Jackal Among Snakes

Mistress Crislia, the Lord of Gold. Though Argrave was embarrassed by his lack of knowledge of Titus, he knew plenty about the master of Aurum, the golden tower on the outside of Sethia. The knowledge came from facing her as an enemy, though—the player could only ever collaborate with Cyprus, and Aurum and Argent would always be one’s enemies were that the case.

The Crislia Argrave knew was narcissistic and greedy. She didn’t lack for ambition, both for spiritual and physical matters. She would constantly try and expand both her physical wealth and her Vessel by Draining people, sacrificing their souls to Fellhorn—typically, both would expand at the same time. She was fond of forcing merchants to infract so she could both seize their wealth and their soul.

“What did you wish to discuss about Sethia?” Argrave inquired, making no move to proceed further into the room towards the three elven Vessels across from him.

“Brium’s speech, heretical though it may be, did resonate with me,” Crislia said, crossing one leg over the other. Her gold ankle bracelets rattled against each other, metallic rings echoing about the room like muted windchimes. “Even if he is misguided.”

Argrave took a breath, and nodded slowly, reminding himself to play the part of a loyalist. “Brium speaks a lot of sense, I find.”

“True. The southern tribals—they are unruly beasts, obsessed with war and glory and honor. The fools are utterly unable to set aside grudges,” she criticized condescendingly. “Well, those tribals still resisting, anyhow. Most beneath our banner have been brought to heel.”

“Someone should do something about that,” Argrave commented, reflecting Brium’s sentiments outwardly.

“And that is just the point.” Crislia leaned forward against her crossed legs, very obviously trying to make use of her sex appeal. Anneliese frowned and glanced at Argrave but calmed quickly when she saw his stoic face. “I tried to broach the subject with Quarrus, but the Lord of Silver cannot be reasoned with. Despite being the one who suffered the raid from the tribals, he is adamant we stay our course.”

Argrave felt an uncomfortable inkling. “It sounds to me as though you’re coming to view things as Brium does.”

She did not confirm it, but from Crislia’s expression alone Argrave knew he was right. “I cannot very well approach his tower in the open. As such, I have deigned to come to you—a mercenary, largely free of prying eyes.” She leaned back. “I wish for you to tell Brium this: if he surrenders to me, I will collaborate with him, and be the herald of the flood he so desires to wash away the southern tribals in the mountains.”

“Surrenders how?” Argrave tilted his head.

“If he becomes my vassal,” she spread her arms out. “It is only the natural course of things. Gold has always stood far above the likes of silver and copper.”

Argrave nodded slowly. “And what of Argent?”

“A city must have a firm central power to properly shepherd the ignorant into doing what is good for them,” she said with a smile. “I will tolerate no other to contest my power. Quarrus has already proven… disagreeable.” She leaned back further, crossing her arms. “Have you more questions, or will you deliver the message?”

Argrave hesitated for but a moment, then gave a quick nod. “I’ll get this to him.”

“Excellent,” she said, rising to her feet. “I will leave you, then.”

companions eyeing Argrave as they moved past. Titus was the last to

playing. Their fur seemed a little darker than before, faintly tan. The souls of the dead were abundant in this place, it seemed, and

conjured a

dislike that woman.

lot of the uncertainty—whether or not the southern tribals are capable of fighting the Vessels, whether or not I’ll be caught playing the double

group, and whatever Anneliese had to say,

facing his three party members. “We could stroll into Argent and pluck that heart freely. We’d

crossed his arms, staring down at

You’re no hero. You aren’t a savior. Stay in

silent, and

be of no help to you. They’re small, insignificant, and with manifold enemies

turning his face to the severed

were bright with epiphany. “Did you get sand in your ears, Garm? Do the Vessels seem

Garm said, voice muffled

at all. Gratefulness, reciprocation—those words aren’t in their diction.” Argrave stepped around. “Long-term, neither the tribals nor the Vessels seem like good options. Ungrateful pricks, one and all. Might sound like I’m being mean, but it’s true. I’ve met

his brows, watching Argrave as he paced

face his party once again. “It’ll be easier and safer for us to help force a collaboration between Crislia and Brium. But dispel these notions of pragmatism versus morality. There’s no

Does safety mean nothing to you? Don’t

to do the right thing,” Argrave summarized.

die later, there’ll

thing,” Argrave shook his head. “I’ve been working hard to become powerful, but I’m still walking about like a little player.” He spread his arms out. “The whole

a maddening

I’m intelligent. That’s a fact, strangely enough,” he shook his head. “Brium and Crislia are going to have an unfortunate miscommunication. Aurum and Argent will proceed onwards as they have

a question,” Anneliese raised her hand. “An observation, though,

Argrave gestured

knew about Garm,” she said with certainty. “I gleaned that from his wandering gaze, and his mental state. As for my theory regarding that…” she hesitated, a bit

He thought back to the journey, and to the man’s mannerisms—he had been very generous and pleasant company. His lack of prominence in

and win his favor. When they had spotted the