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.

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

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 forth, meeting flesh or stone and shattering into a fine blue mist. The wind cut all it moved past, setting anything loose within

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

We have

nodded, shaking. “Yeah. Yeah,

gods’ name are you?” Ossian

fists, feeling 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

unanswered, he quickly said, “What am I? I’m just in a hurry. Let’s

the place. As he stepped into the sight of his attacks, he felt the damage he’d caused directly—the heat beneath his

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 the C-rank lightning spell [Skysunder] with reckless abandon, uncaring of how deep he grew in debt to

and Argrave caught the wall just before it,

back, watching the armored Sentinels still rush to catch up to

enter your head,” Garm assured, breaking his silence from his place in Anneliese’s hands. Anneliese took the first few steps down the stairs. Argrave followed just behind, where ahead, he saw a stone door that shimmered

done your task,” Garm said as Anneliese stepped to the door. “I will do mine. Your presence, now, is… well, overpowering. The magic within you…” it muttered. “I can hardly bear to look

At once, a black, flower-like pattern bloomed across the door. It slid 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

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

can’t believe, yet you came with

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 address

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

stepped back up the stairs, watching the hallway beyond. “Plenty of Guardians coming, following the noise. We enter, lead them

to disguise his own unease, then stepped into the lower levels of the headquarters

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. Argrave hurried down it as fast as

hallway opened up into 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

the room, abject terror in the voice

left. Ward off attacks—once the Guardians 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