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.”

his head.

said the man’s real name, then walked away, content to leave him unsettled. As Argrave left, Boarmask never tore his gaze away from his

#####

extend your hand 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

Sethia. The place was badly flooded and largely ruined. Galamon walked with them, unfocused,

voice and gaze both distant. He thought back to the battle against the Lord of Silver. “How’s

Garm

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

his attention to the conversation, while Garm’s

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

“About Gerechtigkeit?”

you, exactly?” Garm asked. “The things you know… I have no choice but to acknowledge it. You’re not an extrasensory of some kind—it seems you have a

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

I’m telling the truth?”

my soul. Much of it was to save myself.

question a minute ago, and

a moment. When they opened once more, they seemed fiercer, somehow. “I’m a walking… damn,”

repeated. “Even that word

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

agreement,” Anneliese

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

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

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

the funniest thing in the world, repeating

I was on a selfish streak until that point, but then I

Argrave said simply. “He

in some ways, oddly comforting in others. But the point is this.” Garm’s brows furrowed. “It’s hard for me to

catching

that boy, Durran,” Garm began. “He reminds me of myself. Same sense of humor. And he projects that very same disappointment I feel. That… coupled with how you fools have treated me… I don’t know,” the trailed off, taking a pause to regather his thoughts. “All I can do is think—I’m more brain

myself, in a manner of speaking. But…

smiled—it felt like the first time he’d

burden who can offer very little