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.

distance, gradually growing closer. As it grew closer, it slowly came into a view; a gray wyvern sped towards the tower

eyes widened in surprise when the old man simply floated in the air. Castro started to walk

Castro, and then the two ascended into the sky. Ingo watched him go in wonder. Then, he quietly turned and shut the door to the balcony, standing

#####

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

snow elf vampire

some faith in Argrave’s ability, he himself assumed the Duke would not especially trust the strategy advice of some young royal bastard. The

a look in the mirror in

the thing served as a stark reminder of his duty; his role as the one to struggle against Gerechtigkeit. He walked and picked it up, tossing it in the air and

Affinity (High)], [Insomniac],

Magic (D)], [Healing Magic (D)], [Illusion Magic (D)], [Warding Magic(D)], [Druidic Magic (F)], [Inscription (E)], [Imbuing

was somewhat validating to see the results of his constant study. Warding magic was already at D, and although Argrave had learned only a few spells, druidic

think I used

of it, 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

hear about… but to

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

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

spells to project a matrix. Once his magic stirred within him and exited from his fingers,

him of a time where he had been looking at a giant mountain from a helicopter. The mountain had been so large, it was difficult for his mind to comprehend its scale. Argrave shut the book with

out above the ocean, staring at his palm. He most often wore gloves for fear of getting dirty, so he rarely saw his hands and fingers. He conjured only the matrix of his favorite D-rank spell, [Writhing Lightning]. Briefly, he recalled those snow elves

hovered in the air. It was a bizarre amalgamation of many 3-D shapes, but each had a purpose and a function, and they came together to execute a spell. It was a little like a ridiculously complex programming language, Argrave