Jackal Among Snakes

“Hmm…” Rowe grunted as Argrave set down the quill, leaning over the parchment Argrave had been writing on. Anneliese was on the other side of him, just as interested.

“That’s the simple illusion spell, [Muffle].” He pointed at another diagram. “And there is how you translate [Muffle] to an Inscription. Once you will magic into it, the enchantment will be complete. This one will muffle sounds, naturally. Higher-ranked mages with larger magic pools like you mostly resist illusion magic, and plenty of enchantments or spells exist that help prevent people’s senses from being twisted.”

“Very prudent to use a spell I don’t know to teach me enchanting. Quite the amazing teacher you are, aye,” the aged elf said sarcastically. Rowe reached out and touched the paper without asking Argrave for permission. “Aye, I feel it. I can put magic into this.” He did so, and the inscription shone briefly before fading back into ordinary looking paper.

Argrave picked up a gold coin and dropped it onto the paper. It was near soundless. Rowe watched this with brows furrowed. Argrave ripped the paper, and it was completely soundless. Rowe stopped him. “I get it. Stop wasting paper. You know how much this stuff is worth?”

Anneliese picked up a piece of paper and moved away. Rowe turned to Argrave. “Then that is that. If I had known this matter was so simple, I might not have agreed to this trade.”

“Yeah, sure. You would have definitely figured it out without me. Spare me the prideful nonsense,” Argrave said dismissively. “Now, I’ll get you those illusion spellbooks at Jast. Might be a pain, but I need druidic magic. Best way to scout and watch for enemies in the entire world.”

“I’m glad you see that,” Rowe said with some measure of pride. He stepped a bit closer, locking gazes with Argrave and speaking quietly. “So, that one is coming with you?” Rowe inquired. Argrave turned his head. Anneliese was writing something.

Argrave looked back to Rowe, nodding. “Yeah. Why?”

“That’s what I should be asking you, boy. I have responsibilities here, but I could give you a higher-ranked mage. I’m sure I could talk one of the A-rank mages into coming with you. A devastating force on that continent of Berendar, as far as I’m aware. Invaluable in… whatever it is you’re doing to stop He Who Would Judge the Gods,” Rowe said, shaking his head quickly.

A loud poof came from behind Argrave, and he turned his head to spot a small mushroom cloud of smoke fading into nothingness. Anneliese stepped back from a burning piece of paper.

“That’s why I’m bringing her. Latent genius, that one. She has great talent,” Argrave said, pointing with his thumb. “Some enchantments are really quite useless, like that one you saw there; one-time uses that only destroy whatever it is they’re written on. Others, like warding magic, are immeasurably useful. Trial-and-error, really.”

Rowe walked forward slowly and jabbed his walking stick in Anneliese’s foot. She let out a little yelp and jumped back. “Damned girl. Be more careful with paper,” he reprimanded, picking up the smoldering piece of paper where the blackened remnants of an inscription could be vaguely seen. He cast a glance at Anneliese.

“Besides, I need people of good character at my side.” Argrave walked forward, shrugging. “I trust Anneliese and Galamon more than any unknown element that is far stronger than me, magically speaking. Well, probably physically speaking, too.”

Rowe cast some fire magic and finished burning the paper, scattering the ashes while wiping his hands off with his fur robes. “Trust. Bah. You’ve known her for three days, maybe. Keep being so trusting, you’ll end up on a spit with the Tenebrous Reaper pissing on your still-warm body.”

“What’s with you and piss?” Argrave shook his head. “I haven’t been wrong since you’ve met me. Never will be, if I can help it.”

“You were wrong once,” Rowe said condescendingly. “Told me to ‘divine with animal guts,’ but that’s tripe. There’s no validity to it. Might as well toss a coin in the air to decide.”

“Tripe,” Argrave repeated. “Very nice pun.”

“Disgusting.” Rowe waved his hand and started to move away.

“Hold a moment,” Argrave stopped him. “I might need some help carrying the books and navigating this place. Can you call some people? I’ll get a list ready of the spells I need.”

list?” Rowe frowned. “You don’t know the spells themselves,

if you could get one of your mages to cast [Cure Disease] on me,

the patriarch the way you order me about. Savor it; it won’t last.” Rowe shook his head. “I’ll get some of the young ones to

out as Rowe walked

#####

through the gates of Katla with Anneliese by his side. Ahead, one snow elf lugged a great chest over his shoulder. It was full of books, so it could not be light. The Veidimen before them chose to carry it over his shoulder out of bravado, but now his expression

family?” Argrave questioned his

off to the side. “And I

isn’t exactly my

crossed her arms. Argrave had gathered that she had problems with her family. Some were blatant, like her grandmother. Others were only Argrave’s assumptions, and

his head to try and see what was happening, but unlike in Berendar he was not always the tallest in crowds and could not see over the people easily. He walked a bit faster, his cane tapping against the ground

he saw battered and wounded Veidimen being escorted off a ship in the far distance. At the center

with a shrug. He was a big man, but his demeanor was

was much smaller, but his presence seemed large in comparison as he rebutted, “I thought you said Alcazar used

the snow elves aside. People looked at him angrily before they recognized him, and then the crowd promptly made way for him. Patriarch Dras turned his head

to the snow

on Mateth. He had always liked Dras when playing ‘Heroes of Berendar.’ Now, after what Anneliese had told him, much of the goodwill he’d had

with a shrug. “Rowe and I worked out a little deal. You can ask

understand, now, why you were so quick to give up trying to save that

expression passive, but

collect a more complete report for study, but the bulk of it was a high-ranking spellcaster. What few mages are still alive believe he used S-rank elemental magic. Your city remains in

capable of magic of that tier, and only three that use elemental magic. If Duke Enrico placed a lot of value on my words, he might’ve called in a favor… Argrave’s

not fallen. Argrave had been worried his actions might have prolonged the battle, ultimately worsening the result. Instead… Mateth never fell at all. He clenched his hand tightly against the cane in his hand. The unknowns of what had happened still wore at his conscience. Just because the city had not fallen did not mean there were no damages… or loss

Argrave said after pausing for a long

immeasurably naïve to think the world would be constant as it was in a video game. He stuck with what he knew, and though his knowledge had been immeasurably helpful, it wouldn’t be enough going forward. Though the variables would remain the same, the equation would be different. Argrave would need to be more flexible and predictive. One failure could cost him his life, or indeed everyone’s life. That was what the bronze hand mirror in his pocket told him,

a ship to send you back,

probed. “That

“Might make those wrists a little thicker, but I think you’ll just never leave the

run more than fifty feet without coughing blood, I’d do so.” Seeing Dras’ expression turn somewhat contemptuous, he added, “That’s a metaphor. I think I can run fifty feet fine. Never tried

would choose one so… physically deficient, shall we say, to do

heart and brain, and those things are a lot more valuable than bulging muscles,” Argrave said, waving to Dras. “I

who had been speaking to Dras before Argrave arrived

I would make that known,” Dras reprimanded immediately.

luggage-carrier caught up.