Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 106

“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?”

eyes grew eager. “You

out into the distance. “He keeps

“It’s why he

a wall,” Galamon crossed his arms.

some honesty from

Galamon smiled

this what you’ve been

tactic for you.” Anneliese looked perplexed, and Galamon uncrossed his arms, continuing, “At the very least, it is reassuring that

raised a brow. “Can it be

a difference between a fresh recruit who has done nothing, and one who has spent hours beating a training dummy. At the very

many could do what Argrave has done,

responded indecisively. “He is definitely…

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a black dune of sand, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He conjured and drank water, appreciating the moisture amidst the incredibly dry

Jast. It was lighter and much more breathable than the fur-lined gray set he’d worn. The few pieces of metal on it were brass, faded so as not

was clean again. He was getting better about tolerating uncleanliness, yet he did appreciate removing the blood and dirt-stained gray leather outfit that had traversed the entire Low Way without much

leather to a desert,” Anneliese confided, only barely out of breath. “Yet it is not as scorching as I imagined, and this is pleasant. Like the hottest summer day in Veiden. The clothes breathe well yet

dawn both had been somewhat chilly, yet during the day, a pleasant

the Burnt Desert was not without its issues—the sand was heavy and abrasive, making walking more difficult than Argrave expected. The air was incredibly dry. In addition, the

would come here during the winter, at times,” Garm

then rose to his feet. He conjured

the severed head that they had taken from the Low Way of the Rose. It was true that Garm had likely saved Argrave’s life—that said,

knew nothing about

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

now. “Things get too hot? You can cool yourself down. Thirsty? Conjure water. Sandstorm? Ward it off. All the dangers of this place are shooed away

cannot stay

best tool for this place. It’s the supreme power.

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

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

“Who?” questioned Garm.

Fellhorn, the god of floods and rain. These Vessels are probably the only surviving group

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