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

still and utterly perplexed on his bed. “The only thing I can say for certain is that

Argrave lost in just as much thought. “The

answer, then rose to his feet. “And I can’t picture

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

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

on the drinking. His anger deflated in

wound I caused on his toe did not heal quickly, or at all.

bitter chuckle. “Then 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 not in Heroes of Berendar.

Argrave announced he had no answers to this

together,” Anneliese finally reasoned above

“That man… I cannot guarantee he will not harm the two of

quite

at once. “You named me your knight-commander. I

“You’ll just have to be more alert than normal. And by the way… it’s

#####

only lead on the matter of the elven attacker was Anneliese’s suggestion it might be linked to the glass eye. Argrave had Galamon once again drink his own blood from the black bowl to get a lead on where the eye might be, but beyond that they had nothing to go on. They asked around about

on Vasilisa’s door. They were very, very loud and insistent knocks, yet even after them he waited about half an hour for the hungover Magister to rise. On top of all that, she would not speak to them until she’d had a drink that morning. It

two Magisters had already arrived. They already had their fingers in 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

a message of their own—intending to secure the promised favor. Per their direction, Elenore answered positively, with a small stipend sent to demonstrate earnestness. That promise leavened with physical proof put Vasilisa’s

Drawnwater to 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

worker, bringing 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

namely, the fear 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

luxurious white furs that made him seem half a seal. Vasilisa

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 these coins to someone like

the side, where Vasilisa stood mute. “And…