Jackal Among Snakes

Durran took a longer time to return than Argrave had anticipated—and by extension, Elenore was delayed, too. In truth, he was a little surprised to see her get emotional about Durran. He’d shared that with Anneliese, and she guessed that her emotions had been building for a long time: decades, even. His sister seemed to do everything practically; she even chose the time to get emotional practically.

When the pair did return, it was in brighter spirits than they had left. Whatever talk they’d shared, they were not at all like they’d found out one of them might die.

“We return to a feast. Forgot about this,” Durran mused, sitting back down at the table before his chicken. “It’s cold.”

“Should be refreshing after that heat,” Elenore sat down beside him.

Argrave looked between both of them, then sat down as well. “Forget the meal. I think you ought to get into what the Alchemist gave you, Durran.”

Durran seemed to debate whether or not to take a bite of cold chicken dangling from his fork, and then set it down. “He changed my body, my insides. You might say he replaced them, then kept my real parts on hold until the time comes for me to get them back. I’m not really sure how to…”

Argrave leaned back, nodding. “Pseudo S-rank.”

Durran looked up at him. “What’s that?”

“He made you S-rank, technically. But the magic… the magic circuitry, you might call it, isn’t yours. You can recover magic fine, but it won’t grow, won’t evolve, and you can’t do finer manipulation. You don’t have an A-rank ascension, even.” Argrave crossed his arms. “You can’t really min-max it, can’t finetune it. But… yeah, you’re S-rank. A generic, non-descript S-rank. You’re driving a rented vehicle.”

“Hell, who cares?” Durran shrugged. “I’ve got quantity enough to do nearly everything I want. Fire, lightning, necromancy—you name it, I’ll do it, my friend. What you perceive right now with those special A-rank eyes of yours is not even a quarter of my max capacity. And when all of this is said and done, I give these parts back, get my old magic back, and tackle it again with experience. But I’ll tell you…” Durran held out his hand, clenching it into a fist. “I can feel Garm’s hand in everything I do, Argrave. Feels like I’m not doing anything new, just… relearning a skill I put down for a while.”

“Well, that’s how it is when you meld souls with another.” Argrave placed his hands on the table. “Listen. I’ve been thinking about your predicament. Frankly, this isn’t something I can wave my hand and cure. Your prospects are thin, Durran. Even finding a lead involves doing dangerous nonsense that was rather far removed from what I had planned. And we’re talking about a thin lead, not a certain one.”

Durran focused on Argrave. “I’ll do my part. More than my part, even. Don’t forget… you’re a little behind me, now, even if you’ve managed to get those blood echoes you kept bragging about.” He pointed at Argrave. “Don’t think I haven’t seen your little bloody shadows dancing around you. Looks smooth, I’ll give you that, but flashiness won’t matter against power.”

Argrave smiled. “Well… I wonder. I can requite all I receive.”

Argrave and Anneliese both had learned the imperial spells left behind by Emperor Balzat. Argrave had used [Requite] to defeat the emissaries, though had expended all of his spirits in the process. But they had far more than that spell alone in their arsenal, now—[Bulwark], [Inspirit], and [Edify] added extreme versatility to their shamanic magic that surpassed most spells, period. Of the imperial spells, only [Subjugate] eluded their mastery, and this was because it was an S-rank spell.

“If the two of you can stop posturing, we have something I think would be good to talk about now,” Elenore cut in. “There’s an extremely brutish man filled with lust knocking at the gates of the Lionsun Castle… and as such, we must deign to forge an alliance with him, vapid though he might be. Woe to the unlucky soul who has to seal this alliance.”

Durran took a bite of chicken, smiling quietly at her banter. “Yeah. This King of the Scorched Sands, he’s no good. But for the low price of one tender-hearted, empty-minded princess, it might be his wyverns become guardians of Vasquer rather than its pillagers. And it might be, long-term, they’re integrated with the kingdom wholly.”

“That’s the running narrative, at least. What do you think?” Elenore looked at Argrave.

Durran pointed his fork. “Yeah. Does the big brother bless this unholy union?”

Argrave fixed a crease on a napkin to hide his surprise. “Don’t have any complaints. I’ll spare you the teasing, seeing as the two of you have that covered. But you’re a valuable piece of labor, Elenore. Will this…?”

“Just more on my plate,” she shrugged. “It’ll be fine. Druidic magic has made things much easier for me, communications-wise.”

He stared at her, baffled how she could just accept the idea of managing essentially the entire continent with a shrug and an, ‘it’ll be fine.’

“But for this to work… it needs to be an issue brought before parliament, I should think,” Anneliese interrupted. “Margrave Parbon will cooperate and escalate the issue if we ask. And as I recall, Argrave, you wanted to meet with the Stonepetal Sentinel coming here, yes?”

Argrave straightened. “Right. Forgot about that, seeing as Durran was diagnosed with delayed onset death.” He cracked his knuckles. “Mmm… the Stonepetal Sentinels. Been a while.”

#####

“In essence… you want me to support the necessity of this alliance?” Margrave Reinhardt looked at Argrave squarely.

“Precisely,” Argrave agreed, sitting across from the margrave’s desk.

“I will not lie,” the margrave cautioned. “I will answer whatever it is the parliament asks, and create no fabrications.”

Argrave furrowed his brows. “Alright. That’s fine, I suppose. Honesty and integrity are good things to foster in the parliament.” He leaned in closer. “So, that Stonepetal Sentinel—he’s here?”

“He’s a little upset we’re keeping him from leaving. But… yes, we kept him for you,” the margrave nodded.

“Wonderful. I’ll go see him now.” Argrave rose to his feet. “But why was he visiting, exactly?”

#####

Master Sentinel Ossian scratched at his forehead, dislodging strands of his dark hair. He brushed them from out of his view, and then looked at the margrave’s guard. They remained ever vigilant. He had come here to ask for assistance, but whatever he’d said had made the margrave hold him here for hours on end. At the very least he stayed as house guest rather than prisoner.

When the door parted, Ossian’s head jerked towards it. A huge armored knight walked through, and he held his hand to his belt by instinct even though he’d long ago been disarmed. The knight studied him, and then the room. Familiarity dawned on Ossian, strangely enough, but then the man moved aside. The next two to come were both familiar, and more easily recognizable.

“You?” Ossian rose to his feet, eyes wide.

The man who’d overturned the Low Way of the Rose, Argrave, stood at the door. The black-haired man was as towering as he’d been the last time they’d met, but he’d put on some mass in the time since they’d last spoken. His face was still gaunt and sharp, but he filled out the duster he wore far better than he had in the past. That, coupled with a breastplate bearing a symbol of a sun with snakes as its rays, made him appear more formidable. His actions had a strange hazy maroon trail left behind them.

“Ossian,” Argrave said, raising his brows. “Look at you. A Master Sentinel, relegated to messenger work. That was probably my fault. I left you with a real mess on your hands.”

Ossian reflected on that as the man walked into the room, followed by that elven woman Anneliese and a few people Ossian didn’t recognize. As he claimed, Argrave had burned through the Low Way like no other. He’d gotten many Sentinels killed, and even a Master Sentinel—though, perhaps it was best to say that man got himself killed. Concurrently, Argrave ended the constant deluge of blood, returning clean water to the underground. And the vampires were purged because of his actions.

“So…” Argrave walked into the room, sitting on a chair opposite the couch Ossian had been waiting at. “Margrave Reinhardt tells me you’re looking into reclaiming the Low Way of the Rose fully—you just need some aid.”

Ossian ran his hand across his face, dispelling his surprise. “Well… yeah, Argrave. With the vampires gone, the task—”

“Call him Your Majesty,” the big armored knight interrupted. Ossian was remembering his name—Galamon. “Or speak to him not at all.”

“Your Majesty?” Ossian repeated. He felt a shock permeate him—knowing that this man was king affected him more than he thought it would, the title alone inspiring subservience. “That means the king has… by the gods.”

“A lot happened while you were spelunking down in that old city.” Argrave crossed his legs. “There’s been a change in leadership. Fact is… I think I can help the Stonepetal Sentinels out.”

Ossian laughed in shock. “After… what we did to you? That’s surprising. Your Majesty,” he quickly added the title, fearing to disrespect this man.

“I’m big-hearted. But I’m also something of a… shall we say, a talent scout?” Argrave leaned in. “Once the Low Way is taken, you’ll be out of a job.”

“Well…” Ossian narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure the Senti—”

“The Low Way will not be occupied by the Stonepetal Sentinels. It’s a vital artery to the Burnt Desert, to be repossessed by the state,” the woman behind Argrave said. When Ossian looked at her, he thought she might be the king’s relative.

“But rest easy,” Argrave held his arms out. “In my kingdom, keeping unemployment figures astronomically low is a top priority. As it happens, I have new underground cities for you to scout out, keep clean. Dwarven cities, as a matter of fact. The real deal.”

Ossian was reeling from the sudden deluge of information. “What you said… I don’t quite follow, Your Majesty. And… and my people, I would need to talk to them. I’m just a messenger. An envoy,” he babbled, searching for words.

“Let me put it this way.” Argrave smiled broadly. “It’s time for the last remnants of the Order of the Rose to serve their country once again. And it might be time for your prominence to finally resurge. How would you like to talk to everyone important in the country, all at once?”

#####

Long days had passed since the revelation with Durran and the Stonepetal Sentinels. They had called a parliamentary session ahead of schedule, and assigned it the utmost importance. And now, they had returned to Blackgard. Here, they finalized everything before the crusade against the Ebon Cult began.

Elenore walked into Argrave’s study, carrying a piece of paper.

“I have the agendas that the others will mention for this meeting,” she said. “The effects of our actions in prior meetings are rearing their head. Some of them are worth concern… namely, we may finally be seeing the first of the descended deities. But for central points of discussion… there is the Vasquer-Burnt Desert alliance. That is a complex political issue, especially the prospect of foreign aid. I can couch it as a trade deal, but the more astute will see past that.”

Argrave took the paper from her hand, then looked back to Anneliese. She also had a desk, situated slightly behind Argrave’s against the wall. She rose from her chair and came to read it with him.

“I think we can manage this,” Argrave said. “Might take some doing, but I can finesse a few people before the meeting proper.”

“Mmmhmm,” Elenore agreed. “And the other matter… Anestis, that dwarf. He is a compelling showpiece. But I do question if it will be enough to convince them to make the Stonepetal Sentinels politically relevant.”

Argrave looked at her. “Galamon and I have been discussing this. This is a strategy for war. They’re scouts, reclaimers. The Ebon Cult will come. And given what Durran asked of us, we have to do more than win. Mozzahr is a monstrous fighter. Whether he’s in the dwarven cities already, or he’s soon to come… the Stonepetal Sentinels can find that out.”

“Then command them as a commander of an army,” Elenore suggested. “The parliament need not know the Stonepetal Sentinels even act on your behalf.”

Argrave leaned back. “Do you think that’s prudent?”

Anneliese put her hand on Argrave’s shoulder. “I believe commanding troops to go into the underground while the fabricated ‘King of the Scorched Sands’ waits on the border might send the wrong message. And with the Order of the Gray Owl having firsthand experience with the ruins Argrave explores… we can get support, I assure you. We might even get additional resources to aid them. Securing the Low Way of the Rose and its library is like securing a goldmine—riches are in the air, and Magisters are eager miners.”

“A fair assessment,” Elenore conceded. “Many other parliamentary meetings have been for show, largely. But this one will last days, I believe, and is very significant for the future.”

“Agreed,” Argrave set the paper down and smiled. “I’m rather looking forward to politicking once more. It was a fun game we played back in Relize. Now… we upscale that.”