Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave had wanted a break. In a way, the week spent at the oasis town of Otraccia became just that.

The normalcy of opening new spell books and delving into them for hours at a time became a welcome respite compared to the unending torture that had occurred at the residence of the Alchemist. He felt like someone who had just recovered from surgery returning to their job—and in a way, that wasn’t too far off.

The Alchemist had said that every function of Argrave’s body would be improved. That statement was entirely true. He could focus for longer without exhausting himself. He functioned better with less sleep. And, moreover, he did basic exercise every morning, and ate plenty of what Galamon suggested. The activity was basic, as mentioned—nonetheless, the improvements felt tangible, especially endurance-wise. It was like he was on the classic diet of chicken, rice, broccoli, and steroids. Hopefully his face wouldn’t swell.

Durran was restless, constantly inquiring about the state in Sethia. He seemed to have difficulty believing that things were going well under Titus, and though Argrave shared that sentiment, he wasn’t near as invested as Durran. Indeed, despite his unease with the development entirely foreign to ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ things did seem to be improved.

Galamon finally got a chance for a break, too. Beyond giving advice to Argrave, he did little as he waited for the changes to his armor. His greatsword was being modified to accommodate southron elf magic, and the original enchantment would remain fully intact.

Though the offer extended to all of his weapons, Galamon claimed enchanting the dagger would be impotent, and the Ebonice axe interfered with the southron elf enchantments. Moreover, he needed to see the axe blade to dispel magic. However, the enchanted arrows Galamon still had were enchanted with southron elf magic. The arrows would not betray their flight path as they moved—trivial, considering most people can’t dodge arrows, but it might come in handy.

Garm’s gift of sight had proven to be much more beneficial than Argrave had initially predicted. Perhaps the High Wizard of the Rose had predicted such a thing. Not only could Argrave see other people’s magic, he could see his own. Watching it manifest from its raw, almost gaseous state within the body to a genuine spell proved invaluable for comprehension. Argrave understood spells of C-rank better, though he heeded Anneliese’s advice and refrained from tackling B-rank quite yet, despite the tremendous increase in advancement lent to him by his Black Blood.

Regarding his new changes…

“You want me to drink your blood?” Durran questioned incredulously.

“Naturally,” Argrave nodded as though it was a normal request, acting deliberately obtuse.

Durran frowned intensely, sizing up Argrave suspiciously. “Don’t you have someone for that? He’s standing right over there,” Durran gestured towards Galamon.

“You got aboard this ship a bit late, so you probably don’t know about the Amaranthine Heart juice. Magic in liquid form is black,” Argrave explained. “When people talk about me being ‘Black Blooded,’ it means that I have magic in my blood stream. Hence, I’m curious if ingesting it would produce the same effect as it did previously.”

This wasn’t something that could be done in ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ and Argrave felt it was long overdue to try out something beyond the game’s purview.

“Can’t you ask your lady friend?” Durran stepped away. “Snuggling, sharing a bed—fluid sharing isn’t such a big step forward. Little bit of blood drinking might be weird, but I’m told some people are into it.”

Argrave laughed and shook his head. “Come on. Don’t be a coward,” he insisted, wagging his finger at Durran.

Durran took a great breath, and then sighed. “Gods above… fine. You got some ready, or…?”

Argrave took off his glove and rolled up his sleeve. “Cast some magic,” he prompted Durran, then pulled out a knife he’d taken from the kitchens.

The tribal looked at Argrave like he was mental, but he did cast a spell. Argrave cut his own arm without much hesitation—after what he’d endured, cutting his arm came quite easily. His blood was indeed much, much darker, yet still decidedly red. Durran drank.

After a time, the tattooed tribal looked a little puzzled. “Yeah… I… felt something bubbling, near my chest. Felt faint, but… present.”

Argrave drank some of his own blood. Indeed, the feeling was present, but it was far diminished. More importantly, it even worked on himself…

having arrived before them all

to Durran. “He smelled good food, and he comes rushing over.” Argrave faced Galamon. “Don’t worry

big elven

caught wind of what he was trying, they quickly put an end to it. Argrave assured them he only intended to use it for emergencies, but even

#####

passed by, Durran’s insistence on learning what happened after they left only grew worse. Argrave

me contact Boarmask,” Durran pleaded, one knee in the black sand of the Burnt Desert as the four of them stared near the crater leading into the

burying the place had been removed, cleaning the place up. Aurum, the gold tower, was gone, and Argent was clearly next on the chopping block. The walls of the city had been badly destroyed, but already, patchwork fortifications had

signal Boarmask? Shout loudly?” Argrave shook his head. “It’s been a month. Even if you have some signal system, he’s probably stopped checking for them by now. On the off chance he’s still holding out, we’d still have to wait. I don’t

something that’d work quickly,”

down with a cloth, and then positioned the mount. Light shone off the mirror splendidly. After some finagling, the ray of light struck a prism hidden within a bell tower. A rainbow consumed the interior—though obviously noticeable to anyone looking

wait elsewhere,” Durran explained, stepping

them. Based on expression alone, none seemed to protest. Anneliese obviously wanted to follow, as a matter

too, Argrave decided, then followed Durran without

#####

evidenced a fire had once been lit. Durran

things off,” Argrave spoke

attention. He rose to his feet, hand on his

enough, a bulky man entered into view, a backpack slung

of a paladin, and the man’s personality matched up well enough. He was once called the Romantic Warrior—romantic meaning ‘idealistic’ rather than ‘loving.’ He was just, mostly, and devoted to the Vasquer pantheon. There

he paused when he met Argrave’s gaze,

about my lamps. I’m sure you know high-rank spellcasters can look quite

the Lord of Silver as you did. And I’m glad of it. Since you came here with Durran… I suppose

“For…ever, hopefully,” Argrave nodded.

paid little heed to the difference between ‘for now’ and ‘forever,’ stepping within and setting down his backpack. The thing clattered noisily. Galamon

with him, some of whom have enchantments from Vasquer to better help protect. In addition,

with the city—how are things for

the wall, putting his hands on his knees. “Titus is very good at winning over the people,

you’ll say?’ Stop with the bullshit, tell me what’s happening,” Durran rose to his feet, stepping up to the unarmored knight. Befitting the

then shifted on his feet, crossing his arms. “Sorry. Just been a tense month, prowling Sethia alone.

you stalling? Get to the point,”

weeks after the Lords were killed before the neighboring cities heard of what had happened. By that point, Titus had already sequestered enough for the

he has no title, Titus is the sole leader of Sethia. The people love him fiercely. He’s

staring out across the sand. “Are we sure Titus didn’t

his hand. Boarmask took him seriously, evidently, for he asked confusedly, “What are you

not exactly