Jackal Among Snakes

Galamon hefted a giant pack over his shoulder. With both his armor and the pack, he could not weigh less than five hundred pounds presently. The well-built snow elf rolled his shoulders, testing the weight. Argrave wondered if the straps would snap, given time.

“You look somewhat pitiful,” commented Argrave, wearing his own pack. It was mostly full of water and other such essentials, and quite light compared to Galamon’s or even Anneliese’s.

“It would be more pitiful watching you try and lift this pack,” refuted Galamon. He tapped his fingers against his helm. “With that crown from the ruins, this will prove no burden. Even still… low food, low water… for a long trek as you claim this to be, we are woefully unprepared. You should return more books, pack more essentials.”

“It’s like I told you—stop thinking of it as a cave.” Argrave fit his thumb beneath the strap of his backpack, adjusting it. “If you can confidently hunt for food in a forest, we’ll have no trouble staying alive and well-fed in the Low Way. Even you, strange eating habits that you have. This place has a river, and many springs. I even know what foliage is edible. Anneliese and I can munch on mushrooms if need be.”

Galamon turned his head away, unconvinced, and Argrave looked about the quaint settlement of Ritmont. It was a relatively humble walled town, mostly relying on agriculture for prosperity. Its proximity to a river and its position crammed between the territories of Jast, Elbraille, and Parbon made it a minor hub of trade, and the place was moderately well-developed. The roads were paved, the guards were well-equipped, and the buildings sturdy. That said, it had no lord—the people walking about were under the Duke of Elbraille directly.

Argrave had stopped here because it was the last vestige of civilization that had a connection to the Order of the Gray Owl, and he had some books to leave behind. It was costing him a good deal to have the tomes delivered back to Jast, but he was not lacking in money. There were many books to return on account of the fact that Argrave and Anneliese both had made tremendous strides in magic.

In their time at Jast and in the road to Ritmont, Argrave felt he’d covered all of his bases. He had examined the statistics on his bronze hand mirror for the first time in a while.

Traits: [Tall], [Sickly], [Weak], [Intelligent], [Magic Affinity (High)], [Insomniac], [Blessing of Supersession (MAX)]

Skills: [Elemental Magic (C)], [Blood Magic (C)], [Healing Magic (C)], [Illusion Magic (D)], [Warding Magic(C)], [Druidic Magic (C)], [Inscription (E)], [Imbuing (E)]

He’d learned C-rank healing spells in case of emergencies, C-rank warding spells to deal with lesser attacks, and C-rank elemental spells of some variety to cover all his bases as according to each element’s strengths. Anneliese had done much the same, though her array of spells was already quite diverse as she had been at C-rank longer than Argrave.

Beyond that, Argrave had learned one blood magic spell at C-rank: [Pain’s Thorn], a long-range bolt not dissimilar to the D-rank spell of the same school, [Pierce]. Blood magic was most effective at quick bursts of extreme power, in Argrave’s estimation, and until he was Black Blooded, he did not intend to learn any more blood magic.

objective only once we have arrived at this

tempted to do just that when you paint me as such a monster.” He adjusted the backpack on his shoulder.

the carriage, just beside the many satchels full of the black liquid magic created by the Amaranthine Heart. He sat on the side of the carriage, while

entire journey.” Argrave rubbed his hands together, and then eventually conjured a ward to block out their conversation for caution’s

have something that I need. We have two options.” Argrave raised one finger. “Entreat them for the thing.” Argrave

Argrave long enough to follow his train of thought. Galamon was the first to respond, saying, “For vampires, there is only one option. Pull them out by the

arms. “You might see why those words are somewhat dubious coming from you, Galamon, if you

own existence is an antithesis to my ideals. I should kill myself… but I value my life over my values.” Galamon stared Argrave down. “It is a source of shame and guilt to me. But I know the beast that chains vampires just as they do, and I know also that scant few of them can

tongue against his cheek, surprised by his companion’s uncompromising

offer a response, Anneliese questioned, “Do you truly believe you

Stonepetal Sentinels. You might think such

answer to my question?”

I’m sure that you’ve discovered, I can reason with a lot of people that seem difficult to reason with. The infamously unruly Rowe ‘the Righteous’ even confessed his admiration towards my abilities… in between calling me a ‘wormy bastard,’ or something like that.” Argrave spread his hands out. “I can do

you won’t,” said Galamon. “You

frowned, and Anneliese contributed, “I am inclined to agree with Galamon on this matter. Most

Galamon shed tears of blood,” Argrave said, voice distant. “Alright, alright,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “You outnumber me. I submit. In that case, we’ll be working closely with the Stonepetal Sentinels. These guys… aren’t pleasant. It’s why I even

are these Sentinels?”

to ridding the Low Way of the abominations created by the Order of the Rose. The last sentinels against the

do