Jackal Among Snakes

King Argrave’s unequivocal denial of the Order of the Gray Owl’s terms sent the throne room into a brief silence. Castro, who’d been keeping his eyes closed and stating his demands mechanically, opened them wide. When the old spellcaster set eyes upon Argrave’s cold gray eyes, a smile rose to his face. He quickly hid it with his hand until he regained control of his features.

“What about the offer was unacceptable, Your Majesty?” Castro followed up, hard-pressed to hide the pleasure in his voice.

“Most of it,” Argrave settled down into a sitting position on the serpent Vasquer once again.

More silence followed in the stalemate that persisted between the king and the Magisters, and the nobles of the south watched on cautiously. Rowe and Dras continued to observe with interest, like they watched some kind of amusing play.

“Specificity might help allow all parties to come to a suitable compromise,” Artur hovered closer from his sitting perch atop his magic mantle. He held both of his hands together, popping some of his knuckles rapidly.

“Well…” Argrave looked up to Anneliese, then back down to Artur. “You talked a lot about what the kingdom should do for you, but not any about what you intend to do for the kingdom that warrants those sacrifices. All of our enchantments? All of our knowledge? Why?”

Artur choked in awe briefly, then looked to Castro who had decided to remain silent. Gradually, the man’s face settled into a cold, calculating calm as he continued, “The support of the Order of the Gray Owl’s forces alone is—”

“Is guaranteed,” Argrave interrupted monotonously. “Do you think Gerechtigkeit will respect your neutrality? Do you think the gods and their Divine Feudalism will see that giant tower of yours poking up miles into the air and come to the conclusion that it’s off limits by law? Indeed, I can think of several gods that would love nothing more than pillaging everything that’s inside. Then… it won’t matter whether you supported me or not.”

“The south received great stretches of land for their cooperation,” Artur pointed out.

“Because they have already fought and died,” the king said pointedly. “Besides, what am I going to do with land? For it to have value, there needs to be people to stand upon it, till the soil, and build the cities. If someone should be granted that right, why should it not be those who fought my enemies, and those who put down their swords when presented with reason?” Argrave shrugged.

Artur fiddled with one of the many rings on his fingers. “It would seem His Majesty favors the nobility over the Order. The Order, which housed you without protest when King Felipe III sought to take your head. Some might consider that a debt. A life debt, even.”

“I have offered you representation in my parliament equal to that of the nobility and the burghers,” Argrave said calmly, taking no provocation. “I have given your Magisters countless leads to vast troves of treasure, some of which have already been collected. I can promise continued access to knowledge of that nature, provided the same is returned.”

provided the Order with a significant quantity of druidic magic already.

melding magic into metal, birthing weapons sharp enough to cut through things like that,” he pointed to the Shadowlander. “I can

wreathing mantle, and it appeared like the small man was sat atop a throne.

short order. You’ve seen my directions.” Argrave gestured to those who’d spoken earlier about their expeditions to various places of proof. “All of you must know that what I say is largely

all of what Argrave promised, while others yet remained hardened to the notion—most of

principle of Order neutrality based on promises?” Artur

legs from his spot atop Vasquer. After he mulled the question,

Artur laughed with derision. “The Order of the Rose was the last spellcaster order to be a subsidiary to the crown. They butchered perhaps a dozen million people throughout their existence in cruel practices of necromancy and blood magic. They proved that a king cannot be trusted with direct sovereignty over a group of mages.

“That’s a fair point. Then how is this: let this breach be an exception rather than a change. The Order can remain a

“By then, you’d

long sigh. “I think that a demonstration is in order. Rowe, cast an S-rank

Patriarch Dras, who gave him a nod. People looked at

step back,” Rowe called out. “I would hate

out, and an ice-blue mana ripple split the air, sending teal sprites dancing everywhere. His

wind it generated picked up loose pebbles and sent them everywhere. It drilled into the Shadowlander’s body furiously, pinning it against the pillar

of ice wore itself down, steadily decreasing in size as it grinded down into nothingness. Even Rowe, who’d cast the

time its intense power died and the last bit of ice faded, the S-rank spellcaster muttered, “The damn

it?” the king nodded, staring at the damage done—it had dug through the flesh to bone, and then stopped after digging through perhaps an inch. “A spell designed for boring through just about anything—mountains, walls, or an entire enemy

No one stepped forward.

you think you’re indomitable and invaluable because you’re an S-rank mage… that’s a bad mindset,” Argrave leaned back. “The world changes. You need to change with

distraught, offended, or frightened… those last words stuck deep in

all that was revealed, and the evidence that needs to be distributed… I believe we should reconvene

you have much to think and talk about, so we’ll return here tomorrow. You can