Jackal Among Snakes

The first day of cohabitation with the Stonepetal Sentinels proved to be tense.

The horde of Guardians of the Low Way reached the great iron door, eventually—the sounds of their bodies and metal weapons bumping up against the gate and testing it echoed throughout the Menagerie, adding to the grimness of the place a great deal. Galamon had wedged a large rock beneath the turn wheel, preventing it from turning to allow entry. Even still, the creatures tested it, obviously aware that it was the mechanism to open the door—that alone was terrifying enough.

Argrave had wished to spend the time endearing some of the Sentinels to himself, but that proved a difficult task. The Sentinels were very clearly wary of him and his companions, and that alone established a strong obstacle in obtaining something important in conversation—naturalness.

If he approached them in the heart of their camp and flattered them or otherwise tried to sway them, his intent would be obvious and the opposite effect would be achieved. Argrave believed that though people might say they don’t like brown-nosers, that isn’t necessarily true—they just don’t like overt, shameless flattery, especially when the intent behind it is obviously selfish.

Bearing that in mind, Argrave gave the Stonepetal Sentinels and Ossian ample space. He could not deny the powerlessness he felt in this situation was extremely nerve-wracking, but he was confident in his assessment that any attempt to persuade them might be an active detriment. Argrave and his companions were outsiders and murderers, in their eyes—he did not wish to mark himself as two-faced to boot.

Even still… Argrave tapped his boot against the ground rapidly, sitting at attention on a large root of a crimson-leaved tree. “Hate sitting around like this.” Anneliese lifted her head from her book at Argrave’s words. “We’re wasting time sitting about for some people that might be our enemies. What a terrible situation.”

“Mmm, yes,” Garm agreed, standing upright on his stake jammed in the ground a fair distance away. “At least you have the luxury of standing. Of sitting, even. I can do neither. I just have to wait for someone to pick me up, carry me about, like some kind of… man-baby. An intelligent mind trapped in a useless husk.”

“Perhaps you will grow to be ambulatory, too, like a baby,” Argrave said as he caressed his forehead to dispel a headache. “Just don’t like being on other’s time.”

“The Sentinels are weary. Even if they intended to support us, they would need to rest today. They experienced the same journey we endured, and some of them spent the night on watch,” Anneliese turned her gaze towards their camp.

“Today?” Argrave repeated that word. “I don’t know if it’s night or day. I certainly can’t sleep, not with all these people nearby… and that banging,” Argrave gestured towards the door. “Nothing can ever go smoothly, can it?”

“The vampires are as trapped as we are. The Guardians are enemies to all, not just us. It would not surprise me if the vampires orchestrated this, in some attempt to clear their hunting grounds of enemies,” Anneliese outlined, her calmness returned in the relative quietude and safety of the Menagerie.

“You’re right,” Argrave shrugged and shook his head. He felt something in his chest and coughed harshly, spitting out an unpleasant glob of what looked to be snot off to the side. Argrave grimaced and turned away quickly, but then froze.

“They are trapped,” Argrave said out loud, looking to Anneliese. “Locked tight. They fight with the Guardians, just as we do,” he said slowly, as if in revelation.

“What are you thinking?” asked Anneliese, shutting her book.

“I’m thinking… I have an excuse to talk to Ossian.” Argrave stood. “And I think I have a way to turn this curse outside our door into a blessing. And it may just be the defining point I need to win the Sentinels over to my side. Allow me to explain,” Argrave beckoned Galamon and Anneliese closer.

#####

behind him, the

said Argrave, some of his confident spark returned to his voice. For the first time in a while, he

his arms

thinking. The common problem that unites us, right now, is

is what you call ‘some thinking?’” Ossian said drolly. “I trust that’s not

had not spoken at all. “And I’ve been thinking, you see, that the two would be best pitted against each other,” Argrave said

so Argrave launched into

levels, because they’re tightly warded by enchanted doors. I say we set the horde of Guardians against them. I say we open the doors

you suppose that’s

said. “I’m not suggesting that you guys go and do

a trap, more like,”

Low Way, capable of setting traps in every corner of this place to lure the unwitting paragons of justice like yourself to early graves,” Argrave waved his hands about with

“Traps don’t need to be set

shrugged. “I hope

if only for the spectacle of your inevitable death,” the same Sentinel

C-ranks…” Argrave pointed them out, remembering Garm’s insights. “I’ve got my own bag of tricks. Be it all twenty of you, or that horde banging on the door… I can handle it,” he said calmly, careful to make his

come with, I don’t see the problem with this idea of yours. The problem lies in that thing your menial is holding,” Ossian pointed.

point,”

“The doors to the lower levels of the headquarters only open to a magic signature registered with the Order of the Rose. Those

of the Rose,” Garm continued. “The doors will open for me. If you doubt me…” Garm’s eyes opened and glowed, and then a

“Don’t,” Garm finished conclusively.

Sentinels now watched their conversation warily.

him on some things only a member of the Order of the Rose would know,” Argrave suggested in

the Sentinels pointed at

because I couldn’t be controlled?” Argrave questioned. “I don’t understand why you feel the need

Ossian corrected again, teeth clenched tight in

to help you, and you keep spurning me. We’re at a crossroads, the way I see it. Distrust me, and continue fading as you are,” Argrave pointed to them as he said so. “Trust me, and prosper once more, eliminating