Jackal Among Snakes

Orion laid his gaze upon towering gray walls. He was no stranger to such sights—be they in Mateth or in Dirracha, he had seen walls standing near hundreds of feet tall, enclosing all that within and protecting it in the same turn. But this was not Vasquer, and yet these gray walls stood like giants in this endless black desert, nestled at the bottom of a crater. He had always been proud of his people’s feats. He did not expect to see their equal in this unforgiving, if beautiful, desert.

The prince stepped closer. Orion had gone south, south, and south again, running into village and town and city in equal turns. All rejected him, yet at all stops he received yet more tales of this land of Sethia—a place that was free of the burden of the leadership of the Vessels of Fellhorn. All was as Durran described, even the great curtain walls before him.

When he neared, he spotted a caravan of a strange people lingering outside the gate. The gate guards, though nearby, did not seem to bristle at these people’s presence. Their skin was as black as night, their ears were half the side of their head, their height was greater than that of man, and their guardsmen had a familiar looking weapon in hand. They wore strange and luxurious silken clothing.

Orion walked to them with slow, heavy steps, an innocent curiosity driving him forward. As he neared, their heads turned towards him, watching, waiting. They prepared themselves for anything, yet as he neared, one broke off.

“Argrave?” one asked, half in disbelief.

Orion paused, standing before the southron elves of the Burnt Desert.

#####

“Your brother was a savior to us all,” said Corentin. He was a one-legged, one-eyed veteran, and he kindly handed the prince a cup billowing steam.

Orion accepted the cup from the southron elf, turning towards the fire. They encamped within a small, secluded alcove on the edge of the city Sethia.

“Why do we camp away from the city?” Orion questioned. “Are your people barred from entering?”

“No,” Corentin answered, walking with a limp on account of his missing leg. He used his glaive like a walking stick as he moved around the various others sitting around the fire. “No, we can enter. But all that most know of Argrave is that he was black-haired and gray-eyed. You might be mistaken for him.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Orion looked down at the cup, taking a drink. It was a tea of some sort—a strong, fruity flavor that left a strange tingling on his tongue.

Corentin paused his walk. He ground the bottom of his glaive against the sand, then tossed it aside, awkwardly moving to sit. He splayed his iron peg leg out before him, sighing as he sat.

“Argrave saved the city. But a lot of people were too blind to see it. Misled by someone named Titus,” Corentin shook his head. “But… even still, it all turned out alright in the end.”

this land—that’s what I know,” Orion

hand of a god,” Corentin said, somewhat proudly. “The Lord of Copper was slain by my people, and the Lord of Gold was slain by the

of similar-sounding names came at him at once. “And these people—they were

very essence to strengthen themselves. They bore Blessings from their god that made them control water absolutely. Beyond that, they kept slaves, breeding them for desirable appearances.” A nearby southron elf handed the old warrior a cup of his own tea, and he drank

that he’d been given. He sat there for a moment, thinking. Slavery was something that was wrong—this he had been taught by the gods. And even by his own reasoning, he would not like to be forced to do something for another; consequently, he should not force

did Argrave get

he needed something that belonged to the Lord of Silver,” Corentin said musingly. “He simply needed to create

around the cup. “So this… was a

siding with the Lord of Copper. But he infiltrated that man’s tower, subverted him, and liberated this city. Now… you see it prosper. There were three giant towers of precious metal there months ago. They’re gone, now. They’ve been melted, minted into currency. Titus builds up this city

by this answer. “But why… why might Argrave be unwelcome, if he truly did all

a complicated situation,” the southron elf shook his head. “I cannot bring myself to hate the man, though. Titus treats us elves fairly, promotes our interests in turn with his own. He’s done right by us. Both of our peoples prosper. And his city accepts refugees, builds itself

did

happened. But… there’s another I know, one who’s been in contact with us. He knew Titus quite well, from what I understand. The man

#####

a brief discussion with Elenore and Anneliese he decided it would be

of the family went off to the second story to convene with his ridiculously large family, escorted by the diligent Ansgar. Elenore, meanwhile, sent off Melanie to gather information. Undoubtedly her agents were paying attention, and even if they weren’t, the arrival of such a delegate could not avoid attention. The Dandalans were not opposed to allowing Melanie’s reentry—it

thinking this is not

mansion. It was a comfortable longue room with little in the way of decoration, but much in the way of comfort. Argrave sunk back into one of two couches placed opposite each other, one foot tapping against the ground

think you’re wrong,” Elenore shook

kingdom has more to

timed stage,” Elenore admitted. “But… if Levin does genuinely intend to remain neutral and renegotiate peace with the victor… we might find that out now. And we might

he didn’t like Levin. Whether in the game or in his present reality, he was someone to be despised. Even still… much

like Induen…

Elenore on this,”

looked to her. The elven woman had a bitter but resigned look to

Argrave said slowly, “Alright. If I’m in the minority…” he left his accession unspoken. “Still, I’m not sure how you intend to get words to these delegates. Even if you do, Levin