Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 12

Galamon drew the dagger across the whetstone one final time, and then rubbed it down with a cloth. He put it back in its sheath and set it on the table beside his helmet. He straightened his posture and stared at Argrave.

“The work is fairly long term,” Argrave continued. “Six months. 3000 gold.” Argrave saw some heads turn when he mentioned the amount.

“You know my rates,” Galamon said. “Someone referred you?”

Galamon’s voice was a low rasp, enough to give Argrave chills up his spine. He briefly felt envious. He had no issues with his own voice, per se, but to have a voice like that… well, it would be damned nice. Maybe if he inhaled hot embers for a couple of hours…

“Something like that,” Argrave nodded, dismissing his vocal envy.

Galamon did not react. “Who am I guarding?”

“Me.” Argrave pointed both of his thumbs at himself. “I have some enemies, you see. I plan to make more. I won’t demand you do anything unreasonable, though the terms can be ironed out when we draft the contract.”

Galamon nodded slightly, face still unmoving. “You’ll provide room and board?”

“Yes. Though… we may be camping frequently. I would ask that you hunt, should that be the case.”

“You have the coin?”

“Not on me,” Argrave said quickly and loudly so as to deter any listeners. “We would have to go to the bank, draft a contract, and then I could give it to you. In coin, if necessary.” Argrave tapped his fingers on the table. “Any other questions?”

Galamon stared Argrave down, and then retrieved his flask for another drink. He set it aside, then shook his head. “No.”

He doesn’t even ask for my name, my position in society… really, his confidence would seem like recklessness if I didn’t know fully how good this guy was at his job.

“Good. But I have some things to say to you. So…” Argrave held his hands up and cast a D-rank illusion spell, [Isolate]. It prevented sounds from leaking out. A simple yet efficient spell. Of course, it was an illusion spell and not a warding spell, so a sufficiently high-level spellcaster could resist its effects—not that he’d find them in this seedy place. Argrave did not know any warding spells, though. He would have to change that in the future.

“Our words won’t reach beyond this table now,” Argrave said. “One,” Argave held up a finger, “I know you were exiled from Veiden. Two,” Argrave held up a second finger. “I know why. Don’t worry—I wouldn’t have even talked to you had that been an issue.”

Galamon’s stoic face finally showed some expression. His brows furrowed, and his lips fell into a scowl. “Why was I exiled, then?”

spellcaster were to overhear, it would make things very uncomfortable. Such people would not be common in such a place, but Argrave was not

Argrave considered that most people of the Middle Ages would have no idea that iron

if you have no issue with

me from harm, I don’t care if you… drink on the

not damage them, and they would not require sleep. That was why Galamon always carried around a flask. Indeed, vampirism seemed a vaguely appealing idea to Argrave. If not for the

He decided to stand also. Galamon was huge—well-built, and even barely taller than Argrave. “I must quickly fetch

we’ll go to the

walked away, and the crowd parted for him as he

The two had very quickly become the most eye-catching people in the establishment,

called a bald man sitting in a table across from his. Argrave ignored him. “Oi. Black-hair. Talking to ya.” Argrave kept ignoring him. The man got

it, wizard,”

surroundings as he was the

bald man insisted, pointing at a careful

coldly, not caring to

he said, putting his fist to his chest. “That white-haired bastard’ll likely put a

just shook

here. Nothing

hire you.” Argrave waved his hand. “Go

up with you,” the bald man shook his head. “But people that talk ill of him… they end up missing, no body ever found. I’m just

that. The bald man seemed somewhat genuine. Argrave didn’t let

head. “Even if

strung bow on his back, an axe and dagger on his waist, and a bag hanging from his shoulder. He

ready,”

are.” He stood, and the two left for the

#####

had written. Once he reached the end, he set it down on the bank’s counter gently and looked at Argrave. The bank clerk sat there nervously—a giant snow elf in

mainly protection. And you don’t

bloody murder butchery, no secret assassinations, just a retained

for the clerk to hand over the banknote with the custom amount, deducting it from his account. The 3000-gold

good day, sirs,”

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255