Jackal Among Snakes

The family of House Parbon ate in a quiet, if harmonious atmosphere. The Margrave ate the same thing he had with every meal—a simple steak, unseasoned, with water. His eyes fell upon the gray-haired woman beside his daughter, still eating quietly. “Is everything alright, Ridia?” the Margrave questioned.

“Oh,” she lifted her head, as though drawn from a daydream. “Oh—umm, yes. Everyone has been very kind to me here.”

The Margrave nodded. “I apologize that my son could not be here. I promise you that Elias will make it up to you as your fiancé.”

“He can hardly be—”

The doors to the room opened and Ridia flinched, cutting her sentence off. Argrave stood there, wearing the same gray leather armor as he had the past few days—it was clean now, though. His three companions stood just behind him. He scanned the room.

“Thought there’d be more than just us…” Argrave said hesitantly.

Reinhardt gestured to the chairs opposite Ridia and Rose. “Sit,” he commanded.

Argrave nodded without protest, then moved to sit. The Margrave took a piece of paper and stowed it away in his pocket, then adjusted some of his cutlery. Argrave hesitated to sit right next to Reinhardt, but eventually he swallowed and did so, sitting quite rigidly and politely.

He briefly looked at Rose of Parbon. He wasn’t particularly worried about her—he was sure he left a good impression, even if he wasn’t 100% confident he’d sold her on his ideas. Someone would need to be delusional to guess the truth about Argrave. No one would assume he was a different person entirely, even in a world of magic.

“Fill four plates.” the Margrave commanded a serving staff off to the side.

“Ah—three,” Argrave amended. “Galamon prepares his own food—he’s very particular. It would be impossible to sustain such a physique otherwise, no?”

The Margrave frowned, then amended, “Bring platters, let them serve themselves. Some are… larger.”

Argrave had no protest to this. He greeted everyone sitting at the table with silent gestures, then finally locked his gaze on the Margrave.

“So, what did you wish to talk to me about?” Argrave smiled.

The Margrave fiddled with his cutlery, then planted a fork in his steak. “I sent men to the Low Way of the Rose to verify your claims,” he began. “They’ve been… delayed.”

Anneliese frowned and tapped Argrave’s foot with hers. He didn’t turn his head, but he acknowledged her signal. This was something they’d devised in private. Reinhardt was lying, and her tapping her foot against his was their signal.

here,” the Margrave continued, ignorant of their exchange. “I bear no hostility towards

is scared of disease and war? Never could have pictured that,” Durran

pleasantly. “You may know that the Burnt Desert is a little… unsafe, shall we say? One might call it a hellish place. And by ‘one,’ I mean ‘everyone.’ A little danger makes life worth living, so I’ll be fine to leave as soon

the table. “It is… in your… best interest… to stay in my castle,” he said awkwardly. Reinhardt was obviously trying to be

the Margrave. Unlike that staring contest they’d had long ago, the

my daughter… she has.” He placed one big, gauntleted hand

foot again, but he simply watched Reinhardt meet

stay, Argrave realized. What in the world? Why? He’s not aggressive, or mad, he’s just… I can’t make sense of this. I’m having dinner

to the Margrave. “Well…” he swallowed. “I do have much to ask about the war. Do you think I could ask questions

daughter’s wrist, then said hesitantly, “I try to avoid discussing

fine,” Rose interjected. “We rarely have guests, and I am not so fragile that I would collapse from a few where

have no issue,”

your mother’s…” he trailed off with a weak voice, then sighed. “Never mind,” he continued, voice cold once again. “I

grand platters of food on the center. Argrave eyed the meatier

own portion. “What are the big happenings of the last two

slain by Vasquer,” the Margrave said heavily, placing both his arms on

food on the table, feeling disrespectful. “What?” he asked, and when

he left that part unspoken. With no hostage, they had less power over

offered. “I didn’t know Bruno, but I know he was

gruffly, something Argrave

your people and its culture… that must have weakened support for Vasquer greatly,” Anneliese

looked at

voice dead and harsh as though

this plague—has

Reinhardt shifted, frowning. “I cannot say with certainty… but people say it has

it begin moving across the south?” she

was a bit slower and answered her question no more than what she asked.

was aided,” Argrave suggested quietly, and