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.

reason you are, Orion. She wants to stop the plague. If you care about the followers of the

head remained fixed on Silvic’s form. Slowly, his gaze turned back to Argrave. The insane frigidity in his eyes had faded somewhat, making his expression seem less threatening… but Argrave still noted

gave the smallest of nods, and Argrave

where Orion had taken him, Anneliese, and Magnus. Orion put one hand on his hip and shifted his

past. The crowd did not part for him as it had Orion, evidently, and indeed, it seemed he had little goodwill among the people here. Even though Argrave thought

Orion said, though,

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

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

crowd of zealous followers around and Magnus whispering in Orion’s ear, the odds felt stacked against him… but the fight yesterday had been at a disadvantage before Argrave

influence. “The people have every right to know why they are wrought with this disease. They should understand what Orion and I will

Anneliese whispered in Argrave’s ear,

Argrave to process fully—too many possibilities abounded in

of evil—it was born of the extermination of the people of these swamps, when Vasquer conquered this place decades ago.” Argrave

he was a fool, while Silvic placed her wooden, rooted

of the swamp that survived the invasion by Vasquer,” Silvic explained. “Many of the spirits had died in the invasion… and of those 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 humans—a jester,

succumbing in a multitude of ways. If you seek proof of the truth of my tales, I will show you the magic they weaved to turn this

did not seem at risk of exploding anytime soon. Magnus twitched and

the wetlands, attempted to stop this folly. Yet Rastzintin was always the strongest of

element of sympathy to things—seeing even a so-called god

stalked up to her, arms crossed. “You can prove

“I can,” Silvic confirmed.

all you hold

swear before the wetlands themselves I speak the truth. If I do not, may the world itself burn me and all I hold

to Argrave.

watched him carefully, ready to interject at anything the

there is no room for

his brows, taken aback by the support. Magnus leaned in and whispered something to Orion’s

Silvic informed you of regarding this… heretical god, Rastzintin, and the

tell you everything you

He turned his head to Silvic and Drezki. “Will the two of you accept

her