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.

had been exchanged during or after the battle. No justification was given for the attack… and it was far too methodical to be a simply robbery, at least by Argrave’s estimation. It was a targeted attack—an assassination,

given, Argrave sat still and utterly perplexed on his bed. “The only thing I can say for certain is that the man is not under the employ of Margrave Ivan,”

described?” Anneliese questioned, kneeling beside Argrave lost in just as much thought. “The

then rose to his feet. “And I can’t

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

days have been busy, and closely monitored…

the drinking. His anger deflated in

on his toe did

someone who hunts vampires,” he reasoned. “But… an elven vampire hunter? I can’t think of anyone. No, I can say for

when Argrave announced he had no answers

together,” Anneliese finally

not harm the two of you. I cannot guarantee my protection should

hunters are generally self-righteous,” Argrave pointed out. “It’s a thankless task, quite often, and not… implicitly legal. So, I think I’m

Majesty,” Galamon said at once. “You named me your knight-commander. I do not wish to bring risk

stepped to him and grabbed his shoulder. “You’ll just have to be more

#####

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

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

that the 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

Elenore answered positively, with a small stipend sent to demonstrate earnestness. That promise leavened with physical proof put Vasilisa’s mind at ease enough to venture into the riskier strategies

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,

Magister. This shipyard laborer directed him to the dock’s manager. This overseer directed Argrave to his manager, Bran Livermore—a fairly

involves House Quadreign’ and ‘it’ll make a lot of money.’ All of it stemmed from the power of fear: 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

furs that made him seem half a seal. Vasilisa stood

“If you can work things out with us, 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 these coins

to the side, where Vasilisa stood mute. “And… Magister Vasilisa, he speaks for you?