Jackal Among Snakes

When Argrave finished demanding cooperation from Chiteng, he felt a little lightheaded from the rush that brought on. He managed not to do anything foolish or embarrassing in the wake of that, though he furiously replayed what he’d said in his head to make sure he’d said nothing overtly disrespectful. He hung on every word uttered, thinking of how it might be interpreted… then wondered if his interpretation was fruitless, because he couldn’t think as a god could.

Still, Argrave did not come this far to submit to the advent of the gods so meekly. He fought against Gerechtigkeit—if he bent before the elven gods or the Qircassian Coalition, he’d failed before he’d even begun. If anything, this meant that old Gerry viewed Argrave as a bigger threat than the Qircassians, for he intended to use them to snuff out Argrave. That realization made Argrave only more certain his choice was the right one.

Still, his brain whirled as he thought of what he’d said and what he needed to do. He barely processed, then, when Chiteng raised his hand up and pointed.

“Return,” the elven god said simply, voice as loud and disruptive as it ever was.

Argrave stared up, trying to make sense of that. He heard something behind him and looked back to see the great whale that had carried them here swimming back to the ivory harbor, placing its broad head up against the side so as to give them a ride once more. When Argrave looked back to Chiteng for further explanation, he saw the god had closed his eyes, leaning his face against his fist while his elbow braced on the armrest.

Return. What did that mean? Argrave wished to ask a thousand more questions… but given that Chiteng had thus far only laughed a couple times, said a name, and said one word, it was safe to say Argrave couldn’t expect a further elaboration. He took slow steps away, walking backwards until he nearly collided with Orion. The prince grabbed and steadied him, giving him a wordless nod. Then the two walked back to the whale.

As the beast slowly swam away from the harbor back to the island, Argrave watched the elven god sit seemingly in stasis. He couldn’t tell whether he’d failed utterly, failed slightly, or simply delayed things for another day. But he was alive. He was alive, and other things needed doing.

Argrave realized that Orion was staring at him. He was perplexed for a few moments but saw the prince fidgeting with his hands and remembered his earlier order.

“You can talk again,” Argrave told him. “Still… don’t think we’re alone here, ever.”

“What was the outcome?” Orion asked the question Argrave himself had been pondering.

In response, Argrave stayed silent. Things weren’t necessarily over vis-à-vis negotiation. There was more that could be said and more that could be done. There were other gods that could be spoken to if Chiteng refused. He wouldn’t stop—couldn’t stop—until things were done right. He’d go, go, and go until they bent or gave in. And if they didn’t bend, if they never listened… he could rouse Sarikiz, rouse other primeval forces. If necessary, he’d be willing to do anything to win on his terms… because Argrave knew that his terms would be better than any that a god would be willing to offer. Anneliese and Artur both had been completely right—there was no place in life for self-pity.

When Argrave opened his eyes once more, he laid eyes upon that door Chiteng had called to allow him to return back to the mortal realm. That made him remember half the reason he had come here—to ascend to A-rank. Argrave took a deep, anxious breath as they neared the shore once again.

“I’m going to ascend to A-rank real quick,” Argrave said to Orion with bravado he did not feel. “After, we can discuss our next move.”

#####

Castro sat at his desk, writing something by the light of a magic lamp. He was completely ignorant of heavy footsteps and a single heavy staff sounding through his chamber.

“Is that the moon I see reflecting all that light, or a bald head?”

Castro looked up, surprised. He narrowed his eyes in the dim light, and then rose to his feet. “Rowe? What in the gods’ name are you doing here?”

Rowe the Righteous, ancient-looking Veidimen of the distant continent of Veiden, strutted through into the Tower Master Castro’s chambers with his staff in his right hand and a book in his left. “You gave me access to your tower, remember? That elevator you have… took me half an hour to get up here. What’s the damn point of something this tall? You’re surrounded by grassland—save yourself some time, build simple, wide buildings. Could have a city here. Instead, you have some stupid monument.”

Castro stepped around his desk. “I didn’t build it.”

Though both hunched from age, he stood a great

put

said sarcastically. “What do you think? What do us two

in revelation. “His A-rank ascendency. This wasn’t necessary,”

a scoff. “You did as much good work fixing

nice things about him without fear,” Castro commented as he walked around the

hear about it,” Rowe shook his head, then narrowed his eyes.

the book down on the desk. “My apprentice is getting worse. Health issues.” The

many things, sad as it

that he can’t do it yet. Ingo’s health issues relate to Gerechtigkeit’s advent.” Rowe narrowed his eyes and looked liable to press further, but Castro quickly changed the subject, tapping the book he’d been given as he

bid for supremacy on the magic field?” Rowe tapped his staff on the ground, then

it’s potent?” Castro sat behind his

a huff, then leaned his staff against the desk. “But I’ll tell you what I told him: he’s going too fast. If he

year and a half ago, he was only capable of casting D-rank spells. Now… he’s mastered a suite

he is.” Rowe spotted a bowl on Castro’s desk and craned his head. He reached forward and snatched it—it was full of nuts of some kind. “Anneliese is doing way better than he is. She’s always going to

at the blatant favoritism but didn’t mention it further. “Do you think

paper being as expensive as it is, I still made a copy for the

Castro nodded. “But…?”

entire body magically, essentially. That sort of ascension requires a mastery over magic spanning decades. Mastery that he lacks. There’s a reason why

ascensions are difficult,

act like I’m defaming those poor passive ascenders. My method was passive, too. I took

what is your A-rank ascension?” Castro entwined

by the handful. He set the bowl down empty. “You want to

looked at the bowl. “Well… those were my walnuts you just ate. I deshelled them

face off slowly and

were allies,”

first, then,” Rowe gestured. “Tell me

proper old men. I can give you a one-word riddle. You’ll give me one in turn.

ahead,” Rowe leaned

for a long time, then said deliberately,

tilted his head.

other,

a pointless exercise,” Rowe shook his

silence extended between the two of them he seemed to be reminded of another matter. “There is one other thing you should see. I’m wondering… do you think Argrave

papers. Rowe waited