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?”

he did not feel comfortable saying it out loud. Vampires were nearly universally reviled. If any high-level spellcaster were to overhear, it would make things very uncomfortable. Such people would not be common in such a

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

if you have no issue with

are honorable. You are especially so. As long as you keep me from harm, I don’t care if you… drink on

was why Galamon always carried around a flask. Indeed, vampirism seemed a vaguely appealing

to look a long way up. He decided to stand also. Galamon

Then we’ll

He walked away, and the

barrier. The two had very quickly become the most eye-catching people in the establishment, between their mention of Galamon’s

table across from his. Argrave ignored him. “Oi. Black-hair. Talking to ya.” Argrave kept ignoring him. The man got out of his chair and reached for Argrave’s shoulder. Not wishing to

it, wizard,” the

surroundings as he was the man in front of him. He felt ill

that snow elf,” the bald man insisted,

coldly, not caring to hear

his fist to his chest. “That white-haired bastard’ll

just shook

here. Nothing

you’d prefer I hire you.” Argrave waved his hand. “Go back to your table, leave

up with you,” the bald man shook his

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

his head. “Even if he did

to see Galamon returning. He had a strung bow on his back, an axe and dagger on his waist, and a

am ready,”

smiled at the familiar sight. “So you are.” He stood,

#####

looked at Argrave. The bank clerk sat there nervously—a giant snow elf in black armor was standing right in front of him, and Galamon did not

job is mainly protection. And you don’t wish

no secret assassinations, just a retained sword I can

banknote with the custom amount, deducting it from his account. The 3000-gold loss would sting, to be sure, but insurance was more important than

day, sirs,” the bank clerk

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