Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave and Anneliese sat at a table. Argrave had his head supported by one hand, his gaze looking off into another dimension. Anneliese waited for him to speak patiently, her hands placed before her almost politely.

“I feel lost about this development for the first time in a while,” Argrave told her plainly, waving his free hand about to support his vocalization. “I had a general route of how I wanted to grow stronger, prepare for fights… and I can’t see how I might slot this in.”

Anneliese nodded, her hands moving to braid her long white hair back. “Then perhaps you ignore it. Shelve it away.”

Argrave sighed. “But… that’s unambitious. There’s a lot of potential for this. People could die if I don’t do everything I can to become stronger.”

“You would jeopardize everything for a vague chance?” she said quickly, hands braiding faster. “What Vasquer told you—"

“Obviously, lichdom, things like that—they’re off the table,” Argrave said, holding his arms out wide. Anneliese agreed at once with a nod. “Gerechtigkeit can corrupt necromantic creations, turn them against their creators—something to do with the nature of that magic. I’m the last person who’d want to fight against any of you, least of all because you’d all put me in the dirt.”

Argrave rose to his feet, pacing around to work his mind. “But a soul like mine… it’s a valuable thing. It might be I can get something good from the gods from it. An unparalleled blessing.”

“Please do not profane your soul for strength,” Anneliese pleaded so earnestly Argrave felt a tug of guilt at his throat.

“That’s…” Argrave walked up to her, pulled his chair closer and sat down. “My soul—a deathless soul—it’s really, really damned resilient. Liches are incredibly hard to kill. Specters born of deathless souls are nightmarish to deal with. The last thing I want is to corrupt myself, or… or whatever you might be thinking. I’ve just got a valuable thing I might leverage. A strength—something that’s actually special about me. A real talent.”

“It is not ‘a valuable thing.’ It is invaluable,” she disagreed. “So, please do not try and assign value to it. You know little about this matter, and I know less—but I do know you should treadcarefully,” she said deliberately.

Argrave scratched his forehead. “Think about how much I benefitted from the Alchemist and becoming Black Blooded. That was leveraging my knowledge to gain a tremendous boon. My heart was torn from my chest—it defied all logic, threw caution to the wind.”

Anneliese leaned in, abandoning her task of braiding her hair. “Would you like to do it again?” she asked, the first hint of anger bubbling up.

“Damn it all, I don’t want to do any of this,” Argrave leaned back in his chair, slouching exhaustedly. “The plan I had so far… strive for a particular A-rank ascension pertaining to blood magic, as that’s a prerequisite for Blood Infusion—that is, infusing all spells with blood magic. After, I try to earn the goddess of blood’s favor, alleviate the side effects of blood magic by performing sanctioned sacrifices,” Argrave told her. “All of this… you knew.”

“And what is wrong with it? We kill plenty. Sacrificing our foes is not so big a step away, and alleviating your blood loss is no minor thing. Do you recall how utterly dominating [Bloodfeud Bow] was? Imagine suffering nothing for using that spell,” she urged him. “On top of that, your A-rank blood magic ascension would change the whole landscape. Every spell you cast could be imbued with blood. A simple C-rank spell could destroy B-rank wards and tear through countless foes with ease.”

Argrave stared at the stone ceiling of Rancor’s headquarters, saying nothing in response. Internally, he was running through his head the people he knew in ‘Heroes of Berendar’ who had a deathless soul. There were three liches, each and all terrifying fights. The Alchemist might be another, though that detail had only been discovering from datamining ‘Heroes of Berendar’ and was dubious at best.

They were pliable. If used to reanimate something, they could be reused, and retained experience. Memories of obscure lore came rushing

All of them… unusable. They required him to be dead, to be devoid of a body, and even then,

It means you have thought of

consulting you first. But if we’re found lacking in the final stretch… nothing

want to… seize you, freeze you. Anything to keep you safe.” She laughed at her own words

a fool. “Tell me. Let’s talk about it,” he grabbed her forearms. “What you’ve done for me, letting me talk to you about my time as Vincenzo… it’s been helpful.

one hand atop his and smiled warmly. “I… no, I think you’re right. I like helping you, supporting you. Didn’t want to talk about things. My problems, my concerns…

want to help you,” Argrave told her

until her hair covered her eyes. “We are setting things up to move to the world stage. You plan to be crowned king. I will be at your side.” Anneliese shook her

face. “What is it? The

taught a monarch, or ruler, or tribal chief… they have a responsibility to the people far heavier than the people do to them. Some I’ve seen disregard that rule, but

how damn amazing you’ll be?”

lowered her head and smiled embarrassedly. “I believe you

thing in leadership?” Argrave questioned. Anneliese looked at him curiously, and

his hand away, saying,

and you diligently apply yourself to that goal, using the wisdom of yourself

diligent already, this half year of travelling has certainly made you so. And wisdom?” Argrave spread his arms out. “You’re infinitely curious. Gods be damned, if there’s one thing I’m confident about, it’s being king. Especially if you’re here.” Argrave brushed his

a long time, and after a while, Argrave grew used to the quiet pattern of breathing. Then, Anneliese whispered in his ears, “I think you should check Garm’s

“What are you talking

that would be a good starting point. I did not read them all as it all made me rather sad, yet Garm had invaluable

broadly. “This means you don’t object

rose to her feet, seeming a bit more

#####

up later than usual perusing Garm’s writings. They were dense books, and frankly, the man had a rather

rush of nervousness when he was reminded Elenore had probably spoken to Vasquer by now. His grogginess faded. He

and gave him a slight nod. The elven vampire was brewing some ingredients that Durran had fetched in his outing. Elenore’s men were becoming more and more abundant in this place. He passed by a room of wounded. Some bore bite

stairs leading to Vasquer’s great prison. He saw Elenore standing beside Vasquer, her hand held to the golden snake as she spoke to a group of her people.

Argrave’s approach until he entered a certain distance from her, whereupon her head jumped to

me for a moment,” he heard