Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave did not sleep on the night before his coronation. This, naturally, worried him to no end—he didn’t want to be seen before all as a tired-eyed monarch with dark bags beneath his eyes. That worry did nothing to help him sleep, of course.

Very early in the morning, before the suns had even risen above the distant mountains, Ansgar of Dandalan came into Argrave’s room. He told him of the plan for today, and Argrave listened diligently despite already knowing how things would play out.

When it was done, Ansgar left, leaving Argrave alone with Anneliese once again. She laid against the bed, still-half-asleep. She had slept well, despite everything.

“Wish I could make a third pledge,” Argrave said once he was gone. “I’ll make my pledge to the people, make my pledge to the Grand Council… and then my pledge to you,” he leaned down until his nose brushed against hers.

“No,” she said in a playful, yet tired haze. She bopped him on the nose with her finger. “Bad. Terrible idea. I will be up there with you, per your insistence. That is bad enough.”

Argrave’s face hardened. “Christ, Anneliese, you’re more than half of the reason I’m here today. If you’re not—”

“I know. Please, do not take that seriously,” she quieted him calmly. “I need no honors, prestige. But if you insist on giving them to me…”

Argrave leaned down and kissed her, then whispered, “I do. I can’t be the only one that suffers in this. Going to drag the rest of you into the spotlight with me.”

She laughed, then pushed him. “Go on. The preparations for this will take some time.”

#####

The day was quite fair. Some light snowfall came and went during the night, but all it achieved was slightly blanketing the city in white—an ill attempt by whatever gods had called the snow, for the city was already mostly made of marble and needed no blanket of white. Still, by the time Argrave departed for the Assembly Chamber of Governance and Commerce, the snow was already being cleared.

Once there, Argrave was greeted by Leopold and the selection of people that had been designated for the coronation ceremony. They had all prepared an elaborate set of clothes for him. Fortunately, it was not done in the style of Relize—the kings of Vasquer had never historically donned that style, and they felt it might damage his reputation for others if he did.

mantle over Argrave’s shoulder. After, he would kneel, and Leopold would place the crown over his head. That was the short and simple

they had men supporting them. These men served these patricians to further their interest. And like this, the line went ever downward. A hierarchy of self-interest. He could see it all so clearly, splayed out in

recognizing this set a sense of peace over Argrave, and the budding nervousness dissipated to

thinking of?” Durran asked him as he sat

are presently. She doesn’t seem the type to like ceremonies. Besides, she’d probably

idea of yours works. It’s a far cry from sending a tower in the

voice down,” he said in irritation. “She could

pushed Argrave’s arm off

could hold this coronation at higher grounds. Here… there’s tall buildings everywhere. Archers could take position there. I’ve got Leopold’s guards stationed, watching, and what few magic users we have on hand

at the elven vampire, questioning if that was mere paranoia or a good point. Finally, he shook his head. “The point of holding it here is to show my commitment to the people… and to Relize. I trust your capabilities, Galamon. You’re why

Argrave. He said nothing more about the matter. Argrave turned his head back to the window, continuing

seen. Amber inlays trailed along much of it, like the trails of shooting stars. Her long white hair was bound back in a half-crown braid. Parts of her hair had been woven around a

window. “It seems I have

time approaches,” she told him. “I imagine the servants will tend to you as they tended to

#####

formed on the square just before the Assembly Chamber of Governance and Commerce. It was only a natural thing—all had come to see the man who would be king. Even more came for the promise of festivities

Thousands gathered in the square, and thousands more spilled out onto the alleyways beyond. All wanted to see the Kinslaying Serpent, the Bastard of Vasquer. Perhaps he had horns and a devil’s wings,

out. It was loud enough to deafen, and several people winced uncomfortably after hearing it. Yet its purpose was achieved—the great crowd grew silent. The time had come

the Grand Council’s meeting area. Heading it were guards, many of them flanked by patricians. They were dressed rather modestly—or at least, at

saw a towering man step forward in the center of that formation of guards. He was over seven feet tall and did not need to be carried atop a platform to stand out—he did so naturally, like the gods themselves had deemed he was above lesser men. His well-trimmed black hair glistened like obsidian

edge where the crowd awaited. The guards and the patricians stepped aside, all coming to kneel before him. More and more people emerged from the Assembly Chamber, prostrating before the man in their display of fealty. Yet the man all knew as the Kinslaying Serpent