Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave’s eyes lingered on the man wearing reddish-brown robes slightly behind Elias: Helmuth. Black hair, a widow’s peak, a dour face, and a beard trimmed to a point all lent the spellcaster an appearance of harsh sternness. His eyes were constantly in motion, twisting and beckoning like there was an abyss beyond those orbs. It had been merely another interesting thing when viewing it from the perspective of a player, but now that those eyes were real, it somewhat disturbed Argrave—both their appearance, and the knowledge of what they could do.

It was difficult to distinguish where, exactly, Helmuth was looking, but Argrave was certain he had seen something out of the ordinary, for Helmuth displayed considerable caution gazing upon them. Perhaps it was Rowe, magical titan that he was, or perhaps it was Argrave, possessed of the blessing of a God of Knowledge. Worst yet, it might be Galamon, the vampire.

Regardless, the spellcaster stepped up to Elias’ ear and whispered something. Elias frowned as he listened, and then eventually turned an eye back to Argrave.

Argrave did not know what, exactly, Helmuth said, but eventually Elias looked to him and said simply, “I won’t. There’s no need.”

“I strongly advise against that course, young lord,” Helmuth said insistently, slightly louder. He lowered his voice again.

Argrave turned to Galamon as Helmuth whispered to Elias, conveying to the elf he wished to know what they were saying.

“He wishes to leave,” muttered Galamon beneath his breath. “He believes you are a danger, and fears that you have an S-rank spellcaster in your retinue.”

Argrave nodded, but his question soon turned out to be a waste of time. Baron Abraham said loudly, “I also think we should leave, young lord.” He raised a hand and waved it at Argrave and his three companions. “You said this bastard stopped the Veidimen invasion—why, then, does he keep only their company?”

“Because words are stronger than swords in ending wars,” Argrave supplied smoothly, interjecting himself into things to speed the conversation up. “Things were resolved diplomatically. I was named friend to the Veidimen.”

“Hah.” Abraham shook his head. “More likely you were the puppeteer behind the invasion to begin with. Start something and end something with the same hands, fabricate glory from nothing—not unlike most in Vasquer,” Abraham said, voice low.

Argrave laughed. “Conspiracy theories, now?”

“Baron Abraham, you forget your place,” Elias said.

“Margrave Reinhardt made it clear to me my place was to advise you,” Abraham turned. “And you’re going down a foolish road even conversing with this lowlife. That is my advice to you.”

“Lowlife? You’re not worth a tenth of him, even were your flesh made of gold,” Rowe said provocatively, sparking Argrave’s panic.

“Now, let’s just—” Argrave tried to begin.

“Is that right?” The Baron placed his hand on the pommel of his sword, taking a step forward towards the four of them. “Blade or spell, he’d be dead within ten seconds if we came to blows.”

Argrave felt magic stir within the air and took an instinctive step back. Something rushed from Helmuth’s hands, winding about Abraham like a tetherball. When things settled, it was revealed to be a purple mass of air coiled around Abraham’s body. The knight struggled with it, clawing at it with his hands. Argrave recognized what had happened—Helmuth used the B-rank spell [Tempest Grip]. The spell, a wind-type elemental spell, had been tainted purple by Helmuth’s unusual magic constitution.

tempt wrath beyond your

though the knight was ready to lunge and seek revenge. He stared at Helmuth indignantly, breath quick. Argrave feared that

blonde hair. The Baron walked a fair distance away, refusing to continue

would seem,” Rowe said. “But

you—if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t

an amiable conversation has

Mateth—what

House Monticci’s fleet was destroyed, the harbors have been entirely wiped out, and the Dukedom

situation. “Then this rumor of you stopping the invasion—how did that happen? How did you repel the snow

fabricated, but with three snow elves at his side and Argrave having already confessed being named friend to the Veidimen, he was not confident enough to maneuver his way out of this one. Worse yet, Rowe would probably force honesty from

He tapped her shoulder, and after a moment’s pause, she nodded. “Most of the credit goes

Elias sized Anneliese up as she stared down at him. They locked eyes for a moment, and Anneliese

“But I’ve forced a digression. What is it you wanted to speak to

Duke of Elbraille intends to support Vasquer,” Argrave declared

to his beard, stroking it idly. The knights looked at each other, exchanging

support Vasquer as well?”

is the natural order of things, yes,” Argrave

know

Jast. He

is he?” Abraham questioned from

to come along. “But I have these letters detailing exchanges between the Duke and the Count, speaking of the war to come. It contains strategy, the like. Here.” Argrave reached into his satchel, pulling out a tightly wrapped bundle of letters. Elias stepped forward and took it, breaking the string

be certain of it, for the man lacked both pupils and irises, but he was near certain the man was

forged,” Abraham stated. Argrave was rather impressed the man could still be so annoyingly opposed to him

are,” said Elias as he

“How?” Abraham asked incredulously.

well familiar with the Parbon instinct, Baron Abraham,” Elias reminded Abraham. He looked up at Argrave. “Besides, the information contained within these isn’t something that

Veladrien if you doubt me. Would just take a snap of the fingers, more or less,”

boy of unconfirmed identity,” Abraham

own mental deficiencies is

draw more ire, but internally agreed with the comment. Abraham walked away and sat

from entering Jast,” Elias followed Argrave’s logic. “It

his point. “I think things would be better suited if Jast came to the aid of House Parbon, instead. Anneliese and I have been discussing how we might make