Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 177

“I’ve come to see my brother. It’s clear to me he needs help, despite his abundant capability. I’m told Prince Orion is ahead, tending to the plagued,” Argrave spoke to the Waxknight before him, staring at the man’s dead eyes barely visible behind his bandages.

“Do you mean to say our Holiness is your brother?” the leading knight demanded, taking a step forward.

“Half-brother,” Argrave removed his hands from his horse’s reins, holding his palms out. “But a brother nonetheless.”

The loose bandages wrapped around the leading Waxknight’s face slacked, blocking his vision, and he corrected it while pulling it tight.

“Prince Induen?” one at the side questioned.

Argrave shook his head. “No prince at all, elsewise I might have an escort gleaming as you knights do.”

“Argrave, then, the bastard,” the leading knight said.

“All are equal before the gods’ eyes. That’s what Orion says, at least,” he smiled warmly, defusing the situation.

The Waxknights sized Argrave up, then glanced back towards his companions, examining them in turn.

“For your own sake—the waxpox abounds here,” their helmetless leader informed him. “We will take you to Orion if you wish it to be so, but even our Holiness struggles to combat the disease, and more refugees show up daily.”

“I have an idea of how bad things really are,” Argrave turned his head, looking through the trees from whence they’d come. “Things get worse beyond these wetlands every day. Not all refugees had the good fortune to be tended to by my brother. And that’s precisely why I came here—to help him, and to help those that suffer,” he said seriously.

gestured. “Orion accepts all comers. Whether you are truly his brother—that will

“My companions and I

Anneliese and Durran, “Drink your super juice, you two. I know you drank it this morning, but this is the heartlands. Disease flows through this place like blood through the

her face, and imbibed the liquid, wincing from its bitterness.

from his grimace. Anneliese nodded,

led them through the northwest, though it was less leading and more so resuming the path they had already been taking. With three of these knights acting as ostensible escorts, Argrave was not worried about anything coming to kill them, so he kept his Brumesingers close. Argrave could not say with confidence that Galamon was these knight’s superior in combat. They were some of the most dangerous warriors on the continent at this stage, exceeding the royal knights they branched from by

party. Their entire body was affected by the waxpox. This made them immune to

questions. Durran looked discomforted with the knights, transfixed with an expression of horror and disgust both.

been torn asunder by growth—trees, roots, fungi, and vines all consumed the gray stone. People lay in tents en masse. Despite the seclusion of this place, the vast majority of these people seemed better

in the corner of the fortress. Once at the door, the knights directed them to a makeshift stable that they’d been using, and Argrave left his horse there without complaint. Durran seemed hesitant to leave his mount there,

measured and disciplined steps into the keep where more of their colleagues abounded, guarding the man that lay within. Orion received a vast host of the common people,

covered by a loose-fitting white toga. His black hair was all bound into a thick braid that descended to his knees. His eyes were

in the back while the Waxknights went ahead to speak to Orion. They spoke to him, and then pointed. Orion looked at him. He

A

presence was intense—he outsized even Galamon—and he hurtled towards Argrave like a bull. Despite himself, he took a step back. Galamon looked

squeezed Argrave tight, embracing him. Argrave felt that he’d grown a lot the past month, but now he was being treated like a

“And your eyes…” he paused, all of his mirth disappearing at

Argrave forward effortlessly. “Everyone!” he

by exultation he’d not been expecting to receive. Orion heralded him proudly before the crowd. Even despite their sickness, they mustered cheers. Orion’s Waxknights

never expected you to come here from that tower of old owls. You were mired in misery last I saw you. Now your back is straight, your gait is steady, and your will…” he whispered into Argrave’s ear, barely audible above the cheer of the crowd. “I see light in you, now. Gold amidst the dark, like Vasquer’s heraldry… and your eyes. Your strange eyes… that

crowd, too, another dark-haired figure. It

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