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.

out across the central lobby, sending debris and flesh every which way. The entire place became awash with spell light. The sheer sound, sight, and smell of it all consumed Argrave’s senses until nothing else occupied his thoughts. He sought out the creature’s black eyes as his targets, conjuring spells as an

the heat before him, as though he were standing before a blast furnace with hands outstretched. Every bolt of lightning that sounded out resounded in his chest like a giant drum. Spears of ice hurtled

did Argrave remember himself. His ears rung, and he turned to see Anneliese mouthing words. As the ringing faded, he made sense of

We have a

nodded, shaking. “Yeah.

gods’ name are you?” Ossian spoke, looking out

feeling of invincibility began to fade.

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

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,

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 the C-rank lightning spell

caught the wall just before

watching the

first few steps down the stairs. Argrave followed just behind, where ahead, he saw a stone door that shimmered with lights.

“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 the door, sweetie,” he spoke to

to the side. Someone had been leaning against the other side, and they fell backwards. Galamon mercilessly dispatched the vampire before he had a chance to recover. He looked beyond, watching

leading the other Stonepetal Sentinels. “Gods…

believe, yet you came with us?”

Argrave pressed, almost having recovered his breath. His inhalations still felt shallow, and he felt some measure of pain. He knew something was

of stone moved to block the door from sliding back in place. It would likely not be sufficient for long term, but it was

up the stairs, watching the hallway beyond. “Plenty of Guardians coming, following the noise. We enter, lead them in, and go to this other exit you

for falling vampires,” Argrave said glibly to disguise his own unease, then stepped into the lower levels of the headquarters of

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

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

the room, abject terror in the

get in, they’ll screen our escape, more or less,” Argrave said to Ossian. Despite his position as the Master Sentinel of the group, he did