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.”

know.” Boarmask shook his head.

real name, then walked away, content to leave him

#####

they walked across the warm sand. “You leave hated, unwanted. You extend your hand only to have it bitten. If people find

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

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

Garm repeated,

me the act,” 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

to the conversation, while Garm’s black and gold eyes stayed fixed on

brow in

“About Gerechtigkeit?”

have no choice but to acknowledge it. You’re not an extrasensory of some

“You mentioned avatars… and other strange, convoluted things. Are you the hand of some god? A prophet? I certainly don’t see you

to admit, then, that I’m telling

I used some of my soul. Much of it was to save myself. I die with you, in case you

asked that question a minute ago, and

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

repeated. “Even that word

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

an agreement,” Anneliese said.

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,

keep you around. You think we shouldn’t? I don’t know as much as

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

thing in the world, repeating

as the burden I am. I was on

Argrave said

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

prompted him, catching he had more

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

I can make that happen. Almost… like confronting myself, 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.

the first time he’d

can offer very little genuine help.