Jackal Among Snakes

“They were more experienced with this life than I am,” Galamon stated, before pushing up a shelf loaded with rocks in front of an iron door. The thing could not have been light, but he pushed it very casually. With both the enchanted crown from the elven tomb and his vampirism, his raw strength was something to marvel at.

After the battle had finished, the three of them elected to find another place to seek refuge. Argrave thought it might be a bad idea as they might run into more of the vampires, yet Galamon persuaded Argrave when he mentioned some might come seeking the source of the sound. Lightning-based spells were not quiet. They had decided to barricade the doors for the night, leaving room enough only for air.

Certainly, it would be difficult to survive an assault against every vampire within Nodremaid. That said, there was a tenuous balance of power in Nodremaid between the Stonepetal Sentinels, the Guardians, and the vampires. The three were always wary of the other—neither of the two sentient groups would risk such an overt move for what might be a trap by the other.

“You overpowered them pretty easily,” Argrave responded to Galamon, feeling a bit guilty watching the elven vampire do all the work while he sat atop an overturned shelf. The presence of Anneliese, who was reading just beside him, assuaged that feeling somewhat. “Vampires grow in strength when they kill by feeding—they call it drinking the Lifeblood. Considering most of the blood they drink doesn’t come from that, they can’t be exceptionally powerful vampires.”

“Experience isn’t strength,” Galamon shook his head, dusting off his hands against each other. “And vampirism isn’t just a passive state. The beast, the curse within… some vampires suppress it, resist it—like me,” He tapped his chest, the gauntlet ringing out against the metal chest plate. “In return, we receive minimal benefits while largely retaining moral reasoning.”

“Others embrace it,” Galamon stepped forward towards Argrave until he stared down at him. “They court the curse within, unable or unwilling to resist it. They succumb to bloodlust, lose their sense of morality… but in return, they gain the power of the curse.” His gaze turned back to the door. “Back there… They stopped their heartbeat, ceased their breathing, eliminated all trace that they were alive… embraced undeath fully. I have to be more vigilant,” he scolded himself, voice low.

Argrave tilted his head, looking up at Galamon. “How do you do it?”

Galamon removed his helmet, and his matted white hair fell to his shoulders. “Do what?”

“You never sleep. You’re always vigilant, always watching, always ready. You never falter. Despite all that… I never hear you complain,” Argrave said. Anneliese looked up from her book, evidently intrigued by the line of questioning.

Galamon stepped away, turning his head. “…it’s different than what you think.”

“Help me understand,” pressed Argrave.

“I don’t get tired. I don’t get headaches, or aches, or fatigue. I only grow… unsated,” he raised his helmet, looking into the twin sockets. “There is but one need I must monitor.”

Argrave leaned back, resting his elbow against the shelf to support himself. “If you’re trying to turn me, you’re doing a great job selling it.”

is a scourge upon the living. Their life is sustained by misery and death. All of them

Dras’ army, killing tens of thousands of your own kind in warfare,” Anneliese commented, closing her book. “Is that not an utmost display of this ‘misery and death’

contribution. Galamon

she raised her hands innocently. “I am merely questioning if it is truly misery and death you have a problem with. You united Veiden alongside Dras. You even expressed that, if you had not become a vampire, you would have aided him in invading Berendar,” Anneliese stared up at

It was for the greater good,” he said, his back straightening. “For Veid. For the

answer, I think,” Anneliese said calmly. “You take issue with vampirism because Veid fashions vampires as an abomination before Her

up the helmet once more, gazing

my own standing on the

fighting because I fear death,” he told Argrave, slightly shaking his head. “Fear spurs me towards martial perfection.” Galamon hefted the helmet in his hand, and then looked back at the two of them. “And because I fear

a son, remember? Argrave was tempted

The true curse is what it deprived me of. My homeland. My wife, my son. My friends. The Patriarchate that I helped create…” Galamon clenched his hand tight on his helmet. “There are nights when I think of what is behind me… and I think of what

nothing. He wasn’t sure there was something he could reasonably say

what has happened to me… Veid did not abandon me,” Galamon said finally, tone lightening somewhat. “She gave me a path to atonement. Gerechtigkeit. He Who Would Judge the World. A

victory, placing me in impossible situations time and time again. And now, another fool of the same

abrupt shift of the conversation’s

“Even if I’m not who you think I am? Even if all that nonsense about Erlebnis is made up?” His gaze moved back and forth between the two of them. “Because it is,” he continued

after his confession, Argrave’s heart was beating rapidly. Both stared at him, saying nothing. Galamon eventually broke the silence,

had contact—and the last, if I have my way.” Argrave spread his

the silence

of me, the ‘indentured servitude,’ as you called it…” Galamon crossed his arms. “Not six months have passed since I was hired. I am still bound by

about the terms

menial task. The fault lies with me for

little difficult to swallow. Eventually, he only nodded when no words came

they may be—to go off with someone who concocted a

head. “We are here, now. What happens after