Jackal Among Snakes

“You,” growled Durran. “All of you. Before the battle is even finished, you devolve into base vultures. You pick at a carcass still warm, still pumping blood.” He looked about the crowd. “You paint me as a monster with the direction of some snake merchant, who puts forth his own claim to the city in the same breath.”

The people beneath Titus rose their voices, but Durran raised his own volume, drowning them out. “I thought to help people. The purest motivation, devoid of politics, of ambition. I left the tribes, saw the people of Sethia suffering… and I knew that something had to be done, even if it cost me my future in the tribe.” Durran spread his arms out, and his wyvern rose him up higher. “It seems, though, that good intentions are always marred by opportunists. I should have known better.

“So go forth,” Durran continued, waving his hands dismissively. “Go into your ‘new age,’ striving for a better future, led by men like Titus who butcher your brothers and sisters to frame another. I’ll have no part of this anymore, even if you beg. But I won’t stand here and let anyone accuse me of wrongdoing.”

“Durran..!” Boarmask called out.

“Forget it,” Durran shook his head. “Titus. If there’s one thing we agree on, it’s that my people offer no future for the desert. But you… you are no different than the Brandback buried in the sand, luring people in with promise of an oasis only to swallow them whole. I won’t endanger myself to save fools—not any longer.”

Durran strode down the back of his wyvern’s neck. People shouted at him and threw things.

Titus made a hand signal, and Galamon tensed, grasping Argrave’s shoulder to remind him of the archers. Argrave knew that Titus, ruthless as he was, wouldn’t remain content in allowing his largest opponent to simply walk away. Thinking desperately, Argrave willed the electric eels he’d summoned earlier away from his person until they hovered above the belltower Titus stood atop. It was a conspicuous move, but Argrave felt no other option.

“Durran,” Argrave called out, voice tight. “One of the men with me is injured—Corentin. I think I’ll need you to give them a ride… for safety,” he alluded.

Argrave pointed to the roofs where the archers watched, and Durran, with a higher vantage point, spotted them and caught on quickly.

“Fine,” he said, acting bitter. “Hurry things along. If I see these snakes any longer, I might vomit.”

Argrave locked eyes with Titus. The two held their gaze for a long while. Argrave spread his arms out, letting the electric eels dance a little faster. Eventually, the dye merchant lowered his hands, and Galamon’s tense grip slackened. The archers soon slid down the roof quietly and jumped off. Argrave called back his eels, though kept Titus’ position in mind.

“…the bodies,” Florimund spoke up. “They need to be delivered home. I don’t wish to leave them in the open sun. Corentin—you should go with. I’ll stay. I need to speak for my people, should the need arise.”

“I can bring the bodies,” Durran said, gaze distant. “But not much else.”

“We can walk back to Otraccia,” Argrave suggested. “Sorry to impose, Durran, but… can you help them out?”

“Might not be welcome home, anymore,” Durran noted, keeping his wyvern steady as he stared out across the crowd with cold eyes. “Otraccia is as fine a place to go as any.” Durran stopped scanning the crowd, setting his eyes on Boarmask. “And what will you do?”

“My business here is not yet done,” Boarmask said simply. “But I won’t act rashly. Not yet. I refuse to make things worse. So go… Durran, Argrave.” The masked knight looked to him as he mentioned his name. “You rather resemble your brother… though much skinnier,” the masked knight noted.

Argrave didn’t know how to respond to that for a time, but eventually he managed, “Hopefully a lot less heartless.”

shook his head. “Time will

to leave him unsettled. As Argrave left, Boarmask never

#####

only to have it bitten. If people find you have a heart of gold, they won’t admire it. They’ll mine it until every vein of gold is dry, leaving you only

back at Sethia. The place was badly flooded and largely ruined. Galamon walked with them, unfocused, while Anneliese led them, her expression

to cheer everyone up, Garm,” Argrave finally responded, voice and gaze both distant. He thought back to the battle against the Lord

Garm

Argrave turned from Sethia, facing the head atop Galamon’s backpack. “You used [Voice of the Corrupt]. Barring the fact that’s a B-rank spell you supposedly can’t cast, I know you haven’t done any soul harvesting recently, so you must’ve used a piece

Garm’s black and gold

said. Argrave raised a brow in the silence that followed. “You’ve given

“About Gerechtigkeit?”

not an extrasensory of some kind—it seems you have a base of knowledge to fall back on. What is

thinking of how to answer this. Garm continued his inquiries. “You mentioned avatars… and other strange, convoluted things. Are you the hand of some god? A prophet? I certainly don’t see you kneel and pray at any

then, that I’m telling the truth?” Argrave stepped

Argrave. “My soul… yes, I used some of my soul. Much of it was to save myself. I die

minute ago, and

making a point. It’s an analogy,” Garm closed his eyes for a moment. When they opened once more, they seemed fiercer, somehow. “I’m a walking… damn,” he trailed off, recognizing he used

that word is a bit

only because of your party’s generosity?” Garm interrupted, voice cold. “My existence can only be sustained by selflessness, yet I

Anneliese

enough to keep your word,” Garm butted in once more, then laughed. It was a bitter, slow chuckle, that slowly trailed off. “I always found the Veidimen foreign. A people who value contracts, honor, loyalty, above even their own life. It seemed ridiculous. Yet here we are. Excluding one notable exception that happened today, my presence has only hindered

around. You think we shouldn’t? I don’t know as much as I want, but even

lowered his gaze to the sand below. “It’s a personal philosophy, not a cultural one. I’ll spare you my tale of woe—I don’t care to relive it by telling it to others,” he raised his gaze back to Argrave. “But every time I tried to be generous… I was disappointed.” He laughed through his nose, then added, “Even landing as I am… the man who made me this

thing in the world, repeating the line,

you three drag me about as the burden I am. I was on a selfish streak until

alive,” Argrave said simply. “He

ways, oddly comforting in others. But the point is this.” Garm’s brows furrowed. “It’s hard for me to muster the will to do something that doesn’t benefit me. Not after

him, catching he had more

you fools have treated me… I don’t know,” the trailed

in a manner of speaking. But… and though I loathe to say it… if you can give me this last bit of proof, if you can become Black Blooded as you claim… I’ll help you. All of you. No more holding back. I’ll cooperate.

like the first time he’d done that today. “I’m happy to hear

like it’s earth-shattering,” Garm cautioned. “We’ve established I’m a burden who can offer very little genuine help. My magic takes months to replenish—that one spell