Jackal Among Snakes

A big, gauntleted hand reached forward and rested itself on the edge of the carriage’s windows. Then, Margrave Reinhardt dismounted from his horse and stood at the side of the carriage, peering in. The Margrave had red hair like his son, though it was closer to crimson and fell past his shoulders. He had a fierce face, rough but scarless, and his frightening visage was further augmented by his eyes. They were like two rings of rubies. He wore resplendent white plate mail, a red cloak hanging from his shoulders.

Margrave Reinhardt scanned the carriage with his haunting red eyes, his gaze finally locking with Argrave’s. Reinhardt’s face quickly changed from neutral to scornful as he recognized him. The two held their gazes, neither willing to turn away from the other.

“Margrave Reinhardt,” Nikoletta greeted quickly, unaware of the covert conflict between the two. “What brings you here with such a large host?”

The Margrave did not look at Nikoletta. “My men and I were headed to Dirracha. I thought to pay my respects to my friend’s daughter, but seeing your company, I am questioning that decision.”

“How rude. Mina is not that bad,” Argrave said, holding the Margrave’s gaze. He saw the golden-haired girl tense up at the mention of her name.

“I was not speaking to you, Vasquer,” Reinhardt said coldly.

“Correct; I was speaking to you. Quite the head on this one.” Argrave smiled, mustering levity to dispel his anxiety. “But you are incorrect in calling me a Vasquer. I am but a humble bastard.”

Reinhardt tilted his head back, scowl deepening. He opened his mouth to speak, but Nikoletta spoke first.

“Why do you need such a large force to venture to the capital?” she said quickly, evidently hoping to divert the Margrave’s attention.

Reinhardt finally looked away from Argrave, turning his head to Nikoletta. “My brother was unjustly imprisoned, his evidence of treason clearly fabricated. The king sees only steel, and so I will show him some lest he forget his place as a just ruler. And during my journey…” Reinhardt’s gaze switched back to Argrave. “…who do I find but his son.”

The Margrave stepped back to his horse, pulling a horn off the saddle. He blew the war horn once, and a deafening, deep noise filled the air. The thundering hooves slowed, and the carriage stopped shaking. Silence soon consumed the carriage, the faint wind and distant huffing of horses only barely breaking the now-silent road. Argrave swallowed. He had detested that noise of horses, but now it seemed quite pleasant in comparison to this eerie quiet.

“What is the meaning of this, Margrave Reinhardt?” Nikoletta maintained her posture, but Argrave could hear the nervousness in her voice.

“The Vas—the royal bastard,” Reinhardt corrected himself, stepping back beside the carriage, “should come with me.”

“I am a bit busy,” Argrave said dismissively. Mina looked at him like he was mad, but Nikoletta tried to cover his words up.

“I am not sure why you are acting this way, Margrave Reinhardt, but presently, Argrave is a guest enjoying my hospitality. In turn, he enjoys my protection.”

Argrave was taken aback by Nikoletta’s declaration. He had fully expected to be surrendered quickly. He was a bastard—protecting him meant nothing compared to earning the favor of a Margrave.

most of the main characters are good people. I shouldn’t be surprised. Still, I’m

would protect this foul cur?” Reinhardt nearly

Nikoletta answered without hesitation. “The honor of House Monticci is firm. We protect those who we say we will—no more, no less. The nature of a person is

obsidian-haired woman. “Are you sure of

my guest, and a host should ensure their guest’s safety. Honor demands I fulfill that pledge.” Nikoletta paused, then spoke more urgently. “House Monticci and House Parbon have been close

into the dungeons at Dirracha. If I can possess a card that may ensure his safe

in the carriage, pressing her head closer to the window. “Not just House Monticci. I’m here, too—ninth child of Count Elgar, head of House

no matter how many I offend. I cannot call myself a Margrave if I forsake an opportunity to save my brother’s life.” Reinhardt’s cold gaze bore holes in Argrave’s head. “Better yet that it be the

yes. Start a war that kills thousands for your brother. How noble.”

the Margrave, placing his hand on his sword’s pommel. “Decide how this will

pounding furiously. The

Argrave thought, brain working on overdrive. He seemed to have only one choice. Perhaps it would be best if he made it, instead

‘foul cur’ who stands in the way of justice.” Argrave pushed off the seat and reached for the carriage door. He grabbed the handle, but Nikoletta

you…?” she said, trying to grab

be foolishly injured in a futile defense. At worst, some will die, and this incident will cause intense friction—perhaps even war—between your two houses.

“But…” Mina said hesitantly.

my choice. Place no burden on yourselves.” He grabbed the bronze hand mirror and slipped it into his breast pocket. With that, he opened the carriage door and stepped onto the roadside. His legs were quite stiff from sitting for so long,

protect me despite us being essentially strangers… I will not forget it. You

Nikoletta said, trailing off. “I’m sorry,

not say that the burden is not on you?” Argrave shook his

Argrave. His eyes were still cold, but there was something else… disbelief, perhaps, or more optimistically some thin veneer of respect. Then, the Margrave wordlessly walked to his horse, reaching into a saddlebag to retrieve a

easier, for he found that his anxiety was fading somewhat. The choice had been made—there would be no conflict. That alone calmed

the rope out. “This is to be wrapped around your torso. I will

frowned. “I don’t know how to ride

learn quickly, or I will drag you.”

soon wound a length of rope beneath Argrave’s arms. “Horses are disgusting creatures. Can’t I—ow,” Argrave trailed off as the

tight, and then mounted back atop his stallion, brushing its crimson mane. He led it forth in a canter, pulling Argrave along. The sight of the gaunt, tall man being led about was quite pitiful. His complaints of abusing hostages and borderline slavery

up a horse for Argrave to ride. After some fussing and fidgeting, the Margrave raised his war horn to his lips once more.

#####

staring at the great cloud of dust slowly moving in the direction of Dirracha, the royal capital. Her mood was