JACKAL AMONG SNAKES-Novel

Chapter 43: High Roller

“…and after the tomb guardians shambled in on Barden, one of their arrows hit the palisades. I was knocked unconscious by the wood splinters,” Argrave explained. “Anneliese here can tell you what happened afterwards. She carried me on her back and swam across the great blue ocean. She’s dedicated like that,” he finished, tapping the snow elf’s elbow as they walked through the gates of the Monticci estate.

Ahead, two knights carried a chest up through the estate’s front door. Anneliese did not seem to hear the exaggeration as she was observing everything around her with a great deal of interest. Though she feigned obliviousness to the hateful glances cast her way and the disparaging terms muttered in her direction, Argrave could tell they reached her and bothered her.

“You still haven’t mentioned what ‘Gerechtigkeit’ is,” Nikoletta said, coming to a stop. “I don’t understand. You go alone to the heart of an invasion, and you manage to just talk them into setting aside arms? It’s ridiculous. These things don’t just happen,” she shook her head, spreading her arms wide in disbelief at the situation.

“Hold on.” Argrave held out his hand and conjured a D-rank ward spell around them. “Soundproofing.”

“So, talk.” Nikoletta pointed, then crossed her arms. “How did you do what you did?”

“Well, much like how Anneliese put aside the battle we were having to defeat the metal men, Patriarch Dras put aside the invasion for another matter.” Argrave rested his hand atop the Ebonice daggers on his waist.

“Elaborate,” Nikoletta demanded.

Argrave scratched his chin. “Not sure you’d believe me.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she dismissed. “I’m tired of you leaving me in the dark, damn it.”

Argrave chuckled. “Never heard you curse. Guess I’m in the deep end now.” He scratched the back of his head. “Gerechtigkeit is a calamity. An ancient one, old as no one can remember. Shows up every millennium and again to try and put an end to the world.” Argrave shrugged and shook his head. “The Kingdom of Vasquer is too young to have any records of it. It’s… what, year 872 since its founding?”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, more confused than anything.

“I just told you. A god is going to descend to this mortal plane hellbent on destruction. Wouldn’t call him malicious—it’s just his instincts. Malicious or not, I much prefer living, and no one else I can see is stepping up.”

Nikoletta shook her head, mouth agape in bewilderment.

“She might take you seriously if you acted serious,” Anneliese recommended.

“That’s true,” Argrave nodded. “But—”

Nikoletta held her hand out to stop them from talking further. “What exactly is going to happen? When is this going to happen?”

“What is it? I think the world ‘calamity’ should make things clear enough. A disaster, a…” Argrave waved his hand, searching for synonyms, “An apocalypse, though it’s a living thing rather than a force of nature. If you can call a god ‘alive,’ that is. As for when this is going down… considering that now is near the end of autumn… a few years. I could probably give an exact date, but frankly I haven’t looked at a calendar in many months.”

“You’re serious about this?” Nikoletta sought to confirm. “This isn’t some tactic you used to convince the snow elves?”

Anneliese raised a hand to get attention. “A millennia ago, my people took part in a great war on another continent outside of Berendar. The devastation wreaked is spoken of in many stories. Perhaps the only reason the people of Berendar do not know is because they were not affected. But now, He Who Would Judge the Gods is to appear on this continent,” Anneliese said, pointing to the ground.

Nikoletta’s face warped between emotions rapidly, and Argrave waited patiently. Eventually, she asked the question he had been waiting for. “How do you know this?”

“It’s like I told you back in the Tower of the Gray Owl. Believe me or not, it doesn’t matter. In time, the truth will be made clear for everyone. Dim echoes of Gerechtigkeit are already deeply rooted in this continent. This civil war wasn’t fully man-made. The plague brewing in the northeast is unnatural, too. In time, genuine monsters will appear.”

Nikoletta absorbed the information. “Why don’t you want to say how you know this?”

“That’s for me to know,” Argrave dismissed.

“You don’t trust me,” she accused.

“If people know the truth, I could be in danger.” Argrave shrugged. “I’ll take no chances. I’d trust you with my life, but what I have to do is too important to muck up with my own personal biases.”

Anneliese crossed her arms, watching passively. Nikoletta stared at him, her dark pink eyes shaking slightly. Eventually, she shook her head. “I don’t get it. I don’t get it at all. I don’t get you. From the Order until now, I’ve never understood what you’re aiming for. You speak nonsense half the time.”

“I’m doing my duty,” Argrave said simply, voice low. “Until it’s done, I have no other aim.” Anneliese studied his face with her amber eyes, and then turned away, looking out into the courtyard with arms crossed.

“What should I do, then?” Nikoletta asked him, some resignation on her tone.

“Stay neutral in the civil war. Rebuild your forces. Build your strength. And, when the time comes, help,” Argrave shrugged as though it was simple.

“Alright.” Nikoletta nodded. “That’s more or less what was going to happen anyway, if I know my father. I’ll probably keep that mercenary, Melanie, contracted for a longer period.”

“Melanie?” Argrave frowned. “Red hair, chains, big sword?”

“Yes,” Nikoletta confirmed. “You know her?”

“Okay,” she nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Alright. Talk over.”

Argrave moved to dispel the magic, but Nikoletta grabbed his wrist. “Wait. You spoke of how to deal with this matter of my father’s intent to… marry us.”

Argrave pulled his wrist free. “Well, you’d have to trust me a good deal. After the talk we had, that might not be possible.”

She stared for a second, and then said, “Tell me first.”

Argrave rubbed his hands together. “Way I see it, your father can send thirty proposals my way. As long as I never answer or even receive them, he’ll be left waiting. I plan on leaving soon—more things to settle before the end times, you see. Once Castro helps Duke Enrico out of his coma, you tell him that I was amenable to a betrothal. Set his heart on this match, only for me to leave him in a lurch for a long while.”

“If you leave him waiting too long, he might just change his mind,” Nikoletta argued.

“You ever consider dear old dad might be fostering some ambitions for the throne? He’ll persist for a while.” Argrave posited.

Nikoletta was taken aback by that, and she stared at the ground. “Even still, it’s not a permanent solution.”

“You’re smart… probably. You can find one in the time I give you. What, you want me to do everything for you?” Argrave spread his arms out and shrugged. “Of course, you have to trust I won’t answer any of his proposals. Might be you could find someone else for the task, of course.”

Nikoletta’s gaze flitted between the ground and his face. Eventually, she held out her hand. “If there’s one thing I trust, it’s that you don’t wish to marry me.” She cast a brief glance at Anneliese.

“That sounds like depressing self-deprecation, but you’re right,” Argrave took her hand and shook it.

#####

Argrave, Anneliese, and Nikoletta walked down the hall of the Monticci estate. Ahead, the two knights opened the door to Argrave’s old guest bedroom, entering sideways. Argrave followed close behind. He failed to duck, though, and slammed his head against the doorframe.

“For the love of…” Argrave trailed off. Nikoletta hid a laugh behind her hand. “Don’t laugh,” he demanded, pointing at her. “I got used to the big doorframes at Veiden. Not my fault this estate was made for midgets.”

“You’re seven feet tall. You’re the abnormal one,” she rebutted.

“I prefer the term ‘special,’” Argrave said, ducking and entering the room he’d stayed at briefly in Mateth. Anneliese and Nikoletta followed.

“Should I prepare your friend Anneliese a room, or do you…?” Nikoletta asked.

“Won’t be staying long enough to sleep,” Argrave answered. “Have to get Galamon, and then do some other things…”

The two knights set down Argrave’s chest of books beside the already-formidable stack he’d collected in his guest room at House Monticci’s estate. They cast a glance at Anneliese as they left and shut the door behind them with a slam.

“Alright. Where’s my money?” Argrave got to business.

Nikoletta was taken aback. “From the auction of Foamspire?”

“No, you think I stopped this invasion for free?” Argrave said sarcastically. “I’m kidding. Yes, of course from the auction.”

“I have it,” she nodded. “The bidder paid in rose gold magic coins: 214 of them. We probably could have got a lot more if we’d gone through different channels, but… no matter. I stored them in the vault here at the estate.”

“Around 430,000 gold? Not bad. Damned fortune compared to what I usually have so early in the… well, never mind.” Argrave nodded. “You can keep fifty of those. Mateth will need a lot of money to repair, and with your docks gone, commerce won’t exactly be easy.”

Argrave had planned this for some time. It felt a small drop in the bucket of guilt weighing him down, but it was a start. Mateth had survived by chance. He alone had been inadequate. His presence had changed events, but it had not been deliberate or measured. That would need to change.

Nikoletta was startled. She spoke slowly and delicately, surprise marking her face. “Argrave, that’s… a fair bit of money.”

Argrave shrugged casually, walking and sitting down on his bed. “Consider it a service fee… and an investment. Never could have sold a thing on the Baretta Troupe Auction without your help.”

“Even still… I can’t take such a generous sum without offering anything in return. We have a well-enchanted lockbox in the vault. I’ll store the coins in there, give it to you.”

“I’m not the type to refuse free stuff,” Argrave nodded, falling back onto his bed. “Go ahead.”

Nikoletta walked towards the door. “I will, then. Thank you for your help with this situation regarding my father.”

“Sure, sure,” Argrave called out between a yawn as he relaxed on the bed. “Not like I’m doing much. You’re the one that has to do the lying. I’m just offering my name.”

Nikoletta stayed silent for a few seconds, shaking her head. “Whatever.” She stepped to the door, opening it. “Another thing. The Tower Master Castro is coming here. He came here looking for you, after all.”

“What?!” Argrave sat up quickly. “You’re playing with me.”

“He’ll be by shortly. I have to go. Ducal matters,” she explained, shutting the door before Argrave could say anything more.

“You could’ve said something earlier!” He shouted to little effect. Argrave sat, mouth agape as he stared at the door. His brows furrowed and he brought a hand to his mouth, expression pensive. “Damn. She boomed me.”

“It seems you are an oddity even among your own people.” Anneliese stepped closer. “Your friend seems nice… and she trusts you. Why didn’t you tell her about Erlebnis?”

“Don’t think that would go over well,” Argrave cautioned. “Barring my association with a heretical god… there’s no need to say more than necessary. Let Nikoletta stay safe and happy, devoting her time towards rebuilding Mateth. Once Gerechtigkeit starts making his move, I can start bringing people over to my side. Until then, this is my problem. Well, our problem,” Argrave conceded.

Anneliese mulled over his words. “You do much for your friends,” she finally said.

“Yeah, I’m a saint, I know.” Argrave nodded sarcastically, and then pointed. “Listen. A big fish is about to swim by. He’s got his eye on me—though why I still don’t know. That said, I’m not one to pass up an opportunity. If a grifter sees a high roller, he’s got to peddle his wares.”

“A grifter?” Anneliese raised her brow.

Argrave stood, moving to the pile of books and sorting through them. “If you’re good at improv, feel free to contribute. Some of these books are pretty useless to me… [Germinate], [Expand Roots], [Feel Needs]… of course, Castro needs to think they’re the best druidic spells.”

“What makes one spell better than another?”

“Uhh… I don’t know, mayb—”

A knock interrupted Argrave’s response, and he froze for a second. He glanced at the mirror in the room, fixing his appearance quickly. With a final readjustment of the white fur coat over his shoulders, he moved to the door and pulled it open. There, a short old man waited. He looked perhaps sixty. It was difficult to imagine he was near two hundred.

“Ohoh,” Castro said. “You must be Argrave of Vasquer. A pleasure to meet you. You are quite the tall one,” he commented. “This old man may hurt his neck looking so high up.”