Jackal Among Snakes

Stain straightened the ribbon he wore around his neck. His entire outfit—a gaudy thing of red and white—was quite stifling, in his mind. The stifling came from two aspects. It was mentally difficult because Stain loathed wearing the red and white of House Jast. It was physically difficult because the outfit had been made for him one year ago when he was fifteen, and it did not fit as well as it had then.

It had taken some time, but Stain had managed to track down Elias. It was important that he talk to him as Argrave had said, and even more important that he did so before Rivien. Stain wanted to be paid well for this job. The pay was nice, naturally, but the connections he might earn were more important. This ‘Argrave’ seemed important.

“Damned bastard. Better pay me well,” Stain muttered as he walked into the village. He kept his eyes on a white banner bearing a golden lion on it. “Better line my pockets with velvet and gold and fill my mouth with caviar and cream. Him and his two elves. Thin-wristed, dead-eyed…” Stain continued to mutter as he walked down the simple dirt road of the village.

The village was quite a humble place, with only dirt roads and wooden homes. The streets were filled with the occasional spilled grain from the recent harvest. The remainder had been placed into the granaries or kept in wooden barrels for temporary storage. Stain knew enough of the commonfolk to know that the harvest this year had been quite bountiful. It was a strangely optimistic portent for a nation on the eve of a civil war.

The militiamen watched the harvest warily, for it was their village’s lifeline in essence. What was watched more warily, though, was the large contingent of white-armored knights standing just out front one of the larger places in the village. Stain loosened the white ribbon around his neck once, and then tightened it again, knowing he should appear presentable.

When the white-armored knights saw Stain, they knew immediately to pay more attention to him only by the way he dressed. Their gazes stayed all but locked on him as he approached, and even the villagers gave him a wide berth.

If my brother were here, he’d say I look noble. ‘Oh, Veladrien, you project a veritable aura of righteous honor.’ Stain made himself laugh as he imagined his brother’s voice inside his head. If I was watching myself, I’d say that even pigs can dress in lace and pearls.

Stain came to stand before the four white-armored knights just out front of the building. He felt very short in front of them—a feeling he was well used to. Within, he could see many more knights enjoying a humble, if grand in size, banquet. Stain took some pleasure in seeing their white capes stained with mud, and their white metal boots lacking a shine.

“Hold,” the first knight addressed. “State your business.”

Stain put his hand to his chest in a somewhat out-of-practice noble salute. “I am Veladrien of Jast,” Stain said smoothly. “I would speak to Elias of Parbon.”

“The young lord has already received the invitation for the banquet in Jast. His reply is not yet ready,” the first knight answered, clearly the talker amongst the four of them.

“I come regarding more important matters,” Stain said, doing his best to use more formal, proper speech. “Something concerning your young lord.”

“’Something?’” Another knight repeated Stain’s vague wording. “You might be more specific.”

“Yes, I might, if you’d just let me past so that I can speak to the one whose ear is worth bending,” Stain said a little gruffly, then added in a more polite tone, “My words are for the young lord’s ears only.”

feet and

me if you’re paranoid. I’m sure your young lord has plenty of

said. “Escort him to the young lord. Watch

Several gazes turned their way. The white-armored knights weaved through tables, leading Stain somewhere. Though his escorts were especially mindful not to step on the white capes draped across the floor on account of the knights sitting on benches, Stain took no small pleasure in deliberately stepping on

the hall until they reached a door. One of the knights knocked on the door, waiting a few seconds before opening up. There, Stain saw a

clothes, glistening jewelry, shimmering weapons, and well-polished armor. Everything

imprint of a lion decorating the front. Their swords shimmered red and cast light, obviously enchanted. Stain recognized one knight—a blonde man with a broad build and a handsome face who had earned fame and wealth warring with the southern tribes:

knights were more lightly-armored. One wore fanciful white clothing, and his red hair made Stain recognize him as

widow’s peak, while his beard was cut to a sharp point. His eyes glowed with

brought him here?” asked Elias, the first to speak. All heads had moved to the door long before they entered. Stain felt a little nervous—only a little. He tried

Jast, and has some words for the young lord,” a knight introduced,

Stain said clearly, stepping forth away from the knight’s grip. Baron Abraham adjusted his seat until it faced Stain,

table. “Veladrien. The name is familiar. You’re the youngest in

and House Jast is renowned for producing mages,” the spellcaster

very least,” Elias spoke with a natural authority that reminded Stain very strongly of his brother. The spellcaster

you for bringing him here,” he addressed

nodded and

seat to Veladrien. “You may speak as though those present are absent. Anything you tell me will reach their ears regardless, so do not bother asking to speak

anyway.” Stain cleared his throat, then said simply, “Argrave is in Jast. He wants to speak with you before you make it

taut and angry, and he leaned forward on his chair. The mage Helmuth lowered his head, chuckling, and Elias’ face grew stern and

bastard want?” one of the well-armored knights said

that,”

lord, but he crippled your sister and humiliated your father. We of House Parbon have no reason to speak politely of him, be it in front of his face

at his collar, feeling the room growing hotter. Crippled his…? Gods. What

come to know him. I will not say he is respectable, but… he

are you speaking of?” Abraham stood, the chair thrown back to the ground. Elias also rose. The two stood across from each other, eye to eye. “’Come to know him?’ Do you mean you’ve fallen to honeyed

tone is bordering on insolence, Abraham,” the spellcaster