Jackal Among Snakes

Though Argrave knew that something needed to be said to Orion, those words did not come to his head immediately as the two of them walked away from the rest of the party. They entered into the keep of the fortress that had manifested after the battle had concluded. Argrave glanced around at decrepit wooden furniture covered in equal parts by wood rot and growths from the wetlands.

Argrave came to stand over a table. Orion stood opposite it, staring at Argrave with curiosity as he waited for him to speak. Though Argrave briefly contemplated sitting in a chair, he saw its thin, shaky legs rotted out and decided against it.

“That centaur getting away bodes ill,” Argrave began, starting at the problem Orion had caused. “Centaurs—they’re closer to man than beast, and they can communicate with our foes. He can report to the commanders of the other fortresses, or even the Plague Jester herself.”

“You fear our enemies will take note of us? They already have—they harass us during this whole journey, brother,” Orion stepped around the table.

Argrave mirrored his brother’s steps, circling around the table opposite him. “This is different. These beasts that assail as we travel… they sense intruders and hunt them, but little else—now, you’ve displayed your power, stated your intent plainly. If the commanders are warned, the final assault will be all the more difficult. They’ll group up.”

Orion lowered his head. “I apologize.”

Argrave sighed. “I don’t get why this is happening. Back at camp, you lunged at Silvic as though she were your nemesis without any provocation whatsoever. Now, someone attacks you first, and you let them stab you? You let their ally get away?”

“I apologize,” Orion repeated sincerely, lowering his head further.

“I don’t want an apology. I want to know why,” Argrave insisted.

Orion raised a hand to the table before him, placing his fingers against it almost gingerly. The battle he’d just endured had destroyed both of his gauntlets, leaving only scraps of loosely hanging metal with broken enchantments behind.

“Do you ever grow lonely, Argrave?” Orion raised his head, gray eyes emotionless.

Argrave thought for half a second before answering, “Not lately. But I did, once. A lot.”

brushed his fingers against the decrepit table, pushing it lightly and watching the thin wood bend and bounce back into place. “I cannot grow lonely. I always have company. The gods

grown rather less afraid of Orion lately, so he dared say, “But that doesn’t answer my question. Why do

easily. Argrave didn’t move an inch as wood splinters fell at

natural order, and the world can only truly be perfect when their dominion extends from the

is wholly different from putting it into action. The task is simple: spread the faith. Yet the ways are manifold, subtle and direct in equal turns. Each path I might take has its own application that excels

“Me?” Argrave questioned. “What?”

abided heretics and enemies to help the faith in tremendous ways,” Orion continued, stepping across the wrecked table to stand before Argrave. “The people whisper of you staying an invasion from the Veidimen by treating with them in their land. This action saved the lives of thousands of faithful in Mateth. What’s more,

to none, and I have my parents at my back… I am impulsive, easily angered. Yet personality is not a static thing, and wisdom is more than equal to intelligence. Personality changes and morphs based on what happens. I am trying to understand, trying to grow, trying to learn from these experiences. I am

silent in the wake of Orion’s openness. He had never seen Orion express anything of this sort to anyone—certainly never the player in ‘Heroes of Berendar.’

“Right now… right now, we have only allies and enemies. Even I am aware of that. Our foe seeks to genocide Vasquer with disease and rot. Will you let

spirit?” Orion turned back. “She is the enemy, yet

so many forces, stretched so thin

Millions could die if Orion continued to act indecisively as he had earlier. It would be tremendously stupid to prioritize Orion’s personal growth over the

mutually exclusive. And Argrave could get more time, if he got himself

to say to get that. He took a deep breath, battling with his desire to be disentangled from the man before him. Orion was dangerous. They had already become too

forward, looking up at the prince. “For now,

#####

and his empty assurances, Argrave was

a thing until he had it, but once his mind had rejuvenated he was consumed by feelings of impatience and frustration. He felt the need to do something, anything. As such, he and

fought, and their few disagreements were settled in less than minutes. Much of that was due to her, he suspected—she understood him without him needing to say much at all. Argrave had recalled some people claiming that arguments and fights were the sign of a growing relationship—if they did not argue, it was uninteresting

rose with a headache not quite as severe as yesterday. The Waxknights had better morale, having lost none

me, and then I get it right,” he explained hollowly to Argrave as he adjusted his wyvern scale