Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave stared into the rushing red water, watching it rise and writhe against the red-stained stone. He leaned against a railing just before the canal. Anneliese stood just beside him, looking around Nodremaid with Garm in her hand. Evidently she had grown to tolerate the place much better, for she was less troubled than Argrave.

He was coming to terms with the fact that Berendar had changed him. Beyond the initial rush of fear, uncertainty, and panic that cropped up in the act itself, he wasn’t bothered by what had happened today. Four people had died, their bodies cast into the canals. He had been the engine behind their deaths, even if he had not killed himself. Despite that, their deaths did not weigh at his thoughts as the druids had. Perhaps it was because he had come to loathe the Sentinels. Perhaps it was merely that he was different, now.

The smells, the sounds, and the horrors of Nodremaid and the Low Way had already made their effects known, Argrave supposed. Experiencing day after day of the horrible and the bizarre… he didn’t dare think he was some sort of mentally untouchable iron man now, but the tasks ahead seemed less harrowing. Confronting the grim realities of the Low Way, morbid though they might be, might have served as the tempering he needed to continue.

If I can survive this, I can handle anything, surely?

“Maybe this was a good thing,” Argrave muttered, straightening his back a little. “A jolt to the system to wake me up.”

“What?” Anneliese asked, not hearing Argrave.

“Nothing,” he dismissed.

Galamon stepped out from one of the sluice control buildings, stepping up to Argrave. “You said that was the last one?”

“Should be,” nodded Argrave, not looking away from the canal.

The change in the water was not instantly perceptible. It continued to rush along its path, spattering the walls with wetness. Argrave noticed he saw more of the walls, first, and after, the constant flow of the water started to slow. Eventually, as more and more water came by, the flow ceased entirely, the water dispersing across the surface.

The bottom of the canal was filthy—all sorts of twisted aquatic growth grew from the bottom, unpleasant crimson barnacles blocking most of the smooth stone. Much of the canal had eroded over the years from the constant rush of water, and the terrain was uneven and jagged. That, coupled with years of debris, made a very unpleasant and wet walkway. There were weapons and bones in abundance, likely from the corpses of Guardians that had fallen into the canal.

Argrave stopped leaning against the railing. “There’s our path. We should move quickly.”

“And if someone raises the sluice?” questioned Anneliese. “The remainder of the Sentinels will emerge eventually. If they notice something amiss…”

“The whole walkway isn’t on the route of the canal,” Argrave disclosed, walking up to a set of stairs leading down into the canal for maintenance. “It branches off into a cave. This cave leads up to the Crimson Wellspring.” Argrave looked at the sluice. “Even if we’re really unfortunate, and a tide of water comes rushing towards us… I suspect our B-rank wards in tandem should be enough to buy us time sufficient for an escape.”

you’re mental,” Garm said from Anneliese’s hands. “Throwing everyone into danger time and time again. Perhaps I would have been better with the

It’s the one I told you two about, way back when we still had grass beneath our feet instead of corpses and gore. We’re well-prepared for it, despite the setbacks we faced here.” Argrave stopped a little down the stairs, glancing between Galamon

a disbelieving brow at the mention of ‘caution’ but seemed somewhat

deep a breath as his scarred lungs would

#####

gave me an ultimatum?” Elenore questioned, her legs crossed in her seat at the fountain. One could barely

Elenore’s new personal maid, replied. Evidently the orange-haired maid had been training her movements for some time, for she did not nod for her blind

great duress,” Elenore mused, placing her fingers on her chin. “Despite Severin’s reports, I

to refill it from the dainty white floral pot nearby. “New tea, my princess. Be careful.

enjoying the warmth. “He left Jast, and then… nothing. Elaine reported a shipment of books from some fringe town with an Order branch.

best to allow Induen his way, punish Argrave when he resurfaces, and stabilize things?” Therese moved to suggest, having gained boldness being so

of the cup to ensure no liquid overflowed as she raised it to her mouth,

surprised, but said, “Yes, my

just as unpredictable as Argrave. In times of peace, where none would dare oppose his activities, he was relatively stable. Now…” the princess paused, placing her hands back on the teacup. “…now, he faces widespread disobedience. For someone like him, I imagine that causes great mental stress. His impulsivity manifests more

my princess,”

another slow drink. “When he resurfaces, and

“To what end?”

deem it necessary to reevaluate the worth my advice, I find it necessary to test if he is up for what comes ahead.” Her thin hands clenched a little tighter on the teacup, turning her knuckles white. “It is something I would never have considered,

down at the princess, her face sad. “Then, Argrave… you believe

it down once more. “If they confront each other directly, it seems ridiculous. A prince, accompanied by royal knights, versus a bastard with known health problems. I know little of his two companions, but Elaine said he trusts them without compunction. He is smart, sidestepping and solving problems in a multitude of ways. In the face of all that, Induen is

only

of time had passed. “Yes. Regardless of the result, it would be best not to latch too firmly to any one person.” Elenore crossed her arms. “Disappointment is my sole companion, these

While I suspect they will not do anything major, such as murder… we

was wise to trust you, Therese. Give me your hand.” Therese took it, as directed. “Trust is a fickle thing. It fades with the slightest infraction, and repairing it is much harder than

as both a lesson