It might seem heartless, but the rote normalcy of the adventuring minutiae could offer him some stability. They had a quest to complete. Working towards mission completion could also distract the man from his regrets and from darker thoughts.

Two people died because of Lone's conscious decision and both were people he had an emotional investment in.

Regret was normal. Overly harsh evaluation of one's own actions was normal. These things were not exclusive to adventuring.

Ultimately, Tycon was proud of the young man. A swift, well-made decision was ultimately superior to a perfect one, enacted too late.

As his superior and for the glory of Sol Invictus, Tycon sincerely wished for Lone to succeed... as an adventurer, as a Chosen One, as it were. But if he were to continue living the life of an adventurer, there would come another time when lives could be lost as a result of his decision.

Lone needed the mental fort.i.tude to enable him in making a proper choice.

After all, inaction, even as a result of fear or uncertainty, was still a choice.

Tycon could provide normalcy. He could provide gentle rea.s.surance. He could provide him with the tools to succeed-- to drill him as a weapon, to instill instant willingness and obedience to orders.

However, the last step was one only Lone could take. The young man would be sieged on all sides by his inner demons: fear, uncertainty, and regret. Would he be able to fend them off? Or would he allow himself to be consumed?

There was always light in contrast to the darkness. There was always hope... even if to get to it, one needed to slog through the bodies of the fallen and the filth they left in their wake.

Tycon glanced back at the closed door to the study.

Thankfully, Wolfrider was a walking, barking pile of garbage and wouldn't be missed. On top of that, it was his own d.a.m.ned fault that he went out the way he did.

Worst of it was he continued being a nuisance in death, demoralizing his G.o.ds-d.a.m.ned Warrior and hopefully future Ranger.

Stupid pup.

"Boss, I'm gonna work on that locked cabinet," Lulu pranced around the desk in the main room and began to decipher the runes protecting the Wizard's h.o.a.rd.

Tycon turned his attention to the corpse he had found earlier. He walked over to it and flipped it face-up with the end of his halberd.

It was bloated. b.l.o.o.d.y foam leaked from its nose and mouth.

Dark clothes and hood. Dagger on his belt. A Rogue or a.s.sa.s.sin, perhaps?

Tycon briefly scanned the nearby wall where a magic circle had been inscribed but was devoid of power.

« System, a.n.a.lysis: The inert runes. »

[Human Heartbreaker Trap. Third-Circle Illusion. Causes the target's heart to explode.]

The trap was quite obvious to him but would be less so for someone not as knowledgeable... which was odd, considering that the invader had chosen to trespa.s.s a Wizard's Tower.

« System, inquiry: About how long has this gentleman been dead? »

[System response: Upwards of 3 days.]

A leather carrying case laid on the floor beside the body. Something inside would likely provide a clue to the man's ident.i.ty.

Besides that, Tycon hoped that something within would make up for their guild's frustrating experiences against the Magic Tower's various traps and defenses.

...It would at least make up for the useless weretouched they'd lost.

Tycon pulled the dead man's case close and unlatched it.

Ow.

Tycon retracted his hand on reflex. A small drop of blood seeped out of the side of his finger.

He examined the latch again.

« System, a.n.a.lysis: The protruding spike. »

[System response: The spike contains traces of an unknown Iron-Rank venom.]

Mundane traps filled with harmful substances tended to be indicative of the a.s.sa.s.sin Cla.s.s. Tycon's annoyance being bled by a simple trap was a.s.suaged by the fact that the deadly Iron-Rank poison was unable to claim a final victim.

He opened the case, as Sasha and Lone looked on in wonder.

An unstrung shortbow. A quiver of arrows. A sword and a dagger. Vials of holy water.

Utilizing the System, Tycon scanned over the items. It seemed that the quiver was full of envenomed arrows. The bow, sword, and dagger were lightly enchanted... as well as the a.s.sa.s.sin's boots and trousers.

"Mister Lone, I advise you to take this man's brown trousers."

"Boss, really..." Lone frowned, "Are you playing a joke on me?"

Tycon scratched his cheek in embarra.s.sment, "I admit that I am not very good at making jokes..."

Lone hesitated, but slowly nodded in agreement, much to Tycon's chagrin. He began to remove the dead man's boots and trousers.

Tycon took the man's enchanted boots.

[Battle-Knight's Boots. Second-Circle Trans.m.u.tation. Increases the armored wearer's speed.]

Lone was examining the man's trousers.

[Never-Soil Trousers. First-Circle Universal. Cleanses odors, spills, and stains.]

Tycon observed the short sword, it looked to be of a length that he preferred. But as he reached over, Lone's hand crossed over his.

Both men immediately retracted their hands.

"You want it, Boss?" Lone asked, "Go ahead."

"What?" Tycon growled, "If you want it, you should take it."

"But, Boss... You obviously want it," Lone frowned.

"Pah. I don't need it. It's unprofessional for me to take all the loot." Tycon narrowed his eyes, allowing his frustration to seep into his voice, "If you want it, take it!"

...Lone ended up taking the dagger, a fine blade made of a silver alloy. He could fence it for a fair amount of coin.

He could use it to afford better than the house ale. The young Warrior could use a stiff drink to distract him from his troubles.

He gave Sasha the shortbow (after he checked it for traps.) He would teach her how to use it in the coming days.

"Boss, I found something else," Lone exclaimed, holding up a ring.

Tycon scowled, turning up his nose, "Where did you... find that? It reeks."

"It was hidden up the man's a.r.s.e, Boss?"