Jackal Among Snakes

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?”

with the spell, 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

no idea that

mention this if you have no issue

long as you keep me from harm, I don’t care if you… drink on the job. Just don’t expect me to pay for the drinks,” Argrave warned vaguely. “On

was why Galamon always carried around a flask. Indeed, vampirism seemed a vaguely appealing idea to Argrave. If not for the

Argrave had to look a long way up. He decided to stand also. Galamon was huge—well-built, and even barely taller

wait. Then we’ll

Galamon agreed. He walked away, and the crowd parted for

sat back down in the table, dispelling the [Isolate] barrier. The two had very quickly become the most eye-catching people

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 out of his chair and reached for Argrave’s shoulder. Not wishing to be touched, Argrave cast a simple shock spell, and

it, wizard,” the

paying attention as much to his surroundings as he

bald man insisted, pointing at

not?” asked Argrave coldly,

his chest. “That white-haired bastard’ll likely put a knife in ya chest as you

shook his

for you here. Nothing good comes out of

Argrave waved his hand. “Go back to your table, leave

noble. Nothing good comes from getting mixed up with you,” the bald man shook his head. “But people that talk ill of

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

shook his head. “Even if he did disappear some people, that’s not my

dagger on his waist, and a bag hanging from his shoulder. He collected his hair and put it behind him, donning his helmet. Then he grabbed his greatsword and strung it to his waist, opposite his other

ready,”

familiar sight. “So you are.” He stood, and the two

#####

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 black armor was standing right in front of

And you don’t wish to be touched unless

assassinations, just a retained sword I can count

paper. Argrave gestured for the clerk to hand over the 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,”