Jackal Among Snakes

“What do you think?”

Anneliese stared at Galamon, her arms crossed expectantly. Galamon turned around, looking to where Argrave had gone briefly to take care of nature’s call.

“Doesn’t matter. I didn’t need answers. I had already resolved to follow him,” Galamon shook his head.

“But I want to know what you think,” Anneliese insisted.

Galamon ground his teeth together, saying nothing as the wind blew across the desert. “I’m reminded of when I was young, and I questioned the meaning of life and the validity of Veid’s teachings. I’m wrought with the same sort of… existential ponderance.”

“So you believe Argrave?” she queried.

His white eyes turned to her. “You do,” he noted. “That is sufficient for me. You’re a reliable gauge for lies and deception. I’ve come to know that.”

She nodded. “I know, at least, he believes what he says. His knowledge, too, is without question. As for what he revealed to us…” she knelt down, her hair falling to the sand. “It challenges many of my preconceptions about the world. I have many questions to ask.”

“What do you mean, ‘he believes what he says?’” Galamon looked down at her.

Anneliese looked up at Galamon, rising back to her feet. “He, himself, knows nothing of what actually happened to him. This… this other world that he described to us…” she rubbed her hands together. “Maybe it is real. But the gods work incomprehensibly. If the gods did indeed meddle, why would they place him in a shackled body? Much is uncertain.”

“It’ll never be certain. Myself… I believe it is Veid’s will,” Galamon nodded.

“I hate uncertainty. I hate being ignorant,” Anneliese shook her head. “Though it may be beyond my ken to know now, it must not always be so. When the threat of Gerechtigkeit does not loom… I think it would be fun to pursue the answer to his question. For now, I will continue on at his side. Now that he has finally cracked, perhaps I can finally learn something genuine about him. He is quite a dodgy one, refusing to answer questions about himself—who he was before. I have to change that. It will come with time.”

“Hah.” Galamon laughed, scratching his chin.

Anneliese gazed up at him, head tilted in curiosity. “You’re feeling… nostalgic?”

Galamon’s mirth ceased when his emotions were so accurately placed. He shook his head as though dismissing his emotions. “It is nothing. Merely reminded of my youth.”

“How so?”

“Unimportant. Just something you said reminded me of what she… well, never mind.” Galamon closed his eyes. “Want some advice on people like him? How to open his shell?”

grew eager. “You have

present,” Galamon disclosed, opening his eyes and gazing out into the distance. “He keeps his thoughts, his doubts, close. Hates

know that,” she nodded. “It’s why he

day, he’ll hit a wall,” Galamon crossed his arms. “That’ll be

get some

Galamon

what you’ve been

a frown. “No. This is a tactic for you.” Anneliese looked perplexed, and Galamon uncrossed his arms, continuing,

brow. “Can it be

looked to her. “There is a difference between a fresh recruit who has done nothing, and one who has spent hours beating a training dummy. At the very least, the latter

what Argrave has done, thus

is definitely… uniquely equipped for the path

#####

crested the top of a black dune of sand, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He conjured and drank

top, staring out across the land. Argrave wore something different than yesterday: his set of black leather he had purchased from the craftswoman at Jast. It was lighter and much more breathable than the fur-lined gray set he’d

tolerating uncleanliness, yet he did appreciate removing the blood and dirt-stained gray leather outfit that had traversed the entire Low Way without

a desert,” Anneliese confided, only barely out of breath. “Yet it is not as scorching

The night and dawn both had been somewhat chilly, yet during the day, a pleasant temperature prevailed—maybe only because it

sand was heavy and abrasive, making walking more difficult than Argrave expected. The air was incredibly dry. In addition, the ground could grow very hot at times. Fortunately, they

during the winter, at times,”

still catching his breath, and then rose to his feet. He conjured water in his hands, drinking it

Way of the Rose. It was true that Garm had likely saved Argrave’s life—that said, he did not exactly hide his

nothing

been a key item to unlock the lower levels—beyond the initial encounter, one did not engage with him further. He, like hundreds of other key items, languished in the player’s inventory, never to be thought about again. Yet now he was here. Anneliese had sworn to protect the thing, though she had made it clear that the other members of the party would take precedence over his life. The deal had seemed incredibly obvious at the time, yet as things proceeded… Argrave was

“Things get too hot? You can cool yourself down. Thirsty? Conjure water. Sandstorm? Ward it off. All the dangers of

cannot stay exhaustion,”

“My point is—magic is the best tool for this place. It’s the supreme power. You catch what I

mentioned a faction has an iron grip over this region. Do you mean to say that they are

have baseline needs. If you control those needs, you control the populace. And mages can do that, here. At least… they have,” Argrave amended, realizing this situation could be applicable elsewhere. “A

“Who?” questioned Garm.

centralized power, but they’re all part of the same faction, more or less—the Vessels of Fellhorn, the god of floods and rain. These Vessels are probably the only surviving group still worshipping