Jackal Among Snakes

Galamon blinked open his eyes and turned his head. Sunlight fell upon him, and instinct spurred him to move quickly. His hands reached for where he kept his flasks of blood, but then cognition returned to him as unconsciousness released its hold. He remembered what had happened to put him on the ground here.

“Good morning,” Argrave, to Galamon’s left, greeted. He had a stack of papers pinned atop a simple wooden slab and had clearly been writing diligently not moments before. “How do you feel? Enjoying the sense of the sun, the beating of your heart?”

At Argrave’s words, Galamon put his hand to his chest. Indeed… the beat came and came again. Galamon’s breathing quickened—another autonomic function that was vital once more. Recalling last night’s events, Galamon touched at his stomach, but the wound was gone.

“How does it feel to be alive again?” Argrave pressed.

As Galamon processed things, he noticed more around him—Anneliese near Argrave, or Ganbaatar and Svetlana to his right. The Magister Vasilisa was far off, sitting on a rock and watching all of them. And… Galamon looked straight at the sun, then lowered his eyes so as not to blind himself. He had always felt some aversion to the light. Even if drinking blood suppressed the potent reaction vampires endured, it felt like cold steel against his skin.

Yet now… in this cold, northern land, the sun was only warm. What did Galamon feel, now?

“I’m…” Galamon paused. “I want… to eat,” he said it only as he recognized what this was.

Argrave laughed, perhaps not expecting that response. “Well, I think we can certainly arrange that! I think we can all enjoy a gargantuan breakfast before we head back to Quadreign. Everyone’s fine with that, right?” As people answered in the affirmative, Argrave rose to his feet. “Then, let’s. Tell me… what do you want as your first meal after your long fast? Probably not a rare steak,” he quipped as he offered his hand to help Galamon up.

Galamon stared at Argrave’s hand, still somewhat in shock.

“Did you think you weren’t going to wake up?” Argrave asked. “You must’ve forgotten what I told you. No rest for the wicked, Galamon.”

#####

Galamon took a long while to choose what his first meal would be, and in the end Argrave chose for him: rye bread, eggs, and some soup. Food was scarce this far north, so Argrave could not treat him to anything better without heading deep into the city. That said… the snow elf had an appetite. He probably ate three pounds of eggs alone.

Even despite the massive and sudden change in Galamon’s life, the former vampire remained incredibly stoic. He wasn’t shy about expressing his gratitude, certainly—his earnest appreciation was somewhat overwhelming, even—but in eating food once again, breathing as a necessity rather than a habit, and generally being alive… well, not even a tear was shed. He did things slowly and deliberately as though it was unfamiliar, but he did them without raising a fuss whatsoever.

Ganbaatar, who had been skeptical of the change, gradually accepted that the vampirism had truly been cast out. He still insisted on following to be sure that remained the case, even if only briefly. Still, the vampire hunter could not deny the facts: whether it was the desire for blood, the general rejection of sunlight, or the beast within that urged to hunt and consume… these traits were gone in Galamon. Other aspects of the curse remained, all generally in line with Argrave’s expectations.

Through some testing and observation, Argrave confirmed two things. One: Galamon retained his prowess, be it his senses or his strength. Two: Galamon retained his regeneration. Argrave had expected another mechanistic principle to take its place—perhaps Galamon would need to eat food to regenerate, or perhaps his body would self-cannibalize other parts of the body to heal itself.

true. Galamon regenerated his

reasoned, maybe it wasn’t that there was no source… only that Argrave couldn’t perceive the source. Perhaps whatever brought on the vampirism was being drawn on without necessarily paying the tithe of blood vampires paid. If so… Argrave was amply pleased to be scamming whatever force

attention—namely, writing down

as though he’d misled her about the reason for speaking to her niece and Ganbaatar. She was right… but then, things worked out as she wanted them to. Galamon was no longer afflicted with vampirism. Argrave hoped on making sure that everything was mended between them on the journey back to Quadreign. After all, he hoped for her advice

more thing needed tending

#####

He was ready to set on the road again like nothing had really happened. Instead of hauling blood, he hauled normal things—rations for the road, water to drink. He sat on one of the beds and stared at his hands, his

turned his head moments before someone entered the room. Anneliese looked around, then settled

questioned, stepping up to where he

his gauntlets, saying nothing in response to her question. He slowly slipped the first on, tightening and clasping

until she stood just in front of him. “You think that, because you retain the benefits of vampirism,

doing and looked at her. “…I

was merely a guess of mine. You seemed to doubt all that Argrave was saying,” Anneliese noted. “That consistent skepticism led me to that

eyes fixed on her face. “Should my cure come

but Argrave

picked up his other

can confirm your cure.” Anneliese’s amber eyes were unshaking as she continued, “And when the boundary between realms weakens, Veid Herself can judge if you are truly a

his

fret not. You will have an objective measure

that, Anneliese rose to

Galamon turned his

looked back, stopping at

then started to laugh out his

the room and inquired, “What amuses you

and rely on you far more than me,” the elven knight-commander reflected. “It’s funny, that’s all. Now that I see

follow,” she

to me, didn’t he?”

on this,” she added in defense of Argrave. “I do not think you realize just

“What