Jackal Among Snakes

All of them convened back at where the paths branched earlier where Galamon was waiting. A spiral staircase had opened up, leading deeper into the lower levels. There, the name of ‘living fortress’ truly made itself readily apparent, as the stairs were constantly intruded upon by overgrown flesh and conspicuous bones.

“This whole place should be burned,” Hegazar concluded as they moved deeper. “I see, now, why necromancy is banned. How many corpses went into this project? Thousands? Such a despicable thing.”

Durran called from the back of the line, “Who says they were human corpses?”

Hegazar either had no response or did not deign to give one, as their advance went quiet once more. The narrow spiral staircase was not so long, and they soon came to a much larger hall. And this hall… it was precisely what Argrave needed. It was the golden nugget to flash to the ravens to draw their eye.

The sight before them was not pretty. If Argrave had been shown the room in isolation, he might’ve assumed it was the site of some depraved sacrificial cult. The stone room was held up by a giant ribcage, each of the ribs acting as pillars for the building. Each of the ribs had a crucified body nailed on them—the torsos of these bodies were especially large, and all flesh had been ripped away to leave only bone.

“Good gods,” Vera held her hand to her nose, but despite the horrific scene, there was no smell. There was no blood or gore to make a scent. Anneliese looked perplexed by the Magister’s action, and Argrave knew right away that Vera feigned disgust. After all, she dabbled in necromancy herself. It was why Argrave was sure this journey would entice her.

Argrave was the first to step forward. “The heart chamber. What we came here for,” he explained.

Upon closer examination, the bodies crucified to the giant ribs were unusual in many ways. Their heads had only ears and mouths, both enlarged. The torsos were simply a bonelike cage, and the one Argrave examined had books locked behind it. They weren’t bodies at all, actually—they were necromantic creations that served as lockboxes for the valuables within.

“What’s in this?” Argrave asked.

“Now, how would I—” Hegazar began.

“Scholarly works by High Wizard Anders, detailing his unique ascension to A-rank utilizing necromantic magic,” the head just above the skeletal cage answered in a groan of a voice. It raised its head up to answer the question, and once it was finished, sagged lifelessly once more.

Argrave nodded, feeling a similar repulsion to the sights around that reminded of his time in the Low Way of the Rose. He turned to where the rest of his party was.

“There you have it, Magister Vera, Magister Hegazar. Ask these what’s inside them. I think you’ll quickly find that this journey was worth your time. I’ll caution, though—don’t try and open any of them. Try and wrench them open, cast magic? You risk triggering the enchantments nearby, and the contents will be destroyed. Anti-theft measures. Even a Wizard of the Order of the Rose would resort to common thievery, it would seem…”

your value, Argrave. Why would a magely Order dare destroy any of their knowledge? It’s foolish. Nonsensical. No Order would ever install measures like that into their stores of knowledge, the same way no merchant would ever toss gold into the sea. It’s far

challenged or humiliated. He stood before the Magister, smiling as he thought of a way to let him

strongly devoted to personal freedom—necromancy requires such a thing, after all, given how much it intrudes

“Scholarly works by High Wizard Anders, detailing his unique ascension to A-rank utilizing necromantic magic,”

you said there were enchanted items here,” Vera stepped

here,” Argrave nodded,

its words once again, and Hegazar looked up to

Necromantic?” Hegazar held

cage before them. Before it even reached its mark, the cage compressed, sparking. The enchantments on the book and the cage both shimmered violently for a moment before the books were finally compressed to a ridiculous

laughter was returned by each and every other head,

no such issue—her voice joined along with theirs in mocking Hegazar. Anticipating the Magister’s rage, Argrave quickly

reason their Order has died. They waste their time on foolish

her eyes. “I think it’s a wonderful addition to this

we see what we’ve earned from this trip?” Argrave suggested, tugging

#####

one reached the end of the line. There was only so much that the forefathers of the Order of the Owl had left behind, and consequently there was

a spellcaster had this knowledge, they might not share it so eagerly depending on their nature. After all, they essentially offered another a key to their power. By sharing knowledge, they ostensibly created a direct rival—a direct competitor. There had to be trust between the two parties,

It was a reasonable exchange that created a natural loyalty… in theory. In reality, the higher-ups enforced strict regulation of resources that allowed only a select few protegees of the elite

they’re creating new leaders to take their place. An age-old problem, reflected

Argrave a great deal of leverage over people on the path of magic. He had freedom from that system because he knew secrets most could not even dream of. He had his A-rank ascension, Anneliese’s, and even

wasn’t the case at all. Everything here was an invaluable piece of knowledge that could help them win talented people to their faction within the Order. For the sake of their future, all knowledge was beneficial to have. Magic was only one facet of their power—knowledge

of the delicious flavors they might sample. Every new thing they saw made

Argrave thought. So long

around them—it made it a bit difficult to think about ice cream at all.