Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave stepped into Orion’s camp in the ruined fortress, walking past the vast tents and buildings full of refugees. His stride was confident, but the Brumesingers walking at his feet were somewhat frenzied, betraying his true nervousness. Everyone watched him walk—this time, not because of his imposing height, but because of the two following behind: Silvic and Drezki.

His entry into the camp was like a great ripple that intensified rather than weakened. Though the sick could not be bothered to stir, those tending to them did, and soon enough, near half the camp was bustling with activity. Nothing would ever abate the nervousness of being the center of attention, Argrave thought.

Two golden armored knights rushed up before Argrave, drawing their glimmering swords from their scabbards. Argrave stepped out to meet them, holding his arms wide as he yelled, “You will stop!” His authoritative words did slow them, but they kept proceeding, forcing Argrave to add, “I am Orion’s brother!”

With their Holiness being invoked, the Waxknights did indeed draw to a sliding stop not two feet away from Argrave. Already, mist from his Brumesingers danced in the air, ready to attack if anything threatened him.

“Orion sought proof,” Argrave began, gaze alternating between the two Waxknights. “I have brought it.”

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The camp remained bustling in the time that passed since Argrave had brought Silvic to Orion’s camp. A retinue of twelve Waxknights guarded them. Everyone able enough to walk in the refugee camp gawked at the humanoid wetland spirit. Silvic remained largely silent and still, but the sight of her wooden body flowing with radiant liquid light was awe-inspiring even when she did nothing. Fewer stared at the short and squat swampland woman Drezki with her greenish skin and yellow eyes, but her presence only intensified the scrutiny placed upon them.

Anneliese looked greatly discomforted by the attention—she had once confided to him large crowds were difficult for her—and so Argrave did his best to keep her at ease while they waited for Orion. Regarding his other two companions, Galamon was ever unflappable while Durran somewhat enjoyed the scrutiny of the crowd, all but striking a pose for those watching.

It was easy to notice Prince Orion coming. He himself stood a foot and a half above the taller people in the crowd, and the people parted for his coming like the Red Sea had for another prophet of myth. Argrave kept his gaze on him as he walked closer, Argrave’s dark golden eyes meeting Orion’s gray the whole way through. Eventually, Orion strode past the Waxknights, ordering them to put their swords away with a simple gesture. They obeyed without question and kneeled before him.

Prince Orion stood before Argrave. His eyes were markedly colder than their first meeting had been. Argrave was glad to be spared of a back-breaking embrace, but that was about the only good feeling swirling around in his chest at that moment. Orion stood above him, above even Galamon, and seeing the anger writ in his face was like having the roaring jaw of a Kodiak bear near your throat.

“What profane thing have you brought into this camp of followers of the faith, Argrave?” Orion questioned, his voice cold and unsympathetic. The affectionate calls of ‘brother’ were gone.

Argrave kept his composure despite his fear—he was growing quite adept at that. “You asked for proof, brother. I brought it before you.”

Orion looked past Argrave, staring at Silvic. He stepped around him, looking down and locking gazes with Galamon briefly. After, he took heavy steps that seemed to shake the earth. Drezki stood between Silvic and Orion, posturing like a child trapped between two adults. She was only barely to Orion’s stomach, but she stood strong nonetheless.

“Rest assured,” Argrave called out. “I would not have brought Silvic here were she a danger to everyone.”

Orion turned his back to Silvic, his white robe brushing against the muddy ground below as his gaze fixed upon Argrave. “What is it?”

“I am Silvic, one of many spirits of the wetlands, and a god to the swamp folk,” Silvic answered, her voice without an obvious source emanating from all directions causing a great stir in all of the people present.

Orion turned his head back to the wetland spirit ever so slowly. His fists were clenched tightly enough to trigger the protective enchantments on his gauntlet, and they shone brightly, barely preventing the metal from folding in on itself.

care about the followers of the faith, I hope

Slowly, his gaze turned back to Argrave. The insane frigidity in his eyes had faded somewhat, making his expression seem

smallest of nods, and Argrave let out a sigh of relief just

go discuss this?” Argrave gestured towards the keep where Orion had taken him, Anneliese, and Magnus. Orion put one hand on his hip and

which is to be shared—is it something that needs to be kept secret from the people?” Magnus chimed in, pushing his way past. The crowd did not part for him as it had Orion, evidently, and indeed, it seemed he had little goodwill among the people

is true,” Orion said, though, very obviously

much the same way she would tap his foot if someone lied—if she had something to note about the emotions of those

have time to say what she needed to say, though. Orion spoke again, asking, “Then tell me, brother, why do you consort with such profane things, such heretics? What can it convey, that should spare it from righteous judgement

Orion’s ear, the odds felt stacked against him… but the fight yesterday had been at

wrought with this disease. They should understand what Orion and I will fight against!” he said boldly. His words drew in support from

crowd murmured and cheered, Anneliese whispered in Argrave’s ear, “Magnus is desperately

Argrave to process fully—too many possibilities abounded in his head—and so he chose to shelve them away and

fighting against a great evil that has taken root in the wetlands,” Argrave preached. “This evil was born of evil—it was born of the extermination of the people of these swamps, when Vasquer conquered this place decades ago.” Argrave turned on his heel. “Silvic. Please, tell all

stared down Argrave like he was a fool, while Silvic placed her wooden, rooted hand behind her back in

that persisted, one sought revenge against Vasquer for the deaths of many: Rastzintin, the strongest of us wetland spirits. He collaborated with one of the last great shamans of the swamp folk. She had been taken in as an amusement by

they fell, each House established succumbing in a multitude of ways. If you seek proof of the truth of my tales, I will show

They were growing a bit incensed, he noted, but they did not seem at risk of exploding anytime soon. Magnus twitched and rubbed his hands together as Silvic spoke, glancing about paranoidly.

the fortresses collapsed, Rastzintin was content. The jester did not agree with this sentiment. She betrayed him and used his power to conjure this plague. I, and many other spirits of the wetlands, attempted to stop this folly. Yet Rastzintin was always the strongest of us all, and in my endeavors, the Plague Jester struck me and others with her fell disease, leaving me as I

words well. There was an element of sympathy to things—seeing even a

crossed. “You can prove this fortress

“I can,” Silvic confirmed.

all you hold dear… that

wetlands themselves I speak the truth. If I do not, may

looked back to Argrave. His gaze

watched him carefully, ready to interject at anything

no room for argument,” Magnus conceded, spreading

Magnus leaned in and whispered something to Orion’s ears, and Argrave

from Magnus’ whispers. “What has Silvic informed you of regarding this…

and more. I can tell you everything

Silvic and Drezki. “Will the two of you accept the

her head fervently.