Jackal Among Snakes

Ossian and Argrave did not enter the headquarters of the Order of the Rose without proper planning. What they intended to do was already established long beforehand, both offering some contributions based on experience.

For Ossian’s part, he knew how the Guardians would attack. They had all the reckless abandon of a locust plague—they had numbers, and knew well how to take advantage of them. Despite this, they were not unintelligent in their attacks. They had weapons bolted to the backs of their hands, and they knew how to use them effectively. They would lurk in corners or hang off ledges, waiting for an opportunity to capitalize on a mistake or simply surprise an unwitting wanderer.

Argrave knew simply that being encircled would be the least ideal situation, and the rough path that they needed to take. Beyond that, he left the strategizing to Ossian. The man was competent, and he could be trusted to see their plan to fruition despite his lack of trust in them.

The key in this situation was simply this—a burst forth. They would need to move quickly, never allowing the creatures to obtain an advantageous position.

Argrave took the first step forward, Galamon just beside him, sandwiched between him and Anneliese. They moved in a steady jog, heading across the balcony of the second floor that overlooked the central lobby towards the stairs. The spellcasters working with the Sentinels strove to light the place as best they could, uncaring about the attention attracted—they wanted to attract attention, at least somewhat.

Galamon served as the protector, warding off stray attacks from Guardians lurking in places unseen. Anneliese and Argrave served as the wedge to open a gap. Whenever a group of Guardians would block their advance, they would need to use magic to dispel them forcibly. Despite their fierceness, the Guardians were light compared to humans—a sufficiently powerful spell would knock them away. Fire, lightning, and wind elemental magic danced through the air, sending the creatures flying.

Their initial rush from the Menagerie to the stairs proved to be no issue. Yet as the sounds of the elements echoed out across the stone building, fell noises returned—metal grating against stone, flesh slapping against the ground… all signs the Guardians heard their advance and already moved to stop it.

Progress slowed at the stairs. The Guardians climbed up the side, thrusting at the three of them through the railings like wolves nipping at the heels as a pack. The Sentinels, though, moved forward with unity, pushing back against the tide that rose up the stairs. With their parties grouped closer together, Argrave proceeded further once again, careful not to stumble on the stairs.

Once Argrave’s feet stepped off the stairs and met the ground floor, he thought the anxiety might be relieved somewhat… but looking out across the room only stoked his unease ever higher. Despite the haste Argrave had endeavored to achieve, the creatures already pooled in the central lobby. Gleaming black and gold eyes moved towards them, so numerous they were uncountable.

“Gods be damned,” Ossian cursed, stepping up beside Argrave. “There’s too many. Cut our losses—we return to the Menagerie.”

“Fuck that,” Argrave disagreed, panic making his tongue crasser than normal. “I’ll carve a path.”

“What?!” Ossian said in disbelief.

“Didn’t want to use this at all,” Argrave shook his head. He gestured his hand backwards. “Don’t send anyone forward.”

Argrave triggered the Blessing of Supersession. It felt as though his whole being was being flooded, magic welling up from his chest like a spring freed from the rocks. Erratic thoughts about preserving his magic and minimizing his debt vanished to the wind, whisked away by the tornado of panic disturbing his guts. He stepped past Anneliese and Galamon, conjuring a B-rank ward with his enchanted ring to protect them from errant magic. With the central hallway in the distance in his mind, he held his hands out, spell matrixes forming.

sight, and smell of it all consumed Argrave’s senses until nothing else occupied his thoughts. He sought out

in his chest like a giant drum. Spears of ice hurtled forth, meeting flesh or stone and shattering into a fine blue

himself. His ears rung, and he turned to

have a

shaking. “Yeah. Yeah, right.

are you?” Ossian spoke, looking out

the leather gloves soaked in sweat tight in his grip. He slowly gathered himself as the feeling of invincibility began to fade. If these are C-rank spells… the carnage I could

said, “What am I? I’m just in a hurry. Let’s go, before more take their place.

of carnage. A strange quiet had settled over the place. As he stepped into the sight of his attacks, he felt the damage he’d caused directly—the heat beneath his feet, the icy mist in the air, the still-spasming Guardians writhing

Argrave’s advance a sense of urgency. He was the first to rush into the central hall. Before long he was joined by Galamon and Anneliese, who kept up easily on account of being more athletic than he was. Some Guardians stopped their advance. Argrave dispatched them, using

that led down, and Argrave caught the wall just

the

in Anneliese’s hands. Anneliese took the first few steps down the

“I will do mine. Your presence, now, is… well, overpowering. The magic within you…” it muttered. “I can hardly bear to look at you. Just press my head to

had been leaning against the other side, and they

the other Stonepetal Sentinels. “Gods… it opened. The lower levels…I can’t believe…” he trailed

you came with us?”

the next part?” Argrave pressed, almost having recovered his breath. His inhalations still felt shallow, and he felt some measure of pain. He knew something was wrong but did not have time to

the door from sliding back in place. It would likely not be sufficient for long term,

“Plenty of Guardians coming, following the noise. We enter, lead them in, and go to this other exit you talked

own unease, then stepped into the lower levels of the headquarters of the

in a way Argrave found difficult to wrap his head around. Rather than simply being dark, it felt like light had not touched this place in a long while. It was mostly free of dust and dirt and had the same elaborate carvings as in this first floor. The hallway stretched on for a long time.

an open space. The room was massive, its ceiling stretching high into the air. It seemed split into halves—the front room was an administrative center, housing desks and reception areas that had long ago been repurposed to the vampire’s needs. The other half was blocked off by thick iron bars, and housed a grand library still illuminated by light even after

echoed out across the room, abject terror in the voice unbefitting the vampire

said to Ossian. Despite his position as the Master Sentinel of the group, he did not object to Argrave’s directive, nodding in quiet