm himself, taking a long look at the white-bearded senior, "May I ask who you are?"

The aged human was being a self-important prick, but he did appear to be one of Natalya's dogs. If he was powerful... or important, then Tycon would grant him a basic level of respect.

Unlike that contemptible dwarf...

« System, analysis: Class and power level. »

⟬ System response: Class and rank hidden by a magical effect. ⟭

Tycon pursed his lips, mulling over the error message his System returned.

It was not the first time his analysis function failed.

His System could not accurately assess the personal information of other transmigrators... nor could they glean information about him. After Tanamar was revealed to be a Holy Lancer, Tycon's System did update his classification... but as the footman still believed that he was an Iron-Rank Tactician, it appeared that at least their two Systems operated on a 'best guess' principle.

However, Tycon had never sensed such an error before. It specified that a magical effect was nullifying his ability...

What could be the source? A long-duration spell cast once a week or sun? No... a worn item, more likely. Such a spell would logically be enchanted to a neckpiece... Failing that, a ring or head adornment.

The old robed man straightened his back, pushing his chest out, "I am Holy Magus Antonidus, the Head Magistrate of Caeruleum."

Arrogant. Confident. And with the low thrum of First-Circle magical power.

While 'Sanctified Psykers' were intimidating to typical Tyrions... Tycon was not impressed. It was as if the Magus didn't realize that he was close to the Iron-Rank Librarian in the ring... the one getting badly beaten in front of his friends, his peers... and his organization.

Anyroad, Zenon was capable of consistent Second-Circle casting. The First-Circle aura that Antonidus emanated was a joke in comparison.

With the Magus' power level, Tycon discounted the fellow's ability to cast an anti-scrying spell with a duration that lasted more than a bell or three. Observing the human's belongings... he noted that he wore no helm or circlet. He did wear a single expensive ring... but that was non-magical.

Against his better judgment, Tycon tugged on the Magus' beard, "Head Magistrate... does your station grant you power over me? A Decanus of Tyrion?"

Underneath that beard... was a cloudy-crystal hanging from a thin chain.

« System, identify: The crystal around this fool's neck. »

⟬ Amulet of Obscuration. First Circle Magical Amulet. Hides the wearer from analysis, divination, and scrying effects.⟭

There it was.

The object was interesting. Such an item wasn't so simple to make... and brought up a more interesting question... Why would this old fogey have the need for such an item?

Also, Tycon wanted one for himself. He didn't like the thought of being tracked... but he did not go out of his way to craft such an item.

"You dare..." The Magus clenched his teeth.

From a shift in the air and Tycon's close proximity, he sensed that the old man was silently casting a hostile spell... in the middle of a public area.

The man was mad if he thought Tycon would allow him to do as he pleased.

Casually raising his hand, Tycon flicked his forefinger at the very center of Antonidus' solar plexus. The shock of it would have been similar to a solid punch, jostling the man's organs in his ribcage. Predictably, the shock to the man's lungs found the Holy Magus unable to breathe, awkwardly gawking with his mouth open.

Tycon twisted his lips to the side, displeased with his execution. If he'd waited a moment longer for the Magus to muster his mana, interrupting his cast would have forced him to suffer a magical rebound.

Seeing the fool spit blood onto his white Church robes would have been so very satisfying...

Antonidus finally caught his breath, taking a half-step backward and coughing into a closed fist.

Tycon smiled politely, choosing not to bring attention to it.

Sorina wished to expand House Vanzano's businesses into Trade City Caeruleum. The 'Head Magistrate' was pathetically weak. Tycon could leverage Athena's championship victory, as well as threaten the human with physical harm, in order to achieve Invictus' goals.

Depending on how the Magus acted in the near future, Tycon could also choose to visit him after the tournament's conclusion. He could literally pierce a Gold-Rank knife-hand through the fellow's chest. Then, the fool's amulet would be his for the taking.

All this was possible... provided that he wasn't jailed or crucified by morning.