Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave and Anneliese sat atop some temporary bedding—specifically, a large tarp splayed out across the flat grass with some fur blankets atop it. Anneliese was already delving into A-rank magic. She had two books on her knee—one projected the strange, incomprehensible full-body matrix exclusive to A-rank spells, and the other was a more mundane book. Argrave, however, was poring through letters. He rubbed his forehead to ease his headache.

Elenore was there, too, lying down just before them with a blindfold over her face to keep the sockets clean. She squirmed, continually raising her hands near her eye sockets and then pulling them away. They were in a private tent, Galamon just outside on guard with the others. Durran was sleeping with his bear.

“It itches so bad,” Elenore said with clenched teeth, then grasped the blanket over her body to relieve some of her frustration. “I can’t stand this. I feel like my blood has been laced with pepper. It’s like my hands need to sneeze—my whole body.”

Argrave narrowed his eyes. “There’s worse,” he promised her, glancing at Anneliese. They’d promised to keep her company until this was over.

“Tell me, please. Give me anything to distract from this,” his sister pleaded earnestly, much more emotion on her tone than usual.

“But you know the story behind my heart,” Argrave pointed out, adjusting his posture until he was comfortable. “Anneliese told you.”

Anneliese closed both of the books on her lap as she said, “She heard it from my perspective. I empathized with your pain, but I never felt it.”

“You were probably more conscious of things than I was, then,” Argrave pointed out, searching for another topic. What Elenore needed most, he felt, was something that made her think hard, something that consumed the mind.

“How about we talk about Atrus, the plans for the future?” Argrave suggested.

“You know them. Place those who surrender in resistance debt, sell these debt contracts backed by land to patricians to repay their stake in the war. Beyond that, we distribute the lands along the North Sea that we promised to Relize,” Elenore recited mechanically. “Refining that plan further would be frivolous until we have all information on-hand.”

Argrave sighed and fell to the ground, looking up at the tent above them. “Well… okay. How about Traugott? Any news?”

“None,” Elenore said simply. “Even if there were, I would not trust work from one whose blood is boiling. Usually I’d mean that metaphorically… but let’s stray from long-term planning. I can’t make good decisions right now.”

“You are picky,” Argrave reflected. “Anne, do you have any ideas?” he asked, looking towards her.

“Let us talk about He Who Would Judge the Gods, and the coming change to the world,” Anneliese said. “You have informed me amply. Elenore knows much… but she could always know more.”

Argrave rubbed his face. “Old Gerechtigkeit, huh? Part of me hoped we could talk about something happy.”

when you mentioned both Atrus and Traugott first?” Elenore pointed out, her constant writhing somewhat lessened

his tongue. “Well, you should know. We found out not too long

Elenore repeated.

head. “Spirits are broken gods—you might consider them the souls of gods, but the two don’t really compare mechanically. If you ask me how they broke, I’d say it depends… but they’re little fragments of a god, broken into symbols they bear atop their head. You might consider

him cross-legged as he stared at the tent’s top. “What makes them

when Orion killed her, I’m sure she left some spirits behind. What they’d do, I can’t really say. Maybe they’d linger here. Maybe they’d reform on another realm.

her own curiosity leading her to forget that they

said. It was mid-game content. Beyond learning the spells, you have to manage your supply of spirits. You could

have broader implications?” Elenore

like to become gods—see the Vasquer pantheon. Although… some might argue they’re not gods quite yet. Who knows? I certainly don’t. Spirits were almost a sort of currency at times, to trade with

she had more to ask, but she closed her mouth when she noticed something. “Elenore… what troubles

looked over at his sister. He couldn’t really see

do you think?” the

her elbow lightly. “We’re

and nor did Anneliese. The silent waiting must’ve gotten to

sat up. “Why is

stolen from,” she said quietly, then huffed.

give up trying

her body. “It’s just… I don’t know. Whenever I share something personal, I always regret it. Could be my favorite book, could be something that happened in the past… I just hate it after. But you… you already know it all. And I hate it. I feel I

pointed out, then wondered if that joke

instead of my ridiculous idiosyncrasies. I’ll get over

thought about the merits of going along with that advice… but when he looked to Anneliese,

knees together in his arms, Argrave said, “Hey, I get it. You trade in information. Maybe that’s why you feel stolen from.

mindset. I’m your lackey now, not some bird trapped

at her quietly. The way she’d phrased it… it wasn’t merely

I suppose,” Argrave admitted, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I should apologize for that. But she’s the

to her

lone exception to her

huffed once, then turned