Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 134

Though Argrave had wished to inform Brium of what Crislia had said immediately, the Lord of Copper had been preoccupied with something. Anneliese and Argrave spent that time planning for how to handle the changing situation. Ridden with anxiety, he had returned the next day, catching the Vessel early in the morning.

“She told me to ‘know my place?’” Brium questioned, one hand placed atop the other on the table as he stared at Argrave.

“Well…” Argrave trailed off, acting hesitant to repeat it.

Brium sat there for a while in the silence. He tapped one finger against the back of his hand, gaze distant. Eventually, he stood up, pacing about the room.

“…I’ll give her an answer. Tomorrow.” He turned his head to Argrave. “And things will be expedited because of it. When one is spurned, love can turn to hatred overnight. She must have something prepared for both answers—Crislia plays both sides against each other, she always has. Immediately after my refusal, there will be retaliation.”

Argrave took a deep breath and gaze a steady nod, resolving himself. On this front, he and Anneliese had been correct. He had done everything he could. He could only hope Durran moved as quickly as he did and did not lose himself in indecision.

“Indeed, we might expect their attack tomorrow, as soon as my answer is given,” Brium placed his hand to his chin. “This suits me fine; I have everything in place. But you… you will head to the southron elves. You will prepare them, and then I will expect to see them coming to Cyprus tomorrow morning. Yarra will accompany you to gather them—no exceptions,” he pointed his finger. “I will stall for your arrival.”

Though hesitant, Argrave did eventually give a nod of agreement. “She’ll have to wear a veil, but I can certainly make this happen.”

“Then make it so,” the Lord of Copper snapped. “Rushing water is always cleaner than stagnant water. And Sethia will soon become as clean as ever.”

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“Why did you lie to me?” Durran demanded, holding his glaive to Titus’ neck. The blade was made of a black bone, and sharpened enough to rival any blade. The merchant wearing red and gold sat across from him with hands still, maintaining complete ambivalence to the situation.

“Because it was easier,” said Titus.

“Easier?” Durran repeated. “No—I know that’s not true. Even if you’d been honest that Brium intended to betray us, I would have gone along with it. You’re one of us—you used to be. You know we would take this chance to liberate Sethia. You just wanted us to be unaware. Wanted us to die.”

Titus pressed his finger to the glaive, pushing it away. “I won’t answer,” Titus said boldly. “Go. Do your duty. After Crislia’s intervention, the battle will come all the sooner.”

Durran stood. “Answer me, damnit, or I’ll cut your head clean off.”

Titus’ golden eyes remained firm. “You would lose the battle without the men under my control to help you.”

“I don’t care. We haven’t attacked yet. I can call this thing off—I still have that luxury. If you won’t explain yourself, I’ll ruin whatever you had planned.” Durran readied his glaive.

voice cold and cautious.

won’t answer,” Titus shook his head.

closed his eyes. Yet a ringing sounded out as metal met metal. Boarmask held his hand against the blade. It had bit through the gauntlet’s plate, cutting into

the glaive. Sweat dripped

and he was ready to throw

the answer,” Boarmask shook his head, voice tight with

Even if it’s wrong, it’s an answer. I don’t like leaving questions unanswered, you see,” Durran pulled his glaive

Titus and Durran. He drew the mace

head. “I won’t allow things to fall apart.

took a fighting stance, holding the glaive before him. “Tolerate one injustice to end another. Whatever happened

Boarmask replied. “But we cannot let things fall apart. After things have settled, I will help you

work with him!” Durran yelled. “Not until I get answers. So step aside,

would die,” Titus said bitterly. “Fine.

of Boarmask. The armored knight dropped his mace, raising his

then,” Durran gestured, standing over

no future in either,” Titus said. “The Vessels are

are you talking

for your people to fight back against the unending rain of Fellhorn.” Titus waved between the two of them. “I have no love for the Vessels. They stole my baby from me, claiming it as a Vessel. They Drained my wife, Drained my twelve-year-old child… all because he was

a little, a vague semblance of sympathy

centuries before, the southern tribals ruled over this vast desert. They wrested control from the southron elves—burned their cities, butchered their people, destroyed their knowledge.” Titus crossed his arms. “And after? The tribals

end? Your people achieved nothing!” Titus stood up, staring Durran down. “Ignorant savages, condemning their people to death. A tyranny of a different type—a human tyranny. I would not suffer your people’s control over

who got in the way, is that

Titus spread his arms out. “There’s your answer. I kept you

stared him down in silence, hand

the Vessels. With Crislia’s intervention, the battle will come soon. But as far as

him sprawling against the chair. The flimsy wooden thing shattered. He turned in the

part, Titus,” Durran said coldly. “And then we’ll

at him bitterly, slowly rising to his feet amidst the shattered chair. Boarmask’s gaze lingered on Titus

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and unrested from the wearying journey to the elves. Things had mostly aligned with

had first entered into the southron elves’ territory. Argrave didn’t know if the elves had time enough to migrate, but the sword stabbed into the

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