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.

methodical to be a simply robbery, at least by Argrave’s estimation. It was a targeted

on his bed. “The only thing I can say for certain is that the man is not under the employ of Margrave Ivan,”

is an elf from the Bloodwoods that Magister Vasilisa described?” Anneliese questioned, kneeling beside Argrave lost in just as

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

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

stepped away. “I have not been drinking of the black bowl anymore. The days have been busy, and

a deep breath, about to criticize before he recalled he had given Galamon leave to lessen up on the drinking. His anger deflated in a resigned sigh as he asked, “The one who holds the glass eye is a vampire in my memory, not an elf.

shook his head. “The wound I caused on his toe did not heal quickly, or at all. He was

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

he had no answers

stick together,” Anneliese finally reasoned above the silent din

will not harm the two

out. “It’s a thankless task, quite often, and not… implicitly legal. So, I

Galamon said at once. “You named me your knight-commander.

“You’ll just have to be more alert than normal. And by the way… it’s Silvaden. Don’t

#####

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 elves in the city, but nothing came back to them, and Anneliese’s scouting revealed nothing. Still,

waited about half an hour for the

to form they started moving, keeping Vasilisa entirely ignorant 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 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 say the

favor. Per their direction, Elenore answered positively,

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 have another

manager. This overseer directed Argrave to his manager, Bran Livermore—a fairly rich bureaucrat under the employ of Pavel. It

sat in a well-decorated office of a prominent citizen within First Hope, speaking of a future investment that had no other details than ‘it 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

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 Anneliese and Galamon just beside

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

sir?” he looked to the side, where Vasilisa stood mute. “And… Magister