Jackal Among Snakes

“What do you mean, ‘the Duchess won’t be coming?’” Induen pronounced each word very deliberately, teeth clenched tight in anger. The prince was in a small, shabby room that seemed to be abandoned. It was poorly lit by moonlight through covered windows. Just behind him, his escort of four disguised royal knights stood alert. Their focus was devoted to the man adjacent to their prince, each very wary as though the man was likely to lunge at any second.

“Just that, Prince Induen,” the man replied. He was smaller than Induen, but his presence had an indomitability one might liken to a rock. He wore rounded steel armor that seemed especially thick and heavy, so one could not see his face. A warhammer hung from his waist. His helmet was wrought in the shape of a boar.

“The Duchess will not be coming,” the man repeated.

“Why?” Induen insisted. “Has something come up? Something more important than her prince?”

“The situation has changed. The Duchess does not feel it is in her best interest to meet,” the boar-masked knight laid out plainly.

“House Parbon does not think it is in their best interest to give faithful service to my father.” Induen stepped forward, moonlight dancing across his face until he came to stand before the man, peering at his eyes inside the helmet. “Are these two things related, I wonder? I should hope not. If you need an example of what defiance brings, you need only look to Parbon’s vassals. That should be clear enough message.”

Despite Induen’s formidable presence, the boar-helmet knight did not move at all. Though the prince’s breath came close enough to fog the well-polished steel helm, his hands stayed at his side, disciplined and unafraid.

“The situation has changed,” the knight repeated.

Induen seemed to have some difficulty restraining his irritation. When he seemed liable to lash out, he turned away quickly, leaving his back to the boar-masked knight. “How has it changed? What’s changed?” the prince asked coldly.

“The Duchess said it is because Jast has allied with House Parbon.”

Induen’s breathing grew quicker, and he reached at his side, pulling free a white dagger gilded with gold. It was the same dagger that Margrave Reinhardt had used in their fight together, and it still shone with enchantments. He stared at it, fixated, slowing his breathing until it was calm. “This is… news to me.”

Induen put away the knife, and then turned around. “You. The Duchess belongs to House Cael. The sigil of House Cael is a boar. Are you a scion of that house?”

“No,” the knight said.

“A champion, then?” the prince pressed.

“Once,” the knight said. “Now, I am someone the duchess is willing to let die.”

“It seems she is quick to discard things,” the prince noted.

“Yes,” the knight agreed.

Induen placed a hand on his hip. “What is your name, knight?”

“Unimportant. If you need a name, most call me Boarmask.”

Induen scoffed. “Which came first—the name, or the

knight

idea of going to fetch something and returning with nothing. You said

stared at

so quickly. “’No,’” Induen repeated. “I often like brevity, but

Boarmask said. “In search

you decline me,

die for

their knight? Perhaps you’ve the order reversed. You

be,” Boarmask said. He stepped forward past Prince

abandoned room, the moonlight moving ever so slowly and reflecting off the

one of the knights alluded, knowing well their

helm. It seems he is ever in search of the

his gauntleted finger across the blade, scratching the steel armor. “Neither the Duke nor the Duchess will break cleanly. What I bite, I hold ‘til I

#####

lifted one more chest and put it in the luggage compartment. Argrave looked behind him, but there was nothing more to put on the carriage. Argrave did

the quality by sight alone, but he supposed they would soon have occasion to test them out. In addition, his armor had been remade, covering the gaping hole in the torso. The crown taken from the ruins near Barden rested in Galamon’s helmet, hidden

They could cast a B-rank warding spell twenty times before a recharge was necessary. Argrave hoped

the Amaranthine Heart had given Argrave gallons of liquid magic over the course of days. It had been an expensive endeavor. All of the liquid was stored within the main portion of the carriage where he and Anneliese would sit. With so much excess, he had decided to have Anneliese drink the stuff

stuff

him, and then shut the luggage compartment’s lid. “So it

pocket had any use beyond telling him things he knew, it might not be so troublesome to bring his books and the liquid magic produced by the Amaranthine Heart. It was a wonder the

not need to sleep, eat, or drink, and was incapable of feeling fatigue. A playable character was quite a terrifying figure, bluntly—they blindly rush into any danger, they never fail, and each has a single-minded

been delegated to

The red-haired young lord rubbed his hands together as though they were cold. “I have to get my

It would do too

blinked for a few seconds. “But you said… I could always get permission

together. His newly worn metal ring

said that so you

to process

better to seek forgiveness than ask for permission.” Argrave nodded, and then patted Elias’ shoulder. “On that note, please forgive me. It had to be done. If you wish, lay all the blame on me. I am

looked at the ground. “It was still my decision. I cannot let you

“It’s why I even brought up the idea: I

paused. “A real bastard,” he finally said,

and staring down at him. “I’m not telling you to drive safely, but rather make sure you don’t end up in a ditch with a knife in your gut. Just because it feels like things have settled down doesn’t mean you can relax. Delbraun might have other plans for that contingent of mages following