Jackal Among Snakes

“We can get into the specifics of what I intend to prove, of course,” Argrave told Elenore. “On top of that, I have some information that leads me to believe there might be a traitor in your group. I’m sure you’re curious about the items I’ve just onloaded onto you. That said, I’ve also not slept for what feels like days. The drainage gate passage—there’s a safehouse in it. Is it empty? Can we use it? I’d like to stay within Dirracha, and considering what happened with Induen, I can’t exactly roam about freely.”

Elenore let out a shocked chuckle. “Yes, it’s empty. Considering no one has used it before, of course it’s empty. You may use it as you please.”

Argrave’s claims of otherworldly knowledge gained more credence with every new detail he revealed, but Elenore had to remain skeptical. A traitor? Was he hinting at something, or being genuine? She might be drawn into a trap if she too readily accepted what he told her. Argrave was a very valuable piece she could utilize—despite the south’s compunctions with his close ties with foreigners, he remained a closely-considered candidate that the rebels might herald. Having him at hand could be very useful for her future.

“I appreciate it. We’ll convene tomorrow.” She heard the chair shift, and presumed Argrave rose up to his feet. “I hope that we’ll come to work together closely in the coming month. If I know you, you’re thinking that you should go along with me out of practicality above anything… Anneliese?”

Elenore did her best to keep her reaction to his accurate words muted. She wondered why he had called out his fiancée’s name.

“Yeah,” Argrave said after a moment. “I hope you enjoy the gift. I think you… deserve it.”

Elenore caught his pause. She wondered what it meant—was there some drawback to these pieces, a cost of some sort?

“Well, have a nice day, Elenore. Don’t stay up all night reading. It’s bad for you.”

Argrave walked away, and his companions followed just after him.

“Wait,” Elenore called out. “Induen.”

Argrave scoffed. “Him? Oh, I imagine you’d like his signet ring. Given its uses in forging and the like, I imagine you’ll find more use out of it than I will…” she heard him rummaging through his pockets.

“No,” Elenore said, moving her head to where his voice came from. “Induen sought to ally with you. He avoided my informants because he sought to avoid conflict with you, opposite my intentions. So, why did you decide to act as you did?”

“He made some very untenable suggestions,” Argrave said with some degree of levity. His next words were completely serious as he continued, “More than that… he was a tumor. I had a chance to excise that tumor before it could cause more damage than it already has. He wanted to kill you, you know. Everybody’s future is a lot brighter without his shadow over it. You can trust that.”

“Without doubt,” Elenore confirmed.

Argrave chuckled. “But… well, Induen is just one limb of Felipe’s shadow,” he said grimly, then paused for a long while. “And our true enemy… has yet… to reveal himself,” Argrave finished, mimicking some strange accent. His voice trailed off as he grew further away.

Elenore kept listening as Argrave departed, paying close attention to the footfalls against the stone. It was only after near a minute had passed that her posture relaxed somewhat. She ran the claw ring across the pink metal table, the book, and then found some of the other pieces placed atop it.

After a moment… Elenore wheeled her chair forward personally. She could perceive the wheels turning as she touched them—the coarseness of the wood that had rolled against the ground for months on end, the light brown impeccably polished. She stopped at a point. She knew where to stop—not from smell, nor sound, nor touch… but because she could perceive.

Princess Elenore held her hand out, moving past the flower and grabbing the stem. She made out a bright blue bulb glowing, pulsing. She smiled and tore it free, and the glow doubled in intensity. As she enjoyed the unprecedented sensation, for some reason she was reminded she had not thanked Argrave. Her smile faded. Feeling disquieted, she let the flower fall from her grip.

Elenore leaned back and sighed. Had she really had that conversation? With whom? Who was Argrave? As ever, her sole need was information.

#####

“Big day tomorrow. We’d best sleep immediately.” Argrave noted as he weaved through this familiar maze of flowers and greenery.

Everything here exuded richness and profoundness—the greens felt deeper, the purples more regal, and the sunlight itself warped through the glass above into something that cast beautiful shadows over the marble walkway.

“After we put everything with Elenore into motion, start the process of getting her looped in… there are some things that need to be done in Dirracha. I’ll—” Argrave glanced back as he walked, and cut himself off. “What are you doing?”

Durran had paused and examined the nearby plants. As though shaken from a stupor by Argrave’s voice, he shook his head and turned back, walking to rejoin them. “Nothing. Sorry. Move on, commander.”

Argrave’s frown slowly morphed into a slight smile. “I forgot. You like gardening. Of course you’d be interested in a place like this.”

“What?” Durran said, voice uncharacteristically loud. “When did I say I liked gardening?”

“When have you needed to tell me things about yourself?” Argrave reminded him.

“Well… it’s not…” Durran looked to Anneliese, and his words caught in his throat like he realized any denial would be fruitless. “…pisser,” he cursed beneath his breath. “Fine. Yeah. Whatever. I was just thinking… wasn’t bad enough your dad cut off her feet and gouged out her eyes, he confines her to a place like this. Some cruel joke, like doing that wasn’t punishment enough.”

“Provided you clear it with Elenore, she can probably work something out about letting you come here often,” Argrave said. “And I’ll keep to my word. After the things you did in the wetlands, I’ll give you some money, let you have a little bit of fun in the city.”

“…and if Orion’s here? Bit of a damper for fun,” Durran questioned.

Argrave paused and swallowed. “Well, you’ll have to recite all 96 gods,” Argrave said with a smile. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll get a handle of the situation with Elenore.” His gaze switched to Galamon. “And you. Be careful hunting. There’s some competition for food in this city.”

Galamon adjusted his helmet. “I am careful.”

Argrave nodded in contentment. “Then… at morning, you and I will parse through the stuff we looted from the fortress,” Argrave looked to Anneliese. “We’ll prepare a nice little package for Elenore to sell, earn some additional financing. Returns will be much quicker than with Elaine, and it’ll be necessary in the further reaches of the north. The princess is… capable.”

“Certainly,” Anneliese agreed easily.

With a nod, Argrave commended them, saying, “Excellent. A lot of plots are tightly entwined here. Galamon. The solution to your problem…” Argrave referred to his vampirism vaguely, feeling no need to take risks. “The ball will start rolling here. And I imagine you’ll be just as eager to see this proof as Elenore is, Durran. As for myself, well… maybe we’ll find out if Orion was right, and I do have a divine right. Something tells me a few key points may have been lost in translation between the gods, Orion, and me.”

Despite their fatigue, Argrave’s words seemed to rouse everyone, even himself.

“I love big cities,” Argrave ruminated, moving to action once again. “Let’s enjoy our stay at the City of Dragons.”

#####

“Yes, I’m certain. Do not bar me further,” Orion cautioned.

“Y-yes, my prince,” the dirty-looking man wearing ragged, almost disposable rags lowered his body deeply.

Orion stepped past the metal gate and down the stairs below. The way was dark, dimly lit by cheap magic lights. After a while, he smelled something foul, and knew he was near.

Prince Orion emerged into the sewers of Dirracha. This place, though foul, was well-constructed and well-maintained, unlike the sewers of old. Water was not vital with the existence of mages, but proper harvests were—waste was generally used for fertilizer, helping ensure the best harvests. Orion had been taught as much in his education as a prince.

The gods had been whispering at him feverishly, instructing him to come to the sewers in myriad ways, and growing more frustrated as he visited more and more of them. His father had tasked him with finding Argrave, and this was their advice.

Yet he could not understand it. Every day, he felt himself insufficient to comprehend their guidance.

Orion stepped down the pathways, looking around not knowing for what. His father had directed him to find Argrave and deal with him. He could not disobey an order from his father—it was not right, not holy. Yet even still… his father commanded him to sin. To slay a brother, as Argrave had done.

The news of Induen’s death felt like the world turning up on itself. He had trusted Argrave. The man had acted selflessly—he had acted against his own interest, trying and bleeding to put an end to the plague. And now, Argrave had turned his back on his family. He had committed a grave sin.

Was it his fault? Orion felt that it was. He felt party to the blasphemy. He should have known better—should have thought longer. All of this could have been avoided. Argrave promised to teach him how to do these things, and yet…

Orion stopped, closing his eyes and listening to the whispers of the gods. Here, in the silence of the sewers, he could hear them all too clearly.

“I shouldn’t have listened to Argrave,” he told them. “I shouldn’t have listened to Induen.”

Their whispers returned. They were too many to make sense of—some offered comfort, some gloated over his poor judgement, some advised him, and some ignored him altogether.

Orion opened his eyes like epiphany dawned on him, and he leaned against the slick, wet wall. A thought raced through his head. Was that their message? Was that Argrave’s message?

Should he… stop listening?

Orion grabbed at his chest, feeling as though his heart would burst free. He felt sick and wrong, entertaining even the notion. Before he knew it, Orion was furiously racing up. He ran out back to where the sewer keeper was, and immediately stepped out. His royal knights were waiting for him outside, yet he ran past them, down the perfect streets of Dirracha.

To stop listening… to stop being told what to do… Orion felt it was a perverse notion. Yet nothing had ever called to him so strongly. He had been taught enough. Perhaps it was time to learn. Perhaps it was time to be as everyone else and find his answers with his own ability.