Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave, without much option, took Durran to an establishment that he knew had private rooms for eating. Dawn was just arriving, so their timing could not be better. Some Vessels ran the place, but they worked for Aurum, so Brium would likely never find out about them. Even still, ever cautious, Argrave had warded their conversation.

Of all the characters in ‘Heroes of Berendar’ barring the custom-made one, Argrave had definitely played Durran the most. Melanie stood at a close second. They were fun to play, mainly, but Argrave liked their personalities the most. He understood them well. It helped him plan a course of action for this conversation rather quickly, suppressing his panic.

Durran was a fairly tall and lithe man with light brown skin and wavy brown hair that generally contributed to his natural charm. With his robe set aside, one could see the golden tattoos all along his skin, some marred by scars. Unlike during the raid, he did not wear his wyvern scale armor, instead bearing simple brown leathers.

“Trying to kill me with the weight of debt?” inquired Durran, who’d taken two chairs to both sit and support his feet. “This place is expensive.”

“If you’re destitute after raiding Argent, I’ve got to seriously question if you can understand this conversation through your haze of stupidity,” Argrave returned, leaving his arms atop the table. “You’d have to be stupid to lose that much money, after all.”

Durran laughed, then set his glaive against the wall. The cloth wrapped around the blade fell away briefly, revealing a black edge that didn’t look metallic. “Shiny bits of metal don’t mean much in the mountains, unless it’s steel.”

“But I know you spend more time away from the mountains than most,” Argrave said, and Durran merely grinned, saying nothing. “Surprised Boarmask isn’t here. Busy feeding the poor, saving people, giving sermons?”

Durran frowned. “Gods above, how much do you know?” He took his feet off the chair and leaned in. “What’s my mother’s name?”

“Trick question. You don’t know,” Argrave shook his head.

Durran leaned back. “Was asking as a joke, but…” he looked to Anneliese and Argrave. “You three… what in the gods’ names are you? Super-spies? Can’t guess your angle. Northerners—northern elves, at that, sticking out like pearls in the sand.”

“I’m the only one you need to worry about,” Argrave shook his head. “So, you want to illuminate me on this genius idea you had to ruin everyone’s plans? Yours, mine? Were you feeling a little suicidal today?”

Durran looked uneased, but he set his feet back on the chair. “I don’t know. I had to know who in the world was talking about something I’ve done my best to keep quiet. I kept thinking about it. The whole thing made me uneasy, had to do something. I just—” he started to shake his head, then paused. “Hold on. I came here to ask questions, why am I feeling interrogated?”

“Because I’m better at talking,” Argrave answered smoothly. “Just because it’s weighing at you, you trod across the desert and cause all of us undue trouble? You have to work on that impulsivity. It’s a liability.”

“Better than sticking about, waiting. You want something, you’ve got to—” He stopped, then held his hand out and shook his head. “Whatever. I came here to demand some answers about—”

“And what makes you think you deserve answers?” Argrave interrupted at once. “If I hadn’t told you anything, you’d be leading your tribe to the slaughter. You’d throw yourselves against Aurum and Argent, dying en masse, and then Brium would butcher your people—or perhaps it’d be better to call it ‘dehydrate’ your people. Let’s clear the air.” Argrave pointed at Durran. “You didn’t come here for answers. You came here because you can’t stand that psychopathic wannabe poet with a spray-on tan played you for a fool, and I stopped you from running off a cliff with your tribe following just behind.”

Durran’s face tensed, anger and defensiveness both seizing him. The door of the room opened soundlessly, and the servers outside stopped at Argrave’s ward. Argrave dispelled the ward with one hand, refusing to break his gaze from Durran. The innkeeper and his serving staff entered.

innkeeper explained

pointed at Durran.

his gaze away from Argrave, then reached to his pocket. He counted out

and the serving staff filtered out, recognizing the tension in

of that’s been established. You don’t have a shred of proof. If

journal detailing all of his malice? Maybe

“Brium promised—”

of the people underneath Aurum and Argent’s control, allow them to return to the tribes? And—let me guess—he swore under the name of Fellhorn? He’s a Vessel

wrathfully, and Argrave leaned back into

the other two are tyrants. It’s because he won’t share power with them.” Argrave tapped his temple. “I thought you were a cynic. How’d you fall for this scam? You owe me a hell of

to Argrave. “You should eat,”

the heated argument, he picked up the fork without much thought and began eating. Durran stared heatedly, making

people.” Argrave waved his fork. “Don’t let that desperation make you stupid. If there was any

arms, and Argrave continued

what you’re really thinking,” Durran shook

started laughing, caught

be damned,” Durran wheezed out after they’d finished. “Look what you’ve done to me. How am I

Argrave picked up his fork. “It tastes foul, too. But

a while to digest, that’s for certain,” Durran finally removed his feet from atop the other chair, then leaned into the table, picking up his fork. “I don’t know.

said firmly. “You’ll find that conversation much drier than this one,

weighing the fork in his hand before setting it down as though unable to stomach the food before him.

spoke to her,”

“Where?” he asked.

part of the

his lips. “What’d she

long-ish, I suppose… sharp, big nose, a bit angry-looking, and a pretty broad

“And her eyes?”

know. I didn’t gaze into her eyes as she died. Bit

I asked. Can’t remember, either.” Durran picked up the spoon,