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.

continued, ignorant of their exchange. “I bear no hostility towards you. Considering the plague and the war, I think it would be best if

disease and war? Never could

a 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

in your… best interest… to stay in my castle,”

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

say I will ever forgive what you have done to my daughter… she has.” He placed one big, gauntleted hand

half-expecting Anneliese to tap his foot again, but he simply watched

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

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

said hesitantly, “I try to avoid discussing affairs of state at the family

fragile that I would collapse from a few

have no

with a weak voice, then sighed. “Never mind,” he continued, voice cold

staff reentered, placing grand platters of food on the center. Argrave eyed the meatier

Argrave nodded enthusiastically, moving to get his own portion. “What are the big happenings of the last

Vasquer,” the Margrave said heavily, placing both

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

that part unspoken.

my condolences,” Argrave offered. “I didn’t know Bruno,

Margrave grunted gruffly,

I know of your people and its culture… that must have weakened support for Vasquer greatly,” Anneliese pressed. “And swelled your own ranks with new

looked at

and harsh as though he

lost in thought. Then, she continued, “And this plague—has it

frowning. “I cannot say with certainty… but

did it begin moving across the south?” she pressed further. “From one point, or from many at

Margrave was a bit slower and answered her question no more than what she asked. “I am unsure. It simply swept across in an

was aided,” Argrave suggested quietly, and Anneliese lowered her