Jackal Among Snakes

“Must you go personally, Master Castro?” A gray robed figure followed behind a short old man. Though the figure was mostly shrouded by the robe’s cowl, locks of light blue hair barely peeked out.

The old man smiled and turned. His face was sagging, but he looked genial and charitable—the very picture of a sweet old man. The robe he wore was gray, but it glowed with enchantments, and a grand image of an owl shone like a diamond on the shoulders.

“Yes, I must. I have to handle a great deal of business elsewhere before heading to Mateth, but I must meet our young Acolyte personally to earn his favor. Genius is uncommon, but most often, it births two things: pride and eccentricity. That small little dissertation, if moved from theory to practice, could well shake the entire magical world.” Castro voice sounded tired but gentle.

“…do you think…” the other paused. “I think I’d like a fellow… never mind.”

“A fellow disciple?” Castro smiled. “Perhaps, Ingo. This trip serves two purposes; to show the boy that his talents are valued by the Order, and to suss out his character. If I must lower my face as Master of the Order of the Gray Owl to help a rising star lift the Order further up… so be it.”

“But he’s part of the royal…” Ingo trailed off.

Castro stepped forward and grabbed Ingo’s shoulder. He had to reach up to do so. The boy stared at the old tower master with innocent brown eyes.

“I know you have much reason to fear the Vasquers. But rest assured, I will not allow anyone to hurt you ever again. Your life has been a cruel one, but I am resolved to make sure that cruelty ends. Be at ease, Ingo.” Castro squeezed his shoulder tightly, and then released his grip.

Ingo rubbed his hands together, smiling. He looked fully grown, but some of his mannerisms still had a childlike innocence. “I am more worried for you, Master Castro.”

Castro laughed and turned away. “You are far too young to be worrying for me. I do not go looking for danger, and even still, few things on this continent can truly endanger me.”

The tower master walked to the edge of the large stone room they were in, opening the door to a balcony. The balcony extended off for a time, and it peculiarly lacked a railing. Ingo hung near the door, and his hood blew off from the intense wind. His light blue hair whipped about wildly.

Undaunted by the fierce winds, Castro walked to the edge of the balcony and fished into his pockets as casually as one would look for their car keys. He pulled free a black whistle studded with rubies and other such precious gemstones. He blew it, and a piercing shrill chirp echoed from the top of the tower.

closer. As it grew closer, it slowly came into a view; a gray wyvern

eyes widened in surprise when the old man simply floated in the air. Castro started to walk downwards as though there was a set

the sky. Ingo watched him go in wonder. Then, he quietly turned and shut the door to the balcony, standing alone in the grand chambers of the Master of

#####

by his surroundings for a moment, but then he came to remember he was in the Duke’s residence, on a guest bedroom with a seaside balcony. He waited for

was absent, refilling his flasks. Argrave had come to learn the snow elf vampire kept many

would speak to Argrave in the morning. Even if Nikoletta had some faith in Argrave’s ability, he himself assumed the Duke would not especially trust the strategy advice of some young royal bastard. The Duke had seen

occasions. It came from his luggage that he’d left with Nikoletta when Reinhardt had abducted him. He took a look in the mirror in the room. Tailored clothes hid his tall, skinny frame better, and Argrave personally enjoyed dressing well. Fine clothes, fine jewelry—they were fun

always, the thing served as a stark reminder of his duty; his role as the one to struggle against Gerechtigkeit.

[Sickly], [Weak], [Intelligent], [Magic Affinity (High)], [Insomniac], [Blessing

(D)], [Healing Magic (D)], [Illusion

magic was already at D, and although Argrave had learned only a few spells, druidic magic was heading upwards. He thought the ‘traits’ section had

huh… to think I used to be proud of always getting my eight

since he had become Argrave, he had never once fallen asleep easily and woke up undisturbed. Even before the battle at the scout’s camp, he was troubled by sleeplessness and nightmares. He would dream that everything was normal—perhaps he was back in the lecture room at college, or driving, or enjoying a quiet family dinner. Then, it would all vanish. He would trip, or blink, and he was back in Berendar, with

about, to hear about… but to have

hand mirror on the bed and stood, heading for the pile of stacked books in the corner of the guest room. He filtered through druidic spells, setting aside the ones that were

paused, spotting the book on C-rank elemental magic out of the corner of his eye. He reached down and picked it up, walking towards the balcony. He pulled aside the curtains and walked out. The ocean crashed against the shore. One could see the grass plains and field of crops outside Mateth just barely.

He willed some of his magic into the book. Past D-rank, spell books had to be enchanted with spells to project a matrix. Once his magic stirred within him and exited

giant mountain from a helicopter. The mountain had been so large, it was difficult for his

matrix of his favorite D-rank spell, [Writhing Lightning]. Briefly, he recalled those snow elves that had been left spasming from electricity, writhing despite having been long dead. The image left him quickly, disturbing

function, and they came together to execute a spell. It was a little like a ridiculously complex programming language, Argrave reckoned. The thought made him laugh, but he