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.

as long as you are here,” the Margrave continued, ignorant of their exchange. “I bear no hostility towards you. Considering

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

legion of knights to swarm into here,” Argrave held out his hand to silence the man, then smiled 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,’

placed both elbows on the table. “It is… in your… best interest… to stay in my castle,” he said awkwardly. Reinhardt was obviously trying to be subtly suggestive, but

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

I will not again mistreat you,” he added. “While I cannot say I will ever forgive what you have done to my daughter… she has.” He placed one big, gauntleted hand on her wrist. “And that is more than enough for me to set aside any

to tap his foot again, but he simply watched Reinhardt

to 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 with someone who thinks I crippled his daughter, alongside that very daughter, and they’re trying to persuade me to

he swallowed. “I do have much to ask about the war. Do you think I could ask questions on that

off his 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 you speak of the war. You agree,

have no

“Never mind,” he continued, voice cold once

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

get his own portion. “What are the

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

feeling disrespectful. “What?” he asked, and when no answer

unspoken. With no hostage, they had less power

my condolences,” Argrave offered. “I didn’t know Bruno, but I know he was a

gruffly, something Argrave didn’t

that must have weakened support for Vasquer greatly,” Anneliese pressed. “And swelled your own ranks with new

at

and harsh as though

continued, “And this plague—has it struck

say with certainty… but

the south?” she pressed further.

pointed inquiries, Argrave caught onto what she was implying and stiffened. The Margrave was a bit slower and answered her question no more than what she asked. “I am unsure. It simply

quietly, and Anneliese lowered