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.

That was the short and simple of what was to occur, yet even now the

self-serving words grounded Argrave in reality. He was not to be named king because he was great—he was to be named king because of these men before him. And why these men? These patricians crowned him because 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

this set a sense of peace over

Durran asked him as he sat there, staring out

seem the type to like ceremonies. Besides, she’d probably insist on

It’s a far cry from sending a tower in the ocean,

on Durran’s shoulder. “Keep your voice down,” he said in irritation. “She could hear everything,

alright,” he pushed Argrave’s arm off of him. “Gods, you’re a

could take position there. I’ve got Leopold’s guards stationed, watching, and what

looked 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 I’m standing here, still

nodded and stepped up to Argrave. He said nothing more about the

much of it, like the trails of shooting stars. Her

window. “It seems I have

approaches,” she told him. “I imagine the servants will tend to you as they tended to me. Someone must make those

#####

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 and food. Common laborers and middling merchants filled the square, talking

people… but it did. 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, some suggested. Perhaps he

atop the Assembly Chamber rung out. It was loud enough to deafen, and several people winced uncomfortably after hearing

rather modestly—or at least, at modestly as the garb

over seven feet tall and did not need to be carried atop a platform to stand out—he did so naturally, like

the 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 stepped past them, stopping just in