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.

plus some gold flakes, courtesy of the Lord of Gold, blessed she be,” the fat innkeeper explained gruffly. “Some bread from the farms, recently baked, and a soup. Considering you’re mostly foreigners, and one of you

pointed at

down at Durran, holding his hand out. Durran finally broke his gaze away from Argrave, then reached to his

them, then he and the serving

Durran began immediately, “First of all, none of that’s been established. You don’t have a

sound. “What do you want, pal? A journal detailing all of his

“Brium promised—”

interrupted. “That he’d leave your people alone? Maybe liberate some of the people underneath Aurum and Argent’s control, allow them to return to the tribes? And—let

stared wrathfully, and Argrave leaned back into his

trust the guy willing to kill his own people to get ahead? He’s jumping at the idea to get at other Vessels, to get this whole town under his control. It’s not because he thinks the other two are tyrants. It’s because

closer to Argrave. “You should eat,”

amidst the heated argument, he picked up the fork without much thought and began eating. Durran stared heatedly, making Argrave find it difficult

you’re desperate to find anything that’s going to help your people.” Argrave waved his fork. “Don’t let that desperation make you stupid. If there was any dissent among the Vessels about the southern tribals fate, things would never have progressed to the point they had. You’re dumb, but not

and

holding back. Tell me what you’re really thinking,” Durran shook

and started laughing, caught off guard. Durran

to me. How am I to eat when you hit me with a gut-punch like

fork. “It tastes foul, too. But it’s good for

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. You make a lot of sense, but… I’m not sure. Not sure about too much. I have to

said

down as though unable to stomach the food before him. “You won’t answer me,

to her,”

“Where?” he asked.

of the mountains, crushed

lips. “What’d she

black hair… long-ish, I suppose… sharp, big nose, a bit angry-looking,

“And her eyes?”

I didn’t gaze into

Don’t know why I asked. Can’t remember, either.” Durran picked up