Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave, Anneliese, and Galamon sat around a faintly flickering spell. Garm was there, too, though considering he was stabbed into the sand upright, he wasn’t exactly sitting. Despite being the middle of the night at the end of fall, the temperature was quite pleasant. In the Burnt Desert, the heat would linger in the sand for a long time after the suns set, both because of its color and its composition.

Galamon did nothing. He had done all of the maintenance he needed for his weapons and armor the night before. He simply stared at the spell light in silence, legs crossed and boots sinking into the somewhat cold black sand beneath them. Anneliese did just the same. Though she might’ve busied herself with reading in the past, it seemed even she had to surrender herself to the whim of relaxation at times. She braided her now-clean white hair idly.

Argrave, though, found it difficult to be consumed by the same spirit of relaxation. His brain was consumed with a veritable whirlwind of thoughts, foremost above them a simple fact: he had promised to be honest with the people here.

He couldn’t deny he didn’t want to. Refusing to let his guard down would be much easier—and probably much more manageable—than telling the truth as he understood it. And indeed, he could probably worm his way out of this one. He had many excuses: Garm’s presence, for one.

After much introspection, Argrave came to realize something. It wasn’t a lack of trust—he was confident Galamon and Anneliese would keep his secrets until the end of days, if need be. He didn’t suspect they would abandon him, cast him aside—they had proven time and time again that they were in this to the bitter end. The issue, then, did not rest with them. It rested within himself.

Argrave didn’t want to tell them where his knowledge came from. But he wished they knew. He valued them beyond simply tools best suited to ending Gerechtigkeit. Argrave couldn’t deny he enjoyed lying—perhaps that was why it came so naturally to him. But his life experience both here and on Earth had taught him constant deception boded poorly for any relationship, be it as friends or otherwise.

With this in mind, Argrave raised his head and looked up into the starry sky, where the bright red moon neared the horizon. He took a deep breath and sighed.

“Garm,” Argrave said, lowering his head. “Anneliese has told you what the purpose of our journey is, right?”

“In rough terms,” the head replied, unable to nod in confirmation.

“With that in mind…” Argrave looked at him, as serious as he’d ever been. “…will you set aside any notion of benefits and demerits, any self-interest, and freely share with us what you know?”

Garm’s black and gold eyes stayed locked onto Argrave. His face was as immovable as stone, and the only sound that could be heard was the howling of the desert wind against the towering mountain above them.

“No.”

Argrave nodded, expression disappointed.

“I have always been a man of logic and reason, not of fairytales about the world’s end,” Garm continued, voice cold. “What superstitions tribal elves hold has no bearing on my reasoning. If you wish for my knowledge, I expect a return. The girl has promised my protection, and you have agreed to that condition. Until something else comes along, that is the extent of our cooperation.”

“And if you see irrefutable evidence?” Argrave continued.

“…I don’t know what I’d do,” Garm admitted. “I won’t say ‘no.’ Reasonably, I should say yes, if the evidence is irrefutable.”

“Then as long as you refuse to trust in this group, I cannot include you in this next conversation,” Argrave shook his head, adjusting his sitting position.

Garm took that in for a long while, finally closing his eyes. “So be it.”

Argrave nodded, turning his head back towards Anneliese and Galamon. They both stared at him, expressions passive. Argrave thought there was a certain seriousness to their expressions, though—they understood that Argrave had finally made up his mind.

Argrave held a hand out, a C-rank matrix swirling in his hand. A large ward spread out slowly, enveloping the three of them. The sounds of the desert stopped, and they were left alone with each other. Garm kept his eyes closed just beyond the ward, as though refusing to even look at them as they spoke.

“Don’t know where to begin,” Argrave said. He rubbed his gloved hands together. “Let me just say what I’m thinking, cut past all the filters I put over my words. I don’t really want to do this at all. Been dreading it. I feel idiotic.” He brought his knees up, then bunched them together with his arms.

Anneliese and Galamon waited silently.

wanted to go through the Low Way, or the Cavern of the Lily’s Death before that. Yet you did. You placed your trust in this wiseass sitting right here,” Argrave pointed to himself. “I owe you an explanation, I think. But beyond

as fake as a fairy-tale—made-up people, places, cities, happenings. Think of it like a book, or a… a live

gone the way either expected, for both donned perplexed

this world via an avatar. A proxy. I would take control of something living in this fictional world,

his head away, having trouble keeping eye contact with them. In the distance, he saw the first beam of light come up over the mountain, illuminating the vast dark landscape of

this world…

times. The timeframe of my control over this avatar was limited to a few years—three and a

well, were you…” Anneliese began,

tried to predict her question, saying, “About… three months ago, I guess, I woke up as ‘Argrave.’ Fiction became reality,” he finished,

shadow over the dark sand. There was

Anneliese finally broke the

the sunlight slowly creep along the

“I don’t know.”

said in response to that,

continuing, “I woke up, in a body that wasn’t my own, three months ago. I knew who ‘Argrave’ was, but he wasn’t me. This world, which I perceived as fiction, gained detail, gained depth, and became

and I might be the only one capable of stopping it. That realization made me set aside all

to wrap my head around,” Anneliese placed both

only capable

Argrave stared at Galamon. “In this world,

backpack, rustling through it. He pulled

would always

a glimpse

[Weak], [Intelligent], [Magic Affinity (High)], [Insomniac],

(C)], [Healing Magic (C)], [Illusion

at Argrave, simultaneously enlightened by his mention of the

me make you understand. That’s the only way we can salvage this mess, I

suns finally began to rise over the blackness of the Burnt Desert, shrouding the

#####

the entire conversation very

things in life that were unpleasant yet ultimately beneficial. Cleaning out a wound with alcohol, for instance, was excruciating—letting an infection

course, his analogy to assuage his discomfort quickly fell flat when he acknowledged the existence of

of Galamon and Anneliese’s questions for hours as the suns rose ever higher into the air, dispelling what chill had taken the desert at night. The more questions he answered, the more they had—it seemed

out into the vastness of the Burnt Desert,

about you

“Yeah?” Argrave pressed.

more has

“Yeah,” Argrave repeated.

across the desert,

something,” Argrave