Jackal Among Snakes

As far as Argrave was concerned, the primary difference between marching during the day and doing so at was merely that they had not slept. At least, that was his opinion before they began it.

Argrave was tired and felt a little clumsy, probably doubly so because of his anemia, and the cold water of the wetlands soaked into his bones. Spell light lit their path ably, and the boundary where Silvic’s protection ended was still as dark and unknowable as ever. They were unharried on their march just as it had been during the day—a small blessing that spoke of ill fortune in their future. Though everyone present was hardy, tempered by battle and long journeys both, it was an unprecedently exhausting thing.

The wetland spirit Silvic had been consumed by the waxpox more and more as their journey progressed, just as it had been in the game. Their boundary of protection grew weaker as she did so, and the splendor of the liquid light humming within her wooden body died by the hour. Considering Orion’s recent changes… he did not know if her death was certain, anymore.

Nor did he know if the Plague Jester’s death was certain. Hopefully his words got through to Orion.

Nonetheless, they marched ever onward. The waters thinned as they did, and instead of wading through thick puddles, they stepped through no more than wet mud. The waxpox thrived here, stronger than ever. The rotted plants and trees all took on a taupe tone, accented by red. It was as though they walked through a forest of flesh and blood, and once the idea took root, it was nearly accurate enough to make Argrave nauseous.

Yet that did not last forever. In time, Argrave saw the ever-present mist around fade away, and the wetlands ahead were revealed in earnest. Stone roads were paved into the mud, each and all so uniform they were likely made by mages. None were complete, though, most either buried in mud or abruptly ending. They all led to the same point—a towering complex of buildings, dimly lit by the burgeoning light of dawn.

A beautiful palace rose up out of the wetlands, so impeccably preserved most might think it an illusion. Its walls of gaudy marble and gold still stood strong, nearly fifty feet tall. Spikes and statues of silver stood on the walls, each and all monuments to great warriors or mages. It had a central gate with a breathtaking archway, just over which the largest statue stood. It was a golden statue of King Felipe III, at a time when he was perhaps thirty at most.

A near-black polished granite pathway began at the central gate, stretching all the way back to the main palace. The courtyard beyond had an impeccably maintained garden, where the plants bloomed splendidly even now. Elaborate water fountains dotted small pavilions. All of it radiated luxury and decadence, persisting amidst the harsh wetlands which had become a wasteland of death, rot, and despair as if a mockery to it all.

“This was the palace of the Archduke,” Orion stepped forward, gazing up at it. Everyone else nearly doubled over in exhaustion. “Built after my father’s first war, and given to Archduke Regene, his brother.” He looked back to Argrave. “My uncle, his children… Have they all died?”

You’ll learn their fates soon enough, Argrave wished to say, but he nodded, still breathless.

Orion nodded, then looked back, examining each statue. “They conquered this land with a pledge to weed our heretics, to spread the faith… yet they build statues of men and women, warriors and spellcasters.”

“…this was a palace for the Archduke Regene, not a temple for the gods,” Argrave pointed out, finally catching his breath.

Orion did not answer. His gaze wandered the walls, the towers, and the distant main building. “The gate is open,” Orion said slowly. “The walls are unmanned.”

things, but the statues standing on the marble battlements made it seem as though they confronted a fortress manned

looked around slowly. “We’ll know what we’re facing before we face it. Silvic?” he turned, though his gaze landed on Anneliese. She nodded,

as Argrave waited, and Silvic acted as though she were scouting. Then, suddenly, Anneliese took

but Anneliese took a moment, hand

tired,” she said, not rejecting his support. “And… the… the Jester. I saw her. I saw her face.

had not experienced what she had, but he shuddered when he heard her say those words. After giving her a reassuring squeeze,

away to speak

servants had made it here, it seemed—the bard and the jongleur. They were not staying by the side of the Plague Jester, but rather took the east and west wall respectively, likely to ambush

Jester that

might die. Hell, if the whole bulk of their enemies rushed out and attacked their party, they’d probably succumb then and there. But the Jester didn’t seem to be confident in that. She was not aware of

this. They would need to face the bard and jongleur, while Orion dealt with the Jester alone. That meant they’d need to fight two bosses that Orion typically dealt

not a strategist. The fact that she had divided her forces in this manner demonstrated that. Even if she knew she held the advantage, which was dubious,

Supersession. Their opponent had employed their strategy and ostensibly held the advantage, but they had tremendous knowledge of their opponent. Argrave, Galamon, and Anneliese discussed the

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Waxknights supporting him from behind in a compact and orderly formation. Argrave and his party followed, too, just behind the royal

away from the party, weaving into a pavilion overflowing with plants. Her presence disappeared into the well-maintained gardens in seconds, and none of their party betrayed that she had even left

Orion looked back and nodded

forget, Orion. No compromises,” he called out, hoping

the enemy,” he agreed, then turned towards

Galamon moved towards some

Anneliese whispered to Argrave

returned. “I’d like you to live more. Be

white hair shrouded as she pulled up the hood of