Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave and Anneliese made their way back to the inn rather satisfied. Argrave felt things with the Magisters had gone quite well, which gave ample comfort for the tasks ahead. To show their commitment to their work together, the Magisters agreed to refrain from visiting Ivan until asked by Argrave. And in turn, Argrave gave them a document signed with his magic signature, detailing his promise to bestow Dirracha upon them after the war’s end.

He had half-expected the two to quibble about the precise details, yet they only wanted one adage—that the city should be granted to them as a single unit. That is, the package was bound by law as a family. In essence, it was nothing less than ownership by a married couple. It perplexed Argrave and did stir some anxiety… but he abided by this condition, despite his gut questioning how long this couple might stay as such.

Before they could come anywhere near the inn, Galamon lunged out and seized the both of them. Argrave was amply surprised, but the vampire’s voice calmed him at once.

“I was attacked,” the elven vampire declared as he dragged them away into seclusion.

“You were?” Argrave furrowed his brows, pulling free his arm. “What? By whom? A mage?”

“No. A man garbed in black,” Galamon looked around in paranoia, then knelt down. “The only distinguishing features I noted were his eyes—wholly red, no white at all.”

“Then he’s elven,” Argrave decided at once, adapting quickly. “Or at least partially so. But… what…” Argrave took a deep breath to gather himself and looked around in paranoia. “Tell me everything you can of the encounter.”

The big elf nodded, still kneeling. “I will.”

“Maybe not here,” Argrave decided. “Let’s return to our room.”

“And if I’m watched?” Galamon pressed.

It was a fair point, Argrave had to admit. He bit his lip as he deliberated. “Anneliese, could you…?”

“At once,” she agreed before he could fully voice his request. As though reading his mind, she sent her bird out to scout for any watchers.

Finally, her search offered nothing, and Galamon was content none around could see them go. They returned hastily, being mindful that they did so quietly. Once inside, Argrave sat on his bed and listened to the report of happenings.

Galamon described with more words and more details than he often spoke with so as to provide Argrave with the best assessment of the situation. That said… not many details existed. The fighting strategy only confirmed the assailant was elven—only elves used wires of that sort, so far as Argrave knew. They were crafted in the Bloodwoods, and often used to traverse the often thousand-feet tall redwoods and the structures built upon them by the elves.

and it was far too methodical to be a simply robbery, at least by Argrave’s estimation. It was a targeted attack—an assassination,

Argrave sat still and utterly perplexed on his bed. “The only thing I can

questioned, kneeling beside Argrave lost in just as much thought.

Argrave nodded in answer, then rose to his feet. “And I can’t

why he attacked… Galamon said the glass eye was aboard a ship, coming here,” Anneliese reminded him. “He said that the eye saw him just

“I have not been drinking of the black bowl anymore. The days have been busy, and closely monitored… I had not

deflated in a resigned sigh as he asked, “The one who holds the glass eye is a vampire in my memory,

caused on his toe did

we might be dealing with someone who hunts vampires,” he reasoned. “But… an elven vampire hunter? I can’t think of anyone. No, I can say for certain there aren’t any, at least

took over when Argrave announced he had no answers to this

stick together,” Anneliese finally reasoned above the silent din of

will not harm the two of you. I cannot guarantee my protection should he attack one other

thankless task, quite often, and not… implicitly legal. So, I think I’m willing

“You named me your knight-commander. I do not wish to

grabbed his shoulder. “You’ll just have to be more alert than normal. And

#####

again drink his own blood from the black bowl to get a lead on where

waited about half an hour for the

pie, so to speak, and that was sufficient enough for them. Now, they were to be introduced when they were most effective. Vasilisa’s favor from Elenore alone wasn’t enough to tie the north to Argrave’s faction in Relize, yet the two Magisters… to

Elenore answered positively, with a small stipend sent to demonstrate earnestness. That promise leavened with physical

get a lead into the meeting with the margravine, and in turn wrap their fingers the whole of First Hope. Argrave had a good feeling about a conversation with them, and yet he and Anneliese would need to meet them to be certain of their character. ‘Heroes of Berendar’ only revealed so much about people, and Argrave would not like to

Vasilisa along as a trophy Magister. This shipyard laborer directed him to the dock’s manager. This overseer directed Argrave to his manager, Bran Livermore—a fairly rich bureaucrat

of making a huge mistake. The dock worker didn’t want to offend someone speaking about big money, and even the dock manager found things beyond his paygrade. Could either afford to rebuff a Magister—moreover, one who spoke of making their employers vast quantities of money? The answer was

on a velvet cushion across from a portly man wearing luxurious white furs that made him seem half a seal. Vasilisa stood just behind him, still the ever-diligent trophy Magister, with

there could be goods worth hundreds of rose gold magic coins moving through these docks… by the week,” Argrave explained to Bran. “Mister Livermore… I’m sure I don’t need to explain the value of

of his chins trembling. “Hundreds of them, sir?” he looked to the side, where Vasilisa stood mute. “And… Magister Vasilisa, he